First off, the local news, they weren't lying. I took this photo yesterday at about noon in the Costco parking lot.
And I took this as we were entering Costco...let the hoarding begin!
The best part (insert sarcasm here)? I went on Craigslist and people were selling fans at double retail price. It's so heartwarming. I guess they can just deal with their bad karma later. Like when they need chains next time it snows, I hope there are NONE LEFT.
Ahem.
Clearly I'm a little hot and testy.
Let's talk about some nice stuff, shall we? Stuff I'm liking.
IT'S BULLET POINT TIME!
- Out and About With Kids in Seattle. I picked this up yesterday and already have a huge list of thing to do and places to visit. Concisely written, with great parent tips. I think there is one for Portland, Oregon as well.
- California Baby Bubble Bath. I claim to buy this for the kiddo (and he does use it), but I love it for me too! We are using Light & Happy (citrus and aloe) right now, but I also adore I Love You (ylangylang, lavender and sweet orange) and Overtired & Cranky (citrus and chamomile).
- Fresh Tomatoes and Blueberries. No links here. Just YUM. Okay, one link. These Blueberry Sweet Rolls with Vanilla Glaze from Food Blogga. Are you kidding me? Heavenly.
- Jenny's Grilled Cheese. My friend Jenny entered this recipe into a Sunset Magazine contest and won! She is one of the best cooks I know, and this sandwich looks amazing. Onion marmalade? Drool.
- H Mart. The most fun I've had shopping for groceries since I discovered Trader Joe's. Beautiful everyday and exotic produce, impeccably displayed. Every Asian ingredient imaginable. Did I mention it was cheap? Yeah, there's that too. I walked out with three huge bags of produce for under $20.
- The Container Store. The Type A Mecca. I would buy everything in the store if I could. But, for now, I'm concentrating on my pantry. I found these great storage containers, which are a fraction of the price of my Tupperware. I love Tupperware, but could it cost more? The answer is NO.
- When You Are Engulfed in Flames. Few authors make me laugh out loud like David Sedaris. I'm a big fan of the personal essay, and he is the master. This is his latest, though it came out last summer. The paperback edition just came out this June...so that's why I just bought it. Yeah, I'm cheap...ahem...frugal.
- The Essential Michael Jackson. Like many, I got kind of nostalgic for MJ upon learning of his death. Then I couldn't find any of my old albums. Luckily, this collection has absolutely everything, starting with Jackson 5.
The oldest, A, was too busy obsessing over The Little Mermaid, to take part in this photoshoot. No really, she's a little nuts about Ariel. But from what I hear, this is normal. I kid, I kid. She's a super smart little babe.
This is the youngest, Miss B. Isn't she a wee little elf? She's nearly 3 1/2 months old and I could put her in my purse and smuggle her home...tempting.
G likes babies, but was not quite sure about this sweet little creature.
Uck. Girl cooties.
Maybe I will strangle her. Hold still, baby.
Fine, I will KISS baby instead, Mama. Sheesh, shut up about it already.
Hmmm. This ain't so bad after all.
These photos will be lovely to pull out at his 12th birthday party. Hey, at least he's not naked.
Please excuse my dorky SNL references. And the redundancy.
But dude...THE HEAT IS ON.
And I want to thank the local news station for clarifying that 101 degrees is VERY HOT. I wasn't too sure.
Today we are going to be squatting either at the mall or the grocery store. Oh! Or at Costco, in their big walk in fridge. Perhaps we'll buy another fan and maybe some popsicles if they haven't all sold out. That's what happens around here. Any major weather event and you'd think it's Armageddon. I bet the ice cream truck is making a KILLING this week.
My poor husband is across the country in Long Island, sleeping in a nice air conditioned hotel.
I am sitting at my computer, my dogs are panting on my legs, and it is like eighty five degrees in here. At 9:30. I have a headache from the heat, I'm just realizing how much I stink, and NO, WE DON'T HAVE AC. WE LIVE IN WASHINGTON. Like one trillionth of the population here has AC. We make fun of people who have AC.
Until we have a heat wave. Ugh.
