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Adventures in Parental Anxiety Part 2 of Infinity

1 Apr

Some memoirs from the early days and some recent adventures.

I learned a lot about newborns during my stay in the hospital.  One thing I falsely believed was that newborns were like regular humans, just itty bitty.  This is not true.  They are weird, freaky little creatures who will terrify you with the scary stuff they do.  Here are some newborn fun facts I learned from the very kind nurses who never acted angry when I hit the call button every 9 seconds because I was convinced something was terribly wrong with my child.  They twitch, pant like dogs, take pauses in their breathing, sound gurgly and wheezy after they eat, their eyes loll into the back of their head, their skin is dry and they shed it like a snake, they go limp when they sleep deeply, their hands and feet are cold, they are lobster red when they cry and ghost pale when they sleep deeply.  These are all, I was told, normal things.  (Consult your personal physician.)

Oh, and who the heck has heard of ‘newborn rash’? I think this might have been the scariest parental moment to date.  So, there I am in the hospital, it’s the middle of the freaking night, I was up with baby and noticed a little blemish on his cheek.  Just a red circle with what looked like a white head in the center.  I hit the call button for the 400th time and the nurse says oh yes, looks like a touch of newborn rash– no big deal, completely harmless, is actually just nothing more than clogged pores, 50% of newborns get it.  (If it was that common why hadn’t I heard of this?!).  She says he’s lucky, most babies get it all over their body.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later and I take off Frogson’s little shirt to change his diaper, and HOLY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH FLAMING PINEAPPLES LORD ALMIGHTY.  RASH.  TERRIBLE RASH.  EBOLA MEASLES MUMPS RUBELLA POLIO NOROVIRUS BIRD FLU WEST NILE H1N1 RASH.  CALL BUTTON CALL BUTTON CALL BUTTON CALL BUTTON

Oh yes, she says, it’s just that same harmless newborn rash, and now he has it all over the place just like I said was normal, remember?  She tells me the official name is Erythema Toxicum, which the pediatrician would later describe as “the scariest name there is for a harmless condition” and I agree.  (If you want to have an idea what I was beholding, here is the google image.  Warning: graphic and nasty.  But tell me you wouldn’t flip out too.) I was like lady I really hope you’re right, but you roll this baby right out of here, take him to whatever baby experts are at my disposal in this facility, and confirm that that’s all it is. Cause I’m pretty sure it’s Ebola.

Yes, he was officially diagnosed with harmless newborn rash and what do you know, it never bothered him and was gone in a few weeks.  Onward to new stuff to worry about.

Last night, Frogson had by far his longest unobstructed stretch of sleep in history.  (AN EASTER MIRACLE!) Let me make some disclaimers quick.  I recently whined on Twitter about other moms (with babies younger than the Frog) who took to social media to rejoice in babies sleeping through the night, jeans fitting, etc.  I cooled down a bit because I realized, you know, if they’re making these statements about sleeping through the night with ten exclamation points, they’re probably really excited cause they’d had a tough time up till that point and I should cut them some slack.  And obviously the jeans thing I have no right to be bitter over, cause they’re probably making exercise a priority whereas I’m on the couch with a glass of wine during the 2 hours I have to myself after he goes to sleep at night.  And why people would select exercise over that, I will never know.  This is why they deserve to fit into their jeans.  And why I will remain in my elastic pants clutching a bowl of cake batter ice cream.

So, I do think chicks should go ahead and do a public happy dance when they have a sleep-through-the-nighter, but make a statement of solidarity for the rest of us, you know? Because it stings to read your bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little status message when I’ve been up every 90 minutes the night before.  But watch this: “ZOMG [baby] slept through the night!!1!!!1!!! Stay strong sisters, like Jiminy Cricket says, dreams do come true!!!” Now you have your celebratory remark with a hopeful note for the rest of us.  And you’ve dropped a Jiminy Cricket quote like a boss.  It’s not every day you have the opportunity to do that.  It’s a win-win-WIN.

