Our Thanksgiving Adventure

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving holiday. We had a great time and we survived. But barely. After 3 days of craziness with little boys and 2 days of travel, we made it home in one piece.

We spent the Thanksgiving holiday with Mike's family in St. George. His family has 4 boys ages 5 and under. And 4 boys ages 5 and under can be...tricky. One at a time they are each adorable and cuddly and sweet but once you put them all together something happens. It's like the collective energy causes each of them to transmogrify into something half-human, half-animal, half-wanna-be-superhero.

And suddenly you're no longer at Mike's mom's house. You're in the American Gladiators arena and you have to get to the platform on the other side without being knocked off the obstacle course by the flying Nerf balls being shot at you. And if only the Nerf balls were really Nerf balls and not little boys flinging themselves at you with limbs akimbo and destruction in their eyes. And the littlest one uses teeth!

If you are victorious and make it to the safe zone, you better be sure you had used the bathroom before you left the platform, otherwise, you have to go back through all over again. And no, Mike, I am not stopping to help if you somehow get pulled down and swallowed by the mountain of bodies and batman toys. I'm sorry. I just can't risk it.

As the weekend went on, we got better at the game. Without even blinking, Flam! my arm blocks the punch to the stomach. Zing! Mike's leg deflects rocket headed straight for us. We think we have beat them at their own game. And then, one looks at us with sweet eyes and holds his arms out to be hugged. So we give in. But, lo, it's a trick! Instead of hugging, they're pounding on my leg and scratching at Mike's head.

Well played young ones, well played.

We took a few pictures, but none of the boys' photos illustrate this well enough. They are all cute and smiley in their pictures. It's like when you take a photo of Big Foot and you go back to the dark room to develop the pictures and somehow, mysteriously, they are all blurry and you can't see a thing. There is some kind of power there.

So, I'll post these two pictures of Mike's sister. Her face pretty much sums it up.

I don't know how Mike's sisters and parents do it every day. They deserve major kudos.

---

On Sunday we headed back to SLC. And it was the worst storm we had encountered in our 10 years of driving to St. George. I think the fastest we went was about 38 mph, at that was only for a brief time. There were cars and trucks, even a Highway Patrol Sheriff stuck in snowbanks off the side of the road. In what is usually a 2 hour trip from St. George to Fillmore, it took 5 hours. It was starting to get dark and the snow wasn't letting up so we decided to stay for the night.

We had the choice between the Comfort Inn and the Paradise Best Western. Comfort sounded nice, but Paradise is better, right? So we stayed at Fillmore's "paradise."

And you know, it wasn't paradise, but it wasn't bad. When we were checking in, I noticed that the name of the hotel restaurant was "The Paradise Garden of Eat'n." I said the name out loud and started laughing. The woman behind the desk looked at me, cocked her head and said "isn't that cute?" I choked down my laughter and nodded.

Turns out the Garden of Eat'n isn't so bad. Especially after sitting in a car for 5 hours.

We finished the drive to SLC Monday afternoon and finally made it home.

I think we slept for about 13 hours that night.

If The Plastic Baby Scares Me, I May Be In Over My Head

We are halfway through the childbirth class. And we decided to torture, er, I mean prepare ourselves more by taking another class. This one about child care. It's great. Now I'm completely terrified of giving birth to this baby and raising her. Awesome.

In the child care class, cutely titled "Baby Steps" but really should be titled "Get Ready To Feel Even Less Capable Than Before," we learned the basics. Changing a diaper, swaddling the baby and giving her a bath. Mike and I had one baby to share (oh yes, we definitely looked at the pile of baby dolls and picked the cutest one) and so we did the diaper thing together. He did one side and I did the other. And we stepped back to admire our work.

Let's just say that the baby better always lean to the right because my side, the left side, was a complete disaster. I don't know how I managed to not even get it to cover the baby's bottom but I did.

Mike fixed it before the teacher saw.

