Dear Blog...

SMART Goals

2012-01-09T14:34:00.001-05:00

OK, I'm a bit late to the resolution game, but whatever. It's never too late to start resolutions. Rather than the cliche ones I typically promise myself to do, I am going to try to make SMART resolutions. By SMART, I'm not being emphatic... I'm using the workplace acronym!

Specific

Measurable

Attainable

Realistic

Timely

And I'm thinking I want to do a theme for goals this year. There are a few areas of my life that can use improving, so why not try to actually focus on them for once! Novel idea!

Q1 - all about health

Q2 - all about learning

Q3 - all about friendship

Q4 - all about health (Pt. 2)

Q1 - January - March goals:

Exercise: I'd like to get back into jogging. In this time frame (91 total days, and we're already on day 9), I'd like to jog 150 miles. Where did that number come from? I figured I can run 1.5 miles a day if I really wanted to. In fact, that's a pretty attainable goal! Realistically, I won't run every day. Every other day is more like it. So that's 3 miles every other day. I multiplied 91 days * 1.5 miles per day, and came up with 136.5. Then, I just bumped it up to 150 miles, because 136.5 isn't a nice "clean" number. Now, since I'm starting this late (and haven't jogged this year yet), I actually have 83 days to work toward this goal, which comes out to 1.8 miles per day, or 3.6 miles every other day. I guess I better get going!

Caveat - I'll allow myself to walk at 4 miles per hour if snow or injury gets in the way

Food: I'm going to cook vegetarian for lunch and dinner 3x per week, including weekends. If I can, I will exceed this goal.

Note: I understand that just because it's vegetarian, doesn't necessarily mean it's healthier than meat-based dishes.
Caveat - I may use chicken broth in soups. This is my resolution list, so even that technically isn't vegetarian, I don't care!

Desserts: I have a gigantic sweet tooth. Thanksgiving/Christmas notwithstanding, I have been pretty good about not binging on desserts. I'd like to keep on that trend. I'm going to allow myself desserts for the following, plus three "free passes" to have a dessert other nights (presumably, once per month): co-worker's baby shower, Valentine's date w/Nick, brother's birthday, Claire's birthday, my birthday. OK, that's a lot, yes. So maybe I won't need my three free passes!

I think all of these goals are specific (uhhh, don't think I could be any more specific really), measurable (ditto), attainable (with a little willpower and a little sweating - sure!), realistic (sigh... "yes, I can fit in a 20 minute run into my schedule" says my lazy self), and timely. Only looking out 3 months is good for me, as I can't really be "big picture" for this kind of thing.

As far as Q2-Q4, well, those I will defer to a later date. Like I said, I can't really think big picture at the moment. And I may decide to go another route anyway, so I'm going to be flexible with myself. I've loved reading other blogger's posts about resolutions and it got me motivated to make some for myself as well.

I'm a Cooking Fool

2012-01-05T22:10:00.003-05:00

I don't know WHAT has come over me. I'm pretty sure it's the Internet's fault. I... am an addict. I am a cooking-food-then-freezing-it addict.

Why is this the internet's fault? you may say. Surely the internet isn't holding a gun to your head, telling you to don an apron and wax culinary in the kitchen.

No, no it's not. Although that would make for an interesting story to tell at parties! "Then, when the gun was at my head, I started getting flashbacks of all of the highlights of my life... like it was passing right before my eyes. Memories of that turkey tetrazinni, or the cilantro lime rice & beans, or the dreamy pumpkin black bean soup..." and people would cock their heads in a slightly canine way, grasping at straws at what exactly to add to this very sorry conversation, as clearly they do not know how to communicate with a strange woman who dreams of dinners.

Uh, where was I?

I blame Pinterest.

I don't even HAVE a Pinterest. I don't Pinterest. I am not Pinteresting. (Nor am I interesting, apparently. See: This Blog.)

BUT! I read a ton of blogs. And I'm catching on to the general consensus that Pinterest is The Shit. And knowing the general gist of people (being that when we all love something we want to shout from the rooftops) I have noticed that it turns out that I DO Pinterest because people post blogs, tweets, facebook posts about their Pinterestsessss'. (<---- I'm annoying.)

So, since I read blogs and tweets and whatnot, I, indirectly, read Pinterest. Or whatever adjective/verb/adverb/noun I'm supposed to use. I am Pinterestingly Pinterstable.

So this has affect a few things: my grocery shopping, my freezer space, and my dishwashing load.

Grocery shopping, I don't mind. In fact? I actually love to grocery shop, as long as she* isn't with me. She** does not do well at the grocery store. She*** makes me taker her out of the cart and carry her, while I push the cart one-handed and sweat profusely, not because it's hard manual work, but because I instantly fear that other people in the grocery store are judging me for letting my 1 year old rule my every move, and also judge me for being annoying and running into their carts, or offending their ears when she**** inevitably starts to whine because really, what 1 year old likes to grocery shop? Except when we stop to look at the 56,895 gold fish crammed into those tiny tanks in the pet area, then she***** looooooves to grocery shop. Or when we fiiiinally get to Penny the Pony (who is truly named Sandy the Pony, but she only costs 1 cent to ride, so I assumed her name was Penny until I saw the name Sandy painted on the bottom of the pony, but still in my head think "Let's go ride Penny! Shoot! No, Sandy!") at the very end of the shopping trip, then she****** reeeeaaaalllllllly goes bananas for grocery shopping.

Uhhh... where was I? (Again?)

My grocery list grows exponentially with the number of decadent recipes I ogle over on the Internet. Like I said, this part I actually like.

Then, my freezer space. See, I want to make like 10 recipes a week, which is just plain old dumb for 2.5 people. I probably only need to make 3, 4 tops, as leftovers and PB&J can sustain us for the rest of the days in the week. Except, what ends up happening is I make dinner, then.... I SHIT YOU NOT.... I make another dinner, JUST TO FREEZE. ALL BECAUSE OF PINTEREST!!

My freezer is like a fat guy in a little coat. You know what I mean? It's busting at the seams, barely closing, I have virtually every one of my tupperware containers taken up by a frozen block of soup/casserole/side dish in my freezer. Oh, plus a turkey from Christmas 2010 from Nick's work. (Side note: I find it very bizarre that employers hand out frozen birds to people for Christmas? What if we were vegetarian, or ate only organic? Am I being picky?)

Lastly, with twice the amount of cooking, that's twice the amount of dishwashing. My hands are pretty much pruny, even in the middle of the day when I haven't scrubbed a dish in 18 hours. Lotion application is near hourly due to the dry skin caused by the constant nightly dishwashing. I'm about thisclose from investing in Burt's Bees, is what I'm saying. You should too.

So... anyone know if Intervention is still casting?

And now, for the * post scripts (aka "how cute is my kid"):

(Twenty minutes later...) Oh shoot, nevermind. Cannot for the everloving life of me find my flip cam, which is my only means for getting my pics off my camera and onto the computer. I'm so, like, 2004 when it comes to technology.

Instead, here's an oldie but goodie:

Nine to Five

2011-12-20T21:59:00.002-05:00

I read a ton of blogs, most of them of the Mommy-Blog variety. And most of them of the Stay-At-Home-Mom variety. So I have heard the cries and the pleas and the intelligent discussions about why staying at home is a real job, a thankless job, a job that is taken for granted and pays zero. I am honestly, truly, hand-on-my-heart saying "I hear you" and I don't judge anyone for anything they choose to do with their time, especially when it comes to children.

And while I don't want to play the "who has it worse" game, I have to vent for a bit.

I'm a working mom. All throughout my pregnancy, I had every intention of going back to work after having my daughter, and I did so, just as planned. But I never imagined that I would feel so torn about it, not right away, but 12, 18, 21 months down the road. Being a working mom is hard. Not the same kind of hard as stay-at-home parenthood, but the kind of hard that is like this:
- You sometimes have to wake your sleeping child to get ready in the morning. She can't just wake up on her own time, she has to wake up NOW because the clock is ticking and I've got to get to work.
- Sometimes she'll ask to have her bottle on the couch, but you don't have time for that, and multi-task by giving her a bottle while you change her morning diaper and put on her clothes for the day.
- You'd like to slowly take her to daycare, linger around for a few minutes to get her acclimated and settled, but the longer you spend at drop-off, the later you get to work, and the later you leave to pick her up. You're just buying time from the evening if you dawdle in the morning.
- When you finally leave work at 5:00 p.m. and think to yourself "Ugh... what a long day", you realize that your kid was at a daycare facility with other people who are not YOU all day, and that she doesn't even spend the majority of her time with you, but with other people.
- THEN, when you finally get home at 5:30, it's time to make dinner - and if you have mom-guilt like I do, you'll want to make something from scratch (avoiding processed foods is a big mom-guilt thing for me), but sometimes you'll just give in and let her eat sugar or whatever her vice may be, just to make her happy.
- Then it's time for a bath, an evening bottle, a few books, and that's a wrap folks.

You basically get about 20-30 minutes of free time with your kid a day.

No, nothing about my day is physically draining, I'm not running around all day after little people, constantly changing diapers, feeding, teaching, interacting... all of which I imagine are very draining. But on the flip side, I spend 30 minutes of quality time with my daughter a day. THAT is hard for me to swallow.

So I guess I meant to write this as a "we all have it hard, ladies" post, but I think it just ended up being a raging mama-guilt, now-I-have-a-lump-in-my-throat, I-need-to-go-have-a-cry post.

The hardest part is that there is no right answer. Stay at home parenthood is awesome in that YOU and you alone get to raise your child. But it can lead to (I'm totally guessing what would happen in MY situation) boredom, loneliness, and loss of income. The last one is a tricky one, because I don't want money to be the only reason I'm not a SAHM. But the reality is that employment is scarce, money doesn't grow on trees, and providing for a family isn't cheap. Working parenthood is also awesome in some regards because I am contributing to my family financially, maintaining some sense of professional self, and doing things I enjoy and that keep me learning and contributing.

So there isn't really a great way to end this post. I didn't have any magical lightbulb moments while writing this, although I do feel a little better getting it off my chest.

So I'll end this with a picture of Claire vising with Santa, who is actually a co-worker who plays the part of the jolly old guy each year, so us working parents can avoid the whole mall scene. (ONE perk of being a working parent...? That's a stretch.) Ho ho ho!

Pictures (Alternate Title: When Words Take Too Long)

2011-11-07T21:37:00.000-05:00

My ~~baby~~ toddler still fits in her Moby wrap! Kills mama's back but whatever!

Claire loves bath time. Also, she loves looking at herself in the mirror. She's so vain.

Obligatory trip to the pumpkin patch! We went with our friends Jackie and Gracie. :)

The lens was blurry because it was really humid in the butterfly house. I wasn't trying to be artsy-fartsy with filters or anything! This is on Mackinac Island. Claire's first trip on a boat.

Heaven forbid any sand gets on her while playing in the sandbox.

When left to pick out her own clothes... oh, and if she picks out her own toys, she's likely to play with deflated balls (no jokes) and tupperware. Like every other kid with a household of plastic crap.

Question: Am I going to like this?
Answer: I'll give you two guesses, and the first one doesn't count.

I like this one very well. Send candy. I haz suger. More more peez.

Daddy is a household favorite as he is the candy giver-outer.

Gah! You had to see the cute little stinger!

Markering in the summertime. A favorite pasttime.

Unimpressed by the 4-H rabbits.

That's it for now. Maybe one of these days I'll write down some actual words. Or, maybe not!

It's Raining Frogs

2011-08-10T15:25:00.000-04:00

OK, there's a good chance I've written this post before (75%?) but I am both too lazy and not exactly deft at navigating my way around Blogger's website, so if it's a re-post, oh well.

There is a week in August every year, without fail, when the frogs come out. This, my friends, is the week. I went for a jog last night* and I must have seen a hundred frogs. Okay, I exaggerate, maybe I only saw 10. But still! I don't know if their little ponds are too hot, or they are being forced out of their habitat for the week by visiting relatives (frogs have families, too), or if they are just on a personal mission to see how many times I can have a near-heart-attack** in a 1-hour time-frame.
At one point of my jog, I went by a section of really shaded sidewalk, and being that it was nearly 10 PM, that section was pitch black. No houselights or streetlights to let me know if those warty green torturers were indeed on the ground, or if I was just stepping over fallen leaves and errant woodchips.

Needless to say, I'll be happy when the week is over.
Another reason I'll be happy when the week is over?

Vacation, bitches!!
We're shipping off the wee one*** to other family members (and hoo-boy, she's being passed around like a hot potato! At least 3 different families are helping to watch her) and Nick and I are flying to Vegas for a couple of days (I've never been!) and then driving down to Zion National Park. We're vacationing with my parents and siblings. I haven't been on a week-long vacation since my honeymoon nearly 3 years ago. This will be sooooooo(o*infinity) nice.
* I signed up for the 2011 Detroit Half Marathon. I did the same one last year, about 7 months postpartum, and it's that thought alone that keeps me going when I feel like my lungs are about to burst. I'm way out of shape and it's a rough road getting back in the swing of this jogging thing.
** When we were camping this past weekend, I woke up to my left arm tingly and numb, which casually made me wonder if I had a heart attack. Nick was like "or maybe you slept on it funny on this shitty air mattress?" and that made so much more sense.

*** Gratuitous Claire pictures (sorry to jack up the posting of these pics... Blogger is so hard to navigate!)

Snoozin' at DSW... not for long...

finding every mirror possible and lovin' herself something fierce

no really, but I'm cute, right?

tee hee hee, Mama

It's August Already?

2011-08-01T23:11:00.001-04:00

In my relatively short time in the airport security line this afternoon, I saw three - THREE - pets in line. Really? Rilly? Two dogs and a cat. All separate people, too. Where are on Earth are people going with their pets on a Monday afternoon?

I wasn't travelling with a pet, but with a few co-workers to one of our plants in Maryland. Now, I like my co-workers, I really do. I am game to have dinner and a drink, but I got wind that there's a big group going out for dinner tomorrow night and is it rude that I kind of wish I could just go to my hotel room and hang out by myself?

I mean, I had all of these things planned to do while out of town for two nights. I brought my DSLR with me so I could teach myself how to use it before my trip to Utah, I brought gym clothes so I could hit up the treadmill, and I brought a book! A real, live book! One of those things that I never read because I'm too busy doing domestic shit. All of this glorrrrrrious time would be MINE MINE MINE to do with it what I please. That is, until you get invited to go out with a big group of work people, most of whom you don't actually know. Oh well. First world problems, I guess.

So now I'm catching up on HBO in the hotel room, watching that Leonardo DiCaprio movie about the dreams within the dreams, and while it's still all mumbo-jumbo to me, it makes a hell of a lot more sense watching it on TV instead of watching it in the drive-in movie theater, which is how we saw it last summer, with a young baby in the backseat asleep in her car seat, two cheap parents who didn't want to pay quadruple the ticket price for a babysitter so we could catch a flick. ;)

(Post title has nothing to do with anything, really, except to state the obvious. Summer flies by in the blink of an eye!)

Random Domestic Things That Probably Only I Find Interesting

2011-07-28T22:39:00.000-04:00

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...

2011-07-22T11:16:00.000-04:00

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...

TTFN.

Riiide, Sally Ride

2011-07-11T15:22:00.002-04:00

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.

I Went for a Yog.

2011-07-08T11:40:00.001-04:00

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.

A Few Things

2011-07-07T11:50:00.001-04:00

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.

Lately...

2010-12-03T23:49:00.001-05:00

Man, so, that last post was written sometime in August, but sat as a draft in my email files for a long time, until I had the guts to post it. Not that I have a lot of eyes on my site, but I felt too... vulnerable? posting it as I was in the moment. It was easier to hit "publish" after those feelings had subsided. Things are much less hectic around here now.

Look at this attractive couple! Lindsay and NIck, wedding reception style.

One thing that helped is the half marathon is finally over. Nick and I both finished! It was pretty cool. It was an international marathon in that you ran across the Ambassador Bridge which connects the US (via Detroit, MI) to Canada (via Windsor, Ontario), ran along the Detroit River in Canada for a couple of miles, and then ran back into the US in the Windsor-Detroit tunnel. I had completed a half marathon in my early 20s (2006? I was 23... almost 24) and my time then was 2:39. When I finished this one, at 28.5 years old, and only 6 months after having my first baby, my time was 2:33! All that stressing out about getting enough runs in! Look at that!

Cute Cuter Cutest

Another reason the stress has lifted is because I'm no longer trying to meet some crazy, self-imposed breastfeeding goal. This one was a tricky subject. I really, really enjoyed breastfeeding. I felt close to my baby, I enjoyed providing nutrients for her, helping her grow, yadda yadda, but the stress plus work craziness essentially made me switch to supplementing with formula. Once I started that, I began the subliminal process of weaning. I didn't know that breastfeeding would cease completely at the time... in hindsight, maybe that's a good thing. It happened gradually, and eventually I just stopped breastfeeding. It went from a little bit in the morning, plus a full feeding after work to just the full feeding after work, to nothing. :( Sad face. But you know what? Almost making it to 6 months is great, I can't complain about that, I guess.

Pre-Race, Detroit Free Press (Half) Marathon, Oct 2010

The funny thing is... she still gets sick. Everyone says breastfeeding makes your kid super healthy. I guess the bugs at her daycare are immune to breastmilk. :P Because those things definitely didn't escape her!

Zebra (Front) and Murphy (Back), Halloween 2010

What else...

Claire and Grandpa Don play Nintendo, old-school style (obvs)

I changed jobs at work. (NEVER TALK ABOUT WORK.) That's all I'll say about that, as my Dooce angel just appeared on my shoulder. Well, okay, I'll say one more thing. Changing jobs at work = good. :)

Claire is a wee one, but a colorful one

So now is the "brag about my baby" time. She's almost 9 months old, and is a quick little whipper-snapper! She started crawling around 7 months, standing/pulling herself up unassisted at 8 months, and is starting to scoot around places (scaling the perimeters) by herself at 9 months. Her BFF from school, Sydney, is only 6 weeks older than she is, and is already walking. So if she wants to keep up with her (literally, and I suppose figuratively), she'll probably be walking in the near future.

Diddy White Party up in here! Ignore the awful paint job. Of course you didn't notice it until I just pointed it out, right?

I guess that isn't really bragging rights, as I do realize this means nothing in the way of "is she a good soul?" "will she be a kind person?" "will she treat others with respect?" etc. Those are the true bragging rights a parent can have. This developmental stuff isn't so much bragging rights, as conversation starters to talk with other people, as everyone, yes EVERYONE, loves to wax poetic about their kids days as babies. I could literally talk about my baby for hours with people, but I try to limit myself as I know people are eventually like "OKAY I GOTTA GO NOW, PLEASE STOP TALKING".