ANYWAY, baby and I both slept well last night.  It wasn’t always like that, so don’t hate me, I’ve earned my stripes! But for about the last month, he’d been doing really well with sleep.  He’d go to sleep easily (knock on wood), wake up for two nighttime feedings at predictable intervals (knock on a lumber yard), and then go back to sleep easily again (KNOCK ON THE REDWOOD FOREST).  So we were nowhere near a full night of sleep, but that’s cool cause he’s not biologically ready for that and I would never rush him, (martyr mommies unite), but we were faring well.

Last night he blew past his first wakeup time by 2 hours! You don’t understand how crazy that was.  He wakes up at 2:00 and 5:00 like clockwork.  It’s eerie how clockworky it is.  Like if he wakes up at 1:50 then he will wake up again at 4:50.  Last night I woke up at 4:00 and was all say whaaaaat WTF is this!? And my boobs were all, you better find us a baby to feed NOW cause this place about to blow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow.  And of course why be happy when you can panic, and in my sleepy haze I was convinced that something terrible must be afoot in the nursery.  So I shoved Jeff awake and made him go check on the baby.  Which made him immediately wake up, but that was fine, because up until yesterday I was convinced I’d be up at 2:00am every night until he was, like, 4.

What do you know, (again), Frogson was fine and just decided to be an awesome sleeper last night.  I woke up in a great mood but then had 99 more left pinky problems today (ugh I won’t even get into it except to say I have several orthopedists perplexed with my stupid screwball finger.)   Sorry this conclusion is awkward.  Later gators.

Misc Updates: Storm, Stray Cat(s), Halloween Candy Makes Me Lose All Self Control

31 Oct

Howdy, interwebs… I guess I should pop in with an obligatory storm update, lest people equate my blog silence with my house having floated away or something.  I am happy to report that we were very lucky here in inland Pennsylvania to have been spared much devastation.  A couple nasty days, some debris around the neighborhood, but praise all deities everywhere that our power stayed on and our basement didn’t flood.

If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t so lucky back when that ridiculous “derecho” storm hit back over the summer… remember that? I was stranded powerless and car-less by myself in VA, trying to take care of one hot beagle and one energy-sucking fetus (fetuses are so demanding, aren’t they?), so had to resort to fun activities like huffing it to the half-functional grocery store to buy myself grape juice and sun chips.  On the way stepping over things like this…

Kinda untimely/off topic but realizing I had never put those pictures up and they’re pretty cray-cray not to share.  But as Katy Perry says, that was then and this is now.  And Sandy was pretty merciful to us, just not to anyone else closer to the Atlantic apparently.  Which just shows there is no justice in the world because why would a storm with the same name as a beloved Springsteen song wreak such havoc on New Jersey and New York!? So very uncool.  Hoping everyone out there is snuggled warm in your neck of the woods and on your way to power recovery.

Anyone following my thrilling life updates on Facebook knows that my biggest concern was our neighborhood’s stray cat.  It must be the hormones because I worry myself sick over that mangy beast.  I feed it, I think about it when the weather gets cold or wet, and every time I see it I call out to it like a 3 year old, “Kitty! Kitty! Kiitteeeeeeyyyy!!!!” It always runs away in terror.  I JUST WANT TO HUG YOU AND MAKE YOU FEEL LOVED, CAT.

I called the Humane Society many weeks ago when I first discovered its existence to see if I could borrow a trap and get him in there for adoption.  “Is it friendly?” they ask me.  Umm, (see above), not exactly.  They said this makes it more of a wild/feral cat, which 1) renders him a poor adoption candidate and 2) they are forbidden by township law from accepting.  No help there.  The very nice woman on the phone assured me this meant it was probably a very adaptive animal and would find a way to make it through the winter, as wild cats and dogs have been doing for thousands of years.  This was comforting.