By the way, I need to mention that he took notes, forced us to sit in the very front and not only asked questions, but answered them. Who is this guy? While I would prefer to be in the back trying to spit-rub off the scuff I just made on the baby's forehead and pretending they didn't just tell me I have use a rectal thermometer, he's up front miming the teacher and giving our baby a world-class pretend sponge-bath.

Oh also, as we were leaving, everyone kind of threw all their babies in a pile by the door. Mike stopped to organize them...

The childbirth class gets increasingly nightmarish every week. Last week we talked about medications and epidurals and we got to pass around the tube the STICKS OUT OF YOUR BACK the whole time if you have an epidural. Isn't there some kind of chewable tablet that I can take instead?

This week we talked about C-Sections. And watched a video. And although the video changed to a cartoon version when the really gross part came, I had to grab the edge of my desk to keep from falling out of my chair.

I just can't watch medical stuff like that. When I first started college I was a pre-optometry major and so my dad took me to watch one of his patients get Lasik surgery. We're not talking watching it on a screen from another room. We wore the blue booties and hair things and stood right next to her during the procedure. I was okay until they started to pull some clear flap of skin back from her eye. That's when everything started to go black from the bottom up. I grabbed my dad's arm and said "I don't feel good." The next thing I know, I'm in a chair, my dad is slapping my cheeks and the entire procedure has stopped. I told them to "carry on" and ran out of the room. I promptly marched into Student Services the next day and changed my major to art history.

But back to this week's class. It was frightening and scary and gory and I was ready to change my mind about this whole thing....

And then this happened.

And all was right again.

A Rather Intersting Pregnancy Side Effect

Last night Mike and I went to our first childbirth class. It was surprisingly better than I thought it would be. We mostly talked about all the good things about being pregnant. But I suspect that they are just trying to lure us in with a happy class and the "videos" will be starting next week.


At which time I will run screaming from the classroom.

But last night went well. The moms and dads met in separate groups to come up with the Top 10 Best and Worst things about being pregnant. My group was very um, polite, to me. When I was suggesting things for the list like: you have the legal right to taste other people's lunch or you start growing a beard on your belly, they smiled and chuckled a little. But they didn't write it down. However, I still think those are fine additions to the list. By the way, those were suggestions for each Top 10 list - I'm not particularly happy about my belly beard. Although it might be nice in the winter...

They did, however, end up accepting one of my suggestions and the guys chose one of Mike's as well. The teacher read the guys' lists first. When she got to #8 on the Top 10 Best I immediately looked at Mike. But first, let me tell you what the guys' #1 worst thing about having a pregnant wife is:

"Lack of intimacy."

Are you as proud of their maturity as I am? I mean, I don't think I would have come up with the term "intimacy." But then again, I am over in my group talking about unwanted hair and bodily noises.

Anyway, Mike's contribution was: "Excited to have another family member. Someone else to hang out with." I knew it was his right away. That's definitely what Mike is looking forward to the most.

Then when she read the girls' Top 10 Worst list, Mike knew #10 was mine:

"There's no turning back now."

Mike smiled and gave me a few approving nods. I love that he gets me.

The rest of the class went well. Looking forward to next week when Mike gets to wear the sympathy belly. Oh yes, there will be pictures.

In other news, it's almost Halloween. We have planned a little something, but I'm not too sure we should do it. You know the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado? It's the hotel that Steven King stayed in that inspired him to write "The Shining." Because it's haunted. It was also the hotel he used for the TV version of the movie (which is really good, by the way).

Anyway, it's haunted. And on Oct. 30th, they are giving ghost tours and they have a murder mystery dinner that night. So we booked a room (in the haunted hotel) and got tickets to all the ghosty fun. However, I am thinking we should cancel. Mainly because I get scared really easily. Like, really easily. I like being scared but when I am in those situations, I am always begging to leave. For example, when I was little my dad took me to a haunted house and once we got inside I wanted to leave so badly that I bit him on the shoulder.