She loves him, yeah, yeah, yeah... he is her Paul McCarttney

What else...

Eyes are as big as they appear

Well, so I may feel less stressed than I did a few months ago, but.... I don't know. I feel kind of... boring. And bored. I guess those two go hand-in-hand, don't they? I am bored, mostly because I don't really have any hobbies at the moment, other than talking about babies, and reading about babies on the internet. :P That, in turn, makes me boring. And anytime I find myself in a situation where I have to talk to a stranger (see: this week at the company holiday luncheon where they bussed us to downtown Ann Arbor and I sat next to 'strangers' from work on the bus) I get a little self-conscious about what I'm "bringing to the conversation". Not that I can't talk to people, I just fear that I bore them with my lame-o small talk. Then I eavesdrop on others and get jealous of their chit-chat-repertoire. I guess I just always am able to find a way to pick at aspects of my personality (see: this entire paragraph), and this sort of negative self-talk (or, blog post) is not good for the psyche.

Best $3 I ever spent

I need to love myself more!

Ham Hammier Hammiest (Oink Oink!)

So...

I love that I completed a half marathon just six months after having a baby.

Wheeeee! P.S. Like my powder blue minivan in the background?!

I love that I got a new job and that people respect me.

Baby and Mama

I love that it's Christmas time and that I'm like 97.5% sure that Claire remembers me blasting Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" while she was in-utero reaaaaally really loudly because now every time she hears it (at least 2x/day) she dances and kicks her legs like crazy.

She truly couldn't be a happier baby, and for that I am thankful.

I love my baby.

She loves bathtime. When we remember to give her one! (True story)

I love my husband.

Look at how lucky I am!

I love my dog. My really crazy dog. The one who must insert himself between you and the baby anytime you're playing on the floor with her (omg, need to document this via picture... it's so funny), because HE'S THE BABY, REMEMBER ME MOM? YOUR FIRST BABY? PLAY WITH ME!!

Murphy, Christmas Spirit 2010. Love him!

How To Be Everything

2010-08-16T22:08:00.000-04:00

My biggest problem right now is that I'm trying to be everything. I am trying to do all of these things at once: be a good, healthy mom, breastfeed my child, be a good wife, maintain a house, have a dog, be a good employee, have friends (haha - more on this later), be a good family person. Notice I said "good" on most of those things. That's all I'm aiming for at this point. In the past, I would have been aiming for "great" but even writing the word "great" gives me hives at this point.

To say I am stressed would be the understatement of my year.

First off: try to be a good mom. Claire is such a good baby that really, she makes me shine by her own virtue. So, she can't read yet, but hey Claire! Thanks! You make me look good. Between you and me, I know it's really just your easy disposition that makes you a good baby, not necessarily anything I'm doing per se, so thanks. ;) I'll totally let you get a belly button ring when you're 16 or whatever kids are doing in 2026 to pay you back for this.

But sometimes I make tiny fails, and even though it's really not a big deal, I still feel guilty about it. Like, she rarely cries, but when she does, I am not overly eager to pick her up for fear of coddlng her. Then, when I finally do pick her up, I realize she's been crying because she's sitting in a pile of her own shit and her butt is red. Yeah, I'd cry too. Sorry about that, Claire!

I'll segue into my next point: I'm trying to breastfeed exclusively. By that, I mean, she only drinks breastmilk. Sometimes from a bottle, sometimes from me directly. But since I'm a working mom, this means pumping at work. Fine, okay. Not a big deal. But - there's always a but - I'm between jobs right now (within the same company/building) so training has been kicked in high gear (omg never talk about work, I'm getting Dooce hives already) and I can barely afford the time to pump once, let alone twice, and I try to make up for it at night or early in the morning before the birds wake. I'm barely getting by. I was just away from Claire for the first time last weekend and used up all of my freezer stash so I am literally hand to boob at this point. We're supposed to go away for Labor Day weekend (sans baby) so I don't know, I may have to just cut my breastfeeding ties. I don't know why, but I had made a mini-goal to myself that I would try my darnedest to breastfeed exclusively for six months. She turns six months right after Labor Day, so if I were following this goal to a T, I'd have to have enough freezer stash to last me through Labor Day weekend. I just don't know if I can cut it. I can barely give her daycare enough milk to last for the next day, let alone pump extra milk to cover for a weekend away. The stress of everything I'm writing about is probably making me produce less, plus with me pumping less at work (due to no time) I'm also probably producing less. Being that I work in Supply Chain Management, I should understand how this whole Supply/Demand thing works, you would think. I'm so close to making this goal, I feel like I should just do everything I can to try and make it to the end. Then the flip side of me says... this is not important. After all is said and done, does it really matter if I went 5.5 months vs. 6 months? No, not at all. But I always make these goals for myself, and I never follow through. NEVER. Such as, "I'm gonna floss once a day for a week." Fail after 2 days. "I'm going to clean my bathroom once a month." (Yes, I realize this is gross, but this would be a vast improvement over the cleaning schedule (or lack thereof) of the last eight months!) FAIL BIG TIME. Ugh, I'm totally rambling. But, I NEVER do anything I say I'm going to do, and this one thing, this thing that is supposed to be so good for your baby, I wanted to do this, for her, and for myself, to prove that I can follow through if I try hard enough. I think I'm going to fail at it anyway, the goal I mean. I know going 5 months is great, not a lot of people even do that.

I also mentioned that I'm trying to be healthy. I am trying to work out, jog, get in shape, train for a half marathon. Between working, trying (and failing half of the time) to cook dinner for me and Nick, feed Claire, put her to bed, keep a house clean, and get sleep so I am sane for work the next morning, I am barely able to get out for a jog during the week. Now I am finding the only time I can make it out for a jog is on the weekend, which is supposed to be when you do your long jogs. But not doing the shorter jogs during the week is only going to cause me injury, and I'm not actually being healthy, I'm just limping along, trying to reach another goal (finishing a half marathon in October). I wish I could manufacture more hours in the day, but duh, wouldn't everyone want that? Geez, I'm not even original in my gripes.

IF I were to have an extra hour, I better spend it on cleaning the house. HOO BOY. Let's just say... if Nick and I are bitches to each other, there's a 95% chance it's due to a spat about keeping the house clean. Or mainly, my lack thereof, and his picking up my piece of the slack. Or, perhaps, (not saying it's 100% this) it's his PERCEPTION of such a thing. Who knows. All I know is, we better get a maid, and fast. My lack of keeping the kitchen floors clean can ruin my weekend, quite frankly. That's all I will say about that. :\

Let's see, what else am I failing at. OH - friends. Haha. Those. I only have a small handful of close girlfriends, and I don't even know if we're close anymore, honestly. None of them are even close enough that we can meet for dinner on a whim. One is way far away, out of state, and she is so busy with a new, great career, and I am so fake-busy doing/not-doing all of the above mentioned things, that we barely even connect. I keep in touch with some people via email, which is nice, but there is NOTHING that can take place of face-to-face hanging out with friends. I guess what I need is mom friends, local mom-friends. But how do you start from scratch? Especially when you're a working mom. It's not like I can go to playgroups during the day, or those coffeeshop jungle gym cafes, whatever. WHATEVER. I don't even have anything to offer a friend at this point in time, I can't even feed myself breakfast or lunch (I just finished my first "meal" of the day which consisted of a pack of salted peanuts from the vending machine), or get a load of laundry done, or shave my legs. How am I supposed to have friends?! Really!

Then on top of this, I am a wife. Really, this should be #1. But I've put it down further on the list, and I think things suffer because of it. I don't even know what else to say about it. How do you make time for your spouse when you don't even remember to put on deodarant in the morning, or remember to send out that REALLY important email at work that is like the hot-hot-hot thing at work that everyone is relying on?

What else could be piling up at really inopportune times?

my car lease is up in one month, meaning we have to shop for a new car

I would rather go to the DENTIST than car shop
I mean, really, who can say that? doesn't the whole world hate the dentist?

my clothes make me feel uber frumpy, so not only do I feel stressed out to the max, but I feel like I look awful in my ill-fitting, poor quality, old and frumpy clothes
my sister is about to move in with us, which is GREAT! but I have to clear out the room that she will be in, because it's full of my stuff

this is only a minor inconvenience, though - I'm super excited she's moving in for a bit (internship!)

I really wish I could talk more about work, as that is about 40% of my stress, but we all read Dooce, and thus we all speak not of where we earn our keep. But damn, forty percent. That's a big chunk of stress.
I am the gatekeeper of our finances, and I usually "run the numbers" every 1-2 days. Which is really just me balancing our checkbook and looking ahead to see where the numbers fall. I am backlogged on doing this, because that takes TIME, remember, that elusive thing which I wish I could just slow down, or replicate? The fact that I'm behind on running my numbers makes me feel uneasy.
Oh, another gripe on the breastfeeding front? I think I'm getting a clogged milk duct. You're welcome... I know you REALLY wanted to know this information.

So, yeah, the title of this post was "How To Be Everything" but really should be re-titled "How Not To Be Anything" because that's more of what it feels like. Stress stress stress. And look at the time. I have to drop everything at work to go pick up my daughter. While this does stress me out (leaving loose ends at work), it truly is the one highlight of my day... walking into that room, making eye contact with my daughter, and seeing her squeal with excitement of seeing her Mama... it helps to make some of this above nonsense turn to garbage.

Too Long For Twitter - Blurb 1

2010-07-12T23:41:00.000-04:00

You know you read too many blogs when...

... you dream about reading a blog post in which a popular blogger reveals that she's just made piping hot, hot-out-of-the-oven snickerdoodle cookies. You somehow find out where she lives, and pass by her house, where she just happens to be closing the front door as you walk by. She sees you when the door is halfway shut, but keeps shutting it anyway. You knock, kind of embarassed. She answers it out of politeness, but looks like she's bothered.

"May I have a cookie?"

"Um... I'm sorry, but no. I made them for a party I'm going to."

I can see into her house and see her family laying on the bed. The bed is in the family room - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory style.

I'm really bummed about the cookie, and turn away.

Fourth of July Weekend - In Haikus

2010-07-05T22:43:00.002-04:00

Part I:

Mold in the basement
Doesn't hold a candle to
Soft baby kisses

Part II:

Remembered sunscreen
But mostly camped out inside
I like the AC

Part III:

We are reactive
Learning to be proactive
There goes some savings

In a nutshell: super hot in Michigan (and everywhere else, it seems?) so we spent most of the weekend inside, avoiding dehydration and heat-stroke. Claire is pretty sensitive to the heat, it seems. I guess it makes sense that a delicate little flower of a baby (aren't they all?) should stay cool, and not marinade in the heat. Lucky me :) I'm all for making myself more outdoorsy, but to be outside just for the sake of being outside, when it's so hot? And I need to stay hydrated so I can keep Claire hydrated (breastfeeding). It worked well for me.

Only problem is, we found mold in our basement today. I wonder if the snot nose, cough, and general congestion that we blamed on daycare is actually attributed to the mold? Either way, we fixed it up this afternoon, and I realized just how lazy it is when it comes to my house. Man, I felt like a HERO because I was willing to walk around the perimeter of the basement, sucking up dead roly-polys with the ShopVac. There must have been 300 of them. Truth be told, I HAD to do it, because Nick wouldn't. They "skeeve" him out. OK, whatever, you get a bye on this.

I ponied up and kind of became a poser mom by buying a Sophie the Giraffe for Claire. She is teething like a mother, at least that's what the whole world has been telling us. I felt kind of stupid afterward, spending $25 on a teether toy, but thankfully she loves her! We also bought a couple of generic ones from our big-box grocery/everything store, which she actually hates so much that she cries when I put them in front of her. OK, that only happened once, but I'm trying to justify $25 spent on a teether toy, okay?

Speaking of expensive shit for babies... we bought this toy at a boutique-slash-natural-baby-stuff-store in our town. (Well, Ann Arbor.) There are tons of people in Ann Arbor who are willing to spend an arm and a leg for their kids. Point in case. I was perusing their clothing section, and found a cute top for a 12 month old girl. Simple summer top, cotton fabric with maybe some sheen to it? FORTY-FOUR DOLLARS. Yeah right. I don't even spend that on a shirt for myself, let alone a baby who will spit up on it and staint it forever after wearing it for ten minutes. These people have to be out of their ever-loving mind.

Now, I don't say this out loud, because in actuality, I like the store. I wish we cloth diapered. (Cloth diapering is their main schtick at this store.) I like all of their natural product - everything orgainc. I wish we could afford the really nice stroller, and the adorable toys (wooden! not plastic!) and so on, so forth.

Nick hates this place with a passion. He thinks it's pretentious. It really isn't. It's just... overpriced. Okay, maybe slightly pretentious, but so what? Everyone thinks their baby deserves nice things. I just would rather, I don't know, pay off my student loan debt that pay for a $400 stroller. I agree it's a racket, and I really just like to invite him to go there with me to get a rise out of him. :)

Other than that, and spending some time with family, it was a lovely, lovely three-day weekend.

Why Having a Kid Makes You Want to be a Better Person

2010-07-02T13:42:00.001-04:00

We were out to dinner last night, and I had one of those not-so-good moments that turned into a oh-so-good moment. Such is the whirlwind of new parenthood.

The not-so-good moment was this: I had gotten home from work and started feeding Claire. I am still breastfeeding, so this is exclusively my job, 100%. (AKA, Nick gets a free pass on this duty - making sure she is fed.) She was being a Fussy Hussy while eating, which I partly attribute to the fact that I had a normal-people bra on as opposed to a nursing mom bra (which btw is way sexier than a normal-people bra. did you hear that today is opposite day?) and partially attribute to the stuffy and hot house. Since she didn't have easy-access, and was hot, and was bothered (hehe), she didn't get a full feeding. I stood up to compose myself, pawned Claire off on Nick, and, well, promptly forgot that she didn't get a full feeding. WHOOPSIE.

An hour or so later, after an impromptu "screw-dinner-let's-go-out" decision, when we were already at the pub for dinner when she started fussing, I remembered that she hadn't properly eaten, and of course I didn't have anything for back-up. That was my "shitty mom" moment. No diaper bag, no toys, no back-up bottle, nothing. Naturally, she was hungry and started crying. We are trying really hard not to be "those people" who let their baby cry in a restaurant. (Full disclosure: we have definitely let her cry in restaurants previously. In fact, last night was the first time that we consciously said "oh, let's pick her up, she's crying" because people - it's not that parents are doing it to be jerks - it's just that we let them cry at home and forget that we're out in public when the baby is crying during dinner (parenthetical inside parenthetical: I'm talking 'fussy cry', not 'the-world-is-ending cry' or 'I-just-got-a-shot cry')).

So she's fussing, Nick says to me, "You only fed her partially right? You gotta go feed her!" and I really didn't have a choice. Once the child starts fussing because she's hungry, the child does not stop fussing until she is no longer hungry. Simple math, people. Conundrum. We had walked to the pub, so no car to zip off to. I don't whip it out in public, so no at-the-table feeding as an option. (Plus, regular bra. Other Moms reading this will SURELY UNDERSTAND.)

So what did I do?

Yes, you guessed it. The Bathroom.

Yes, I know this is horrifically gross. Yes, I do realize that I WOULD NOT EVER EAT MY DINNER IN THE BATHROOM, why should I make my daughter?

And the biggest dilemma of all? Pants on, or pants off? Well, actually, after writing it down on this here blog, I see that the answer was clear (Pants On - duh) but the idea of sitting on a toilet seat with my pants on seemed really weird at the time. In hindsight, sitting on a toilet, pants off, while nursing my baby is even weirder. Not any toilet, a restaurant toilet. Holy shit, I feel like a shit mom even remembering the incident, not even a day later.

Anyway - quick feeding sesh and she was a happy baby.

I came back to the table and Nick happily took her on his lap while I caught up on my meal. They were directly across from me, and she was so cute with her hands on the table, looking right at me. I started telling Nick a really funny story that had both of us cracking up. It was one of those nights where we're in our own little world and the little random stories that make us both laugh really hard (funny to no one else) make me SO HAPPY. But the thing that happened next made me even more happy.

Claire was watching me howl with laughter - I was almost crying, it was so funny - and she started laughing too. Her first ever laugh. OMG. I know it's so boring to hear about parents talk about their kids, so I am thinking that other parents are probably the only ones who are able to read this without barfing, but to hear your first-born have her first laugh? Best moment in my life, I swear. I've told the story to two people at work, emailed it as well, and now writing a blog about it, and I'm still beaming. We just got the first giggle about a week or two ago, and she's only done it a handful of times. A giggle is cute, but only lasts like half a second. This was a good 3-4 second laugh. Best thing ever.

So that's how our dinner went from "oops, not the best parent" to "OMG I love this", and also shed some light as to why people always say they want to be better people because of their kids. Claire laughed because I was laughing. She was looking right at me when she did it, and it was a direct response to my guffaw-guffaws. Kids are such sponges, and they absorb up their surroundings and do what they see. That age-old cliche "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" comes to mind, and is so true. Granted, that saying is typically used as a blanket statement, but it was true in that simple, solitary moment as well.

But in all honesty, here's the thing. And this is just an example. I can be negative about my body, let's say. Put on a shirt, and bemoan that it makes me look prego. (See: this morning.) My daughter was right there, laying on the bed with my husband, and he said "Honey, you have to stop saying bad things about yourself. It happens everytime you put something on." And he was so right. With all of that complaining about my looks and being self-conscious, especially verbally (not just inside my own head), I am putting that out there for my spongy daughter to absorb. And obviously, I don't want her to grow up with those thoughts of her own.

It reminds me of a (Nick, don't cringe) Oprah show that I watched while on maternity leave. I think it was called "Why I Will Never Diet Again" and this one woman in the audience basically said (through tears, obvs.): "My daughter is only 7 and she complains to me that her thighs are so fat and that she feels so ugly, and it hurts me so because I know exactly how she feels because MY thighs are so fat and I feel so ugly and I don't want her to feel that way." So the author (whose book they were discussing) asked this woman if she ever complained out loud or talked about her thighs, etc. and the woman answered "yes" and it was like DUH. Apple, meet tree. The branches were very, very low.

I know that isn't rocket science, but I had a newborn baby in my arms, a perfect soul in every way possible. She had no preconceived notions about what society "expects" out of her, what beautiful is, what ugly is (and I'm not even talking in a physical way only). And now that she is slowly associating us - her parents and the people she is familiar with - with things like happiness (the laugh! the giggles!) I can only hope that anything/everything she gets from me is the best that I can give her.

No - not every day will be a day of laughing, I am 100% a realist. There will be days she is a brat, days I am a brat, days the dog is a brat. But in general, overall, I have to be a better person so that SHE can be the best person possible. Essentially, I want to be a grand oak tree, so she can be a bountiful, juicy apple.