But of course my heart broke thinking of this poor baby during this miserable storm.  So while the hurricane was off the coast of North Carolina and barreling in our direction, I took the time to construct– yes– a cat hurricane shelter.  You can blame my mother, fellow psycho and experienced cat-shelter-builder, for schooling me on how to do this.

I am going to show you this just so you have a guide in case you ever have a need. If you want to save this on Pinterest, DO NOT STOP YOURSELF.  If you work for Williams Sonoma and want to buy the rights from me to manufacture this, also do not stop yourself.  Cause it’s a very attractive home accessory.

As you can see, all one needs is a Rubbermaid tub, duct tape, newspaper, and a towel you are willing to part with.  Then just slice a little kitty door in the tub (there is no graceful way to do this… don’t chop your fingers off) and then construct a Feline Warmth Retaining Door Flap System© with the duct tape.  IMPORTANT NOTE: take special care to ensure there are no exposed areas of the sticky side of the tape.  Can you imagine how much that would hurt to get your fur stuck on duct tape?! I know, right!?

NOW.  Here’s where the fun begins.  Did you think the story was over? PSSHHHH.  I placed this little contraption down outside our basement where stray cat usually collects his meals, except I put it like 10 feet away from his food dish so it could be under the deck and dry.  Except then I worried he wouldn’t find his little home because it wasn’t right next to his food, and let’s face it, stray cats are deprived of the educational opportunities afforded to affluent, house-dwelling cats (feathers on strings, laser pointers, etc), so there is a good chance I was working with a cat of questionable intelligence.  So I sort of made a trail of cat food leading from his dish to the shelter, placing a few chunks inside the shelter as the end point.

Maybe an hour or so after shelter deployment I just happened to walk by the back door to our deck and heard a noise coming from outside.  I opened the door to investigate and there was indeed a horrible noise coming from below– a noise that was unmistakably, unquestionably, the exact noise one would associate with… A CAT FIGHT CONTAINED IN A RUBBERMAID TUB.  Take a moment to conjure up that audio experience.

Remember with the tub being under the deck I couldn’t see anything, I just stood there for a few seconds aghast at what could possibly be going on down there to produce such noises.  A few seconds later, I see TWO cats bolt from under the deck and disappear into the woods behind us.  TWO! IDENTICAL! CATS! What I thought was one gray stray kitty was apparently TWO gray stray kitties appearing individually! I’d been duped just like Lindsey Lohan duped Dennis Quaid and Natasha Richardson! DEVIOUS SIBLING CREATURES!

Umm, and there you have… the time twin gray stray cats got into a fight over a chunk of food in a Rubbermaid hurricane shelter under my deck.  LE FIN.

OK, off to put on a happy face for the trick-or-treaters.  Sorry kids that we’re “that house” giving away Laffy Taffy and Bottle Caps.  When I was a kid I swore I’d never peddle that crap when I grew up.  (See also: Almond Joy, Mounds, Dumb Dumbs, bags of pretzels.)  Yea that’s right, neighbors two doors down from my childhood home years 1992-1999: I KNOW YOU WERE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PRETZELS IN MY PLASTIC JACK-O-LANTERN AND I’M NOT OVER IT.

Now I get it.  All those houses giving away that filth were probably just owned my women like myself who can’t be trusted in the same geographic location as a 3 pound bag of the Mars/Hershey’s good stuff.  Because make me share a house with 3 pounds of Twix/Kit Kats/Peanut Butter Cups and they WILL be halfway through my small intestine by the time the first Hannah Montana shows up at my doorstep.  LAFFY TAFFY IT IS.

 

The Perils of Sharing Metro Trains with Middle Schoolers

2 May

Top things I dislike about DC: #2.  Tourists.  #1.  Middle school tourists.