So, with me being pregnant and all, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to put that extra stress on my body (or Mike's shoulder).

On the other hand, I've found that I have been a lot more calm about things lately. We were in Seattle last week and one morning we went out to the car and there was a HUGE spider on the passenger door. And instead of running back in the house and pulling the fire alarm, I calmly got in the car and watched the damn spider hang on for the duration of the ride. Which is big for me. See here for normal Emily-spider behavior.

So maybe I could be okay with the whole haunted hotel thing. Maybe now I can control my fear. And, it would be a great addition to the top 10 list. "Having your own ghost-and-spider-ignoring power." Here's a picture to illustrate:

Look at me being all mature and ignoring those scary ghosts.

Yeah, being pregnant is awesome.

Halfway Done But So Many More Things to Eat

5 months. Halfway done. But I feel like I just started! After 4 months of feeling bad, going to bed at 7:30 and not seeing anyone other than Mike, my boss and occasionally my parents, I feel really good...physically. Although now I have another fun side-effect to deal with - serious mood swings.


But more on that in a minute.


First, we found out we're having a girl! I think the Doctor could tell from the ultrasound because she had a cell phone up to her ear and kept turning away from the camera because she needs her privacy, gawd!


We are really happy to be having a girl. We would have been happy with a boy too, of course, but now we're in total girl mode. Mike went from looking at eco-friendly, sleek, smart cribs to the most princessy, swirly, unreasonable ones.

I am also preparing for a girl; reading the Joy of Cooking so I can teacher her old family recipes, practicing the french braid, and sewing my name into all my favorite clothes.

A girl will be fun. Hopefully she'll have her dad's eyes, my ears and Jennifer Aniston's nose.


And now for the mood swings, my God, the mood swings. I can be totally normal one second, then crying like mad the next and then laughing hysterically the next. Poor Mike. Talking to me is like playing Russian roulette. You never know what kind of reaction you will get from me.

I also have crazy dreams which affect my mood the next day. For example, last night I dreamt that my family and I were at a smoothie shop. We all ordered a smoothie and everyone got one but me. I kept trying to ask where mine was and no one would respond. Plus, no one would help me get my smoothie. I had to yell and cry to the smoothie people but they just didn't care. And you know what you guys? I am teary eyed just writing about it right now. And it's so stupid!

But come on, all I want is a smoothie for God's sakes. Can't somebody help a girl out?

Luckily, I've been able to keep my emotions from spilling out of my mouth in public places...for the most part, anyway. Today Mike and I went to lunch and there was a long line and I was hungry, but fine, there's nothing I can do so I waited and tried to be patient. Then as we finally approached the font, a woman and her daughter who had already been through the line and received food Totally. Cut. In Front. Of Me.

Seriously. You don't do cutsies in front of a pregnant girl at lunch time. I started to say something but Mike stopped me. They got off lucky this time. They walked away with only mean looks to the backs of their heads and possibly a few whispered curse words.

Those are just examples of the circus that is going on my head. But I better leave it at that because I believe Mike just ate the last string cheese and I think we need to have "words."



Update: It wasn't Mike who ate the string cheese. He just pointed out the empty wrapper on my lap. So obviously someone came in the house, ate the cheese and tried to pin me with the blame. Right?

Someone Take Away the Post-Its Before I Eat Them

Has it really been almost a month since my last post? Time just flies by. Not too much has happened; I made it through the first trimester (I sure hope labor isn't that bad), survived a family RV trip (I sure hope labor isn't that bad) and ate a lot. Seriously, it's like I think someone is going to take away all food if I don't eat it, so get out of my way people, I'm trying to save us all!

So no one should take away my food, but someone should take away my post-it notes.