Yesterday, we spent the day sitting in a kiddie pool and in a shaded camp site with friends. This was a good thing.
Today, we drove up to my hometown to pay a visit to my Grammy and bring her some groceries (and to also make sure she's okay in the heat). Then we mooched dinner off of my girlfriend Rachel (thanks for the enchiladas!) and luxuriated in their AC. We should have spent the night. Seriously.
But, the dogs from hell needed to be let outside (I know, demanding). So we're home. G is sleeping as unclothed as possible (diaper and sleep shorts, because I don't trust him not to take off his diaper). I'm contemplating a cold shower, or maybe I'll just go sit in the baby pool I just cleaned.
Did I mention I touched a slug while I was cleaning the pool? Gross. I don't recommend it, I'm still finding slime on my fingers even though I've nearly scrubbed them raw.
In conclusion, yes, I realize the mid-nineties may not be THAT hot some places, but here, well, it's like the end of the world. So, out to the pool I go, and I'm grabbing a beer on the way out. And some salt, because that slug is going down.
Last night I drove about 30 minutes north to visit with Jenn, Tiffiny and Stef for a camp out girls night.
We had a great time, even though it poured down rain. For the first time in days. Luckily, they don't do rustic camping. No, we're talking huge, awesome trailer camping. The only kind I'll ever do.
Anyhow, around midnight I turned into a pumpkin and needed to get home. B is leaving on business for a few days, so I figured I should be rested for today and all the last minute packing and such.
The roads were a little slick, so when I came upon a stoplight that turned yellow as I was nearly in the intersection, I took the turn rather than slamming on the brakes. I had actually skidded earlier in the evening and didn't want to take any chances.
But out of the corner of my eye as I was making the left, I saw the sheriff sitting at the intersection.
Feck. But I didn't say that. The quality and amount of expletives that poured forth would have embarrassed a biker with Tourettes.
I kept driving, hoping, praying, that he wouldn't follow me. Even when he pulled a u-turn and started to creep up behind me, I held out hope maybe he just needed to change direction suddenly?
Then the lights came on. Cue more cussing.
I pulled over, rolled down my window, turned on my overhead light and started digging for all my paperwork.
Deputy (very young I might add): "So, miss (it was at this point I thought MAYBE I would not get a ticket - no one calls me 'miss' anymore), there are a couple of reasons I pulled you over. The yellow light turned red as you were in the intersection, and you have a brake light out."
Me: "Oh! So that's why my turn signal is making that crazy noise. Here's my license. I think this is my registration - is this a registration? I haven't been pulled over for a long time (eyes very big)."
Deputy: "Uh, yes, this is registration. Do you have your proof of insurance?"
Me (digging madly in glovebox): "Ummmm. Yessss. Just a sec....HERE!"
Deputy: "So, what brings out so late tonight?"
A zillion smart ass answers run through my mind - is midnight late?... I was out picking up some meth... but I stuck to the overly gracious, calm answers.
Me: "Out visiting friends. Girls night (thinking back, maybe this wasn't a great answer because he might have equated girls night with drinking. And I'd had one beer, over a four hour period. So I was fine. But still.)."
Deputy (looking over license - probably laughing to himself about the blatantly wrong weight): " Okay, I'm going to let you go with a warning tonight. Please get your brake light fixed."
Me: "THANKYOU. Thank you so much. Thankyou. Have a GREAT night."
I may have been a little overenthusiastic.
But it worked.
NO TICKET FOR ME. Sweet.
I sat there for a second, waiting for the sensation to return to my legs and taking a few deep breaths. And then I turned on my blinker and very carefully pulled back onto the road, watching that deputy in my rear view until his lights disappeared from sight.
Then I went ten under the whole way home, and avoided using my brakes.
Today, I get to figure out how much it costs to get the the light replaced. Seriously, I'm hating my car. All these little expenses. Boo hiss! Maybe I'll try to do it myself. That will be a whole post in itself.
And will probably involve even more creative and exuberant cussing.
My house is quiet. G is napping and my Mom (who G calls Gigi) just left after being here for the last two days. Tomorrow, she flies to Alaska to spend six weeks with my Dad on the fishing boat.