And oh, how I do love apples.

Frogs

2010-06-30T22:43:00.000-04:00

I have an irrational fear of stepping on frogs. I think this stems back to 7th grade, when I was a fair-skinned emo-wannabe (before emo was even a term), who sat in the backyard on a blanket reading, no doubt a literature piece that I didn't "get", probably something that I would re-read in 10th grade honors English and still "not get".

One of such days, I saw a murmur beneath the blanket. It was a frog. The thought that I could have been sitting on the frog that whole time skeeved me out to no end. Fifteen years later, I cannot walk through my parent's lush backyard without watching where every foot lands, looking for murmurs below.

To add fuel to my frog-filled fear-fire, there is one week in August, the hottest week in the summer, when the frogs come out to play. When we take our dog for a walk, there is bound to be no less than one frog per sidewalk slab. Do you know how many sidewalk slabs we walk across when we take a loop around our subdivision? Neither do I, but I'm guessing it's in the hundreds? I kid you not, I see hundreds (OK, maybe I exaggerate SLIGHTLY; let's say "dozens") of frogs during these dreaded treks in August. I usually make Nick bring a flashlight to look out for the things. Less than a quarter of the way through with the walk, I take over the flashlight duties because he doesn't fan the slabs properly for MAXIMUM frog detection. You see, I take this very seriously.

Why all the frog talk? Well, I went for a jog tonight as a part of my official 2010 Detroit Half-Marathon training. Go me! Go Nick! (He's doing the competitive walk. Not a jogger, my man.) And you guys? I think global warming IS REAL. Because the frogs? Well, it's not even July yet (hey! I have 1.5 hours still...) and the frogs - they are out.

I'm pretty sure I kicked one up the curb. I heard nary a ribbit, but I felt something... soft... propel forth from my new kicks, and well, it's all downhill from here. (Pun not intended, but only mildly funny, anyway.)

Well, this is off-subject, but: a picture of Claire, just because. Claire likes Michigan State. Did you know that?

Monday Night Haiku

2010-06-28T21:59:00.000-04:00

{Full disclosure: I had to Wikipedia "haiku" to make sure I had the syllables right. I have no idea what a mora is. Still don't after reading it.}

Monday Night Haiku
by Lindsay Collins

Nick plays golf while I
Eat solo dinner, feed Claire,
Clean up the dog poop.

Alternately, tonight's haiku could read:

Caught up with Oprah
In a daze with sleeping babe
Nuzzled on my chest.

Or:

Cannot find phone to
Vent like a frazzled housewife
About the dog's poop.

Reflections on Mother's Day

2010-06-05T00:55:00.000-04:00

So, it was my first Mother's Day. Perfect time to reflect on being a mom, right? [Ed. Note: it's not Mother's Day anymore. It was when I first started writing this, but you know how that goes...] Where better a place to start than Claire's birthday. Or, the events leading up to Claire's birthday, anyway.

I blogged on the Thursday before Claire was born from the bathroom of my Dr. office. Classy. It was my 39-week appointment, and at the appointment, I was shocked when my Dr. said "so let's talk about induction." I wanted to avoid induction (this seems obvious to me, but some people schedule inductions out of convenience, or supposed need, or actual need), and after my Dr. explained induction methods, I REALLY wanted to avoid induction. Let's just say, I don't want someone's hand up my hoo-ha separating things from other things. Honestly, I still don't quite understand what it entailed, but OMG NO THANKS if it involves the aforementioend hand up the aforementioend hoo-ha.

Approximately three seconds after that conversation, I told myself to deliver on time. My Dr. suggested some things to help get things moving. Long walks, um, relations with your husband, spicy food. All very scientific methods, right?

So, we headed to Las Fuentes, our favorite Mexican (haha, well, they serve enchiladas, but you won't find this food in Mexico) restaurant. And MAN. DID I CHOW DOWN. Spicy salsa? Check. (And seconds, and thirds... waitress probably lost 2 lbs. with all the running back to the kitchen she did for me.) Spicy enchilada sauce all over my burrito? CHECK. (And doesn't Mexican food talk sound dirty?) Fried apple dumpling ice cream caramel omg dessert? CHECK. Although, that didn't necessarily help get labor started. But come on, I was 39 weeks pregnant. I'm sure you can understand.

On the drive home, I was in a panic that I'd have the baby that night. Why the panic? Well, after consuming so much food, it's gotta come out sooner or later, if you catch my drift. I honestly had a quick panic that the spicy food would cause some, um, intestinal issues, and that I'd shit all over the doctors if I was pushing a baby out within the next 12 hours. I think every woman fears shitting in the delivery room, so I won't pretend like the thought didn't cross my mind. Thankfully, the baby wasn't really ready to come out quite yet.

I went to work the next day, a Friday, and was so busybusybusy that I stayed until 6:30 p.m. wrapping things up. Perhaps my subconscious knew that it would be my last day of work for 12 weeks, hence the staying so late. I mean, shit, it was a Friday night? Who stays until 6:30 p.m.?!

I don't really remember what we did on Friday night. Probably cashed in early as we are wont to do after a long week of working. Oh, and the whole 39 weeks pregnant thing. Yeah, pregnant bitches be TIRED.

Saturday morning was when it all started, in my opinion. The spicy food of Thursday and the long work day of Friday were the precursors of the beginning, but I wasn't contracting or anything. Saturday morning, I went to my chiropractor. He asked when I was due, I indicated "any day now", and he did an adjustment on my pelvis that he'd never done before. I didn't ask about it, but the moment after he did it, I thought "this is going to start my labor." I had spoken to a man in the chiropractor's office a month or so prior, who mentioned that his wife went into labor with both of their kids the day she went to the chiropractor. He even joked that for their second child, she wanted to deliver so badly that she drove to the chiropractor for an adjustment because she knew that would jump-start labor.

Maybe it's psychosomatic, but I had my first contraction in the car within 10 minutes of leaving his office. We went to breakfast at our favorite Coney Island, where we had gone every Saturday for the past month. The waitresses joked "still pregnant?" and we chuckled with our stock answer of "any day now."

I had a couple more contractions sporadically, but nothing to indicate "this is it." Nick's friends came over and the three of them hung out in Ann Arbor for the afternoon. I was invited, but was definitely not in the mood to be traipsing around. Plus, they were going to get Indian food, and well, if I didn't want to shit Mexican food on the delivery table, I sure as hell didn't want to shit Indian food on the delivery table. Right? Right.

Instead, I got a pedicure, thinking that if my legs would be up in the air within the next week or so (in labor! you pervs), my toes better look nice. This is the smartest thing I have ever done. Well, not really, going to college was pretty smart, starting a 401k was pretty smart, etc. etc., but it was the best $35 spent for sure. Everyone commented on how nice my toes looked during labor, I swear. And I felt like a million bucks, just because some guy loofah'ed my feet and slapped some polish on my toes. It's pretty hard to make a pregnant lady feel hot, but nice toes did the trick.

In hindsight, I can't believe I didn't realize that I was in "pre-labor" - I spent the rest of the day big-time nesting, pretty much just napping non-stop the rest of the day on the couch while I watched horrible (both in plot-line and execution) documentaries on Netflix OnDemand.

Sunday morning and afternoon were pretty uneventful, except for the random contraction here and there. I knew these were real contractions, because they hurt like a mother. Not totally gut-wrenching, but definitely sobered me up to the realization that ouch, I'm about to have a baby, and ouch, it's going to hurt. We had lunch at Grand Traverse Pie company. I was trying to sneak in as many "dates" as I could before the baby arrived. Plus, while I normally love to cook, I couldn't bear the thought of cooking, or, even more so, cleaning up after cooking. I was starting to get exhausted, even though I hadn't really done anything but lounge around.

That night was the Oscars. My contractions started to get closer together, and more consistent around the start of the Oscars, around 8:00 p.m. I later decided that this was the start of my labor. We started timing contractions, and kept a log of them for an hour or so. I remember getting up to walk through a contraction, but stopping to say that Ryan Reynolds was looking mighty hot in a tux. Early labor, clearly, as I could still converse and have clear thoughts. Thoughts that were not like "OMFGGGZZARSGGEASHITFUCKDAMNAZZZZEAPPPAEEERRRPPRPEZMGAGPAO!" Those would come later.

We went to sleep around midnight. Well, I should say, Nick went to sleep around midnight. I got into bed, had a few contractions, and said "aw hell naw" because laying down made them horrible to bear. I got an exercise ball, situated it next to my bed, and sat on it for 3 hours, contracting every 5-6 minutes. Nick was none the wiser. I figured I'd let him sleep, it's not like he could have helped anyway. Very early on in labor, I realized that I wouldn't be needing Nick's help other than to have him in the same room as me. I didn't need him timing, counting, massaging, or even coaching. I just needed him to be in the room with me. So there he slept, because I didn't even let him know that my labor was charging ahead full steam.

Truthfully, I wasn't even 100% sure I was in labor. I still didn't believe it. I knew I was having contractions, but I had read too many birth stories about women being sent home after tons of contractions. I didn't want to be that woman, because I had/have such anxiety about hospitals (no, like, REALLY) that the thought of going to a hospital, getting checked out, and being sent home was akin to torture to me. I don't mean that metaphorically, either. I would rather pay someone $1000 than have that happen.

So when Nick woke up at 3:00 a.m., found me next to the bed contracting every 5 minutes, and learned that I'd been doing that for the past three hours, he jumped up and said "we're going to the hospital!" I dragged my feet big time, taking a long, hot shower, packing my hospital bag verrrrry slooooowly, and blow-drying my hair. He kept rushing me, and I kept saying "well, we still have time..."

Not only did I not want to get sent home for false labor, but I didn't want to spend most of my labor at the hospital. We had already visited the hospital, and while it's one of the best in the country, the rooms leave much to be desired. I was enjoying (as much as I could) being in my own room, on my own exercise ball, in sweats. In hindsight, I should have stayed home longer, but I had to get hooked up to an IV to get antibiotics (group B strep positive) at least 4 hours before delivery, so Nick was eager to get to the hospital.

Before we left the house, I hopped on the computer to write my boss an email. "I think I'm in labor, so I won't be in today." On the way out the door, I gave my dog a sympathetic speech. Poor guy watched us pack our suitcases, and thought he was going on a trip with us. Most of the time, when we packed a suitcase, it meant we were going on a roadtrip, and Murphy usually is in attendance. So he got geeked for this trip we were obviously about to take, and wagged his little tail to the garage door. I had to explain to him that we were going to the hospital to have his baby sister, and I apologized for the upheaval I was about to cause him.

I think only "dog people" will understand. I truly felt devastated and sad that I was leaving my little guy, and about to betray him by having a baby and shifting all of my love elsewhere. As a non-parent, that feeling made sense to me at the time. Now, as a parent, it seems silly that even happened, and maybe it was partly the hormones, but I truly got a little choked up as I saw him stare up at us, like "we're going on a trip, right? Right?! Yay!" only to have us leave without him.

We arrived at the hospital - it was a ghost-town - at 5:30 a.m. I was checked within an hour. 4 cm! Not being sent home! HIP-HIP-HOORAY! I could have kissed the Resident Dr. I couldn't believe I had actually started labor, and that this was the real thing. Contractions were definitely uncomfortable still, and painful. But I could walk to my hospital room, and still talk fine.

By the time I was in my room, around 6:45 a.m., the nurses were about to change shifts. The nurse who was leaving put my IV in. "You're really really good at this, right? You never miss, right?" After she assured me she was an expert... she missed. Of course. Cue mild panic attack. I have a needle phobia, if you will. Yeah, I was about to have a baby. You'd think that the excitement of the event, along with the pain of the contractions would distract my mind from focusing on the needle about to pierce my vein, but you'd be wrong. Anyway, once that fiasco was over, my new nurse arrived.

I swear, someone was looking out for me. Or maybe this was some good karma coming back my way for past good deeds. Or maybe it was just dumb luck. But this nurse couldn't have been better, I swear. She was with me from 7:00 a.m. until her shift ended at 7:00 p.m. I told her that I planned on trying to have a natural birth, and she was my biggest cheerleader. She was so present (I think I was her only patient) and gave me just the right amount of praise ("you CAN do this, you absolutely can") and encouragement ("why don't you go walk some laps around the hall?" "do you want to try to get in the tub now?") that I became really confident in my ability to labor and birth a child.

I had no idea what to expect of labor - I think that was my biggest question while I was pregnant. How would I handle labor? How much would it really hurt? Was I strong enough to go natural? Despite my fear of needles, would I beg for an epidural.

This nurse could not have been a more perfect match for me. Yes, it hurt, but she told me I could do it, and I believed her. I credit her with helping me to believe that I could actually do it.

But I'm not going to sugar-coat it. Contractions? Hurt like hell. Toward the end, they were so bad that I was barely able to stand. We were making loops around the maternity wing, and the loop would take us past the waiting room where my mom, sister, and in-laws were waiting with baited breath. Those last few hours, though, I told Nick I just wanted to walk back and forth down the short hall, instead of making loops, because I didn't want to have to walk by my family. The thought of having to stop and say hi, make funny comments about being in labor (all things I felt obliged to do, I mean, they had been sitting there nearly 10 hours at that point!) was more than I could bear. I was having out-of-body experiences with the pain at that point, and couldn't make eye contact or even smile.

After my first check in triage, before I was admitted, I was checked two times in about 8 hours. The prognosis? First I was 4-5 cm, then I was 5 cm. WHAT THE EFF? I had labored at home and got to 4 cm. Then for EIGHT HOURS I only went 1 cm further. It had to be a mistake. They said to keep on walking... so walking I did.

Finally, after a brief stint in the tub, and more swaying and walking and out-of-body holy-hell-this-hurts pain, I was 8 cm. More walking.   More eyes rolling back in my head. It never even occurred to me to ask for an epidural. I was so focused on getting through each contraction, that I didn't really even notice the time or how long I had been in labor. When Nick quietly asked me if it was okay for him to order some food, I couldn't believe that hours had passed. Labor was so strange, it was as if time stood still and I existed in some sort of parallel universe. I actually couldn't think past the next three minutes. With the end of each contraction, I just focused on resting for the brief 1-3 minutes I had until another one came. Sometimes they were back-to-back and it was just survival mode.

When I was finally 10 cm, my Dr. asked if she could break my water. She did that, and I went back to 8 cm dilated! I was FLOORED.  THE HELL?! Contractions post-water-breaking were much more painful than before. (Which, side-bar, makes me wonder if my water had broken early in the labor... if I would have been able to go drug-free - because really - they hurt a hell of a lot more after my water broke!) It only took 20 minutes or so to get back to 10 cm.

When they say "you'll know when you need to push" - they aren't kidding. One second, I was in labor, having contractions. The next second, I was immediately feeling the need to push. The need to push? by the way, feels like you're about to shit your pants. I know, it's not really the romantic and beautiful side of childbirth, but I'm just being honest. It's that feeling you get (well, maybe you don't get it, but I get it occasionally) when you have to get to the bathroom quickly, or else. Except the release of that pressure feeling would take nearly an hour to get rid of!   Can you imagine? Thankfully, by this point, though, I'd been in labor for 24 hours, and had already, um, gone to the bathroom while I could. And I hadn't had anything to eat in those 24 hours (no Mexican food, no Indian food, I was in the clear!) so thankfully there wasn't a whole messy mess to clean up.  Well, it was messy, but most of the mess was due to the birth, and not due to my last 2 days worth of food.

I pushed for about 45 minutes. I won't lie... at first, I was fake-pushing. Because that shit HURTS. So I would give maybe 30% effort and then take a break. Luckily, the lights were low, and the nurses/doctors in the room weren't super loud or cheerleadery. I told Nick early into my pregnancy that I didn't want a cheerleadery nurse chirping at me to pushpushpush! It was pretty calm and quiet.

But after a few dozen fake-pushes, my doctor leveled with me. "Listen Lindsay... you're not really giving it your all. You're going to waste a lot of energy with these pushes, which you need down the road." I knew she was right, and I tried to give myself a pep-talk. "It's not like I can keep avoiding this pain, the longer I dink around with these fake pushes, the longer I will be in labor." I just had to accept the fact that I was about to endure horrific pain, and get on with it.

At this point, they took a bed sheet that had a bunch of knots in it, almost fashioned it into a rope, and had me hold on to one end of it while Nick held on to the other. He was literally standing at the foot of the bed, front and center right between my legs where the doctor normally is, coaching me through each contraction. I was kind of nervous that he would end up delivering the baby! Finally, the doctor told him he could resume his spot up closer to my head, and she prepped for delivery.

I honestly don't really remember many more details - lots of pushing, which is basically like you're constipated and about to have a human-head-sized-crap, if we're just being honest. Turns out it kinda hurts for a human head to come out of your nether regions. I am sure this is the first time you have ever heard that, I am a visionary, right?

And all of a sudden, I open my eyes, and there's a skinny, crying baby, arms spread out, covered in blood. My first question was "are you sure it's a girl?" because I had been terrified that all of our pink clothes and purple walls would be for naught, but I had no reason to worry. They plopped her on me, and there we have it - I became a Mom.

This was pieced together mostly for my own posterity... because while I had planned to write it down for within a week of the birth, here it is almost 3 months later and the details are already kinda fuzzy to me. (And truthfully, it took me 4 weeks to write. Yeah, this lovely piece of Nobel-prize-worthy literature took me 4 weeks to write. Call Stockholm! Or is it Helsinki? Some Scandanavian city, right? I am so smrt.)

Here is a picture of my kid as George Washington, because how else do you end a cluster-(swearword) of a post that really has no cohesion or flow?

Thursday Night Thoughts

2010-05-07T00:10:00.000-04:00

I read a very thought-provoking tweet earlier this week. It read, "what's the one thing you would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?"

I was floored.

The answer was so simple for me. Barely had to think about it. I would be my own boss. Work as much as I wanted to. If we were doing fine, financially, I'd take some time off to spend with Claire. When I needed to contribute to the pot, I'd throw on my working pants (figuratively speaking) and get to work. I could work at night, after bedtime, with the crickets chirping, or during daylight hours like most other peeps. I could walk to my favorite local coffeeshop and caffeinate myself, or work in my skivvies from the office at The Noble Home.

The only thing I'm not quite sure about? What in the hell I would actually do. According to the tweet, I CANNOT FAIL in this scenario. So, in a perfect world, my dream job (the one where I am my own boss) should be something I LOVE to do. Only problem is, I don't even know what I really love to do.