At work we use an instant messenger system to talk to each other. We are supposed to set our status when we are away from our desk like "At Lunch" or "In a Meeting" so people know where we are. However, today my messenger wasn't working and when I went to lunch, I decided to stick a little note on my computer to say that I was away, if anyone came looking for me.

It started out fine enough, but then I realized my first note could be open to interpretation. So I wrote another to clarify. But then that note didn't seem to really give the full picture, so I wrote another. And it just snowballed like that until this:



I know it seems like a lot, but really, each note contained important information.

Excessive? Nah, just thorough.

Despite What the Movies Say, There Was No Synchronized Dancing in High School

Reunions...

Does that word ever bring joy or feelings other than dread to anyone? Family reunions, high school reunions, Backstreet Boys reunions. All seemingly good ideas from the outside until you realize everybody is the same but older, grumpier and a little off-pitch.

This weekend was my 10-year high school reunion. I thought about going, but then I remembered what high school was like. I probably had an average, or slightly below average experience in high school. I wasn't popular, of course, and that makes for a difficult 4 years. I had some highs and lows. Highs included being part of the dance team and that one time the popular boy accidentally called me when he really meant to call my friend. Lows included getting stuffed in a locker (yes, that happened) and performing the duties of being the "look out" during make-out parties.

You know, I have been trying to recall my funniest high school memory but nothing comes to mind. It would really make for a better blog post, though. Sorry folks. Oh wait, except for that that time I had detention and the varied group of us became friends and then Judd Nelson turns out to be a sensitive guy despite his rough exterior.

But I'm not sure that really happened to me or if I saw it somewhere...

My memories are a wash of not bringing the right book to class, stressing over dances with wait-I-thought-we-were-going-as-a-group-of-girls-but-now-you-all-have-dates anxiety, losing the ability to form words in front of cute boys and not making the cheerleading squad....again.

I guess it's good to not remember specific, horrifying events. Because I'm sure I had lots of them. I'm sure I told my mom my life was absolutely over a bunch of times. It was not easy being the teacher's favorite in all the lame classes - like French, Religion and Peer Leadership. That's just not how you win friends (although I will tell my kids it is) (and Mike don't you tell them different, Mr. My Name Was Written On The Wall Of The Girls Bathroom).

Anyway, I'm sure at these reunions all the pretty, popular, mean girls will have gotten fat or ugly or become completely socially inept. And I don't want to go and make any of them feel bad. Revenge has never been my thing.

And on the off chance that they are even prettier, more successful and happier than ever...well, I can't drink. And no one can make me deal with that sober.

Aw, You Even Picked Up My Mail For Me

Whew! That was a long break. It's good to be back. I see you left my mug where I like it.

Did you move that picture? No? I did? I don't remember doing that, but if you say so...

*Note to self, lock the door next time I leave*

I'd like to say that I intentionally took a break from blogging. Like the real celebrities. Or that I entered rehab and had to wear an ankle monitor. But no. Alas, my absence was not as glamorous as that. Here's what really happened - I got knocked up. And I got sick from it. Probably not as bad as some women get sick, but bad enough that I was sure I was dying. And oh, Mike. Poor, sweet Mike continuously talking me down from ledges. Continuously convincing me that I do not have listeria poisoning or yellow fever or that the baby is not half chupacabra slowly clawing it's way out. And don't worry, that's normal. And don't google that..or that...or for the love of God, back away from the computer!

But I am slowly coming back to reality and society. I'm getting over my buyers remorse and am getting used to the idea that there are going to be three of us now (I mean me, Mike and baby. Not twins - I made the Dr. look twice because I thought there was no way I could be in this much agony for just one tiny human). But sometimes I still don't know if I'm old enough or ready enough to have a kid...good thing I'm going to start with a baby, right?

Being pregnant is a funny thing. Albeit sometimes frustrating because I have all the symptoms of being pregnant but I don't look like it yet. Therefore, it's hard to explain why I'm so tired and go to bed after the 6:00 news. But, as one of my favorite bloggers advised, if someone gives you a hard time about being tired all the time, just say "I made a person's inner ear canal today. Without my hands. What did you do, paperwork?"