Can I just say I've never seen her so upset over leaving? And it's not because she's leaving me...it's because she's leaving the boy.
Her G. They are like peas and carrots.
I always knew my Mom would be a wonderful grandmother, but I had not idea that she'd be THIS great. I mean, she's crazy about G. And he's crazy about her. They have the BEST time.
Growing up, my Mom and I had, well, a strained relationship. I mean, we always loved each other, but man, we fought. Complete personality clash. She compared me to other kids. To me, I felt she was hyper-critical (I know now she was just pushing me to do better - but I also realize there are better ways to encourage kids).
As I got older, we argued about my choices. First, I partied a little too hard for her taste (Okay, I can cop to that. But I was in my early twenties. Sheesh.) And I stopped going to church. Don't get me wrong. I tried SEVERAL churches. But I always ran into the same crud that left me with a pit in my stomach when I left. I won't go too far into it, but I basically got really tired of the do as I say, not as I do judgmental stuff that goes along with many (yes, I know not all) church settings.
Then, when I settled down, I moved in with my boyfriend, who is now my husband. We lived together nearly three years before we married. This was a huge point of contention. Colossal. I was not brought up to live with someone before I was married.
But somehow, when B and I were married, my relationship with my Mom changed abruptly and for the better.
And then, when G arrived, well, she became one of my best friends. For reals. And I love it.
I can't express how grateful I am to have a supportive mom. Maybe I didn't feel like I had that as a young adult, but now, as a fledgling parent, I have all the support from her I could ever ask for.
And G? Well, he has the best Gigi. He's one lucky little boy.
Three days, three beaches. Yeah, this week has been rough.
I know you're very sad for me. Try not to cry. There, there.
Just so you can pretend to be there with us, join me in pictures. In black and white, because, somehow, black and white makes everything look...well...BETTER. Dare I say - classy? Oh, alright, that's pushing it just a bit.
Here we go - off to the beach! G loves the surf. This was his first time out on the mudflats, and I think I might have a future marine biologist on my hands. Or maybe just a kid who really likes to dig and roll in wet sand and stinky seaweed.
So many shells, so little time...
My dude's first sand dollar. At first, it was a cracker. And he tried to eat it. Much hilarity (and manic spitting) ensued.
Our shadows. He is trying to run away from me...this is normal.
Another beach - a lake this time. At first he was a little unsure, but Daddy made it a-okay.
And even though my little man is the spitting image of Daddy, I have to point out...
Final weigh in for Shrinking Days of Summer was today.
It was bittersweet. Yes, I lost a little weight and a few inches. This is good. But it's not AS MUCH as I was hoping for. I was hoping the team thing would work a little better.
But then I realized it DID work, in that I had all the support in the world. A virtual ear when days were tough. If I reached out, someone always responded with a word of encouragement. ALWAYS.
So, while the scale may be fighting me for each pound, I have also gained something truly wonderful, a great support system.
Thanks ladies - you're the BOMB.
So, final numbers:
Starting Weight:178.8 Last Week's Weight: 177.9 Today's Weight: 177
And, I also did my measurements:
Bust: So not telling. I am still breastfeeding so I assume they will deflate at some point and then I will miss them. But seriously, over the big boobs. Totally overrated.
Waist: Start: 35" End: 33"
Hips: Start: 42" End: 41"
I have decided to ditch the Weight Watchers Online. I seem to have a mental block against it. I have gone on and off of WW so many times over the years, I need a change. I am looking into Spark People, it is free, and one of my girlfriends is trying it right now. I'll let you know what I think as soon as I have a chance to dig in and have a look.
And, I am still running. I'm on week 4 of the C25K and it's going well. Not just well, great. The workouts are challenging and I can feel my endurance building. Love that.
So, the journey continues. I have a little over four months before I go to Kauai, and though I know I won't be wearing a bikini, I would like to put on a bathing suit sans a t-shirt and shorts over the top.
A few weeks back, my step mother-in-law asked me if I'd be interested in going to a concert with her at a local casino - and I agreed. I haven't had a chance to really get to know her, and thought it would be a fun time.
