The Red Shoe Pope

A Letter To Elaine

2011-12-19T13:14:00.000-08:00

Wow. One year. This year went by faster than any before. The three of us have experienced incredible highs and have been grateful for every moment. Sometimes things were hard, but any trials were absolutely worth it to have you in our lives. From your first smiles to your first steps you have brought a whole new level of joy and love to us.

On this, your first birthday, I want to tell you about the things that make you uniquely you.

- You are a dance machine! Gloria Estefan sang "The rhythm is going to get you" and that describes you exactly. Whenever you hear music - on a commercial, tv show, cell phone ring tone, etc. - you stop everything you are doing and dance. The other morning you were slowly waking up when dad's alarm clock rang. You sat up right away and swayed along. We don't know where you learned to dance, but we love it.

- You have to taste test all the clean laundry before we can put it away. You always want to be buried in the warm clothes and then you put each piece in your mouth one at a time. There is always a wet spot on the clothes as we put them away.

- You are very funny with your tongue. Ever since you were born, you (perhaps unknowingly?) stick your tongue out. Lately you have been sticking it out to the side. The funny thing is, dad does the same thing. When he's concentrating, he pokes his tongue in and out without knowing it. It's just something you two have in common.

- You love books. They are your favorite toy. This makes your mom very proud.

- We taught you the fun of horseback rides. If we are sitting on the floor you walk up behind us, push us forward and pat our backs. Then when you are up on our back and we stop, you pat us again to say "go horsey."

- You took your first steps at 11 months. Right now you take 9 or 10 Frankenstein steps then fall down and crawl the rest of the way.

- You are silly and giggly with us but serious with everyone else.

- Everyone always comments on what a good baby you are.

-You are learning the motions of The Itsy Bitsy Spider song. You love "washing the spider out" and are starting to raise yours arms when the sun comes out.

- You recognize that certain words have actions. If someone says "bye-bye" you wave. If we say "yay" you clap. But our favorite of all is when we say "give me love" you lay your head on us. You will do it to other things as well, like, "give the doll a love" or "give the book a love" or "give the spaghetti a love" (that one actually isn't so great). It makes us melt to see you being so sweet.

- You have a real laugh and a very funny fake laugh.

- You like to play rough. You love when we throw you in air, help you do back flips or pull you around on a blanket.

We could go on and on. You are so special and unique. We love you through and through.

Happy Birthday. Love, Mom and Dad

Pete and Repeat are in a Boat...

2011-10-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

I decided Lainey and I needed some socialization so I signed us up for classes at the Little Gym. Our first class was Monday and as soon as we got there Lainey was super excited. She wasn't shy with the other kids, moms or the teacher. She loved exploring all the different things to climb on (and put in her mouth). So much so that she wasn't fully interested in paying attention to the little exercise activities we were supposed to be doing. She wanted to be free. But she hung in there with me for a little while until she just couldn't anymore.

We started an exercise where we all sat in a circle and held on to a long elastic jump rope. Then we were to sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat and move the string to our feet and back up, like rowing a boat (get it?). Well, Lainey decided she absolutely had to go exploring and so she crawled away. There I was, a lone adult in a circle with kids and parents while my girl was off tasting another gym apparatus. I wasn't sure what I should do. Should I go get her? Should I stay here and finish the exercise? What do you think I did?

I kept rowing.

And after the second round of singing and rowing our boats I looked around and saw that Lainey was watching me and laughing. Oh really, Lainey? You think that's funny? Fine, you win this one. But I've got the perfect dress to wear as a chaperone to your first middle school dance. Oh yes I do.

Baby's First Vacation

2011-10-04T11:40:00.000-07:00

DISNEYLAND!!

Lainey took her first vacation last weekend. And where better to go than the happiest place on earth?

We had a blast and were so lucky to go with Grammy and Umpa and stay at the beautiful Grand California hotel which is in the California Adventure park. Which afforded us the convenience to go back to the room in the middle of the day to recharge and then head out again. It also gave us the privilege to enter the park an hour before all the "regular" folk.

Lainey was a real trooper. Her first rides were the train, which she thought was really cool, and It's A Small World, which was a little bit of sensory overload for her. Surprisingly, the new Toy Story ride and Winnie the Pooh scared the hell out of her but she loved the Haunted Mansion and Snow White's Scary Adventure. That's my little weirdo.

To make her more comfortable we would wave at the characters on rides. On the second day I rode Splash Mountain solo and actually waved at the Brer Rabbit.

Oh yes I did.

Thank goodness I was in the back of the log and I don't think anyone saw me. I guess that's one way Disneyland changes when you go with a baby - you get to lose yourself in the magic. Here are some other ways it changes:

- You spend more time searching for the right pair of mouse ears than you do waiting in line for rides

- In the middle of screaming your guts out on Space Mountain you wonder what your baby is doing

- You constantly ask "do they really need to have the sound turned up so loud?"

- Strangers ask if they can take a picture of your baby (okay, I'm bragging here - 2 different people asked to take a picture of Lainey because she's so cute! Can you blame them? Did you see the picture at the top of the blog?)

Lainey had a great time. She loved playing in the hotel and crawling between our room and Grammy and Umpa's. She also loved people watching, shopping and eating everything we ate. Here are some more pictures showing how much fun she had.

Only a few hours into Disneyland and she's exhausted already.

Going...

Going....

Gone.

Oh goodie! She's awake and ready to play.

Oh, asleep again.

That was a really great trip you guys.

All Hail The Great Lainey Godzilla!

2011-08-01T14:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, yes, this blog is all about my daughter now. But I must say, in her short 7 months on this planet, her life has been infinitely more exciting than mine. She learns something new every day. Today, for example, she learned to stand on her own for a short while (holding on to something, of course). And I was there with my camera:

Oh the destruction she will bring upon this house.

She Tricked Me!

2011-06-23T10:38:00.001-07:00

I love you too.

Why My 4 Month Old is Smarter Than Me

2011-05-11T14:36:00.000-07:00

Being a mom kind of rocks. There is nothing better than having my little girl look at me and give me that giant pez-dispenser smile. Even though she just looked at me a few seconds ago, it's like she forgot I was there and is delighted to find that I'm back. And while I love when she is sweet to other people, my heart warms when she cries and no one can soothe her but me. It's as if she needs me almost as much as I need her.

Anyway, on to my reasons why I think my baby is smarter than me (I can only assume this will be a recurring theme).