Well, I had better get going. It's nearing 8:00 and I just can't keep my eyes open. I've got a nervous system to form. Thanks again for the flowers and the warm welcome back. It means a lot. I won't lie, it's bordering on creepy, but it's nice. Thank you.

Finding Allies

I step on the elevator at the end of the day. I am holding my uneaten apple. The apple that I took to work this morning. The apple that was going to instantly make me incredibly healthy. The apple that would positively change my life. The apple that would keep all doctors away. The apple that would bring world peace.

I am holding that apple as I step on the elevator.

I look at the guy already in the elevator. I look down at his hands. He is holding an uneaten banana.

I look back up at him.

He gestures politely with his banana-hand.

We nod.

We get each other. We are instantly friends.


And then?

And then my ally, my fruit-in-the-elevator friend actually peels his banana, raises it to his mouth and takes a bite.

The hell?

Instantly he switched teams and instantly I am making the walk of shame back to my car alone.

What was that nod all about anyway?

Apparently, 40 Days Is Too Much To Ask Of Me

Remember when I told you about giving up being an idiot for lent? Well, I almost made it. *Almost*

Today I was talking to a very conservative co-worker about her recent trip to Las Vegas. I asked her how it was and she said "It was good. But there's not much for me to do in Vegas though because I don't gamble, I don't drink and I'm not into the sex stuff." So I said "Yeah, I don't gamble either." And I left it at that.

Yes I did.

It didn't occur to me until a few seconds later that I may have implied to her that I am into the sex stuff. And by then enough time had passed so that I couldn't bring it up again and clarify.

So, now I'm the new girl who steals coffee and goes to Vegas for "sex stuff." Pretty good start to this job.

On another (yet related) note; I received an e-mail from a girl I went to grad school with. She has not graduated yet and was asking for advice on how to do her capstone research project. Cool, huh. Grad students are asking *me* for advice! So I wrote her back and said that it's best to do your project on something you are really passionate about. I said "since the research paper has to be 25 pages, you better be able to babble on about it for a while." I told her I did my project on sustainability in museums and I included lots of pictures and checklists. You know, standard college student page filler. Well, she wrote back and said she thinks she's going to write her paper on a project she and her husband are working on. Here it is:

"My husband and I are trying to get the city to donate the land for us (and corporate sponsor) to build a velodrome park. A velodrome park is like a racetrack but built for bikes. The center of the velodrome is usually green space. Many kids in the city do not know how to ride bikes anymore because there is no safe place to learn. So, my dream is to build a place where they can learn how to ride, even race bikes. If the next generation doesn't know how to ride a bike, how are they going to commute on it? My husband has already started sponsoring and training about a dozen kids. So, there is a need. Through mentors from his bike team, the kids get their own bike and gear, get driven to races (some of them have never left the city before) and help on college application, and whatever else they may need within reason."

Shit, can she see me through the internet?

I'm so embarrassed. Here she is doing something really noble and worthy and I'm playing Scrapbook USA with my paper.

Remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry has to give a presentation to a school assembly so he asks George to help fill up time? George says he's "prepared some science experiments that will illuminate the mind and dazzle the eye." And Jerry says "I wrote a 20 minute bit about how homework stinks." I'm Jerry right now.

Thankfully I graduated before her. They can't rescind degrees, can they? Well, just in case, I have put mine in a lockbox guarded by killer bees. Because I like honey.

And "sex stuff," apparently.

I Had To Re-Take This Picture A Bunch Of Times Because People Kept Coming In. And No One Likes The Girl With The Camera In The Bathroom

First, a short ode to athletes who love reality shows girls.

Thank you.

Without your love and support, I wouldn’t be able to watch shows like “Keeping up with the Kardashians” or “Kendra.” At least not while Mike is awake. ..Or still not blind and deaf.