And it was. We had great conversation and hit the slots. Which reminds me why I don't go to Vegas. I would have our house up as collateral within three hours.
So anyway, you might be asking who we saw.
And when I tell you, you might have no idea who I'm talking about.
Blues Traveler.
Yeah, Blues Traveler - they're still together.
And can I tell you, this concert was like a major time warp back to the mid-nineties. I have never seen so many high-fivin'-white guys* in my life. The people watching was, well, exquisite.
The band? Well, I think I needed to drink more. Because it was kind of like watching a house band that's to drunk to keep on track - you know, major jam session. You know that the guitar solo is long when the lead singer turns his back on stage to take a smoke break.
One thing that freaked me out is the lead singer, John Popper. He had gastric bypass a while back and is now unrecognisable, except for that hat (I really don't get the hat).
So anyway, even though the concert was, well, BIZARRE, it was cool to get to know my step m-i-l a little better. And to learn we both like making fun of crazy drunk people. But then, who doesn't...
* High Fivin' White Guys was a sketch from a Seattle comedy show from the 80's & 90's. It kills me. Check it out...
I'm in a pretty gosh darn chipper mood today. But when I was out on my run, I got kind of irritated about something (I will elaborate below) and got to thinking about little weird pet peeves I have. Is it surprising I have quite a few? Don't answer that.So without further ado, five things that I've found annoying as of late. Enjoy.
1.Chubby Girl Shorts: This is what got the whole inner rant started. It's fairly hot today (80's, hot for HERE at least) and I needed to wear shorts for my run. So I start out and within five seconds my shorts are creeping up my inner thigh. To the point where it's obscene. My thighs were eating my shorts. Ugh. If you are one of those people who don't know what I'm talking about or whose thighs don't touch, we're no longer on speaking terms. Just so you know.
2.Hair Elastics That Are Just Not the Right Size: I have very thick hair. And I wear it back a lot. Okay, pretty much all the time. When I need it really secure though, I'm pretty much out of luck. Because I can't find a damn hair elastic that is big/small enough. It isn't tight enough at two turns, but won't go for three. Those a-holes at Goody are out to get me.
3. People Talking to You When You're Getting a Pedicure: I know they're just being friendly. But come on guys, I hardly ever get out. I get like, one, maybe two pedicures a year. Please let me bask in the loveliness of the massage chair. Let's nix the small talk, shall we? And please, please can we bring back the cheese grater? I miss that thing. Freaking health department and their codes...bah!
4. Being M.J. Judgemental: You know, maybe he did like little boys. Maybe not. But dude, if you tell me one more time I shouldn't feel sad over his passing...don't get me started. Michael Jackson music was so formative for me, so excuse me for rocking out to a little P.Y.T. while I'm driving.
5. How Much I Sweat: I am not exaggerating when I say I'm probably the sweatiest person I know, besides my Dad and Grandpa. I inherit this lovely trait from that side. THANKS GUYS! True story - when I was sixteen I wore a linen dress to a basketball tournament in July. It was like 90 degrees out. About two hours in, my girlfriend pointed in horror to my side. I had sweat so much that the pit stains had soaked to my waist. That's not a typo - TO MY WAIST. MY WAIST. It would be mortifying now, so it would be potential for throwing oneself off of a bridge at the tender age of sixteen. So, seventeen years later I'm still super duper sweaty. I always have to think about my crazy sweating when I'm buying clothes - I ruin white shirts after a few wearings. I've looked into underarm botox several times. But, alas, I'm scared of needles. Maybe I'll get that surgery to have my sweat glands removed.
What's bugging you? Please tell me in the comments, I adore a good whine!
This week I set out to capture shapes. Shouldn't be that hard, right? Shapes are everywhere.
But then I got stuck. And just started wandering the house with my camera.
I found:
Circles (stacking rings)
Triangles (blocks)
Some funky abstract squares (can you guess what this is? I'll tell you at the end! I know! The suspense!)
Some pretty odd shapes (corporate art I liberated when we moved offices - no I didn't steal it. They were throwing it out. Now that I look at it, I can kind of see why. It is VERY the company I used to work for.)