1. She eats when she's hungry. She doesn't try to finish one last project before her next meal, which would just make her hunger worse. She also doesn't eat just because she's bored or there's food there. Girl knows how to manage her body!

2. She figured out how to lock my cell phone screen so the buttons don't work. Now if she could just undo this....

3. She finds joy in simple things. If given the choice between a fancy, multi-colored, musical toy and the stick of deodorant, she picks the deodorant every time.

4. She can re-read the same book over and over and still be enthralled.

5. She greets her dad with pure excitement when he gets home from work. That's much better for him than someone asking him to make dinner and take out the trash. Oh, and put your socks in the hamper, not next to it!

I could go on and on, but I'll leave it there for now. I don't want her knowing all the ways she's smarter than me yet. I'm sure the day will come soon enough when she goes "really, these are my parents? How have they survived for so long?" but for now she is blissfully ignorant.

Not Funny

2011-04-20T10:46:00.000-07:00

Lainey is 3 and a half months old. She changes everyday. She goes to bed a newborn and wakes up the next day as an infant. Overnight she learns how to grab toys, push up on her arms or blow bubbles with her mouth. She's amazing.

But lately she is refusing to sleep. She wakes up every hour. We have tried everything to get her back to sleep - rocking, pacifier, crying, co-sleeping, noise, quiet, light, dark. You name it, we've tried it. And nothing is working.

After we put her to bed Mike and I will be up talking or doing something and as soon as we hear a peep on the monitor we freeze. Like, no words and no movement. Apparently, we think she is like some kind of T-Rex and if we hold real still, she won't know we're awake and she'll go back to bed. And apparently, we think she has these powers through walls and doors. When she is in her own room with the door closed, we still whisper and tip-toe around like burglars.

Anyway, last night when I got up for the 4th (or was it 5th?) time, I started thinking about this blog. And I had such funny things to say. I would make jokes about (gently) kicking Mike when it's his turn to get her. I would write hilarious musings on googling tips to help baby sleep. As I am rocking Lainey I am giggling to myself thinking this is going to be the best blog since telling my lent stories. I crawl back in bed after I get Lainey back to sleep and am excited to blog in the morning.

But this morning, turns out? Not funny.

I started to jot down all my night time ideas here and realized I must have been delirious last night. How is researching noise machines funny? How is groaning, "dad, it's your turn" worth writing about? I have no idea what I was thinking.

She's napping right now and has been asleep for almost 15 minutes. That means I don't have much longer. So let me leave you with some pictures we took of her this weekend. This pretty much makes up for all the sleepless nights.

My Baby Story

2011-02-10T15:16:00.000-08:00

A few things have changed around here. We have a new family member! Elaine May was born January 3rd at 2:38 am. She has blond hair and gray eyes like her dad and a double chin and a passion for napping like her mom. She is just perfect. But boy, is she a lot of work. I thought not much would change at first because babies don't do much. I thought we would just have to scoot over on the couch a little to make room for her and life would go on as normal. How wrong I was. But I will save the stories of waking up every hour at night, dropping her in the tub and colic for another day. This is the story of her birthday.

January 2nd started out as normal as any other day. It was Sunday and I was 3 days over my due date and thought I was going to be the first woman to be pregnant forever. I spent most of the day napping and went to dinner with the family for my mom's birthday. Soon after we got home from dinner, around 8:00 p.m. I started getting contractions. They came on really fast and really strong but there was no pattern. I would get a contraction and less than one minute later I would get another. But then another wouldn't come for 9 minutes and then 6 minutes, etc. Looking back now, I think Lainey was definitely controlling things even then, since she doesn't like patterns or predictability.

So around 10:00 pm Mike's shoulder hurt from me punching it and he called the hospital. Since the contractions weren't the standard "5 minutes apart" they told me to wait another hour and get in the tub. I don't know why they tell you to get in the tub, maybe it's so you're clean when you go in? Joke's on them though, I didn't use soap or anything. I pretty much spent the whole time clawing Mike's leg and begging him to make it stop.

After what felt like an eternity, I got out of the tub. Which was pretty easy, since I was half hanging out of it grasping at Mike who was desperately trying to get away. I got dressed and decided enough was enough. I told Mike "I don't care what the hospital says, we are going." And as soon as I said that my water broke. Even though I was now in more pain I was happy because I now had the golden ticket. No matter what, the hospital couldn't turn me away.

I have never seen Mike move so fast as he finished packing our bags and threw them in the car along with me and the carseat. Then at 11:40 at night we raced to the hospital. In what is usually a 30 minute drive, we made it there in about 15. Of course, that was still too long for me and I was convinced I was either going to pass out from the pain or have the baby in the car. Luckily, neither happened and we made it in one piece.

Somehow, we made it up the elevator, down the hall and turned the corner to the labor and delivery wing. About halfway down that corridor was an empty wheelchair. I told Mike that was it, I was done and they would have to come get me. And I dropped to my hands and knees as he ran to get a nurse. I guess I decided I had done enough work already and I didn't need to walk anymore. They came rushing over with the wheelchair, picked me up, and wheeled me into the delivery room.

Mike had to sign a couple papers for me at the front desk. He says it took less than a minute and when he walked back in the room I was completely naked and up on all fours on the bed. This is so out of character for me as I am a modest person, but apparently clothes were making the pain worse. I wouldn't even put on the gown they gave me.

Without asking, they injected me with fentenol; a drug used to calm down crazy women who refuse to lay in the bed the right way. Luckily for them, it worked. I was able to lay on my back and yell at Mike in that position.

They got the anesthesiologist in there pretty quickly. He was a nice guy, but spent forever telling me about the epidural. Dude, I don't need to hear the history of the drug, just give it to me already! Finally, he finished his monologue and gave me the shot. It was wonderful. Best.Drug.Ever. Within 5 minutes the pain was gone and I was happily chatting with everyone. The only thing that was bugging me was that I was hungry and kept asking Mike for an orange. I knew they wouldn't let me eat, but I wanted to see if Mike would try to sneak it to me. He didn't. Rule follower.

The Dr. arrived around 2:00 am and we started the process of bringing Lainey into the world. Once the Dr. had her little head, he paused to style her hair into a mohawk. Very funny for everyone else in the room, but hello, we're in the middle of something here!