Here's what I do know, though:

no 8:00 a.m. meeting every day
no cubicle
workspace would have access to windows
no countdowns (I swear, every day is a countdown (I'm sure this will increase ten-fold once I return to work after my maternity leave is over in three weeks...))
no annual reviews, no upper managers to silently talk back to, no fear of layoffs

I am sure there are people who approach life in general this way. It seems like the resounding theme lately is to just do what you love, and the rest will fall into place (with a lot of countless hours, elbow grease, plenty of uphill battles, nonetheless). It sounds so easy when you hear success stories, and I like to focus on that aspect of it, but the realist side of me knows that for every success story, there are ninety-nine other stories. People don't typically get their grandslam, walk-off home-run idea on the first try, but eventually hard work pays off, right? Right?

Now I just need to figure out what it is that would make my clock tick, and then work on breaking down my fear of failure, and I'm set. Not such a hard task for a Thursday night, right? ;)

And, a little off-subject, but: some baby pictures, just because.

2010-04-13T16:11:00.001-04:00

Three things I love in this picture, and one thing I don't... (hint, it's the garden). (Guess it isn't a hint if I just flat out give you the answer!)

2010-04-12T13:27:00.006-04:00

So our dog ate something foul and has diarrhea. During the trip to the vit, our vet said "Oh look, he's sleeping!" about Claire. Hmmm... I wonder why?!

Okay, in all fairness... the carseat isn't exactly screaming GIRL. It's gender-neutral, with a leaning towards the weenie.

The blanket was a gift. I swear. Oddly, the gift contained all boys stuff, I swear. I was like "hmmm what's this all about" but hey, free stuff, I won't turn it down.

The shirt is yellow, and actually has cupcakes on it (note to self... don't make cupcakes, cupcakes taste like feet and will give you herpes - let's hope that works) - BUT - the vet couldn't see the cupcakes because she was covered up by her testosterone-y looking blanket.

Although, I'm sure that even if the cupcakes were visible, he'd probably just think I have a screw loose and still would think she was a dude, all else considered. Oh well. All I really care about at this point is getting my dog to stop shitting in the house! I already have another bum other than my own to take care of, I don't need to add "dog's bum" to the list.

On that note... ta ta.

A Day In The Life

2010-04-08T16:56:00.006-04:00

Before I was pregnant, I always used to wonder "what in the hell do moms do all day?" Well... ever since I pushed out that 6lb baby, my question has been answered. I'll walk you through a day I had this week.

On Monday, I had the great idea to meet Roxanne and Jackie for lunch. With those two living and working in Metro Detroit, and me living in Metro Ann Arbor (such a thing doesn't exist, but go with it) - I thought that the 45-to-60-minute drive was too long to do all at once and still have a sleeping and cooperative baby, so I pit-stopped at my parent's Metro Detroit house to nurse and diaper change and raid their snack cupboard. What? I was hungry. And they have way better snacks than I ever have in my house.

Anyway, back to my day. Here goes... (and I'll start from the beginning...)

12:00 midnight - go to sleep with Nick. Poor Nick - for him, it is a "school night". Poor Lindsay - that means that I am on night duty solo. (I don't make him get up in the middle of the night if all I am going to do the next day is stay at home with the baby!)

2:45 a.m. - Claire wakes up for some boob time.

3:20 a.m. - Boob time is OVAH. I have closed up shop, for the hour. Thank God I don't have a fussy baby, and she goes back to sleep like a CHARM.

5:00 a.m. - There is demand for the boobs, once again. I am surprised that when I hear her newborn coo'ing, even though it's sweet, that since it is 5:00 a.m. and I am tired as all get-out, that I don't get pissed. Wow, does that sentence made an iota of sense? Let me rephrase: she is so perfect, that even though I am tired like the wolf, the fact that she is hungry like the wolf makes me eager like the wolf to give her what she wants. (Too much WOLF?)

5:12 a.m. - Nick's alarm clock goes off to Jason Mraz on the radio. Nothing gets Nick up more than Jason Mraz. HAHAHAHA. I didn't intend for that to be funny/innuendo, but it is! But really, though, Nick hates his guts and hits snooze so hard that he wakes up and no more snoozing for Nick. Basically, if Nick wants to be at work at like 6:30 a.m. (who the eff would want to do that?!) then make sure Jason Mraz is playing at 5:12 because that = no snoozing for Nick and he's out the door super early.

5:15 a.m. - Nick takes Claire and snuggles with her between teats, and I get a 60-second nap. My boob starts leaking, though, and I snatch her back.

5:30 a.m. - breakfast is over. Back to bed for us, and Nick gets dressed for work.

6:15 a.m. - Nick kisses us each goodbye on his way out the door but I barely remember it because HELLO two feedings in the middle of the night?

8:30 a.m. - I had to set my alarm for this morning, otherwise we wouldn't make our 12 noon lunch date. Seriously. You'll see why in a second.

8:35 a.m. - Never wake a sleeping baby. THAT IS, unless you have 12 noon lunch plans with your girlfriends who live and work almost an hour away.

8:36 a.m. - Wake a sleeping baby, for breakfast. Not of the Carnation Instant variety. (I am not funny.)

9:00 a.m. - Breakfast is over, I am pretty filthy and smell of sour milk. Motherhood is pretty glamorous, like on TV. HA.

9:05 a.m. - Check my email on my mobile device - I am soooo hip to technology since I finally bought a cellphone that was manufactured in the 2000s. Last one was from 1998, I swear. The fact that I can CHECK EMAIL seems like the coolest thing ever to me. Clearly I need to get out of the house more.

9:10 a.m. - Jump in the shower. Get rid of my smellies, and make my hair smell nice with my fancy shampoo.

{OMG LONGEST BLOG POST ABOUT MY MUNDANE DAY EVERRR}

9:25 a.m. - Claire has taken the biggest shit ever when I was in the shower.

9:30 a.m. - Pre-treat the shit stain on her white onesie outfit.

9:35 a.m. - Wash her bum a few times over and put a cute dress on her so my friends will think she is adorable (which she is without the dress, but the dress didn't hurt...).

9:40 a.m. - Blow-dry hair, and pray she doesn't shit again while in the bouncy chair.

10:00 a.m. - Finagle Claire into the car seat, and the car seat into the car, oh! and thaw out some milk in the off-chance she fusses while we're out (oh hell no not ready to breastfeed in public yet!).

10:15 a.m. - We're "late" to my plan, but finally leave the house. Start off the car ride by playing a children's CD of xylophone rendition of Johnny Cash songs, but change to the radio after "Walk the Line" is done.

11:00 a.m. - Arrive at my parents house. Get car seat and diaper bag out of the car, grab the house key (separate from my car keys) to my parent's house, and head for the door.

11:01 a.m. - WAIT - this key is NOT for my parent's house. SHIT. WTF am I going to do? Parents are in Mexico on vacation.

11:02 a.m. - Try the keyless entry to the garage. Duh I'm stupid. Works, thank God.

11:05 a.m. - Raid parent's snack cupboard, eat a Costco biscotti, and peruse through the Sunday paper ads which are on the kitchen table. Oh yeah, I have a kid, I should tend to her.

11:10 a.m. - Feed Claire her 2nd breakfast (or 4th, depending on how you look at it). Make her bottom a clean one, and wrangle the dress over her little bottom. This will be the last day she can fit into her Newborn size clothes. She is 4 weeks old today.

11:15 a.m. - Check the internet, to see what I missed in the last two hours. Not much.

11:30 a.m. - Being 15 minutes away from the lunch place, I decide to get going, so I get there early or on time. I pat myself on the back like thirty times because I am NEVER on time, let alone early, and look at me now, all responsible and a mom and I can do this! Go me!

11:31 a.m. - OMFG WHERE IS THE CAR KEY?   Side note: my dog got ahold of my keys when he was a puppy. He ate the shit out of the key, so I have been using a key that no longer has any way to be attached to a key ring. I just carry around the solitary key so it's SUPER EASY to lose, unfortch.

11:31 a.m. - 12:10 p.m. - SHITF*CKDAMN The key has dissipated into thin air, it has fallen into the black hole of the dryer (where all of those socks go), it fell into the toilet while I did my bidness, I accidentally ate it, SOMETHING. Something happened to the key and it no longer exists. Maybe I should call a voodoo priestess or something.

12:10 p.m. - call my friends to cancel our lunch date. Am SUPER bummed. Wonder how in the hell we're going to get home. Nick is going to be THRILLED to have to drive over her after work to pick us up.

12:11 p.m. - I pick up Claire, resigning my fate to stay at my parent's house for at least 5 hours until Nick can pick us up, and what is that under her butt?   The key.   Of course Claire is sitting on the key.

12:37 p.m. - I show up at lunch - thank God Roxanne and Jackie could still make it and the day is not a total waste!

1:45 p.m. - Lunch time ovah. Friends have to go back to the real world. They both agree my baby is the cutest baby that ever came into existence.

2:45 p.m. - We make it back home. I am tuckered out... I've been up and at 'em since 8:30 a.m. just to have an hour lunch with friends. Holy shit.

2:50 p.m. - More boob time. Poor kid is STARVING.

3:30 p.m. - Speaking of starving... what's for dinner?   I start to think about what we have in the house that I could make for the two of us tonight. Settle on turkey burgers - all I have to do is get a couple of crusty buns (hehe) from the market.

4:05 p.m. - back from the market that is literally 1/8 mile from my house. Yes, it took me over half an hour to get the car seat into the car, drive there, get car seat out, do an iota of shopping, car seat back in, drive home, and car seat into the house.

5:00 p.m. - Deenner. Is Serrrrved. (Said like Mrs. Doubtfire)

6:00 p.m. - Deenner. Is Serrrrved. Except this time it's of the dairy variety, and for a party of one. I am the maitre'd, hostess, and server. And clean-up, as well.

7:00 p.m. - Chillax upstairs in the man-cave (yes, we're that stereotypical couple that lamely calls their room with the nice tv/surround sound/etc. the "man cave" - I hate those people on House Hunters who are like "well this will be my man cave!" and then later the girl says "the closet is kinda small... where will my shoes go?! har-har-har")

7:45 p.m. - Put Claire to bed, dink around on the internet for a while while Nick watches sports. We're both exhausted.

9:45 p.m. - We go to bed.

10:00 p.m. - Just as I've fallen asleep, Claire wakes up for dinner # 2. We snuggle for an extra few minutes. Perfect ending to a not-so-perfect-but-I-wouldn't-change-it day.

And, that's a wrap. Holy shit, that was exhausting just to write out, and even more exhausting to live through. But - honestly - I can't complain. I wouldn't have it any other way.

2010-03-14T23:51:00.001-04:00

no time for actual posts... just pictures. seeing your husband with his daughter... words don't do it justice.

2010-03-13T23:31:00.001-05:00

I still can't believe that today was my due date yet we already have a 5-day old daughter. The thought of having her "early" never even crossed my mind. She really is quite lovely, though, and she came at the perfect time. Life is good.

2010-03-10T10:02:00.001-05:00

ready to go home now!

2010-03-04T18:30:00.001-05:00

39 week appt... still pregnant! here is a bodily-fluid overshare: i have never ever peed into a cup without drenching my hand! you are welcome, dear reader. well, we set an induction date for my 41st week, which means i will now will my body into labor because um NO THANKS on those induction methods. first up: mexican dinner with my beau. ta ta for now...

2010-02-28T22:04:00.001-05:00

oh my gosh, all of this sitting around watching olympics is soooo tiring. can a dude get some zzz's on a sunday, please?

2010-02-27T18:55:00.002-05:00

38 weeks pregnant... with both a baby and two boxes of girl scout samoa cookies. perfect timing, girl scouts of america!

Things I Did Not Do Tonight

2010-02-02T20:35:00.003-05:00

1.) Watch Lost.
2.) Refrain from eating a bowl of ice cream, despite 4 lb. weight gain since my last Dr. appt. 2 weeks ago
3.) Walk my dog. (POOR GUY)
4.) Have an anxiety attack about the creeper who exposed himself to the neighbor kids. (That was last night (the anxiety attack)) (And OMG. Am beyond distraught over this news. Those poor kids. I'd like to personally castrate the man. And I truly won't be able to sleep soundly for a good few weeks, I'm guessing.) (P.S. I do not live in a shady area whatsoever, so this really took the wind out of me... esp. being prego.)
5.) Fart. That was the dog. I swear!

So, it turns out... the best way for me to get some "decorate my house" motivation is to have a crap-ton of people over! Since I live in the middle of the state, and my family is on the east side, Nick's on the east, it was decided that my house would be as good a place as any to have a bebe shower.

Once that was decided... well, let's just say that my white walls are no longer white. We FINALLY got rid of hideous gold/brass light fixtures that just tortured my soul endlessly for almost 2 years, and hung up some stuff/scored some cheap duds at Home Goods. Nothing fancy, but better than nothing! Last weekend was one of those weekends where we were non-stop working on the house. Once it was all said and done with, I finally "got it" - why people work on their house. Quite rewarding, I must say!

Kinda side-bar story: my co-worker's house was ruined in a fire. He just bolted from work early last week, popped his head in our Manager's office and said "gotta run, my house is on fire!" He's a fairly young guy, early-to-mid-30s, maybe? He has 2 young boys, about 3 and 7. The older boy was devastated that his bike was ruined. We all pitched in a bought them a shiny new Schwinn. When my co-worker brought in his boys on Friday so we could "surprise" them with the bikes (the 7 yr old totes spotted the bike in one of those offices that has half-glass door) - it was the most heartwarming thing I've witnessed in a long time. The 7 yr old kept talking about how his new bike "has a kickstand!!!!!!" It truly is the little things, right?
(How was that a side-bar story? you might ask. Well, I heard that my co-worker has spent a lot of time on his house, had put in a lot of elbow grease, blood-sweat-and-tears sort of thing. And after this weekend, I couldn't help to think of how devastating it would be to not only lose your house, but to lose all of that time/effort/etc. you had put into it. Okay, I've digressed far enough...)

Where to next?

Uh, taxes. Taxes. Oh taxes. Nick and I typically claim zero exemptions. Not for any particular reason, but mostly because we're not super stellar at saving money, so if we claimed the amount of exemptions that would make us break-even at the end of the year, then that extra money (extra meaning the difference from claiming zero) would just go towards an extra dinner out per week, or a new x-box game, or a trip to Target. While some people are OK with this, and prefer this ("I get my money, what is mine, each paycheck, instead of giving an interest-free loan to the government!") - I like getting this extra money in the spring. It kind of feels like bonus money. Like, "Here, get a new fridge!" Or, "buy yourself some new windows so you don't spend $410 to heat your house in the winter!") (BTW: "HEAT" used very liberally... as I don't consider spending $410 to "heat" my house to 65 degrees quite worth it...)

Anyhow... so when I got all of our W2's gathered in a nice, neat stack, I went to town with TurboTax.

Except, um, TurboTax? Please tell me that decimal place should be one place to the right. Because $250????? EFF ME. I was expecting no less than $2500. Holy hell, we spent $11k on mortgage interest alone last year!

After taking a closer look at our W2's, I think that maybe Nick's work wasn't taking out as much tax as they should have. He claimed 0 exemptions the whole year, but they took about 50% less taxes in 2009 than in 2008. I don't claim to understand who/what/where/when/why of taxes. But it turns out that Nick got "what he was supposed to get" in his paycheck all year long.

At least we don't have to pay! But - ugh. In a few weeks here, I'm going to be out of work for 12 weeks. That $250 refund won't go so far... and I was planning on using our tax return to soften the blow of me not working for 12 weeks. (Getting partial pay for 6 weeks, granted, but zero pay for six weeks.)

At the end of the day, though, what really matter? I have a BOMB ASS husband, a perfect dog, and I will soon have a daughter! A real, live daughter! WHOA WTF. I am pretty sure I will read back on this post and say "who gives a shit" about taxes and such nonsense.

After seeing that cute kid get geeked about a kickstand... really helped me put things in perspective.

2010-01-30T21:07:00.001-05:00

what did i do to deserve being locked up in here all day? it's not like i would have brushed up against the wet paint and totally screwed it up and made my mama go insane or anything! gosh, my life is ruff.

2010-01-19T20:26:00.001-05:00

seriously, people: does it get much cuter than this guy?!?!

Right Vs. Wrong

2010-01-07T16:10:00.000-05:00

Okay, people, I am 7 months pregnant. I have never been pregnant before in my life, so I never knew what it felt like to be a pregnant lady. Therefore, I may not have known the proper and improper things to say to a pregnant lady. Makes sense, right?

Let this blog post be a lesson to you all, in case you are in that same boat (have never been a pregnant lady before...)...

Things That Are RIGHT To Say To A Pregnant Lady:

You look so beautiful! *

You are glowing! **

Oh my gosh, I can hardly tell you're pregnant! ***

Wow, you are just starting to show! ****

Things That Are WRONG To Say To A Pregnant Lady:

Wow, you are getting so big! *****

* Someone said to me today, at work. She just found out I am pregnant. Bless her heart, I have seen her at least every other day during my whole pregnancy, just in the halls, but she has never noticed before, and today I was wearing a shirt that definitely, no-doubt-about-it, shows the whole world I am pregnant.

** Also said by the aforementioned lady today. Lovely to hear, even if not true!

*** No one has ever said this to me before... but I said this to a friend a few years ago. Backstory: this was my first friend to have a baby. And so it was my first experience with a pregnant lady, really, in my adult life. And I only see this friend about once a year. So I met her and her husband for dinner with my (then) boyfriend (now husband) when I was in her area. She was around 5 months pregnant, I think. Now, remember, I've only been pregnant once, so this is with limited experience I am speaking, but being 5 months pregnant is a tricky time. You don't quite have a basketball bump yet, you're just... slightly thicker in the gut. Ya know? It could either be that you're packing on the lbs due to stress, or due to a fetus! You never know. So when she stood up to greet me, I exclaimed "Oh my gosh! I can barely even tell you're pregnant!" IMMEDIATELY after I said that, I regretted it. Was this a faux pas? Did I just insult her? I had no idea! And honestly, I still cringed when I thought about that comment (and I had thought about it!) until I became pregnant myself. Then, remembering back on that comment, I have since decided that it's not such a bad comment. It's essentially saying "You look thin and wonderful. You are a madonna." (SEE FOOTNOTE)

**** This was also said to be by a different co-worker today, a co-worker who previously knew I was pregnant. Must be the shirt I am wearing today, man! Getting the comments on mah belleh. Anyway, he made the comment as I sat down in a meeting, and it made me chuckle, because, um yeah! I better be showing at 7 months! Otherwise, I will give birth to a rat, and no one wants to give birth to a rat, except, perhaps, a rat.