You see, it’s those rare athletes who, for some reason, choose to marry these “celebrities” and who make occasional appearances on their shows that allow me to watch without constant comments like “isn’t there anything else on?” or “I will poke my eye out if we have to watch this again” or “seriously, I’m getting a sharpened pencil…”

So, thank you.

Now, if only we can get one to fall in love with Tyra Banks…or one of the Bad Girls…

On another note, I noticed this sticker on the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom here at work.

You know what? If there’s an emergency in the bathroom that requires more paper towels and in-a-hurry; I promise you I won’t be hanging around long enough to utilize those emergency towels.

Valentine's Day Snakes

You know how Sunday is the best day to go to Home Depot because there are only a few other shoppers there? Well, I'll give you one better - if it's Sunday and also Valentine's Day, you will be the only shopper. Which is usually good. Unless you are looking for something embarrassing.

You see, our toilet is clogged. And the plunger aint cutting it. There, I said it.

Mike and I had been to two grocery stores today looking for something to unclog it and when we got home with the Dran-O we discovered that you are not supposed to use it on toilets. Since it's Valentine's day, I offered to let Mike relax while I went back to the store to return it and buy something else (since he would actually be doing the "dirty" work).

So I went back to Albertsons and read the backs of every drain unclogging product they had. And all the Dran-O and Liquid Plumber products say "do not use on toilet." The hell? I finally found two that didn't exactly say "use on toilet" but they didn't say not to either, so I bought them both.

I thought exchanging one unclogging product for two unclogging products would be the most embarrassing thing that happened to me today.

I was wrong.

I got home and talked to Mike and we thought since these products don't say safe for toilets, we should probably look for something else. So I decided to go to Home Depot, again by myself, to see what they had. The parking lot was empty. I went in and there were 3 guys waiting by the front door. They must have known I'm not a real handy person because right away they all asked what I needed.

Me: Something to unclog my toilet.
Guy 1: Like a plunger?
Me: No, something stronger, like a liquid cleaner?
Guy 2: So, it's really clogged?
Me: Um...yes
Guy 3: Well, you can't use liquid because it will eat the plastic ring on your toilet and make it start to leak eventually.
Me: Okay
Guy 2: Here, let's go to the plumbing section.

Guys 2 and 3 take me to the Plumbing aisle. Guy 3 calls over his walkie: "Plumbing assistance, aisle 8"

Guys 2 and 3 stay with me and start talking about something else when Guy 4 comes over.

Guy 2: Her toilet's clogged
Guy 4: Okay, what's clogging it?
Me: Uhhhh
Guy 2: A diaper?
Me: No
Guy 3: A sock?
Me: Ummm...nope.
Guy 4: A pill bottle?
Me: It's, uh, clogged with, um....normal stuff
Guy 4: Okay, you need a snake

All 3 guys then show me the various types of snakes. This one is manual, this one you attach to a drill, this one comes with a sno-cone maker. I choose one and thank the guys and turn to leave.

Guy 4: Good luck
Guy 3: Hope that works for you
Guy 2: Have a happy Valentine's Day!

I take the snake to the register and Guy 1 rings it up.

Guy 1: Wow, this is what you need?
Me: I guess so
Guy 1: Are you going to try this all by yourself?
Me: Oh no, my husband will take it from here
Guy 1: Alright, well, hope you have a better Valentine's Day

Thanks. Will do.

Giving Up Being an Idiot for Lent -- Yeah, Right

Well, it happened. We all knew it would. I made a fool of myself at my new job. And technically it's not even the first day yet!

Here's what happened. Coffee sounded really good to me today so this morning at work I went to the breakroom to get some. But the regular coffee pot was empty. Oh, and I don't know how to make coffee (I really should have added it to my "things I gotta learn" list) so it looks like I'm out of luck. But then I see another coffee pot in the corner. A fancy coffee pot. A full coffee pot. So I happily fill up my cup and as I'm pouring I notice a sign that basically says this is a special coffee pot for a special coffee group and if I want to partake I should contact Sally to join.