And what post would be complete without the ADORABLE KID SHOTS? Sorry. Had to.
For instance, my body. It's freakin' mental. I seriously just don't get it. This week, I exercised less (but still got a few runs in), hurt my back and was less mobile, and ate some serious crap. Well, not crap, really. One of my friend's husbands is the pastry chef here. And we went to dinner at their house and he made BANANA COCONUT BREAD PUDDING. Yeah. Like I could pass that up.
Clearly, I should not have lost weight this week. But I did. Ummmm. Okay? What?
So, the numbers:
Starting Weight: 178.8 Last Week's Weight: 178.6 This Week's Weight: 177.9
I am just at a loss with how to proceed. I'm going to keep on running. I need to take a hard look at how I'm eating. Maybe too much sodium? Maybe eating too late in the day (I went to bed earlier this week on account of the back killing me)?
I love lists. Nothing is more fulfilling that looking at a piece of paper with a bunch of tasks crossed off. When I was working, I used Outlook Tasks and left all my completed tasks visible so I could just bask in all that I had accomplished.
Now, all my lists are scattered all about the house. Lists of stuff to clean. Recipes to try. Groceries. Books to read. Movies to check out. BILLS TO PAY (yes, that one sucks).
Once I lived with a girl who had a personal hygiene list that she would go through when her boyfriend came to visit. Paint toenails. Check. Shave legs. Check. Bleach mustache. Check. Wax toes. Check. TRUE STORY.
I'm getting to the point that my lists end up on lists. Lists of lists to complete. It's pretty much out of hand.
And the sad thing is, I've kind of abandoned my list of goals. My last manager had me make ten year goal list for myself (yes, he was a GREAT manager). He told me that it needn't be all work related, it could be about anything. And I didn't need to show it to him. Basically an exercise to help me really grasp what was important for ME.
This was almost two years ago. Since then, I've accomplished one thing on the list - starting a family.
The rest of it was work related and hell if that didn't go all flying out the window in February.
You know what? That's okay. Because my main want, in all reality, was to be a mama. And here I am.
Don't get me wrong, I want a career. But now I know, it HAS to be something I love. Sure, I may have to find something part time sooner or later. But that will just be a job.
I never would have thought, at thirty-one, I would have absolutely no idea where I was headed career wise. I think right now, my career is my kid. As hokey and unliberated as that may sound.
As far as goals, I still think I have some. Some are lofty, some are easy. But today, I think I'm going to write them down. Put them somewhere visible.
And maybe, having that visual each day, will help keep my chin up. I still get down about being laid off. I'm still a *tiny* bit angry. But slowly I'm realizing that I was going nowhere, and now, now I have the chance to start fresh, and choose my own path.
Except I have a pinched nerve in my back. And it hurts like a bitch.
How did it happen? I don't know. I was sleeping.
Yes. I injure myself as I sleep. It's ridiculous. I've never had an injury caused by actually doing something cool. Like mountain climbing. Or taking a hard hit during a soccer game.
In high school I would sprain my ankles during basketball practice. Never during the game when you got the glory. Okay, I was never actually in the GAME that much anyway. I pretty much sucked. I just rode the pine wearing aircasts on both ankles. But, on the bright side, I could do full makeup during the game and not sweat it off. So at least I was cute on the bench.
Someday I'll get injured doing something daredevil. But for now, I'll continue falling/slipping/tripping with absolutely no glory.
Our dog Sadie, she's indestructible. I can't count how many times she probably should have died. Seriously.
But, for some reason, she cannot be hurt. It is impossible.
She is the Highlander dog (talking about the movie and not the Toyota here).
For Sadie, we have coined the phrase 'three day rule'. If she is hurt or sick, we wait three days before taking her to the vet (before anyone gets upset, we would OF COURSE take her to the vet if she were in dire need of care. DUH.). For instance, she has been scratched on the eyeball by our cats more times than I'd care to remember. She yelps, and comes whining up to B or me, one eye closed and watering. Then she'll walk around wonk eyed for maybe a day. AND THEN SHE IS FINE. Every. Single. Time.