***** The Big Kahuna. This is the BAD comment. This was said to me on Monday (first day back to work after the 1.5 week holiday break). "Wow, you're getting so big!" It was a manager at work, a lady manager at work, a lady manager at work who has kids. I can't quite grasp it, how exactly she thought that was an "OK" thing to say. I mean, I don't care if it's the truth... if it's the truth, then holy shit! PLEASE LIE TO MY FACE! TELL ME I AM BEAUTIFUL, BUT GOOD LORD, DO NOT TELL ME I AM BIG! I am ALL FOR people lying to my face, in the sake of being nice or fake. When I am pregnant, that is.

Well, that pretty much wraps up my rant. I bid you adieu... until the next comment comes rolling of the next person's tongue...

FOOTNOTE: Now, don't get me wrong. I have no desire to be thin and pregnant. I only desire for a healthy baby and a safe pregnancy. Please don't let my blithe comment fool you. I am merely trying to be witty and funny, ok?

POST-SCRIPT: Just because I said that I want people to lie to my face and tell me I am glowing and beautiful even if they don't think I am, please don't interpret that to mean that if I have said such things to you in prior history, that I was lying to your face. Obviously, I, of gracious and honorable intentions, would never lie to a woman, let alone a pregnant woman. I am, like, way, way above that. ;)

2009-12-12T11:38:00.001-05:00

sometimes you just have to lay in bed on a saturday morning until 11:30 with a towel around your head and your legs all akimbo...

2009-12-06T10:05:00.001-05:00

gosh i'm so tired. my moms and pops have had people over non-stop the past couple of days and i can't keep up! my mom can't keep up either, but at least she can sneak in naps, i can't do that with all these new people to smell and play ball with and give puppy eyes to and maybe just for a second try to hump. my mom said that i can't hump people because no means no. oh boy i am so tuckered out. i kind of just hope i can sleep all day but i think ny grandma and grandpa are coming over, and i really don't want to disappoint my grandpa by being asleep, because he loves to play with me and scratch my belly and talks to me in a funny special voice. i can't miss that. i think i know how my monday will pan out... me, the couch, and a whole lot of shut eye, that's what. no standing by the window waiting for my mom to get home, no standing on the stair landing looking for the yappy dogs next door
. just me and my zzz's. signing off and out, yours truly, mister moof.

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11-05-09 Documented

2009-11-18T16:45:00.000-05:00

Bake sale at work today... with proceeds going to a local food shelter. Ironic, but hey, you want to raise money? Hit people in the face with the smell of a gigantic array of baked goods at 8:00 a.m. I purchased a mini loaf of cheese-bread, which I intended on taking home and enjoying with dinner with Nick. Haha. It's about 80% gone, and no point in stopping now. Also purchased: caramel fudge topped brownie. Soooo rich, it wasn't even funny. But that sure didn't stop me from devouring the whole thing in one sitting. Also, a dark chocolate covered coconut ball. Luckily (for me) this one didn't strike my fancy as much, so about 75% of it ended up in the trash. My midsection clapped and then had an encore. It was thrilled.

Also at work today, I got to work on my persuasive talking. I'm really only good at persuasive talking when I am 100% confident that what I'm saying it true, honest, thoughtful, etc. For instance, today I walked into a conversation that was already underway. They were discussing a work issue regarding one of our systems. Everyone huddled in the circle was saying "but we've got to do xyz" and immediately I saw the issue. "But in doing so, you're missing 123..." I tried explaining. My first attempt was not successful. "But xyz..." they countered. It took a couple of more patient and thorough walk-throughs of my thought process, but they eventually saw the light. "Ahhhhh, Lindsay is right. 123 is the way to go." Honestly, I can't tell you how satisfying that was. Not that I care that they were on the wrong path and I was right... but just that I was persistent, patient, and not rude about my discourse and mode of communication, and was therefore effective. I guess I earned my cheese bread today!

In this conversation, however, I encountered one of the more unpleasant things about being pregnant: the stomach starers. The people who, not so subtley, avert their eyes down to my stomach and stare at it for a good 2-3 seconds. I HATE THIS. I have really grown to enjoy pregnancy in the past 1-2 weeks (ever since the ultrasound) but this is one of the things I still HATE about being pregnant. I hate people checking me out.

Now, some people can do it nicely. For instance, yesterday, I was standing in front of a file cabinet, and a woman I work with came up and exclaimed "oh my gosh! I hadn't seen your profile yet!" and that was fine. She was looking me in the eye while she said it. But that's much different than the feeling I get when I walk into a meeting or up to someone, and I look at them and their eyes are on my mid-section. I just can't get over how uncomfortable that is. I'm not talking about a quick glance here... I mean the full on stares. It's quite disconcerting, but hey, if that's the least of my worries... then I say "bring on the cheese bread!"

So, today marks the 10th straight day of going on my daily 1.5 mile walk. We started this 9 days ago (obviously) and tried to make a goal of going for a walk once a day to keep our legs moving and our dog happy. Well, our legs have moved, and our dog has been happy (and will continue to be happy). Once again - CHEESE BREAD - EARNED!

Asanine Story of the Day

2009-11-04T10:15:00.001-05:00

http://money.cnn.com/2009/11/03/news/companies/johnson_johnson_job_cuts/index.htm?postversion=2009110309

Okay... so layoff 8000 people. Then say ""Health care is a great place to be," he said. "We feel very excited about the future.""

And then: "However, he acknowledged that the economic outlook remains cloudy, adding that a recovery will not take hold until the job market improves and consumers become more willing to spend."

Hmmm... the two go hand-in-hand, no?

How are the 8000 laid-off people supposed to spend their money (that they aren't earning thanks to the layoff) on Johnson & Johnson products?

I mean, I am no economist, never claimed to be, never want to be, never will truly understand how it all works. But I read CNN, and to me, this story is asinine and stupid. Don't write a story about layoffs but then explain how once people stop getting laid off, they'll spend more money on your products.

A:LSKDJFS:LDJASDFLKJ!JOSDIFPEOUR.

End Vent.

Insanely Bored, and Talking About Money (and Cookies, briefly)

2009-10-23T14:02:00.001-04:00

I am crazy bored lately. Especially at work. I probably shouldn't write that down on the Internet, should I? My mind is constantly wandering, though, and the minutes drag by. Of course, once I am cognizant of this, they drag by even more slowly. I am always checking the clock to see how long I have until lunch, and then the time from lunch until 5:00 p.m.? B-R-U-T-A-L. First off, I want a mid-afternoon nap. Second of all, I want to be in bed, under the covers, not napping, but hibernating. Is this nesting? I don't know. But sitting at a desk in constricting pants is not jiving with my heart's desires. Ya know? I mean, does it ever? Are things that different now? No. My pants have always been restricted, and I have always been sitting at a desk. But these weird months between finding out I am pregnant (oh yeah, blog, I'm pregnant!) to actually realizing the results of the pregnancy (i.e. having a child - I don't mean 'realize' as in 'it suddenly dawned on me', i mean 'realize' like 'to make real, give reality to') I find it impossible to focus 100% on work. Or even 75% on work. I still do a good job, I think I'm still going above and beyond (just a tad) so I'm not worried about it, just more annoyed that I have to be here.

For instance, today, after going home for lunch, I stopped and got a hot carmel apple cider from the local coffee shop. Instead of devouring it on the ride back to work (about 10 minutes or so), I only allowed myself a few sips before getting back to my desk. My thought was that if I had a hot drink to distract myself with at work, then time would go by more quickly. Or, if I have something to enjoy at work, then I'll be marginally more happy this afternoon. I did afford myself the luxury of taking the top off of the drink and savoring the fresh whipped cream with carmel drizzled atop. Is that not the best part of getting ANY drink at a coffee shop? Enjoying the accouterments of a warm beverage, straight off the lid. Ahhh.

What else to mention in this disjointed post? So now that we are finally credit card debt free (wahoo!) and have some money in savings (gasp!) and aren't paycheck-to-paycheck, well, now it's time to return to our old ways of acting as if we're paycheck-to-paycheck. I know it's crass to talk about money in public, but whatever. In truth, we've never BEEN paycheck-to-paycheck, but we've had the mentality of this: spend every penny we can on paying off the debts. Makes sense, right? There are tons of personal finance programs/books/website/radio shows that tout the same thing. So we took that approach that we should be really frugal with our money (create and stick to a budget, i.e. $50/week for eating out, $75/week for grocery) and all leftover money went towards paying off the wedding debt. Which was stupid to accrue in the first place but ah, you only get married once for the first time, right? ;)

So I took to my trusty spreadsheet (you know it!) and plotted out how much money I WOULDN'T be making while on maternity leave. Holy hell. So between now and then, I have to save four-digits per month, minimum, to cover my lack of pay for those few months. This is depressing for a few reasons: just when we're starting to get some savings, and can afford the luxury of buying a new book or a new pair of shoes (haha these are luxuries to me after 10-months of paying off the credit card!), you're back to the mentality of paycheck-to-paycheck. Except this time, all of our extra money is going towards savings, instead of debt. So at least that part feels good. We're also approaching things way differently now that we ever have... more of a cash-only perspective. Buy a crib? Pay with cash. Need a years worth of contacts? Pay with cash. Don't do it until we can pay with cash. Now, I don't mean we walk into stores with wads of 20s... we do pay with a credit card, but immediately transfer the money from checking to savings. It's really refreshing, and a huge load off of my shoulders that we aren't accruing more debt. Okay, I'll stop being tacky and I'll stop talking about money now...

Last point of the day... I prefer my cookie dough... cooked into a cookie. That is all.

This Annoys The Shit Out Of Me (Alternate Title: Perhaps Tomorrow I Will Post Something Nice)

2009-09-01T10:40:00.001-04:00

I have this pack of Stride gum at my desk at work, for those mornings when I have too much coffee and thus coffee breath that could kill a small child, or those days when I do not brush my teeth before leaving the house (calm down, I have a toothbrush in the locker in the ladies room) (yes, my work bathroom has a set of lockers, weird, right?).

This annoying pack of Stride gum has the handiwork of some annoying advertising/marketing people on the inside of the package. Basically, you flip open the package and there's annoying list on the inside of the cardboard, that looks like a piece of notebook paper ripped out of the notebook. There's a "To Do List" with some fictional person's goals, including:

Coin A Phrase
Live with the Wild Llamas of Peru
Discover an element to add to the Periodic Table
Get into a break dance battle.

So wait... let me break this down and understand fully...

1. Coin a phrase - okay, fine. Make up a little euphemism or acronym or alliteration with your posse of high school buddies. Make up a term to use about hot girls, none of whom you'd ever talk to, but you sure can talk about. Talk the talk, but never walk the walk, type of thing. You're so cool. I bet your phrase will be spread around all of the United States and soon enough Jimmy Fallon will use it on his talk show. You will be the coolest kid in town!

2. Live with wild llamas? In Peru? First of all, do you speak Spanish, and are you up to date on South American immunizations? You do realize you'd be without cell phone towers, so you won't be able to Twitter it, update your facebook status, and/or perform a live upload to Flickr while simultaneously riding said llamas? Still want to do it? That old age question of "if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it make a sound?" is now replaced with "if you can't facebook it real-time, do you still want to do it?". You're lame. Read a book.

3. Yeah fricken right. You are not a scientist. There are no elements left to be found. (Not necessarily true, that was a tiny fiblet.) But - if there are un-discovered elements, they wouldn't be a dumb discovery, like "Oh, I was digging up that ziplock of illegal substances I had stashed in my parent's backyard garden, and I found this nugget of crystallized substance, and I thought, 'I wonder if this is a new element?'" NO. THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN.

4. Okay, so you're a twerpy scientist who discovers elements, yet you have the street cred to a.) know how to break dance and b.) actually "battle" someone? Please. The only "battling" you do is of Star Gallactica variety. (I thought that was pretty funny, if I don't say so myself...)

I don't know why this stupid package of gum annoys me so... but literally every time I open it, I scoff and get pissy. I hate dumb advertising aimed at tweens! I am turning into a pissy old woman! HALP!

A Toothy Confession

2009-08-28T15:24:00.000-04:00

Confession: I've used the hair off of my own head as dental floss, in times of great need. For example, in the movie theater with a critical piece of kernel cornered between my molars. Also, driving home after dinner with a poppy seed lodged between two incisors. Sometimes desperate times do call for desperate measures.

False: I tell my dentist about the frequency in which I floss. I say it's twice a week, give or take.

Truth: More like once a month, is like it. There, I said it. Yeah, I know it's gross. I'll floss tonight.

J.C.! and other stuff

2009-08-26T16:55:00.001-04:00

I just got my every-six-months teeth cleaning. Is it bi-annual, or semi-annual? I never know...

Anyway, I hate dental hygienists. Well, let me reiterate. I hate the ones at my current dental office. You see, I went to the same dentist for 20 years... the one I grew up going to. Their motto is "We Cater to Cowards" which really has my name ALL OVER IT because I'm the biggest doctor/dentist-phobic. They were good people. Until I decided to move 45 minutes away, and the normally 25-minute drive turned into an hour-and-a-half from my new abode. Not so efficient to make that trek, even if only twice a year.

[I think I've written this post before, I just got some serious deja vu. I'll have to check my archives from 6 months ago...]

Anyway, so this is probably the 2nd or 3rd time I've visited my "new" dentist, and man, they hack THE SHIT out of my gums. It's like they're excavating a new archaeological dig or something. I almost want to ask "hey, did I cut you off at an intersection or something? Did I hit on your boyfriend? Why do you have a mutiny against my mouth right now?" I almost feel like Steve Carell in 40 Year Old Virgin getting my chest waxed... I looked up at her with tears in my eyes and shouted "YOU BITCH!" Okay, not really, but I did in my head. Brutal.

* * *

So is it just me, or is the feeling of driving in/walking in to work on Monday morning just about as worse as getting a teeth cleaning? I liiiiiive for the weekend. I barely think about work during the weekend, minus the occasional log-in to work email. So when I open the door and smell that familiar smell... it's like "ugh - back to this". I truly envy people who love their job, and even more so people who are their own boss. I feel like I could handle being my own boss, working overtime for myself, my company, taking a pay cut, all that jazz... I just don't have my big idea yet. And by big idea, I don't mean million dollar idea, I just mean any idea that will work. I think working for yourself must be the best job anyone could have...

* * *

So, not to sound like a total couch potato... but holy moly, I can't wait for prime-time TV to start the fall lineup. The Office, 30 Rock, Project Runway (OK, technically that has started), Mad Men (okay, okay), The Biggest Loser! Ahh... and then I wonder how it is that I've gained 10 pounds over the last year? Oh yes, you read it correctly... I went in my for annual Dr. visit (lovely, lovely experience...) and you better believe it (well, I better believe it) - the scale don't lie. I so wish it did... Did I fall into the "I got married and gained weight" trap? It appears so... it was rather upsetting, I mean, yeah, my clothes don't look so hot on me but DANG GINA. I's gotsta get me to the gym ASAP. Like, tonight. Hence, the desire for good programming on the telly, so I can plug in the earphones and pound out an hour of cardio... wish me luck!

If My Husband Won a Million Dollars

2009-08-18T20:37:00.002-04:00

So, remember when I posted about what I would do with a Millon [sic] Dollars?

Well, the last couple of weeks I have thrown in $5 to the work lottery pool. I am not a huge gambler, but I'm definitely not against it. I just generally don't even think about the lottery. But it's one of those things where... if my co-workers are doing it, I am going to jump in on that. NO WAY IN HAIL am I going to be the chump who doesn't throw in the week they win the big draw.

Yes, I'm that naive person who actually believes we have a chance at winning!

So much so that I created a list of how I would spend the money! Ha ha! The nerve...

Well, it was my list, and Nick disagreed on a few of my points. I told him if he won his lottery pool at work, that he could make up his own list. That appeased him for the short-term, and I took down his list of how he'd spend his first mil.

All Debt (house, car, student loans) 1 @ $234,000 = $234,000
Siblings Gift 5 @ $10,000 = $50,000
New Car 1 @ $25,000 = $25,000
Parents Gift 2 @ $150,000 = $300,000
House Reno 1 @ $50,000 = $50,000
Vacation 5 @ $3,000 = $15,000
Landscaping 1 @ $20,000 = $20,000
Savings 1 @ $100,000 = $100,000
Checking 1 @ $50,000 = $50,000
Charity 1 @ $156,000 = $156,000
$1,000,000

So as a couple, we weren't tooooo far off from each other. Nick's biggest beef with my list was how much I would give to charity. One thing we saw eye to eye on (or, rather, Nick said "I like what you put... put that on mine too") was the pre-paid or pre-saved-for vacations. :) :) :) WE LIKE VACATIONS. What on Earth could possibly be better than having a vacation already paid for a few years in a row?! Sublime. One thing Nick was much more liberal with was House Renovations (hey, I wouldn't mind new floors throughout!) and... um... landscaping our yard? WHAT THE EFF EVER.

But there you have it...

Now... if the balls could please fall into the right little compartments this evening... that would be greeeeaaaat.

KTHNKSBAI!

2009-07-20T18:09:00.001-04:00

Just waiting for my pops to come home and play fetch with me. I do love my mom, but there is something to be said about the way my pops throws a ball...

Things I Am Loving Right This Second

2009-07-13T20:33:00.004-04:00

(and the several seconds preceding this second)...

1.) HelenJane's Brokey Pasta, a.k.a. Pasta Napa Valley Style.
We had this for dinner tonight and it was deeeee-lish. We are sweating garlic (good thing!) and I am SOOOO so glad I have finally convinced Nick that pesto is good. Say it with me... gooooood.

2.) Murphy's Birthday was on Friday. He is one year old! What I love especially is that on Friday morning, you know, typically the day that is the hardest to wake up because we've been beat up by corporate America for the four days preceding and have already put in well over 4o hours... you know, those mornings? Anyway, this last Friday morning, the second the alarm went off, Nick and I both sprang up in the bed, looked at each other with a gleam in our eye, and reached down toward the end of the bed (judge me) to wake up our Mr. Moof.
"It's your birthday!" we both screamed. Then we sang him Happy Birthday, as if he understood what we were saying. Then proceeded to run downstairs to dole out his birthday presents.
Yes, we are THOSE types of dog people.

3.) Spring cleaning, albeit three months late. We cleaned quite a bit on Sunday, threw away junk, scrubbed toilets, that kind of cleaning. It doesn't happen often, I admit. But it's nice to not have drawers overflowing (esp. when you only wear 20% of the items!) and toilet bowls grungy. I mean, we're in our late-twenties. Grungy toilet bowls are just not acceptable anymore. Baby steps.

4.) The urge to sell our house (ha! ha!) and rent instead. I'm thinking... downtown Chelsea. Mostly because I finally dined at Common Grill and I want nothing more than that place to be within walking distance from my home. So I can walk home in a Carb Stupor every night... those rolls!