Crap.

I put the pot back after filling my cup and I turn around to leave and there is Sally.

Double Crap.

I don't think she knows who I am but I know who she is. Yet I am too embarrassed to say anything so I awkwardly smile and step around her. I walk back to my desk with a knot in my stomach and a face burning as hot as my drink. What to do? I just stole someone's coffee right in front of them! I am the worst robber in the world.

Here's something that will shock you - I cannot just let things go - I'll give you a sec to let that sink in.......got it? Anyway, I keep thinking about it all day and try to figure out what to do. Do I apologize to her? Do I quit my job and never go back? Both good options. But I am frozen to my chair so I can't do either.

After lots and lots of thought and panic I came up with the perfect solution. Write a note explaining what happened and give her money to make up for it. I can slip it under her door tonight when I leave. Yes, that sounds like the most mature thing to do.

Here is the letter:

Dear Sally,

I had a coffee emergency today. It was a life or death situation. You see, I am a secret agent and I was sent on an exciting and dangerous assignment. I cannot give you many details but I will say that it involved a panda bear, a rare edition of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” and the glowing rock things from Indiana Jones. Anyway, as I was minding my own business, doing my secret agent thing, I was ambushed by a counter agent who looked alarmingly like J. Edgar Hoover in a dress. She was frantic and threatening to destroy the planet Alderaan and thwart my entire mission. I tried using my best secret agent moves but she was quick and able to outmaneuver every one. Even the One-Eyed-Flying-Monkey move! I thought I had met my doom but then she started bargaining with me. We went through much iteration of negotiations and I was finally able to convince her to accept a cup of coffee instead of my first-born child in exchange for her halting her reign of terror. So away I went to the break room only to find that the standard coffee machine was dry. I didn’t have time to make more coffee for fear of Ms. Hoover changing her mind and resuming her evil operation. Luckily, I spied a full coffee pot. Hallelujah, we are saved! I filled the cup and quickly delivered it to her. It was good coffee. She was appeased. She left the building with no incident and the world was safe again….for now.


Alright, that was a bit of an exaggeration. I did not realize that the coffee was part of a consortium until after I had poured. Please accept the enclosed dollars for my cup today. I apologize and will not make the mistake again. The coffee was great and with it I was able to finish my spreadsheets…or save a bunch of babies and kittens from a burning building…whichever you choose to believe.

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Emily
“Agent 114”


P.S. This message will self destruct.

Self destruction instructions:
1. Put message in shredder.
2. Turn shredder on.
3. Self destruct complete.


Yeah, that sounds good. I slipped the letter and some money in an envelope, waited until 5:10 and walked to her office. But her door is open and the lights are on. Crap, she's still here! I back up against the wall and again weigh my options. Hand her the note or quit? Then, her cell phone rings. And rings. With my secret agent training I deduce that she must be away from her desk. I inch over to the door and peek around the corner. No one is there. So I hurry in, toss the envelope on her desk and slip out. Success!!

All I have to do now is avoid her...or have radical reconstructive surgery. Again, both good options...

Best Twilight Comment Ever

I dragged Mike to see the new Twilight movie a few weeks ago. (Bribed him with the promise of movie food - popcorn, candy, gin in his Dr. Pepper - the usual.)

In the beginning of the movie it's Bella's birthday and she gets gifts from all the vampires. The giant vampire gives her - spoiler alert - a new stereo for her car. Which he has installed. I think she thanks him for it. Anyway, the party goes on - more gifts, someone gets moody, Bella almost dies - the usual.

But about 20 minutes later Bella and Edward are in her car talking about the genocide in Darfur, or how they want to die because they love each other so much (I can't remember exactly). And Mike leans over to me and says "let's hear the new sound system."

Men just don't get it.