One time, B took her up on some mountain bike trails. Suddenly he heard this crazy dog screeching in the distance. He took off to find her and she couldn't walk. She would put no weight on her front right leg.
So he's up this mountain, thinking, I'm going to have to carry this fifty pound dog down, on my shoulders, and somehow get the bike down too.
As he's working out the logistics, he notices she's limping around. Five minutes later she's back chasing forest creatures like she's on doggie crack.
Well, yesterday, I was giving G his after dinner bath (dinner is a contact sport and ALWAYS requires thorough bathing afterwards). I might add that he pooped in the tub. AGAIN. I've had to bleach out the tub and tub toys 6 out of the last ten baths. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sadie.
So, I fish out he poop, get G cleaned and dried. Then I let him run naked out to the living room while I get his diaper and jammies.
It is when I return to the living room that I notice that a large dark chocolate bar that I had purchased that afternoon was sitting in the middle of the living room.
Let me rephrase that. The WRAPPER from the chocolate bar is sitting in the living room.
I quickly diaper the kid, because I don't need him peeing all over the living room - I'd had enough of his bodily functions for one night.
I then drop to my knees and pull open both dogs jaws to take a whiff. Who had eaten the chocolate? Whoever it was had to have stuck their snout into my barely open purse, jimmied the zipper open a bit more and pulled out the chocolate.
It was clearly Sadie (I was kind of relieved. If it was Carl, I'd be telling you that we had to drop a grand at the emergency vet). Carl is way too special needs to pull off that maneuver. Plus, her breath reeked of dog food and chocolate.
I quickly googled how much chocolate is dangerous, and found that she had not ingested nearly enough.
But then I remembered.
It was a chocolate RAISIN bar.
Did you know that raisins are highly toxic to dogs? Well, they are.
Panic attack then recommences. I called B.
He was not concerned. 'This is Sadie we're talking about. The highlander dog. We'll watch her, but I'm sure she's fine.'
And of course, he was right.
She is outside right now, being her usual pain in the ass self.
One of these days, dog, one of these days. Or maybe she'll outlive us all and we'll have to call her Duncan MacLeod.
I was awful about picking up my camera this week. I didn't get one photo on Independence Day. Literally did not lay a finger on my camera the entire day.
But, looking through my shots for the week, I realized I did actually capture some things that were QUITE patriotic.
Last week I crossed the border up to Vancouver to meet my dear friend, Ashley. On the way back, I took a border crossing I usually don't, the Peace Arch Border Crossing. It is the westernmost crossing in the lower 48 mainland - as in, right on the water.
I snapped this waiting in line. For an hour. Yes. AN HOUR (And honestly, that's not that bad. I've waited in line almost four hours before. Man, did I have to pee. And when you need to pee, you look antsy, which doesn't particularly go down well with border patrol).
And on my other side, for my viewing pleasure, a flower version of the U.S. Flag.
My favorite part of the border had to be the border patrolman who I spoke to as I passed through.
He had the thickest Irish accent I've ever heard. Fabulous!
I'm not even going to get mad this week, because OHMYLORD, this is ridiculous.
How, HOW, do you gain 3.1 pounds in one week? HOW? Did I eat rocks? Not that I can recall.
Adding to my frustration, it was a holiday weekend, and I did not indulge. When we had strawberry shortcake, I only ate strawberries. I watched portion sizes. I tried not to eat dinner as late and ate lots of fruit and veg.
I exercised. Oh, did I exercise. Six out of seven days.
So, really, what gives?
Rant over, now to numbers.
Starting Weight: 178.8 Last Weeks Weight: 175.5 Today's Weight: 178.6
Almost back to where I started. So not cool.
Okay, regrouping, deep breaths. I will not destroy my scale. Repeat. I WILL NOT DESTROY MY SCALE.
Clearly, the best option is to keep on eating healthy and exercising. So I will.
Though it's tempting to hit the drive thru when those are the weeks that the weight comes off.
Ummmm.
Oh yeah, GOTEAMBLUE. Hope you ladies did better than I did this week!