Then at 2:38 am she was here. She weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces and was 19 and a half inches long. Much bigger than any of us thought. They wrapped her up and gave her to Mike. And she just stared at him as intently as he stared at her. It was the best moment I have ever seen.

All of a sudden, this twosome is a threesome. And we couldn't be happier.

Our Thanksgiving Adventure

2010-12-02T08:33:00.000-08:00

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

2010-10-14T14:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-23T08:16:00.001-07:00

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

2010-08-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-21T15:10:00.001-07:00

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

2010-06-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-21T19:15:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-17T19:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-04T15:48:00.001-08:00

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

2010-02-14T16:04:00.001-08:00

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

2010-01-28T20:09:00.001-08:00

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

2010-01-14T10:07:00.000-08:00

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.

Team Obama

2009-12-29T14:39:00.000-08:00

Breaking News: The President has more power than Twilight.

I'm watching the Ellen show and she has Robert Pattenson on (i.e. Edward Cullen) and the interview so far is basically the audience screaming and Robert pretending to hate it. And then, President Obama breaks into the program to discuss the recent attempted airline bombing. And I'll be damned if it wasn't timed just right because after Obama finished, it cut back to the Ellen show right as she was saying goodbye to Robert.

This is good news! Well, not that someone tried to bomb an airine, but that the President trumps Twilight. We can all sleep a little easier tonight.

First Lunch, Then The World

2009-12-10T13:14:00.000-08:00

I have a dilemma. I am at work and I’m hungry and I don’t know what to do.

Since I’m a temp, I work in a conference room at a big table with 2 other people. It’s really quiet in here. I brought Cup of Noodles from home for lunch, but I don’t want to be slurping it in front of everyone. And there is no way to eat Cup of Noodles quietly. It’s just not a quiet food. And I certainly don’t want to be that co-worker. You know, the one who always eats lunch at their desk and then asks to borrow your pen and gives it back all smelling like tuna fish and you’re like, you didn’t even have tuna today, why does this smell like that, but you can’t say anything because far be it for you to deny someone their lunch? Anyway, by slurping Cup of Noodles today not only will I drive my co-workers crazy but no one will ever let me borrow a pen again.

That leads us to option 2: get lunch at the restaurant downstairs. Why not, you ask? Well, because I go there almost every day. And I just know that as soon as I walk in the door they’re all “Oh great, here comes ‘Half Chicken Salad Sandwich Girl who Sneaks in Her Own Water Because She’s Too Cheap to Buy a Drink.’” And then they say “Hey, let’s mess with her again and not call her number when her sandwich comes up. Last time she waited almost 4 minutes staring at the sandwich on the counter but not knowing what to do with it. That was fun.” So I obviously can’t go back in there ever again.

So I called Mike and I explained my situation. He said “You know, there are starving children in Africa.” And I said “Yeah, but don’t you think it would be kind of rude for me to ask them what I should do? I mean, they’re hungry and all.” He sighed and said “Why don’t you go downstairs and order something besides Chicken Salad? Like, get a Cheese Sandwich to throw them off.” But what if they don’t pay attention and make chicken salad anyway and then I have to actually talk to them and make a scene about making a cheese sandwich. Isn’t that exactly what they want? Mike then mumbled something that I didn’t quite hear - something about how much he loves me or about needing therapy, I’m not sure. Then he said he had to go and hung up.

What am I to do? Maybe I’ll wait it out. See if I can just make it until dinner.

P.S. I just checked the package; apparently, it’s “Cup Noodles” not “Cup of Noodles.” I think someone should tell Nissin to add an “of” to be more correct in the English language. I texted Mike to let him know. He thinks I’m being culturally insensitive.

P.P.S. Found out Cup Noodles are packaged in the USA. Now who’s being culturally insensitive?

Update: I decided to eat the Cup Noodles. Mainly because I like saying that now and I wanted to tell other people that it’s actually Cup Noodles not Cup of Noodles. No one seemed very impressed. In fact, they all acted like it was no big deal. Plus, they refused to sign my petition to change it to Cup O’Noodles, even though I clearly explained that it would be revolutionary and break down boarders everywhere. At least in Ireland and Japan. And I'm sure that if I'm able to change the name, they’ll make me an honorary princess or something. Because that’s what princesses are supposed to do. And, as a princess, I bet everyone would lend me a pen. Win-win.

Maybe I Can Take Up Windsurfing

2009-12-08T13:27:00.000-08:00

Well, I completed my last class this week. I now come with an MBA.

It will come in real handy while living in my parent’s basement.

For graduation, Mike and my parents threw me a Seinfeld-themed party. It was awesome. It was all the black-and-white-cookie-eating, candy-bar-lineup-solving fun you could have. It was spectacular.

I realized though that I am out of excuses now. I can’t turn down any more family parties or lunch with friends. It used to be that I would say “I can’t. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.” Now when Mike asks me can I “please make dinner just once this month?” I can’t say “I really need the time to study.” Or when he says “well, can you at least let me have the remote? You’re supposed to be doing homework, not watching Snapped re-runs.” And I would say “Oh, I’m doing homework alright…” And then he would make a note in that strange book of his that he calls “evidence” and walk around leaving his DNA all over.

Even this blob has been giving me a hard time since I don’t write as often as I should. Well folks, I’m out of excuses. Here I am all grown up and ready to take on real world responsibilities. And social events.

Hmmm…

I wonder if I should enter a PhD program just to get out of doing the dishes for a few years?

It's Never Them, It's Always You

2009-11-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

Looking for a job is hard. It's physically and emotionally exhausting. I liken it to being broken up with. Here's my relationship with available positions:

Job: I'm sorry, it's just not going to work out between us.

Me: I don't understand. You didn't even give us a chance.

Job: I'm just looking for something different.

Me: I can change.

Job: I don't want you to change. You are smart and talented and..

Me: Right. I'm great. We'd be great together.

Job: You will find the right fit someday.

Me: But I want this to work out. I think you are the right fit.

Job: It's not you, it's me.

Me: But...

Job: No buts, now don't make this any harder.

Me: Think about all the great times we had together.

Job: *Blinking* Huh?

Me: Remember that time when we put on that amazing Baroque Art Exhibit and we were praised by all the local newspapers? Even the Deseret News? Or remember all those late nights we'd stay up. You'd be all artsy and I'd be brilliant and inspired and we would come up with the best ideas together?

Job: *Blinking*

Me: Okay, that may have all been in my head, but I had plans damnit!