5.) I got a $100 gift card today from a co-worker/manager. For doing a good job, getting some parts in so production team didn't have to work on 4th of July. Wahoo! Totally unexpected, totally not necessary, but I will totally accept your thanks and gift card. YOU'RE WELCOME! Off to window shop, cyberly speaking.

Ta ta!

2009-06-27T14:59:00.001-04:00

I love when my pup lays with limbs in a tangled mess. He is the cutest pup in all of the world.

2009-06-08T09:57:00.001-04:00

What is better than a mason jar full of fresh peonies on your desk on a Monday morning? Not much... I ogled my managers flowers last week, and much to my delight she plucked these from her garden for me! They smell heavenly and best of all... were free!

FW: Bored...

2009-06-05T13:30:00.001-04:00

From: Eric Smith
Sent: Friday, June 05, 2009 1:02 PM
To: Collins Lindsay; Nick Collins
Subject: Re: Bored...

Chazz Michael Michaels - I was on the fence with this one. I didn't like the movie, so that was a major strike against CMM. I could have replaced Phil Weston with this one and put this CMM at #9. After further review, I do hear by remove Phil Weston from the list and put CMM in the #7 spot. There were some great lines in that movie and the scene with Jenna Fisher on the bed was pretty funny. I think the supporting cast really helped him get on the list.

Steve Butabi - It wasn't a great roll, and the movie was OK at best, but I had to put it on the list because it was his staring roll. It's now a LOCK at the #10 spot for that reason. Any future additions to the list will not bump this roll from the list.

Buddy - After review, jumped ahead of Federal Wildlife Marshal Willenholly

Harold Crick - could have been a little higher on the list, but comedic value to the movie was my top factor on the list (see Ricky Bobby). In additions, I must admit that I never say the movie all the way through.

Ricky Bobby - Say what you want about the movie, some of the funniest lines to ever come out of Will Ferrell's mouth were in that movie(as with John C Riley). Furthermore, the guy has two first name!!

Thoughts before I finalize the list.

1) I have not seen Zoolander in a while. I need to watch again to make sure Mugato isn't to low on the list.

2) Is Will Ferrell's roll as Mustafa in the first two Austin Powers movies list worthy? The scene when he falls off the cliff still cracks me up. "I think I have broken my leg... I am going to try and stand on it.. CRACK!. Ohhh!!!!"

List Version 1.2

Top Ten Will Ferrell Movie Rolls

10) Steve Butabi – A Night at the Roxbury

9) Mugato – Zoolander

8) Federal Wildlife Marshal Willenholly – Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back

7) Chazz Michael Michaels – Blades of Glory

6) Buddy – Elf

5) Harold Crick – Stranger Than Fiction

4) Brennan Huff – Step Brothers

3) Ricky Bobby – Talladega Nights

2) Frank "The Tank" Ricard – Old School

1) Ron Burgundy – Anchorman

Best Cameo Appearance

Chazz Reinhold – Wedding Crashers

(Honorable Mention)

Big Earl – Starsky & Hutch

From: Collins Lindsay
To: Eric Smith; Nick Collins
Sent: Friday, June 5, 2009 12:18:04 PM
Subject: RE: Bored...

Deep thoughts below…

From: Eric Smith
Sent: Friday, June 05, 2009 12:12 PM
To: Collins Lindsay; Nick Collins
Subject: Bored...

Systems are down at work and I am a little bored right now.

What do you think of this list...

Top Ten Will Ferrell Movie Rolls

10) Phil Weston – Kicking & Screaming - never saw it!

9) Steve Butabi – A Night at the Roxbury - never saw it!

8) Mugato – Zoolander

7) Buddy – Elf – move up on the list, to # 5

6) Federal Wildlife Marshal Willenholly – Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back

5) Harold Crick – Stranger Than Fiction – should be #3

4) Brennan Huff – Step Brothers

3) Ricky Bobby – Talladega Nights – awful movie, imo, take off the list and replace with Blades of Glory (Chazz Michael Michaels) and move up to #7)

2) Frank "The Tank" Ricard – Old School

1) Ron Burgundy – Anchorman

Best Cameo Role:

Chazz Reinhold – Wedding Crashers - agreed

(Honorable Mention)

Big Earl – Starsky & Hutch - never saw it!

Among Us

2009-06-05T12:33:00.001-04:00

Today is Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday. He would have been 80.

I've alluded to this fact before, but I find these tidbits of information from a daily email I receive called The Writer's Almanac. They send me a daily poem, and then little gems of information about the day in history from a literary, historical, or cultural point of view.

Anyway, in the paragraph about MLK, it reminds me that he was only 26 years old when he was asked to lead a boycott of the infamous segregated buses. Twenty-six! That's how old I am today. I am a cube monkey. Let's not make any comparison between the two of us beyond the number of days we've been on this earth at this point in our human experience.

It goes on to mention that had he known what the unintentionally assumed role of "civil rights leader" would encompass, that he might have declined the role. I think that's pretty magnificent. At first reading, it might sound kind of... selfish? You know, had he known all that would be to come in his life, personally, maybe he would have said no. If he'd know that he'd be murdered in his prime, he'd say no. But I think what that really says, to me anyway, is that he was human, a young man, just like the rest of us. Not a super-human who was born with martyr-like subconscious, but your normal average guy. Who went on to become a revolutionary.

I guess what I'm really getting at is this: there will be more of him to come. In male, female, young, old, gay, straight, black, white, rich, poor, married, single, parent, childless, religious, atheist forms. And the fact that he was just normal young adult like the rest of us, struggling to make decisions on which battle to fight, which stand needs to be taken, which debate you should jump in on (there are tons in this day and age) - is pretty awesome. There are more MLK's out there among my demographic, making waves and not even knowing how big they will crash on shore.

{Note - this was written many months ago, but kept in draft mode in my inbox. Just publishing it today, 6-5-09. The first sentence is obviously incorrect as of today's date.}

2009-05-25T19:35:00.002-04:00

My husband couldn't WAIT to ride a tandem bike around Mackinac Island... With his cousin. It's alright. I was the willing historian. More funny pics to follow. The day could have only been better if my Murphy was in my bicycle basket.

2009-05-25T19:35:00.001-04:00

Yeah it was only my first one but I gotta say Memorial Day is pretty fun but boy am I tuckered out! For once I am looking forward to my mom and pops go to work tomorrow so I can just sleep allllll day long.

2009-05-06T22:59:00.001-04:00

Sleeping beauty (who will pinch me for posting this.)

Green

2009-05-06T21:45:00.004-04:00

I'm green.

I buy natural soap, shampoo, detergent, food, cleaning supplier, the kit-and-kaboodle. Sometimes I let it mellow when it's yellow, I shut off the water when I'm brushing my teeth, etcetera etcetera. Yeah it's a fad, it's a trend, but I'm on the bandwagon for the long-haul.

But, that's not the type of green I am...

I am green... with envy.

Car envy - I see girls my age drive to work in Lexus, BMW, Saab... and I feel jealous of their wheels. I want that new-smelling leather. Shiny rims. Most importantly, the noticeable logo decal.

Clothes envy - I see people at work who rarely wear the same thing twice. Honestly! That, or they are the MASTER of mixing it up so you can never tell it's re-purposed. At any rate, me and my 10-shirt rotation (from Old Navy and Target) can't help but feel frumpy and out-of-touch with trends.

House-keeper envy - there's a girl at work who has a house-keeper. I WISH! I micro-manage our money just to keep us from bouncing a check; I can't imagine the luxury of paying someone to keep our house clean. I imagine the 10-second spats would all but disappear.

Hair-envy - just tonight, while enjoying a dish at Noodles with Nick, and eating slowly to allow more time for people-watching, I spotted a girl with the perfect shade of hair. Hers was more auburny-red than my stawberry-blone red. I said out loud "I wish my hair was that color." Nick just said "You need a haircut." The man speaks the truth, my friend. Which thus brings me to:

Hair-dresser envy - Ummm. I don't have a hair-dresser. I use coupons from the clipper to get my $8.99 haircuts. Okay, I won't lie, this has only happened once (my last haircut experience) but it will probably happen again in the next week or so. Cuz girlfriend's got some SPLIT ENDS. But I envy those girls who are BFFs with their hairdressers, sit and chit-chat with them, go every month, etc. I usually end up praying the "stylist" won't talk to me b/c I'm kinda anti-social.

But, in the end, this post is really silly. Because I realize... envy is not a pretty trait. You know what is? Gratitude.

So to counter my negative karma/energy/thoughts, here are the things I treasure, and the things that REALLY matter.

My husband, Nick. BFF. MOH. Proud Papa (to Murphy, don't get any ideas). Grill-Master. Expert Lawn-Mower (lest I have to step on frogs in the yard - truly, my #1 fear about cutting the lawn).

My Dog. I am a #3 (another post in the works...). I truly love the little guy.

My Family, both by blood, by marriage, and by friendship.

My health.

My awesome house. As much as it causes me headache, it's home to my little family.

My employer, for continuing to pay me. Ditto to my husband's.

OKAY - so this turned from jealous/snarky to Thanksgiving-in-May post. Speaking of which... I'm thinking we should throw a Christmas-in-July part... complete with Christmas cookies, eggnog, and mistletoe. Good idea or chirp-chirp-I'm-busy that night?

Signing off on that note...

P.S. I officially can't post pictures and/or get them aligned properly. Good thing I'm not a stickler to details or have any sense of aesthetic. :P

Venting 101

2009-04-29T08:34:00.001-04:00

It's crazy to me that the Powers That Be here at My Place of Employment put a person in charge around here that talks to people as if they've flunked Kindergarten twice, with Cliff's Notes, and the answer manual.

We are not stupid. You are an asshole.

</vent>

Thing I Can No Longer Do Now That I Work In An "Open Cube" Area

2009-04-25T19:25:00.001-04:00

- floss my teeth if I have last night's popcorn kernals hiding in the crevices between my canines

- scratch my boob

- use my letter opener to scratch my back (underneath the shirt)

- do a quick once-over of my tissues (ladies shouldn't do that anyway, right?)

- search for open positions at my company - don't want people getting the wrong idea

- apply last-minute make-up in a last-ditch effort to look put-together

- sit like a hunchback (probably a good thing, no?)

- gmail all day

- play solitare on those down minutes

3/3/09

2009-03-03T15:24:00.001-05:00

I’m going to try to post every day for the month… last night was weak as it was a quick note from my cell. Anyway, Dick was one of my supplier sales reps whom I had many a lunch with. He worked up to his very last day. My coworker Marina and I went to his son’s house to visit with his family after the funeral. His daughter-in-law, Lynn, who had recently begun working with him (driving, making lunch appointments with customers, etc.) said that her last conversation with him before he passed away was about getting a sample from us for a quote. Amazing! In his eighty-eight years, he worked until the very last day. I can honestly say, that’s probably the only time I’ll ever go to a supplier’s funeral-type deal. I don’t have that level of report (not even close) with any other suppliers. The fact that his family invited us over to their house speaks volumes of this man, no? We met another guy there at the house that was another customer of his. Wow… true testament, if you ask me. This guy was a WWII vet, served in the Air Force as a pilot, and was a natural born storyteller. Listening to him tell stories from those times makes me feel like a chump! In a good way J Inspiring, I should say. Anyway, we always went to the same eatery (Webber’s Inn in Ann Arbor) and he ordered the same thing every time. “An ice cold Budweiser in a cold glass, a Reuben with extra dressing on the side, and a box to take home half of the sandwich for my wife.” Anyway, it was a treat to hear his stories, share in the work portion of his life, and get to know him a little over the past three years.

Dick, it was a pleasure

2009-03-02T22:23:00.001-05:00

Dick, it was a pleasure knowing you. I had a Bud Light in a cold glass for you tonight. Rest in peace.

March

2009-03-01T14:52:00.003-05:00

March First. First of March. I kind of like March. I'm glad February is over.

Well, for one, it's Jackie's Birthday. Let's all say a rousing Happy Birthday to Jackie! Hurray!

Secondly, it's the kick-off of Spring Cleaning in the Collins Household. Thus far, I have: vacuumed the whole house, cleaned the stove-top, washed the linens, rid the refrigerator of expired goods, scrubbed the water closets, and rinsed the dishes. Suffice it to say, my hands are pruny and dry, my wastebasket full and heavy, and my vacuum one tired little lady. And really, if you walked in my house right this second, you'd say "Really? You've been cleaning? Ummm..." because for me? Cleaning seems to be a messy chore and you don't really see the entire effect until I'm 100% done. It's frustrating, yes, but a part of the process.

So, that isn't necessarily an interesting paragraph to read, but why all the cleaning, you ask? My husband is out of town, you see, and I'm bored. Plus, it needed to happen. Lord knows I don't want mice or ants or other vermin running around my part of town because of my mess(es).

Why is my husband out of town, you might ask? His friends started a little company and asked Nick to help with the business side of it. Go check them out here. So they hopped a plane down to Orlando to attend a Nerd Conference, whoops, a MegaCon conference. Oh, the nerdery. But! I think it's really cool that Rob has caught this entrepreneurial bug and is pursuing it. Inspiring! I am just waiting for my "Aha!" moment to come along so I can put forth some energy into something that truly interests me...

So, where was I going with this post? Not quite sure. I lost my train of thought. But here's what I know for sure: a Sunday wouldn't be a Sunday without a little trashy tv watching. I'm about to hunker down with some forbidden goods (ice cream!) and turn me on some MTV. Perhaps a more cohesive post tomorrow...

My Condition Has A Name!

2009-02-25T11:27:00.000-05:00

I heard a great term the other day (and by "heard" I mean "read on someone's blog") - it's called Bargain Tourettes. OMFGALAHAOLOAHAALOL. When I read it, it was as if the clouds parted and the light from heaven shone down on me like an epiphanous dream. I finally knew the name of one of my worst habits: spontaneously blurting out the price and location of purchase of any piece of clothing I receive a compliment on.

For instance (and this is almost identical to the blog that I heard this term on, a blog that I have since forgot, otherwise I would be giving undying praise for such a term):

Coworker: "Cute top!"

Me: "Thanks! Sears, $12.99 with 30% off, so like, less than ten bucks!"

And then, of course:

Me: "I don't typically shop at Sears, but I parked there when I went to the mall, you know, cuz there's more open spots because WHO SHOPS AT SEARS, but as I was walking through the store to get to the mall, it caught my eye, and I was like 'You know what? I can buy a top at Sears!' so I bought it! And it was less than ten bucks!"

Coworker is already walking down the hall to escape my horrible case of B.T.

Can't say I really blame her...

But who's with me - do you have a case of Bargain Tourettes?

2009-02-24T17:14:00.001-05:00

My Poinsetta is still alive and kicking, a good 2+ months after I got it. My plant is better than yours.

Fwd: Congratulations!

2009-02-24T10:26:00.001-05:00

Because my maiden name is the most common, I get tons of emails from people intending to reach another Lindsay Smith. I was lucky enough to nab the lindsay.smith email address at a popular email site at the site's inception. So I get tons of email for people trying to reach lindsay.smith1 or lindsay.smith2, you get the idea.

This email below is so precious that I thought I'd share. Usually the emails are something along the lines of "Study Group - meeting at the library at 7!" or "Hey it was great meeting you last night!" in which case I snicker that the schmuck either 1.) got a fake email address from a girl, or 2.) is a doof who didn't write down the email address correctly. Either way, I always end up replying to let them know of their mistake.

I wish everyone had a Grandpa Opal.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: <AnEmailAddress@aol.com>
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 6:08 PM
Subject: Congratulations!
To: MyEmailAddress@email.com

Dear Granddaughter,

     Congratulations! What exciting news you had to send Sunday morning. I am delighted that you have found such a nice young man to be your life long companion. I wish you much happiness.

     I had a fall here at home last Sat.AM. I had a problem with my right arm. It is better but now I am having trouble with my back. I'm just an old clumsy has been.

     You will be having a birthday the day before Easter. Hope it will be a happy one.Looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks.

     Love always,
     Grandma Opal

Woo-Woo

2009-02-17T10:09:00.001-05:00

I am just now remembering my dream from two nights ago. I was in line waiting to play a game-show type game, with the top prize being this totally decorated new house. House included. Tom Cruise was in line in front of me, he was behind the first person. The stars were not aligned for this first person, as he didn't win the house. Tommy Boy went up next, waved his hand over the seam of the door, flicked his finger along the handle (dreams aren't supposed to make sense, are they?), and won the house. His joyous response was to dance ala "Tropic Thunder" and all of a sudden the Ludacris song started playing out of thin air and he started dancing like Les Grossman. I was so pissed he won that house, I couldn't even enjoy the dancing. Then I woke up, and started thinking about getting new curtains.

Currently Stressing Me Out:

2009-02-03T15:32:00.001-05:00

My work email has 4600 emails in my "sent mail" that need to be filed, discarded, or followed-up on. That number is so intimidating, I keep ignoring it. But - it has got to be done. My email is on the brink of collapse. Clean it out, or lose it all.

I'm thinking back to the days of yore, to a time when I had a daunting task ahead of me and a timeline to boot -- write a term-paper at the end of my study-abroad stay in Dublin, Ireland. No paper, no credit. The survival tactic then? A 40 of Irish Cider in the computer lab with me to get me through it all. Unfortunately, I don't think that will fly this time.

I guess a machine-bough coffee will have to suffice.

2009-01-31T10:37:00.002-05:00

Wake up my people! Professor Murphy here. I will give my Blog Lecture here from the comfy and cozy confines of my bed. Or my mama's bed, but seeing as how it's Saturday it's also my bed between the hours of 6 and 10. I insist on jumping up and joining them if those two lazy parents of mine sleep in til ten - the nerve of them! Anyway, the lecture of the day is: STOP GLOBAL WARMING! That is all for today, folks, tune in for my next installment - STOP WORLD HUNGER. Oh shit, I just gave it away. I'm always doing that! Anyway, same time next week?

Uh-Oh...

2009-01-30T13:18:00.001-05:00

I just realized my dentist appointment in on Monday... which is February 2nd... which, for you non-Bill Murray fans who aren't in the know, is Groundhogs Day. I suppose you could be an Andie MacDowell fan and know that as well, however, I always found her to be a bit on the flighty side, so my loyalties lie with Mr. Murray.

Anyway, I can't think of a worse way to spend Groundhog's Day, you know, if the malady in the movie just happened to play out on this particular February second. Six months ago was my first visit to this dentist office. I had been to the same dentist for twenty-some years. After moving out to the Ann Arbor area, it seemed a tad silly to drive well over an hour to a dentist just because I didn't want to change.