I took G for his first official haircut. Went swimmingly until the clippers came out. Then he dissolved into tears. It was heartbreaking! I made it up to him by buying him a cute toy from a toy shop next door.
I'm all about the bribes.
I went for a run, with the dog instead of the child. Running is harder with the dog. I nearly killed myself tripping over her as she seems to think it is helpful to wrap the leash around my legs as I'm running. How should I word her ad in Craigslist...JUST KIDDING (B would kill me).
I even got a bath. For a whole hour, with a magazine. Bliss.
But despite all that, I have this dark fog looming around me that I can't seem to kick. I'll be okay for a hour or two, then I'll start, you know, thinking, analyzing, worrying, and it all rushes back.
And it sucks. I don't quite know where it's coming from, but I'm not liking this one bit.
I've always been a downer. Not my best quality. I mean, I developed an ULCER at the age of 10 from all the worrying I used to do. No, really. An ulcer. Not cool.
So, I'm starting to not just feel gloomy, but now I'm getting pissed off as well. Why can't I just enjoy life as it happens, AS IT IS?
My best guess for now is that I need to find some productive things to do with my time. Spend less time on Facebook. More time outside with G. More time doing things to make life better for other people. Because, in the grand scheme of things, I am fine. I AM WONDERFUL. I have nothing, NOTHING to complain about.
Except for hugest hangnail EVER that is now bleeding. Lovely.
We introduced my father-in-law to Facebook about a month back. He seems to be enjoying it, but not until a few days ago did we realize how dangerous he could be with it.
Okay, not dangerous. Maybe just a little reckless with 'news.'
I'm driving home from Vancouver on Friday, and I get a call from B. We chat for a few minutes and then:
B: "So I accepted Dad on Facebook today. Interesting status update."
ME: "Hmmmmmm?" (I was illegally driving and talking on my phone. I know.)
B: "So either you haven't told me something or R (his younger half-sister) is pregnant."
ME (perking up): "What?!"
B: "Well it said 'Just found out I am expecting grandbaby number 4'. I know J (older sister) can't get pregnant anymore, at least with I (her husband), and I figured you'd tell me first..."
ME: "Really? It says that?"
B: "Yeah, unless I'm interpreting it wrong."
ME: "Uh, I think that's pretty obvious."
So I get home and get on Facebook, just dying. And it says what he told me. Verbatim.
Fast forward to yesterday. We were already planning on going to B's Dad and Step mom's for a barbecue. We both wondered if they would announce anything then? Should we say anything? What if the Facebookannouncement was the extent of the formal announcement?
We're there about five minutes and I'm looking R over, trying to see any telltale signs of impending baby. Like the unconscious belly rub or the more obvious 'green around the gills'. And nothing. Damn.
Finally, B's Stepmom says to R: "Are you going to tell them or should I?"
And thus, it was confirmed that come next January-ish, we will have another niece or nephew.
I couldn't help it. I mentioned the status update.
At this point B's dad comes outside and hears our conversation and turns red.
Almost ten years ago, I made a decision to take a year abroad - I'd had a rough few years and really needed to get away from the town where I grew up. I could have transferred somewhere a few hours away, maybe moved to Seattle.
But I needed a serious change. So I moved to England.
I flew into Heathrow, completely alone, toting two huge rolling suitcases, a backpack, and a laptop. Being completely naive, I thought I would be able to navigate my way from London to Plymouth by myself. But as soon as I landed I knew I was wrong.
Have you been to Heathrow? It is CRAZY HUGE.
By some divine intervention, the school I was attending had sent a coach that day to pick up exchange students. I KNOW. I still to this day do not know how I got so lucky.
On that four hour bus ride from London to Plymouth, I met the person I would share everything with - hangovers, studying, LIFE - for the next 10 months. Ashley.
(Here we are - yes I cropped someone out. Deal.)
I didn't think it was possible to connect with somebody so quickly, but man, we just hit it off immediately. She was quite possibly one of the coolest people I'd ever met. In spite of being Canadian. I kid, I kid!