Job: That all sounds great, and you will make some other museum very happy someday. I better go now.

Me: Wait! I wanted to tell you that...I'm dying.

Job: Oh my God! What's wrong?

Me: Well, the doctors don't know what it is yet. Something undiscovered. Something tropical, I think.

Job: But you've never been to the tropics.

Me: True, but I did accidentally step on a pineapple once. I think that's where I got it from.

Job:

Me: Really! It was at the grocery store and I was wearing flip-flops. It totally punctured my skin.

Job:

Me: It hurt pretty bad.

Job: *Sigh* I need to go now.

Me: I think you're making a mistake. You shouldn't make this decision now. You should sleep on it.

Job: *Turning back* Oh, and before I forget, can you please stop calling so late at night and hanging up?

Me: That's not me.

Job: I have caller ID built in.

Me: Oh right, I forgot. Okay, that was me. But I was just checking in to make sure you're okay.

Job: But you hang up right after I answer.

Me: Well, I don't want to bother you. If we starting talking, we would never be able to get back to sleep. Because I care about how good you sleep.

Job: Yeah, I'll see ya. *Turning away*

Me: *Snip*

Job: Did you just pluck a piece of my hair?

Me: No.

Job: Goodbye.

Me: Will you at least call me when you get home so I know you made it safe?

And that's what I've been up to lately.

Important Notice That Only the Unemployed Would Get

2009-11-03T15:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning I turned on the TV to watch some great mid-morning talk shows and I found Montel! I love Montel. I was hoping he would have Sylvia Brown on (you know, the psychic?). She'll tell you straight up in her raspy smoker's voice that she doesn't see your sweet old grandma, but someone with an "A" name is trying to communicate. You run down the list of people with A names and realize Allejandro, your brother's general contractor who died 3 years ago is trying to tell you he's okay. And we were so worried. But what about grandma!?!

Anyway, Montel is talking to a pudgy little boy about eating his vegetables. The little boy is grumpy and says he doesn't like vegetables. Montel says "well, what if I make you a great tasting drink with vegetables so that you won't even know you're eating them?" And the little boy brightens up, shrugs his shoulders and says "okay." Isn't that just like Montel? Always making people feel better. He can even work his magic on the teenage girl who doesn't know who the baby's daddy is. She may be in for a long, hard life, but Montel is going to hug you and make it all better. At least until Judge Judy comes on. He's just cool like that.

But then, they stand up from their cushy chairs and walk over to a kitchen and Montel starts using a blender! A BLENDER! And he's talking about how great it is and all the neat features it has. And suddenly I realize: it's not Montel's talk show, it's Montel SELLING BLENDERS!!

Oh the humanity! What has happened to you Montel?

Childhood Memory - Or, Why I Love Indoor Sports

2009-10-28T12:56:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm moving back into my parent's basement (recap: I'm a 27 year-old college grad with an MBA moving into my parents basement), I've been thinking about the history I've had with that house. We moved in when I was 8, so really all my formative years were spent there. I learned how to doorbell ditch and toilet paper in that house. I learned how to hop fences and put fireworks in the sewer. Really, really important stuff here folks.

But only one memory is crowding out the rest. It's funny because it's not the greatest story and was just a tiny blip on the radar but it keeps coming to the forefront of my mind. So here it is. I'm sure my mom will deny the whole thing.

My brother and I used to sled down the main staircase. With sleds. Sleds.

I know kids like to slide down the stairs, perhaps even using a sleeping bag, but we used top-of-the-line, super-fast sleds. We have 13 carpeted stairs from the upstairs to the main level and boy can you catch some speed on those babies.

Luckily, my mom was at the bottom to catch us before we slammed our heads into the glass table merely inches away. Why didn't we ever think of moving that table?

But here's the kicker - it WAS ALL MY MOM'S IDEA. I swear. If it were up to my brother and me, we would still be using clumsy old sleeping bags. My mom is nothing if not efficient.

I can't remember why we stopped doing it, but it was probably in some horrific accident that I am forcing out of my memory because, well, we were SLEDDING down the stairs. With sleds.

Unfortunately, my parents have since put in hardwood floors so I won't get to show Mike when we move back in. Except the basement stairs are still carpet. And there's 11 of those...

The Post Without a Clever Title - Unless "Bleeding Arts" is Clever - No? Okay, No Title

2009-10-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

I think I'm pretty employable.

Yes that's a word. I know things.

Anyway, I have this dream of working in a museum. Problem is, there are not that many openings for museum jobs in Utah. So as I scour the job websites and find a dearth of availabilities (big words = smart), I start to convince myself that I can do other things. Case in point, I just pondered submitting an application as an administrative manager for the Utah Blood Bank. Then I remember that I am totally squeamish and would probably not be the best manager they've ever had.

Blood Bank: Emily, can you carry these bags of blood to the second floor lab for testing, stat?

Me: *Giggling* Wow, do you people really say stat?

Blood Bank: Now who interviewed you again?

Me: Um, that girl with the long brown hair. I'll take it up right now.

2 minutes later the Blood Bank finds me passed out on the floor. Because I hate blood.

But it's not just blood that freaks me out. It's anything medical. When I first started college I was a pre-optometry major. My dad took me to watch a Lasik eye treatment on one of his patients. We're not talking watching it on a monitor or through a window or gallery, we were actually in the room. With hair-net thingies and everything. Things were going okay until they pulled the lens back off the eye. Suddenly everything started to go black from the bottom up. I told my dad I wasn't feeling well and the next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair and my dad was patting my cheeks. The whole procedure had stopped and the doctor and nurse were looking at me and asking if I was okay. I was all "yeah, I'm fine. Go ahead and continue." I tried to play it off like I just walked to the chair and sat down. Could it be possible that they didn't see my dad drag my body to the corner? I'd like to think so.

So the next day I promptly walked into the student services office and changed my major from pre-optometry to art history.

(And my parents promptly changed their hopes of having a successful daughter to hoping she "marry up")

And since I haven't fainted from looking at a painting yet I consider myself a success and should be rewarded by becoming the director of a museum.

So if any of you reading this own a museum and need a kick-ass director who only faints during medical procedures, call me.

Run Ken, Run!

2009-10-22T10:10:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else think that dripping pipes sound a lot like people knocking on the walls? Scary people with chainsaws. Obviously, the chainsaws are not running because that would be a dead giveaway but they definitely have them. In the non-knocking hand, that is. So these chainsaw-wielding people live in my walls ala "The People Under the Stairs" and knock just to see if I'm paying attention and to ensure I get no sleep and write nonsensical blobs the day. And they won last night.