Truthfully, I didn't want to visit a new dentist because my old dentist knew my "history". You know, the history that included vomiting in the dental chair (after a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, no less) after a cavity filling, those types of things. It was kind of intimidating walking into a new dentist office and trying to explain the whole "well sometimes I get a little queasy" schtick. "Little" being the understatement of the year.

Things went swimmingly well at the new place, until the hygienist subjected me to a terrorist activity. Anytime someone jabs small pointy objects into the depths of your gums, well, that qualifies as terrorist activity if you ask me. Mass destruction indeed! Except the weapon was tiny as hell in this instance.

Wow - so I've gotten way off track here.

Feb. 2nd. Dentist. I'm thinking I should re-schedule.

Just... Wow...

2009-01-30T08:40:00.000-05:00

From cnn.com: "Exxon Mobil reported the largest annual profit in U.S. history Friday, making $45.22 billion on the back of record oil prices."

That's kind of sickening, no?

P.S. Sickening is making a comeback. You heard it here first.

If I Had A Millon Dollars

2009-01-27T09:33:00.003-05:00

So I saw Slumdog Millionaire on Sunday night and it got me thinking: (among other things) "What would I do if I won a million dollars?" Except in my head, I said it like "What would I do if I won a Millon dollars?" because the talk-show-host totally made me laugh anytime he pronounced Millionaire! as Millonaire!

Anyway.

Since I don't have a millon dollars and won't anytime soon, I thought it'd be fun to pretend. And spend it. In my head.

Let's just pretend I won the millon dollars (of course I knew it was A! It was written!) and it magically showed up in my bank account. Also, magically, there were no taxes taken out. Hey, it's my prerogative.

Here, my friends, is how I would spend it. Every last penny. Until I was living paycheck to paycheck again.

Parents	2	@	$100,000	$ 200,000
Siblings	4	@	$ 5,000	$ 20,000
Friends	6	@	$ 2,000	$ 12,000
House	1	@	$100,000	$ 100,000
Student Loans	1	@	$ 25,000	$ 25,000
Clothes	1	@	$ 3,000	$ 3,000
Charity	3	@	$100,000	$ 300,000
Vacation	5	@	$ 3,000	$ 15,000
Decoration	1	@	$ 25,000	$ 25,000
Savings	1	@	$300,000	$ 300,000

Total				$ 1,000,000

Okay, the first few are a doozy. Of course we'd have to compensate our parents accordingly. I am to the age where I understand the crazy sacrifices our parents made for us (what child/tween/teen "gets" that?) and so throw them a few bones and perhaps they can retire a year or two earlier. That would be nice.

Siblings and friends, of course, would need a nice chunk of change. I don't think it needs to go any further than that - cousins, aunts/uncles, college roommates (who don't fall into the "friend" category) etc. are not entitled to a piece of the pie. Sorry psycho roommate!

Next - House. Now, I'm not gonna pay off my house. Some may call me crazy. But I had to ration here, people! Throw $100k and I'm sure my payment would be manageable. Ok, what's funny is that after I wrote the previous sentence, I opened up my Loan Amortization Excel Spreadsheet (OF COURSE I HAVE ONE) and punched in my new amount should said Millon dollars appear in my account. My monthly payment would be roughly 25% of my current payment. Ummm. Apartments in Ann Arbor don't even cost that little. I stand by the $100k.

My next course of action would be to throw some bones at student loans to get that down to a pretty decent number, a number that doesn't make me cry for the year 2017 when we're free from stupid student loan payments.

Of course, I'll need to re-do the wardrobe (I'm thinking... stuff that FITS. Novel idea.). While I'm a Millonaire, I'm still a cheap mofo, so I'll stick to the mall. Three G should get me very very far in a mall.

Charity. Cannot forget charity. I can spare $100k for three near-and-dear to my heart charities. Arthritis Foundation. American Heart Association. Susan G. Komen. Done, done, and done.

Ahhh - decorations. I use this term to mean "omfg totelly P1MP out ma' cribbbbb". Basically, I'd like an expensive, high-quality sofa. Some new hardwood floors. A finished basement. Wait, can $25k cover that?! Ahh, am having doubts. Must re-prioritize!

That leaves me with a healthy $300k for... (boooooring) savings! You know, compound interest and shit. I'm down with exponential growth. Yeah, baby!

Well, so there you have it. This entire post was dreamed up while an amazing movie played out before my eyes. All of a sudden, the lights came on in the theater and people stood up as though it was the end of the movie. Except! It WAS the end of the movie. Oh shit.

[Yes, I do realize this pipe dream of $1M is totally not reality. Trust me. I get that. I read the scary articles (2.6M jobs lost in 2008? SCARY). At some point, you have to go to La-La-Land every once in a while. Me and That Point are currently, you know, talking.]

[Also, I totally did NOT draft this in my head while watching the movie. I was actually watching the movie. Great movie. Can I end another sentence with movie? Movie. Anyway, I actually drafted this thing while at work, thankyouverymuch. On second thought, oh shit. Probably shouldn't advertise any sense of un-productivity! On the internet!]

2008-12-25T09:05:00.001-05:00

Murphy wishes he could give you all a candy cane but there isn't enough sugar in the world, so a picture of my darling with a candy cane will have to suffice. He also got a new hump blanket from Grandma {SHOWN HERE}, specifically for that purpose, but hopefully in the next few weeks he won't need it, hint hint, snip snip. We had a fabulous Christmas Eve in G-Rap and are now en route to B-Hills to celebrate with my fam. Hope your day is merry merry and that you are surrounded by people you love!

2008-12-14T12:20:00.001-05:00

Just a sampling of his nicknames: Murph-a-lurph, Meeestah Muuuphay, Doodie Butt, Dar (short for darling), Little Turkey, Sir Humps-a-Lot, My Precious.

Buying A House

2008-12-11T16:42:00.001-05:00

Everyone thinks Buying A House is the Best Thing Ever. (Yes, capitalization required.) No noisy people upstairs or downstairs! Don't have to pay for laundry! Your own yard!

Yes, all of those things are wonder-wonder-wonderful, however, there are some pitfalls (hmmm… strangely, most are related to… MONEY!) that, had I truly thought about, might have changed my mind to buy a house.

Note: since talking about money and junk is supposedly taboo, and I strictly conform to social norms (ha-ha), I will round up numbers to nice-and-even figures, to keep from being tacky.

Here are some of the LAME aspects of owning a home:

· Not-so-hidden "hidden" fees – I like to think of these as "oh yeah, I knew about that, but I truly didn't get it until I was like "OMG WHERE DID MY MONEY GO?"

o Taxes – ahem. Okay, yeah, I knew I had to pay taxes on my house. I got it. I knew there were charts somewhere with lines and lines of size 6 font showing different percentages and millages (still don't know what that means) and what not. Being an out-of-practice engineer, I shouldn't have been afraid of those charts, but oh, I was.

§ Taxes suck. We pay over 2% of the value of our house in taxes. That sounds so lame and puny, little old 2%, until you multiply that by a couple hundred thousand dollars. That's an extra (rounding!) $5000 a year that we weren't paying last year. Heartburn!

o Insurance. Alright, I understand the need for insurance. I have no problem paying insurance. I love insurance. Insurance loves me. Technically, that's only because I (THANK GOD) haven't had to file a claim yet, only to be denied, but ahh, let's not get ahead of ourselves. But, insurance is another one of those things that, when meeting with a realtor, they never include in their pricing. For instance, you walk into a realtor's office, and say "I want to spend $x a month on a house. Show me houses I can afford." Well, the realtor will show you houses whose house payment will be $x, not including house payment + insurance + taxes. I know those are all different things, but they usually get rolled into the mortgage payment. For instance, on top of my house payment, it's another $1500 a year to insure my house, but this I will gladly pay.

§ PMI taxes – omg this suckkkksssss so much. Basically I pay $1500 a year for my mortgage company to be insured against me, should I decide to stop paying them. SAH-WEET. SIKE! Heartburn.

o Home-Owners Association

§ Some bullshit about "snow removal" and "uniform mailboxes" – whatever! There goes $750 a year I could have spent on a new wardrobe – thanks to you, I'm wearing sweaters from the Old Navy 2003 line (so vogue!) and pants that are, ahem, tight (of the muffin-top variety – there, I said it!)

· Maintenance

o A lawn to mow? No thanks.

o Sprinklers to maintain? Wait, I have to PAY SOMEONE twice a year to "turn them on" and "turn them off"? BULLSCHNITZ.

o That thing I drive up every day – I have to SHOVEL IT when it snows? Gross. Also, rude!

· If it's big, you have to clean it. Dust WILL magically appear on every surface, and yes, you WILL find random weird stains in bathrooms that are never even used. Perhaps it's from the ghosts of past owners, but don't tell Nick that because I have the feeling he's not too keen on having ghosts in our house. I'm kinda okay with it, but I digress.

· If it's small, you might as well live in an apartment.

· Total annual "not-so-hidden" costs: $8750 a year (about 0.35% of my heart just died) – amazing! Amazingly disgusting.

So, in an effort to not have this be 100% negative, I will list a couple of pros for my gentle readers:

· Supposedly you get money back come tax season? I don't know the deets, but, like, someone PLEASE tell me Uncle Sam is going to give me thousands of dollars in February. That would make for an AWESOME Valentine's Day.

· You can decorate however you want. For instance, tacky brass light fixtures? (All throughout my house… shudder.) AWAY WITH THEIR HEADS! Oh wait, that costs MONEY. Anyone have $8750 I can borrow?

· You can do laundry in your skivvies. This is a stretch in terms of a pro. But – since you have laundry in your own home, you can do it (or, do it) without clothes on. Oh wait, this is getting a tad too dirty for my tastes… nevermind.

· You will lose a TON of weight on your new diet consisting of rice, half-off meatballs, and tap-water.

Happy House-Hunting, My Friends!

2008-12-10T21:27:00.000-05:00

Murphy is so head-over-heels in love with his Papa that he'll lay in sight of the bathroom sink while Nick brushes his teeth. This is capital C cute. In other dog-related news, Murphy learned to lay down on command in Puppy Kindergarten tonight. This was a Week 2 lesson but he finally learned today, in Week 5. Poor darling! He doesn't even know he's behind.

It's Not Just Me, Right?

2008-12-09T16:19:00.001-05:00

Is it just me, or is anyone else freaking the f out about the economy right now? I just read on cnn.com that today, between 4-5 different companies, they announced lay-offs of over 20,000 people.

Um, excuse me, but that's a shit-ton of people. That's an entire college campus of kids who won't get jobs. That's an entire suburb, all without income. 20,000 is a gross amount. And none of these were automotive-related... so sure, when you compare it to the hundreds-of-thousands of jobs that have been lost in Michigan alone (stomach = lurch + flop) it's wee in size but yet, still humongous in size.

I can't help but get into my Recession Lindsay mode, as my husband likes to call it. For instance: the other night, dinner consisted of leftover hamburger buns, topped with cheese, and a dinged can of soup. Nick literally laughed when I put the food in front of him (don't I sound so domestic? No, I did not tuck in his napkin, he did that himself.) and dubbed it Recession Lindsay Dinner.

Another prime example: we're at a basketball game last night (free tickets won at work - heavens no I wouldn't buy tickets when we're in a recession!) and the beer! soda! peanuts! guy comes by. I catch a glimpse of his inventory and gasp audibly at his sign. $8.00 for a 22 oz beer. Nick gets up at halftime to use the loo, and comes back looking sullen. "I was going to get a beer and some nachos but the line was too long."

"A beer!? For $8!? I could buy a 6-pack - a fancy 6-pack mind you - for $8 at Busch's! They should be selling you a beer for $1.50, $2 tops!" He just laughed it off, but I was serious!

OMG - when did I turn into such a cheapie????

December First

2008-12-09T16:08:00.001-05:00

Gah! I’m always late. I wrote this on Dec. 1 but forgot to “publish”. So here it is, a woeful eight days late. Better late than never…

Dec. 1 is a big day for a few reasons:

It’s the day Rosa Parks remained seated in her seat after a day’s work, and got up for no one. Wow. Think about that. While most of us weren’t living at this time, the fact that we lived in a time when Rosa was still alive is even huge. When we learned about her in social studies, she wasn’t like most of the other people we learned about because she was still around. There wasn’t a whole lot of modern day history that I can remember learning about where the subjects were still alive, and even as a school kid I found that to be really interesting.

It’s also World Aids Day. So, here’s something to think about, taken from www.statenews.com on a story about World Aids Day:

According to data from LAAN (Lansing Area AIDS Network), half of new HIV infections happen to people 25 years old or younger. Estimates say there are about 18,000 people in Michigan with HIV or AIDS.

That number is way too high. 50% of infections are happening in my age bracket? I know it shouldn’t be happening in ANY age bracket, but it’s just astounding to me because we’re the generation that grew up learning about HIV/AIDS and how to prevent it. I think kids don’t even consider it, to be honest. My guess is people worry more about pregnancy or other STDs when they are unprotected. The number is just frightening to me, and I really hope it resonates to the people who read it in the State News. It’s just not worth the risk!!!! Yes, four exclamation points!!!!

Thanksgiving Revisited

2008-12-08T14:42:00.004-05:00

Today, on my day off, I am feeling like a house-wife. Don't tell anyone, but I actually don't mind it. For today, anyway. I did some dishes, cooked a nice breakfast (shared it with my husband), and tidyied up the kitchen. All without fuss! Actually, perhaps a little fan-fare.

I've read through all of the nienie dialogues, which are inspiring to say the least. Which has also pointed me to cjane's website, which is equally a treat to read. They've both been added to my daily blog readings, and give good inspiration for making a festive home.

So, for one, I'm thankful for good reads on the internet.

Secondly, going along with the house-wife theme, I'm thankful for my kitchen goodie drawer.

In it contains all that is needed for a weekend (and Monday day-off) of gluttony. I made a lot of recipes from my favorite websites... such as Nie Nie's Whole Wheat Pizza, this awesome salsa from Mighty Girl's suggestion, in addition to The Pioneer Woman's cheese muffins (omg), and (okay, a little embarassed to admit this one) Dottie's baked french toast (she's a Weight Watcher site guru, I wouldn't necessarily call her a blogger... but surfer beware: that site is full of ads and isn't aesthitically pleasing to the eye...)

Anyway, back to the goody drawer. Among my favorites: citrus zester, cheese grater, potato peeler, and my #1Fav: the mojito masher. Ah. Bliss.

I'm also thankful to Mr. Murphy, who has been a complete gentleman on my day off. I had visions of my pup running around ferally, wreaking havoc in the house, humping my leg, and all around annoying me on my day off. I considered taking him to Puppy Day Care, but in the end, Recession Lindsay won and I didn't justify the $25. He's been so mellow today, so I thank him!

Here's a recent picture of our little guy. We bought that little bed for him when he was a wee one, and at the time it was the perfect size for him. He could snuggle up right in it and have room to wiggle. The best part is that he still balls up into position and lays on it... but looks like a fat guy in a little coat. You know what I mean? No offense, little guy, but you're totally reminding me of Farley.

Now I'm going to finish lounging around on my day off... I'm watching wedding shows on the style channel, wishing I could get married again! Ahhh, to dream... (to Nick of course!)

2008-12-07T14:21:00.000-05:00

Murphy moonlights as a reindeer during the Christmas season.

LAME!

2008-12-02T17:18:00.001-05:00

So, being from Detroit, obviously the whole "Big Three Bailout" strikes a chord with me and I'm trying to absorb information regarding the situation. When the CEOs were chastized for flying their corporate jets to Washington D.C. at tens of thousands of dollars, I was pissed just as much as everyone else. No one wants to give a beggar with a gold tooth any food. (Is that not P.C.? Oops. Perhaps the beggar got his gold tooth in a V.A. hospital after 'Nam. Oops, STILL not P.C.?!)

Anyway, so when I read this article http://www.mlive.com/newsflash/index.ssf?/base/news-59/1228254256140090.xml&storylist=newsmichigan I became a bit more preturbed. Now these guys are going the extreme and driving to D.C.? Come on, give me a break. I mean, good job for at least learning a lesson, but really? I think this is wasteful. The time these guys are spending to make a 10+ hour drive could be better spent, really. I know they're trying to make a point, but does it annoy anyone else when people go totally overboard when doing so?

-Lindsay

Why Can't Every Day Be Like Thanksgiving Weekend?

2008-12-02T08:41:00.001-05:00

I had such high hopes for Thanksgiving break. Clean out the spare bedroom that's housing piles and piles of crap, wash the floors, do at least 5 loads of laundry, start wrapping Christmas presents, put up the tree + decorations, walk the dog every day, grocery shop for healthy items to consume, consume said healthy food items, manicure/pedicure, shave my legs (um, going on 2 months?), and spend quality time with Nick.

Instead, here's what I did: spent quality time with my couch, and the hit television show "24"; spent quality time with pints of ice cream; took my dog to the front door, where I held the leash from the inside, only cracking the door to give him more slack; spent loads and loads of quality time with the internet. The I went to sleep for eight hours and did it all over again. Then times that by four. There you have it: my weekend.

2008-11-27T08:07:00.006-05:00

Today, I am thankful for...

My Family

And My Family

And My Friends

And My Noble Home

2008-11-24T20:13:00.001-05:00

Remember this?

Well look at me now!

Personal Rate of Return from 01/01/2008 to 11/07/2008 is -50.7%

Investing is FUN!!

2008-11-22T10:26:00.001-05:00

I love road trips! Love, Murphy.

Wah-Wah Moment # 124, 150, and 151.

2008-11-19T22:06:00.001-05:00

I have a busy mid-week evening that involves running errands, cleaning the kitchen, and playing with the puppy. I barely have time to sit down and waste away my night on the computer or watching t.v. This is a good thing, because that's usually how I spend my nights. Sad but true story. After my version of "running around like crazy" (which includes only the three things mentioned in the first sentance) I call it a night.

At work the next morning, I get excited to hop onto gmail really quickly before starting my day. "Oh, I didn't get to my computer last night at ALL, I can't wait to see what's there for me today!" I log in, and there isn't one new message. Not even a WorldPerks Mileage Summary, not even a Sephora Free Shipping with Your Next $50 Purchase!, not even a note about Crate & Barrel's new ways to dress up your Thanksgiving Day table. Woe is me.

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

I sign up Mr. Murphy for Puppy Kindergarten, first off to get him a bit more behaved, secondly to allow him to socialize with other dogs, and thirdly as a quest to find my new best (local) friend. I was certain I would find my local friend soul-mate, and that we'd go get dinner afterwards and leave the dogs in the car while we chat about girl stuff, or some equally stupid friend fantasy.