Ash and I spent nearly every day together, travelled to Wales, Ireland, Italy and France, and even decided that in lieu of spending money going to Scotland, we would instead spend that cash and go on a one week bender. Priorities, right?
The ten months flew by and before I knew it, we were in London, saying our goodbyes. We promised, through tears, not to lose touch, and that we would see each other soon.
We have NEVER lost touch. But, as it does, LIFE happened. And it wasn't until today, nearly nine years to the day, that we saw each other again.
And it was like we'd never been apart.
I love you forevs, Skid. Let's not wait another ten years.
That's my right foot, stomping. I'm having a tantrum.
Why? Because, that's why.
You ever have days where you feel like you're twelve again (or somewhere in that pubescent range)? I am SO there today.
I won't go into too much detail, but I'm having major anxiety over an event that is going down this weekend. One that almost all of my friends are invited to and I'm not. In reality, it's not a big deal. Like, really, no big thing at all. But today, I am totally regressing. I'm the girl who nobody is asking to dance.
I feel like I want to crawl under the covers and listen to 'More Than Words' on repeat. Eat a cheesecake. Call up a friend and gossip and pretend like we don't care that we were LEFT OUT.
The only thing that's helped today is playing with G. He always makes me feel better. He's my drug.
And after he goes to bed, I'm getting down with the whine ... I mean wine.
I was shuffling through my photos from this week and noticed I sure do take a lot of self portraits of myself and the G man. Most of them get trashed, because they are ABSOLUTELY HIDEOUS. But, every once and a while, I'll snap a gem.
So, I've decided to do a retrospective of G and I in self portrait. Some are from archive (sorry, Beth, it's for the sake of a story - please forgive me!). Some are new. Some are from today, even. So, in no particular order... We love Eskimo kisses...
Putting our heads together. *
Mommy is always kissing me.
Whoopee!
OMG. My mommy is the biggest dork. When I can talk better I'll tell her she looks ridiculous in aviators. *
Sheesh, mom. Enough. But your glasses are better, at least.
Snuggles!
Nothing like a sunny day at the park.
Two seconds later, he pushed me away.
Don't babies smell delicious?
How cute is that chubby tummy (his, not mine!)?
Contemplative. Not sure what we're looking at, but it must be really cool.
There are several more, but Blogger is letting me know I'm done. No more photos on this post! I think I've gone a little nuts here. Oh well.
I exercised hard this week, and it paid off. This morning I stepped on the scale and didn't feel the urgent need to hurl it out of the window.
I'm down. Another 1.3 pounds. Happy dance!
Starting Weight: 178.8 Last Week's Weight: 176.8 This Week's Weight: 175.5
As usual, I didn't make the BEST food choices this week. There was a hamburger (or two). Some red wine. A piece of chocolate cake. Maybe a smidgen of ice cream.
So, perhaps I'm lucky this week. But I have to say, it was no where like the binging that went on last week. I managed a little moderation.
And the Wii Active and C25K have helped me out of my exercise doldrums. I like the Wii Fit, but most of the time I don't feel like I've had a good workout afterwards - but with the Active, I'm sweating, I'm sore. It's definitely challenging. Don't even get me started on the in line skating. Squat, jump, squat, jump! Owie.
One last thing, I mentioned a few weeks back I was reading Master Your Metabolism (Jillian Michaels). Well, I finished. I keep asking myself, is the diet do-able? While I am drawn to the idea of clean eating, I'm not totally excited about doing the two week plan by myself. Because I know my husband will not put up with a steady diet of quinoa, spinach and organic chicken.
There is a list in the back of the book with a list of groceries to eat two weeks on the plan. I'm in serious contemplation. All I know is, I need to get my exercise in a good place before I attempt to survive on the 1400 or so calories recommended for someone my size to lose weight. Starvation!! Plus, the kinds of foods necessary are not cheap - eating all organic is pricey. Seriously.
So, that one's on the table for the moment. Anyone tried it?
The best part (insert sarcasm here)? I went on Craigslist and people were selling fans at double retail price. It's so heartwarming. I guess they can just deal with their bad karma later. Like when they need chains next time it snows, I hope there are NONE LEFT.