But not tonight.

Tonight I will pretend it's just My Little Ponies galloping around behind my bed. And that hissing sound? That's just Malibu Barbie's new pet cat. It's trying to get used to the ponies. And the clanking is just the gold falling in the pot at the end of the rainbow. And that scratching sound? That's definitely just a puppy running on the hardwood floor...or a chainsaw. But the thump-drag, well that sounds like Malibu Ken's leg is broken and he's trying to run away but he's not getting very far. And the screaming. And the howling. And the face melting. Oh God, what's going on in there!?!

I Hate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Unless I'm Eating One)

2009-10-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

Well, Mike's gone and I'm officially on my own. At least until he comes back. It's hard but I'm hanging in there. I shopped away some sadness. I did some laundry and made macaroni and cheese for dinner (and by "made macaroni and cheese" I mean "put the frozen tray in the oven" - but I did have to pre-heat the oven). And everything was going fine until I saw the commercial.

The Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Halloween commercial.

You know, the one where there's creepy music and a sudden flash of lightning and then there is a scary face in the chocolate.

It's spooky.

And so it began. I re-checked all the locks about 600 times, came up with a plan if the Reese's monster broke in my front door or my back door and slept with my shoes on in case I had to make a run for it.

I don't think I'm overreacting. I'm just being prepared. You've never heard of a boy scout being eaten by a Reese's monster. And you know why? Because they take an oath to always be prepared.

Wait a minute, I just looked up the boy scout oath to see what other sage advice I should follow and "be prepared" isn't even in it! What kind of "organization" is this anyway? Don't they know they could be eaten by ghosts and monsters and spiders? They should sleep with their shoes on.

Uromysitisis

2009-10-12T15:13:00.000-07:00

Bladder Update: I'm at work and I've had a lot of water to drink and I really have to go to the bathroom but there is this big spider/mosquito thing on the ceiling. I saw it this morning. It's right over the door. It has the legs and wings of a mosquito and the body (and probably soul) of a spider. It's the worst when they are on the ceiling, too. They can drop down on you any second. When I first went in there this morning I debated whether I should chance it and walk out or if I should wait it out until the thing dies of natural causes (or attacks me in a bloody final battle). After spending way too long in the bathroom I took a chance and dashed out. I escaped...barely. But now what to do? I have an hour and a half until I leave - can I hold it for that long? If I don't go, will I get uromysitisis?

Update Update: It's been an hour. I go to Mike's desk to talk to him.

Me: Have you read my blob yet?

Mike: No, I've been busy.

Me: It is very important that you read it.

Mike: Okay, I will. I just need to finish this.

Me: Um...I kind of need you to read it now.

Mike: Fine. I will stop processing this hugely complicated order (or whatever it is we do) just to read your blob.

Me: Thank you.

Minutes later I hear a loud sigh and Mike gets up from his desk and walks to the bathroom. I then hear a little tap of his shoe against the ceiling. He comes back to my desk.

Mike: There. Now you can't get uromysitisis and blame me.

So I dash in there and of course I don't double check before I go in because, well, I trust my husband, and as I'm washing my hands I look up and IT'S GUTS ARE DANGLING FROM THE CEILING. Seriously. Just dangling over the doorway waiting to drop on me. And everyone knows that once you get the scent of the creature, all it's buddies will come looking for you to exact revenge for killing one of their own. Great. Once again I am faced with the decision to permanently move in to the office bathroom or tempt fate a second time. You know, Stephanie Tanner moved into the family bathroom on an episode of Full House once. It didn't look so bad. But then again she grew up to be a drug addict.

So I chanced it...again...

I think I made it out unharmed. I walked up to Mike's desk with my hands on my hips and you know what he did? He laughed. Oh he's so funny. So I rubbed my head on his shirt to spread the scent on him. If I go down, he's going down with me.

Possibly Offensive Post, Though Not Intended

2009-10-09T12:03:00.001-07:00

I am about to say something that could be considered morally or politically incorrect. *Warning. Warning.* I don't mean it to be incorrect or offensive though.

Breast Cancer has given me two great things this week.

1. Pink Shoes on linebackers
2. A giant chocolate chip cookie for only $2.00

I guess I should say Breast Cancer Awareness. That sounds better.

Correction: Breast Cancer Awareness has given me two great things this week.

I could go back up and edit the start of this post to say "Awareness" but I'm not going to. Because I'm lazy like that.

Oh yeah, something else it gave me: a cute story to share about Mike. On Sunday he was kind of offended about the whole Breast Cancer Awareness thing and said "How come Breast Cancer gets a month? Why doesn't Prostate Cancer?" And I said "Dude, men can get Breast Cancer too." And he's all "Ohhhh, right" and then happily continued eating his cookie. Like he was glad he could get Breast Cancer. What an optimist.

Disney Totally Ripped Off Toblerone

2009-10-08T15:00:00.000-07:00

Ghost update: Mike and I thought a ghost had visited us last night. Turns out it was just our upstairs neighbor on speakerphone.

Since Halloween is the scariest of all months, except maybe March - that whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb" thing always makes me nervous - I will post scary things that happen.

Do you hear what I'm promising? I will be alone for a couple weeks and have a great sense of hearing and a high-functioning imagination. This could be good. You're welcome in advance.

Here are some thoughts I have today:
1. I don't like when people use nicknames for their husbands or children on blogs. Unless it's an awesome nickname, like "Worst Mistake I Ever Made" or "Idiot" or "Dingledork."

2. Someone should make a documentary about copy guys. They really love their jobs. At least, the two copy guys that fix our office machine do. They also think they are super funny. And usually try to use their knowledge of copy machine parts to hit on my coworkers. I think it would make for a good movie.

3. There's this board on the game Peggle that really bums me out. It has a pirate ship in the background and all the pegs are square. It just puts me in a bad mood. I always quit when I get to that level and restart hoping it won't come up again. Dingledork knows which level I'm talking about.

4. There is a bear and a fish hidden in the Toblerone logo. Except the bear is afraid of the fish. It's like the fish jumped out of the water and totally took the bear by surprise. Hope the other bears weren't watching, otherwise he'll be labeled a weenie. And the lady bears will stop coming around. He'll probably have to join a different pack of bears, but you know how bears gossip so they will probably already know about this and not let him in. So he will have to find two other reject bears and live in a house and complain about porridge all day. It's kind of awesome really.