Top thing I like about DC: incredible, state-of-the-art Smithsonian museum system (and zoo) provided free to the world by generous taxpayers, donors, and companies who value science, history, and education.  It would take you a week to visit all of them, yet when 7th graders come down for 2 days, where are they spending 5 hours of their trip? THE MALL.  No, not the National Mall, I mean the FOOD COURT mall.  Where instead of free learning opportunities, they get to squander their parents’ money buying age inappropriate stripper attire at Wet Seal.

My home has the misfortune of sharing a metro stop with the mall so I spend a great deal of time with these wily little beasts.

From today’s commute:

Demon Middle Schooler: Guys we need to sing happy birthday to Kelly.  Let’s do it RIGHT NOW!
Other Demon Middle Schooler: Yes, yes, yes! (lolololol)
Are these 15 girls seriously about to screech happy birthday on this train? No.  NO.  SWEET GOD NO. [Worried looks exchanged between adult passengers]
Sensible Middle Schooler: No, guys, come on, don’t do that.
Her! Yes! Listen to her! SHE WISE CHIEF!
Demon Middle Schoolers: Haaappp…….
Sensible Middle Schooler: No, for real, not here.
Other Sensible Middle Schooler: We’re not with them…
Demon Middle Schoolers: ppppppppyyyyyy…….
YOU KEEP THAT UP AND I WILL CUT ALL OF YOU
Demon Middle Schoolers: Biiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrr…………

End of narration.  I left train.

And yes, get off my damn lawn, turn down the music, etc etc etc.  I’m a proud curmudgeon on this.  On behalf of all of DC, more chaperones.  PLEASE.