Instead, I go to class and focus my attention on not choking my dog as he's the most maniacial one in the class, and then I have to leave class because he has to shit, and then he shits, and I go to find the shovel to pick it up, and then I can't find the shit anymore, and Murphy is running around me in circles and I'm tied up by a leash and it's getting tighter and tighter and I'm holding a shovel looking for shit in the 30-degree weather and dammit why doesn't anyone want to be my friend? And I feel kind of like a loser for thinking about it in the first place because it's like the # 1 Rule that when you want something and are actively looking for it, you won't find it until you stop looking for it, or some other stupid cliche, and why am I even still talking about this, God I need a life.

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

I arrive home from Puppy Kindergarten, kind of over my whole episode about wanting to find a friend and feeling like I failed miserably, and I hop on the computer (lest I miss any important emails that come my way at nighttime) where I promptly waste two hours surfing blogs and what not. I ignore the puppy, further ingraining in him bad habits (took him only two minutes to chew his new leash in half while I ignored him) and ignore my husband who's upstairs watching the Pistons on his dismal non-HDTV. Now it's late(ish) and it's dark in here and my eyes hurt from the darkness/brightness contrast of my computer in the un-lit room, and my head hurts because of caffeine withdrawl, and I'm bummed that I just wasted time on the internet instead of finishing my wedding thank-you's or reading a book or cleaning the kitchen.

OUCH!

2008-11-10T13:49:00.001-05:00

From my 401k account…

Personal Rate of Return from 01/01/2008 to 11/07/2008 is -40.6%

Big Mistake

2008-11-07T21:39:00.002-05:00

Big Mistake #7 - Feeding Your Puppy Hotdogs During Puppy Kindergarten.

Our Puppy Kindergarten teacher emailed me before the class started to tell us what to bring with us: a hungry puppy, a plethora of small treats to act as the reward for his "lessons", and two overly eager parents. Check, check, and check.

So we arrive with six hot dogs cut up into raisin-sized pieces, a hungry Murphy, and, well, two overly eager parents. Fast forward a day and a half later, and Murphy drops a deuce in our bathroom this morning. First time he's ever done that! We're astonished, and just chalk it up to a fluke.

Fast forward 8 hours, I arrive home after a long day at work, and there's.... evidence.... of another dropped deuce.

Fast forward... twenty minutes... and wow, that dog can clear a room with the smells coming out of his furry booty.

Nick arrives home from work, and gives me the stink eye. "Honey, what have you done??"

"It was him!" I point at the dog, and "It was her!" the dog points back at me. Nick's not sure who to believe, but in the end, Murphy rips one right in front of Nick and I win.

After some careful thought, we realize it must be from the hotdogs. And thus concludes our first Big Mistake as a married couple.

Indigo

2008-11-06T11:36:00.001-05:00

Maybe it's the seasons changing {S.A.D.} or just the course of life's journey {omg sounds so cheesy} but I get sad when I think about friendships changing. It's inevitable, but as life progresses and people do different things, it changes your friendships. Not necessarily for the bad, of course, but still. One person gets married/buys a house/gets a puppy {me}, and settled into this new life, the things that she {err... I} thinks about and talks about and worries about and gets excited about are different from my former self. My former self who had these certain, specific friendships. Every time you change one component of yourself, it alters the friendship accordingly.

In case my rhetoric isn't coming across corrently, it's time for a Stupid Metaphor! Let's say I am Royal Blue, and my friend is Apple Red. Our friendship, together, is your Crayola Crayon Purple. Now, I change a bit {see above paragraph} and am now Navy Blue. My friend is still Apple Red, or even perhaps Maroon {if she herself has changed a bit} and now our friendship is a darker shade of purple. Indigo? Whatever. Doesn't matter, but I was just trying to show my point. Purple and Indigo, while still very similar and not distinguishable by a three-year-old, are different things.

I don't mean to say that the second I got a ring on my finger or keys to a house, I became a different person. But over the course of this whole huge process, over the last year, I've definitely become Navy. No doubt about it. Still blue, but a different shade.

So, I mourn for my former Crayola Crayon Purple friendships, despite being extremely excited for this Navy Journey. Can you be excited to move forward while still being sad about letting go of the past? I still have these wonderful friends, but I'm just learning how to get used to the new Indigos of my future.

2008-11-02T23:00:00.001-05:00

All snuggled up on the couch with papa... Be still my heart.

2008-10-29T23:26:00.001-04:00

Poor Mr. Murphy has to sleep in jail tonight (and every night).

I Hope They're Not BANKING On It (aka: Dumb Play On Words)

2008-10-22T15:31:00.001-04:00

Funny Story: So I recently got married (see: all posts below) and have gone through the process of legally changing my name. How old-fashioned! With my new drivers license and social security card in hand, I call up my bank to ask them what documents I need to bring in order to change my name with my bank. I’ve made that mistake too many times (wait in line at Secretary of State, only to have the wrong document in hand!) so I want to be prepared this time. I pick up the phone.

“Hi, I’d like to know what documents I need to bring with me to change my name on my bank account?”

“Yes ma’am, not a problem, we can take care of that for you. All you need to do is stop by the branch, bring ID, and your divorce papers.”

OUCH!

2008-10-18T15:03:00.002-04:00

Mr. Murph is a pro at tailgating.

2008-10-04T12:39:00.002-04:00

MSU HOMECOMING

2008-09-13T22:15:00.001-04:00

Our new guy, Murphy. Love him!

2008-09-06T09:42:00.002-04:00

Mmm... Breakfast

So, I was honestly going to take a picture of my delicious breakfast as an homage to my all-time favorite fruit - the red raspberry. As I set the bowl on the counter, what was that in the background... oh yes, a Kitchen Aid! I won't lie... the placement of the bowl was intentional, as I believe I have finally crossed the threshold of a domesticated almost-married adult with the gift of the Kitchen Aid. I also won't lie that I have no idea what to do with this thing. It's not like I'm whipping up cookies everyday, and that's all I really know to do with it.

HELP!

Fwd: Lad Lit

2008-08-28T11:43:00.001-04:00

Hahaha, I'm curious to see if this email forward to my blog works. Sorry, Nick, I had to. This was too funny!

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Nick Collins
Date: Thu, Aug 28, 2008 at 10:31 AM
Subject: Lad Lit
To: "Smith, Lindsay"

So I'm buying 4 or 5 new Mike Gayle books on Amazon, and I'm disappointed to see the tag "lad lit" on some of his books.

2008-08-22T19:50:00.002-04:00

Much Better Than Muzak

We met with our classical guitarist last night and picked out the wedding music*. Here is a link to the song that'll be playing when I walk down the aisle... it was breathtaking to hear in person!

http://www.guitarinterludes.com/files/Romanza.mp3

This is one expense that is well worth it, in my opinion. It'll be so classy and elegant to have a live guitarist and I couldn't be happier with the music we chose. It's a Spanish Romantic song, and is so dramatic and passionate and emotional. I'm hoping tears don't ruin my makeup and/or make me do the awkward-cry face while I'm paying a photographer hundreds of dollars per hour to take hundreds of pictures of me!**

* I do realize that most of what I talk about as of late is weddingweddingweddingmarriedomgi'mgettingmarriedweddinghoneymoonwedding. I do realize. But hand-to-my-chest, being engaged is the absolute best time of my life. Sure, there are the low-points {how much to spend? how to deal with different people with different ideas of what to spend, etc. why is it always about money :(?} but everything else is just so great. Even just talking about our wedding day and ceremony and what not brings us closer together I think. Anyway, off of that tangent, seriously, being engaged is the bomb, and while I am starting to get REALLY excited for The Big Day, I'm also a wee bit sad that it'll soon be over. The engaged buzz/glow will be done. But then the real fun begins, right!?

** A word on the crazy prices of wedding photographers!? I saw many many websites full of awesome photography, starting at $4500. STARTING AT?! You've got to be kidding me. I hate to talk money all the time, but we ended up going with one for around $3000 and we got all of the perks we were looking for {CD with all images and photographic rights {their pitch was even "You can print the pictures off at Target if you'd like!" MY KIND OF PEOPLE!} as well as a very nice album, and DVDs created from all of the images, etc.}

*** There was no *** in this post but *** will be a word on the hair appts. Sorry, did not realize this would turn out to be a full-blown wedding post, but DAMN I waited too long to find a salon! Who knew people made hair appointment so far in advance? People have almost laughed at me when I tell them I want appointments 4 weeks from now... it's almost like booking a dentist appointment!

2008-08-22T15:54:00.001-04:00

It's Friday, Bitches!
Today couldn't have been a better day for the horrendous construction project outside of my building to cut the lines {I don't know the technical details, people!} to our internet, computer systems, phones, etc. You'd think I would have slipped the construction foreman a $100 to cut the lines! Hehe, whoops, just kidding, ha-ha, nervous laughter!

So when the Boss Man was all "take off today if you have nothing to do" I had my keys out and my purse on my shoulder by the time he was done.

Off to the mall! {Shush, don't tell Nick.} I won't lie... I bought myself diamonds! I mean, I have to brag about it, right? How often does a lady buy diamonds? I think this was the first time ever. What I ended up buying was my wedding band(s... shhhh!). I won't lie... buying diamonds is pretty fun. The best part is, I window-shopped online before-hand, and picked it out before-hand, so I was able to walk in confidently and say "I want this, I saw it online, I know I want it, don't try to sell me anything." Because MAN, I hate sales-people. They suck hardcore!

Now I'm at home, a sweet feeling because it's not even 4:00 yet! The night is young...

FOOD

2008-08-14T11:55:00.001-04:00

I'm having a really stressful day at work, and all I can think about it going to lunch, and how I'm going to order a great big cookie and a soda. I don't like that I turn to food when I'm stressed out, but at least I can recognize it... but really, Foggy Bottom's cookies are amazing, and I'd probably want one anyway, stress or no stress... : )

P.S. I have a wedding dress fitting today. WHY AM I EATING COOKIES?!

Radio Head

2008-08-13T15:37:00.001-04:00

I have this thing where I listen to the radio on my drive in to work, and as I'm turning my car off, whatever song is playing is the song that I end up humming or singing to myself all day long. This is either an awesome trait or an annoying trait, depending, of course, on the song. This morning it was Rodrigo y Gabrielle with their awesome guitar duo. So this afternoon I'm still plucking along on an imaginary guitar and pounding away on the wood of the acoustic guitar while I issue purchase orders at work.

What's even more uncanny is if I'm listening to a CD. Same thing happens, I hear the last song that was playing when I pull into work, but the funny thing is when I leave work and return to my car, I can almost be singing the exact same line of the song from when my engine shut off nine hours before. My mind just picks up where the song left off, sometimes to the exact lyric.

But on days when it's something like Collective Soul's "The World I Know"? Well then, you better not cross my path because I've been singing this garbage song in my head all day and I'm about to break. True Story.

Invites

2008-08-11T20:58:00.001-04:00

So you all saw my super cute invites, right? Well, I was so paranoid that some would get lost in the mail, much like random socks go missing in the dryer, never to be seen again. Nick got a call from his mom about one of her cousins who didn't get the invite in the mail. She heard about it in a round-about way {I cringed!} and the cousin asserted that she wasn't invited. I sent out their invite on 7/22/08! I swear! Turns out, looking up addresses on whitepages.com isn't the best way to go about it, as they are frequently incorrect. Now I just hope she doesn't think she was invited last minute {guests are to RSVP by next week} and oh I just need to get over it and hope their feelings weren't inadvertently hurt!

I'm Still Alive

2008-08-06T23:27:00.001-04:00

Now that a couple of days have passed since my blood draw (I believe it was my first blood draw of my whole life - is this really possible? I am 26! How is this possible? It is possible.) and I am still alive here, I'm able to view the experience with less fresh glasses. Not rosy, but less fresh/raw/it-just-happened-and-I'm-still-anxious-about-it glasses.

Honestly, I thought FOR SURE that I would throw up, faint, or do both. I'm so so shocked that I didn't do either. And you're probably wondering "why keep beating a dead horse, this is the 2nd or 3rd mention of it on blogger/twitter/etc. in the last few days?" Well, if you knew my history of "doctors appointments" especially ones including needles, well you'd understand.

I think the Xanax probably had a lot to do with it, but to be completely honest, I still lost my shit. I basically had to lay on the exam table as flat as a pancake. I asked Nick to remove the thing they call a pillow (I disagree - def. not a pillow) from underneath the exam table paper so I could be closer to 180-degree and get the maximum blood flow to the head. When the nurse came in, I started getting dizzy and anxious (just from hearing her come in! - my free arm was already draped across my forehead so I couldn't even see anything because even just the sight of the needles could make me faint). When she tried to find a vein, I started to get antsy and move around a bit, moving my legs and feet and trying to disassociate.

She poked my right arm with the needle, which didn't really hurt, but then I hear an "Oops" and a scurry out the door. At this point, I was getting more and more anxious by the minute. I was probably starting to breath heavily and/or hyperventilate. The onset of an anxiety attack! Fun Monday afternoon activity. And really? It's not the pain that gets me - I'm not really sure what it is to be honest! I didn't even realize that I was having anxiety attacks re: doctors/needles etc. until my doctor said "why don't you try Xanax?"

Back to my riveting story, a minute later, the nurse came back with another nurse (I'm assuming one who is "better" at drawing blood?) and they poked me in the left arm. They had to tourniquette my arm pretty tight because my veins were in hiding. (Poor things were just as nervous as me.) THAT made me anxious as hell, because I could feel how tight it was around my arm. The nurses and Nick kept giving me updates "You're doing great, wow, you're almost done, almost over, you're just about done, you're doing great" and that REALLY helped as well. Because honestly? It didn't feel like ANYTHING. The initial poke BARELY hurt, and after that 1 second poke, I didn't feel a thing. I don't even think I felt the needle get removed. I make it sound like this was all a piece of cake for me, but it wasn't. I was still very much anxious and "in the zone" and freaking out. After they were done with the blood draw, my arm started to go numb, and my hands were hurting. At this point, like I said, I wasn't looking at anything, my eyes were shut, and I was hyperventilating as well as sweating like crazy. I had a washcloth on my face and neck, and I couldn't see anything.

Finally, I peeked out of the washcloth and looked at my free hand, and figured out why my hands hurt - my fingers literally curled up in my hand. Picture making your fingers into a duck-bill profile, then try to touch the duck-bill profile to your forearm. YEAH, that's what my hands looks like - both of them. It was really bizarre and kind of frightening, but to tell you the truth, in hindsight, I'm glad I had something else to focus on other than the thought that I just had a needle piercing my vein and drawing blood. The nurses had to get my some hot packs to relax the muscles in my hand, they were stiff as a board and there was no moving my fingers.

Anyway, to finish up the story, I laid on the table for a few extra minutes, trying to figure out what was going on with my fingers and gain my composure a bit and calm down. I think part of the anxiety that people like me face is the embarassment of having such an anxiety disorder for medical-related issues. It was very embarassing for me, but the nurse was so helpful yet unfazed, and Nick was so nice about it. I kept putting myself down, rhetorically asking myself mid-procedure "WTF. Why am I like this? Why am I such a freak?" because I just wanted to note out loud that "yes, I understand this is a weird reaction, I do realize that, I don't think this is normal" because I was so sensitive to how people would react to my reaction. I realize this is silly, but it was part of my anxiety as well. Now that it's sort of "established" with my doctor/nurse that I am this way, hopefully the next time I have to do this (way far away future!) that part of the equation won't be there.

Wow - I didn't think I would be so wordy about this - I didn't realize I had so much to say. But honestly, once I left that place, I felt like a million bucks to have the experience behind me. Well, more like fifty bucks, seeing as how I went home and promptly fell asleep for 15 hours. Anxiety/panic attack will do that to you. It DRAINS you, trust me!

Epilogue: I wrote this and left it in "draft" mode for quite a while. I typically don't talk about this with people, other than to say "Yeah, I'm not a huge fan of needles." Little do they know. But, this site has been so helpful to make me realize I'm not the only nut out there that I've decided to hit the "Post and Publish" button. If I know you in "real life" (I have what? 3 readers of this site?) I probably haven't talked in much detail about it. Although my close close friends know ALL ABOUT the time I went in for a cavity-filling and ended up throwing up my lunch (Nacho Cheese Doritos) all over the dentist office. It's actually quite cathartic to write it down on paper (screen?), and hit the publish button. Now it's not such a secret. Helps with the "apprehension of being judged" factor of the anxiety. Anyway, I thought to myself, "if someone reads this and they see a little bit of me in someone they know, maybe it'll help him/her to understand that person better." So there you have it.

Who-Hoo!

2008-08-06T14:14:00.001-04:00

Awesome news from my wedding photography consultant - we're getting a 2nd photographer for free! It's like Christmas in August!

2008-08-04T22:36:00.001-04:00

I survived my Dr. Appt. this afternoon... well, barely. My doctor had me take a couple of Xanax to calm me down because I freaked out at the prospect of having blood drawn last week. It seemed to help somewhat, until they brought in the needles. So I guess it didn't really work all that much. :) But - I did survive, I'm not dead, I didn't faint OR upchuck! But I still freaked waaaay out.

The nurses and Nick were super nice about it though and didn't make me feel like the freak I was feeling like inside. Honestly, there must be some official name for this "disorder" of being so freakishly afraid of needles/doctors/etc. Oh well, I'm just proud of myself for making it through without fainting. That's always the worst, and you feel like a jackass afterwards, and it's pretty scary because you can hit your head on an array of things on the way down. Last time I fainted it was on the way back from the check-out desk to the waiting chairs, so there was nothing around thankfully, but the doctor offices are so small and cramped and full of counters and sinks and trays of stuff and I'm sure I would have hit something on the way down, so I'm glad I was able to avoid that whole ordeal.

Nick was truly a gentleman and was just there by my side the whole time, putting cool washcloths on my head and neck and talking to me and trying to distract me from my crazy fearful thoughts and my inner fright. I am so damn lucky to have him in my life, I can't even describe it. Now that's out of the way - and I've truly been dreading it for a couple of weeks now - I can focus on other, more important things - such as, oh, I don't know, GETTING MARRIED!

2008-08-02T11:38:00.002-04:00

Nick and I have a deal: he mows the lawn, and I clean the kitchen. It's fairly stereotypical, but it works for me. I abhor the thought of mowing the lawn and mowing over a frog. That's really the only thing that'd hold me back from doing it. Now you know my weird inner thoughts, I'll tell you another reason this deal isn't so bad.

I present to you: Mrs. Meyer's Lemon Verbena Countertop Cleaner. Oh, how I love thee. It smells like Aveda products, which isn't too shabby. While it's on the expensive side ($6 for a small-ish bottle) it certainly is worth it. If I'm not crabby while scraping the stove top, well that's just priceless.