5. I looked up the word sluiced in the dictionary today. I've read it quite a few times but never knew what it meant. Now I can't get it out of head. I want to use it in a conversation.

That's it. Insert clever ending here.

Update

2009-10-06T20:37:00.000-07:00

I just found out that the hospital-turned-insane-asylum-turned-hotel-turned-jackpot is closed for renovations. The hell?

Stayed tuned though. I am determined to find something scary that I will totally regret come action time.

Just Another Ordinary Weekend

2009-10-05T10:39:00.000-07:00

Moving, moving. Slowly moving.
Boxes are filled but nothing is packed.

*Hey, is that a haiku?

We're starting to work out the details of the move. Hopefully we will leave October 31st and be home November 1st. And I have 2 important things to tell you:

1. I found a haunted hotel in LeGrande, OR
2. Mike says we can take the route through Portland

Which means Powell's Books and a scary Halloween

Which means Emily salivating over hundreds of books and being too scared to get out of the car

Which means Mike apologizing to security and carrying Emily into the hotel

Which means Emily getting her picture posted in Powell's and crying to the bellhop

Which means Mike becoming an accessory and enjoying scaring the crap out of Emily

Which means Emily reading Jane Austen by flashlight and spending the night in the car

All in all, looks like a great weekend!

Things I Need to Learn (Part 1 of a 34,875 Part Series)

2009-09-28T15:08:00.001-07:00

It's official. We are moving back to Salt Lake City.

Something else official: I will be a college grad with no job who moves into her parent's basement.

At least I come complete with a husband and nifty mini laptop! I'm like the new breed of underachievers.

Seriously though, I'm excited. We won't live with my folks for too long. Only until they start charging rent...or leaving the bathroom door open. I've heard old people do that. Note to mom and dad, that is how you get your child to move out.

Mike starts his job in a few weeks, but I will stay here for a few weeks after that until the office can function without us.

This got me thinking about all the things I need to learn to do on my own. Like cook. And pump gas. And get things out of the disposal (I swear I don't know how that got in there).

Here's what I'm most scared of not being able to do - kill spiders. I remember long ago when Mike and I worked different hours I was home alone and there was this huge spider the size of a small cat in the hallway. I froze. I think it hissed at me. I backed away slowly and got a Tupperware bowl from the kitchen. I've seen people on TV trap spiders under cups and I thought I could do that - it would be there when Mike got home to take care of. I got as close to the thing as I possibly could (and by "close" I mean "at least 6 feet away") and I threw the bowl at it. Guess what happened? It didn't land perfectly trapping the spider, oh no, it bounced off the wall and just pissed off the spider-cat thing. It started to move at incredible speeds and so I yelled at it. You know how when you're confronted by a bear, you're supposed to act all big and scary? I did that.

So there I was waving my arms and jumping around and yelling at the intruder and you know what? It stopped moving. Yep. The bear trick works. On spiders at least.

But now I have a problem. I can't do these calisthenics until Mike gets home. Not only because I was naked (I think I forgot to mention that I had just taken a shower and it was blocking the way to the bedroom) but because I had to go to work. And I definitely couldn't tell them a spider was holding me hostage and I couldn't come in. So I called my friend Kylie who calmly talked me through getting some hair spray to try to freeze the spider in place. But instead of hairspray, I got the industrial strength roach kill I found under the kitchen sink. And I sprayed that sucker like I was in the final scenes of a Rambo movie. I held the bottle in both hands and swept it back and forth as the spider was trying to evade me while yelling at the top of my lungs. And I may or may not have had one of Mike's ties around my head.

But finally I did it. I killed it. It crumpled up into a little ball and died.

The carpet and I were never the same.

The only problem now was that its carcass was lying in front of the bedroom door. What if it was faking its own death in an evil plot to destroy me?

So I went downstairs to the laundry room, found some semi-clean stuff, put it on, went to work and never spoke of the incident again. At least until Mike got home and found the crime scene.

So, yeah, there's a few things I need to learn before he goes.

The Influenza

2009-09-23T12:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm at home sick today. I am sure it's the swine flu. Or the West Nile virus. Or maybe it has something to do with all the rain in the south. Southern flooding influenza!

What are my symptoms, you ask? Well, I'm a little stuffy. And Ricky Gervais is on Ellen today. So...there you go.

Guess I better make some lunch. It's starve a fever, feed a cold, right? But what do you do for the southern flooding influenza? I bet drinking Southern Comfort is in the remedy mix. That sounds right. And probably eating jambalaya. But since I don't have any jambalaya handy, I'll substitute pumpkin cookies. And poptarts.

P.S. Mike, if you are reading this, I actually had a turkey burger with salad and a side of brussel sprouts.

Psst... is Mike gone? Do you think he bought it? Good. Now, I need to finish my sundae and wait for Maury to tell me who is the baby's daddy.

Honey, The Sink Doesn't Work

2009-09-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

Who here has survived a visit to Ikea on a weekend? How about on a weekend before back-to-school? Go ahead, raise your hands.

Aha, I see. Now put your hand down before your boss notices. Aw crap, she noticed. Just say you had a high school flash-back, or that you recently discovered you have this auto-immune disease where you involuntarily raise your arm, or that the rash on your arm pit has really been bugging you lately and you needed to scratch it, or tell her you're just rubbing it in to John McCain that you have full-range of motion.

I guess you could've just said you were stretching. That woulda made more sense.

And probably kept you out of trouble.

Especially if she's a republican.

I apologize if you have now lost your job. Lesson learned; do not physically respond to blog surveys.

Unless they ask if you can lick your elbow, that's always funny. Try it right now. What have you got to lose? You no longer have to answer to your conservative boss. Go ahead. Lick your elbow.

Anyway, where was I? Let me scroll up and see...ah yes. Ikea on a back-to-school weekend. Dumbest. Idea. Ever. Do you know how many new college students get their dorm furniture from Ikea? I don't. But I bet it's a lot. In fact, I know it's a lot because I was there. I witnessed it. I survived. But barely. I broke 3 fingernails and I'm pretty sure I pissed off 2 foreign exchange students and 1 employee, but at least I'm here...blogging.

I'll spare you the nail and student story - it's probably better in your head anyway. Let me just forewarn you that if you leave your cart in the middle of the aisle and walk away on BACK-TO-SCHOOL weekend, other shoppers/sale-thirsty vipers totally have the right to move it out of the way. I'm definitely not condoning knocking it over and I am certainly not suggesting taking stuff out of their cart as punishment. I'm not.

I'm not. I'm not.

I'm just saying there are certain rules to Ikea.

Rule 1. Drop off unruly children in the padded cell with the colorful balls. They'll like it. The more they scream, the happier they are.

Rule 2. When the ride lets you off at the cafeteria, eat the meatballs. (By the way, I think Disney's engineers designed the floorplan.)

Rule 3. Stray shopping carts are fair game to be moved out of crowded aisles. And if one chooses, one may take personal liberties with deciding on a fair punishment for causing LA rush hour gridlock-style backups in the lighting department

Rule 4. Pretending you live in the model homes and that all your appliances are broken is always funny

Rule 5. Pretending to use the fake shower is not

Rule 6. Okay it is - especially if you repeatedly yell "close the door, you're letting all the steam out!"

Rule 7. At time of checkout, don't ask for a price check. Trust the Ikea computer. It is all-knowing. It is omnipotent.

Got that? Raise your hand if you have a question.

Ha! Just seeing if you were paying attention.

Well Hello Old Friend

2009-09-16T14:05:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year. It's back-to-school, sweatshirt-wearing, leaves-changing time. But you know what the best part is? I can have my heating pad on at my desk without too much criticism. Now that it's chilly outside, it's not so strange that I need an extra heat source.

I love my heating pad.

It's on right now.

It's probably reading this post. *whispers I love you too*

I had to stop using it on my lap because my legs were permanently red. Seriously. I saw a doctor. She diagnosed me with get-a-grip-it's-90-degrees-outside-I-think-you'll-survive-without-additional-heat disease. I think she even rolled her eyes at me. Just because I asked for a second opinion...I was sure it's much more serious than that - if that's even a real disease... I'll go home and look it up, I swear. I know how to use WebMD. Heck, it's how I diagnosed myself with intractable singultus, or in layman's terms, chronic hiccups. Remember that boy who had the hiccups for like 7 years straight? I was totally on my way to being him. I mean, really, 20 minutes of straight hiccups? Had to be a sign. So I was preparing my outfit for the day I would meet Matt Lauer when Mike jumps out from behind the closet door and boom! they were gone. And there I was, no hiccups, no Matt Lauer, and a husband who thinks he's hilarious.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yah, the doctor. She said I should not put the heating pad on my lap and also that I should cut back on my hot, hot showers (thanks for telling on me Mike). So I put it on my back and prop the door open a tiny bit when I shower. But NOW I feel a lot less guilty. Major props to the earth's rotation!

Portland Part Deux

2009-09-10T16:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we get to Portland safe and sound. We visited the Saturday market and wandered through downtown. Then we came to the most glorious, wonderful, we're talking shooting-rainbows-and-unicorns-out-its-windows-it's-that-freaking-great mecca of a book store.

Powell's Book Store.

Let me write that in the font and color in which it should be written:

Powell's Book Store

(I'm going for a heavenly glow here folks)

Suddenly the heavens parted and it stopped raining on us and we're standing there in our own circle of sunlight with a choir of aaaahhhhh! singing in the background. (okay, the singing may have been me and I may have embarrassed Mike a little, but the occasion called for it. It did! Where are you going? Come back, I promise not to sing again).

We enter this temple and I am instantly hooked. The smells, the sights, the sounds. It's so great. It is just how a bookstore should be. Plain bookshelves weary from the hundreds of novels they house. Shelves reaching so high even Inspector Gadget's go-go-gadget arms can't reach without a ladder (or I guess his go-go-gadget legs, which he probably never leaves home without). And the books! My God the books! Paperbacks and hardbacks crammed in next to one another with no real order except the author's last name. New and used books sharing the same breathing space. Literary giants next to small, quirky writers. I laid down on the floor right there and did snow angels.

And the best part? Digging through stacks of books to find the right one. Finding that special book whose pages are worn with reading and re-reading. The one with the simple covers of years ago. We loaded our arms with as many books as we could hold. And, after several hours and multiple reminders over the PA: "the store is now closed, please leave" and "we mean it, we're closed" and "please lady, we've got families to go home to" we made our way to the cashier and blissfully floated out of the store.

We wandered around with rainbows and unicorns shooting out our ears for a while after that. Starry-eyed and dazed at the experience we just had.

We finally emerged from our Powells coma and found VooDoo Doughnuts. We got a box - a box - of doughnuts and made our way back to the car. Side note: my favorite doughnut was called the Old Dirty Bastard; it was a regular doughnut with Oreo cookies and peanut butter on top (which brought on another coma).

We stayed the night at the Kennedy School - an elementary school built in 1915 which is now used as a hotel. We stayed in Classroom #23, or "The Fox Room." Perhaps named after me since I am so foxy. Wonder how they knew I was coming though... Anyway, it was an awesome place.

The next day we visited the Grotto, which is a Catholic sanctuary, Pittock mansion, the world's smallest park and...wait for it.... wait for it....

We visited Powells again! I am now among the league of addicts. Seriously. If I could snort the whole store, I would.

Portland: Part I

2009-09-08T10:14:00.000-07:00

This weekend I took Mike on a surprise trip...to Portland. I had him thinking we were going to another country or somewhere exotic. You should have seen the look on his face when I said "Portland!" Only kidding, he's a good sport and was excited.

First of all, the drive down was reminiscent of our wedding. Torrential downpour! You know when the rain is coming down so hard you can't hear your music anymore? That's how bad it was. We could barely hear each other. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: I love you so much, honey.

Mike: What? Your glove is full of honey?

Me: No, I said I love you.

Mike: Why did you even bring honey?

Me: I didn't bring honey. What on earth would I need honey for?

Mike: Just try not to get it on the seats - it will never come out.

Me: First of all, I am always careful and I never spill on the seats. Second, I DIDN'T BRING ANY HONEY.

Then we pull up on two large semis, one in the far left lane and one in the far right. Again, it's pouring rain and hydroplaning is a sure possibility. Mike looks at me.

Me: Are you Crazy? Don't go between them!

Mike (in a German accent): Go betveen zem are you crazy?

I look at him, and he looks at me and shrugs. He guns the engine and steers straight for the middle of the semis. I'm clutching my seatbelt and saying all the prayers I remember. And our little speedboat careens through the waters between the two large container ships. I punch out the Turkish agent that has climbed aboard. Mike grips the wheel and gives the motor some more gas. The ships are closing in on us. It is a tight squeeze but we make it through. Not so lucky for the Nazis chasing after us. They try to squeeze through as well, but don't make it in time and their boat explodes in a fiery explosion.

Me: I said go around!

Mike: You said go betveen zem!

Me: No, I said don't go between them!

There is some more machine gun fire, but we manage to outmaneuver it and continue on our quest for the Holy Grail.

(more stories from Portland to come...)

Grocery Store Army Cats

2009-09-02T14:09:00.000-07:00

The results of my personality test are in. Turns out I am a jerk.

Only the Myers-Briggs people spell "jerk" as INTJ.

Yep, I am an introvert who relies on my intuition instead of senses, thinking instead of feeling and who judges instead of perceives.

I know I am an introvert. I prefer working alone and doing things by myself or with a small group of people. This must be why most of my friends are named Chandler, Elaine and Gob (did you get that last one?).

They say intuition is remembering events by reading "between the lines" about their meaning. I certainly do my fair share of that! I once spent an entire day replaying a transaction I had with the grocery store check-stand girl. Does she judge customers who don't donate $1 to MS? Why did she assume I wanted plastic? Do I not look like someone who cares about the environment? Was she angry that I decided to not buy the giant dinner ham that I had already lugged half-way around the store and now she has to let it sit on her check stand until she can wrangle one of the teenage baggers to return it for her, meanwhile the ham is thawing leaving a condensation puddle and a slight odor which is, by the way, attracting hungry dogs who wander in to the store, what with the automatic door openers and all, and so now she is fighting off hungry dogs while calling for a bagger over the loudspeaker and guilting people to donate to MS, and oh did I mention she's in a wheelchair, when finally all of this becomes too much for her and quits the next day but can't find another job because it's a hard world out there right now so she tries to collect unemployment but she can't because, remember, she quit her job so she ends up working as a telemarketer for Yellow Pages and gets hung up on all day and so she goes home every night and trains her cats in preparation for an all-out war on jerks who don't donate to MS?

Yeah that happened. And the next time an army-trained cat drops from the ceiling of your local grocery store and attacks you when you refuse to donate, well, you can think of me.

Thinking instead of feeling - it says I notice inconsistencies and don't value the "people" part of a situation. J.E.R.K.

And finally, I judge - it says I like to make lists and prefer to get my work done before playing. I'm a blast a parties!

Some redeeming qualities; it says I'm a logical and fair jerk! And really, who wants to hang around with an illogical jerk any way?

Monday Sundae

2009-08-31T10:46:00.001-07:00

One of today's headlines on MSN is "Sundae Recipes"

Seriously? People actually make recipes for Sundaes?! Oh great, just another way to make me feel even more lame in the kitchen.

I hope they don't make recipes for cereal. I make a killer cereal dinner.

E-to-the-M

2009-08-28T09:25:00.000-07:00

I love when people shorten my name. Like Em or Emmy or E. Especially when they don't really know me.

I'm being completely serious. I think it's cute.

For example, there is this total jerk I was working with who was incredibly rude to me on the phone. I told him who my client was and he just started repeating "buh-bye, buh-bye, buh-bye." But he didn't hang up so I assumed he was bluffing. So I asked about the market in his area and he flipped out and told me to do my own job. Which, hello, it is my job to ask you. Geez, just google me to figure it out (no wait, don't do that). So fine. I thanked him and hung up. The next day he sent me an e-mail basically saying the same thing. I replied and told him to shove it.

Ha! Just kidding. I wish that was me.

I replied and was too nice. I think I even used "I apologize" in there. I know, I could totally be the "Before" in an Old Spice commercial (I should have applied my Swagger that day!). But I was typing really hard when I wrote it. Maybe his eyes could feel the anger. By the way, wouldn't it be cool if you could add animation to e-mails? Like, so each letter would be typed boldly, one at a time. Maybe they could make a sound, like a hammer hitting iron even! But seriously, who am I kidding, if you could do all that I would probably choose something pink with butterflies.

Where was I? Oh yah, well he replied again and said "Em, I put a voodoo-hex on your goldfish so that he will never play sports again."

And you know what? Since he called me Em all is forgiven and everything is peaceful and tranquil again. Little did he know all he had to do was impolitely and unprofessionally shorten my name!

I'm kidding about the goldfish. I don't have one. Mike is allergic to animals.

Chocolate Babies

2009-08-27T13:50:00.000-07:00

Babies, jobs, babies, jobs.

That's all that's been on my mind lately. But not in that particular order.

To all of my family and friends (and strangers at the bagel place), I apologize for not being able to pay attention to anything else. It's like someone asks me a question and I'm all "Do you think I would make a good mother?" And they're all "Sure, lady, now do you want that bagel toasted or not?" And I say "Maybe I should send the interviewer flowers. That's not too kiss-assy, right?"

Then as my bagel is being extra toasted (I get the point, dude) I start thinking about how I google people. If someone is rude to me on the phone, I google their name and hope there is a picture posted somewhere on the internet. Usually there is, because usually it is an attorney or real estate agent and they LOVE to put their pictures on things (although, you would think someone would come up with a better background than the light blue swirly - seriously, it looks like they all go to the same mystical location where everything is happy and swirly and all hair cuts are outdated...says the girl with no photo here, yes I know, those in glass houses...). Anyway, it makes me think what if the interviewer googles my name? She would probably find my facebook page. Wait, what did I put on there? Have I said anything too crass or too revealing? What about my pictures? Am I doing anything weird or illegal in them? And then the panic takes over and I have to rush to my computer to check it out. And now I'm analyzing every status update and comment making sure it's not offensive. And I'm starting to make up shit about my opinions on modern artists and posting them. Like how Cosimo Cavallaro's Chocolate Jesus is a reflection of the current society's need for immediate gratification and disaffection to figureheads.

When really, it makes me think I'm hungry.

And that I should go to church more.

So here I am furiously changing any connection of me to google and now I realize I left the bagel place without getting lunch. But I can't go back now, that would be embarrassing. So I guess I will skip lunch today. But skipping important meals - a good mother that does not make. I know! I'll have Mike go get it for me. Wait, did I leave Mike standing at the counter??