Dispatches from Dog-Sitting Hell: Night 1 with Molly the Beagle

22 Feb
11:19  Good night moon!
11:20  Lights off.
11:21  Fan purrs.  Gentle rustling sounds as humans and beagles quietly snuggle into bed.
11:23  …
11:24  …
11:24  …
11:25  aarr…………….
11:25  arr arr…………..
11:26  ………aaarr……………… aaaaaaaaarrrr……….
11:28  aaar arrr arr arr aaaarr aaarr arrr aaaaaarrrrrrr………………….
11:30  “What’s…. what’s going on? She’s going to quit with that right?”
11:34  aaarrr arr arr arrrrrrrrrr……………..
11:39  “Does she need to go to the bathroom?”
11:39  “She just went 30 minutes ago and we followed her Gremlin-esque care instructions and she didn’t have any water afterwards, so, no I can’t imagine she does need to go.”
11:42  arrrrrrrr………………..
11:43  “Maybe she just wants let out of the crate?”
11:43  “If they told us she sleeps in the crate, Jeffrey, she should probably stay in the crate, Jeffrey.”
11:45  aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr….rrrrrrrrrrrr…..arrrrrrrrr…..
11:47  “FINE let her out”
11:49  *pitter patter pitter patter* arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr *pitter patter pitter patter* arrrrr arrrrrrrr  arrrrrrrrrrr……
11:52  Lights on.
11:55  Chooch has now moved into Molly’s crate.  Molly is huddled in the corner looking so scared and pathetic that we experience extreme self hatred for any angry feelings we may have directed to her in our minds.
12:00  “Ugh I’ll take her out.”
12:02  …
12:05  …
12:07  …
12:10  “Well she made a wizzle so maybe she did just need to go to the bathroom! I believe our problems are solved! Good night!”
12:10  Lights off.
12:11  …
12:12  …
12:13  “See Jeff she’s fine now, you should have listened to me back at 11:39″
12:13  …………………………..aaaa…….
12:13 NO PLEASE
12:14  ………..aaa………………………
12:14  DON’T DO IT
12:14  ………rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……aarrrrrrr arr arr arr arrrrrrr………
12:14  “Any other ideas there, Cesar? You see what I did there, I called you Cesar, like the dog whisperer, because you thought you fixed everything, but you didn’t, which is why it’s funny.”
12:15  “Shut it Jeff.”
12:16  arrrr arr arrr arrr arr arrrrrrrrrrr arrr arr  arrr arr ………
12:17  “Oh I know, try the white noise app”
12:18  “Actually that’s not a bad idea”
12: 20  arrrrrrrr arrr arrrrrrrrr *wave crashing* arrr arrr arrrrrrrrrr *whoooosh wave on the sand* arr arr arr arrrrr…….*wave crashing*
12:23  “Ugh.  Maybe the TV? Human voices?”
12:26  ♫ My eyes are getting weary ♫….. arrrrrrrrrrrrr……… ♫ My back is getting tight ♫….. arrrrr arr arrrr….♫ I’m sitting here in traffic on the Queensborough Bridge tonight ♫….. arrrrrr arr arrrr……..
12:30  arrr arrrrrrrrrr….
12:31  arrr arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……..
12:35  ♫ Cause baby all my life I will be coming home to you ♫…. arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr arr arr arrr arrrrrrr…………
12:39  “Jeff why don’t you just go sleep downstairs.” (#Martyr wifey)
12:40  “Just put some fleece on, it’s freaking freezing down there” (#Maybe not so much)
12:41  Lights on.
12:42  arrrrrrr arrr arrrrrrr…..
12:44  arrr arr arrr arr arr arrrrrrrrr….
12:45  Lights off.
12: 46  arrrrrrrrrrrrr arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……
12:48  Google: “dog crying at night separation anxiety”
12:49  arrrrrrrrr….arrrrrrrrrr arr arrr……
12:51  Google: “dog crying at night in crate will not stop”
12:53  arrrrrr arr arr arr arr arr arr arrrr…
12:55  Google: “dog crying all night in crate will not stop need immediate solution”
12:57  arrrrrr arr arr arr arr arr arr arr arr arr arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……….
12:59  Moooolllyyyyyyyy………..
1:00  arrr arr arrr arrrr……..
1:01  arrr arrr arr arr arr arrrrrr arr…..
1:03  Mollyyyyyyyyy PLEEEASSSE……. What do you want from me……. No, I don’t know where your parents are…. Maybe they went to Fort Lauderdale, maybe they left you here forever with Chooch the deranged eater of tampons and vaseline, I don’t know.
1:05  arr arr arrrr arrrrrrr arrr arr arr arr arrrrrrrr……
1:07  MOLLY GTF TO SLEEP
1:08  arrrrrrrrrrrooooooo……….arrrrOOOO! OOOO! (whining gives way to desperate high pitched squeals)
1:09  oooOOOOOOoooo! arrrrrOOOooo!
1:10  DOES ANYONE KNOWWW WHERE THE LOVE OF GOD GOOOOESS WHEN THE WAVES TURN THE MINUTES TO HOURS…….
1:11  arrrrrrrrrOO! OOOO! OOOOOO!!!
1:12  CRY IT OUT MOLLS YOU CAN DO IT!
1:13  arrrrrOOOO! arrrrrrrrOOOO!! arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrOO! OOOOooooOOOO!
1:14  arrrrrrr… arrr arr arrrrrrrrr….
1:14  arrrrr…………………
1:15  arr…..
1:15  …
1:16  a….rrr…….
1:16  …
1:17  *exhausted whimper* 
1:17  …
1:18  …
1:18  *snore*
1:19  …
1:19  …
1:19  …
1:20  *snorfle*
1:20  …
1:20  …
1:21  Fin.
 
Parents: Is this what infants are like? I have serious concerns for the Becker genetic line… 

Awkward Commuting Moments Chapter 31096

17 Feb

(Chapter 31095)

Preface: Allow me to introduce you to the tastiest, yummiest salad and the easiest meal ever.  I am a total sucker for all those links proffering “Weeknight Meals in 20 Minutes!” blah blah blah Rachel Ray blah blah.  And then you click it, and all the recipes start with “Preheat oven to…” and “In a large skillet…”.  NO.  Heating things=cooking things=400 things to clean.  Which is all well and good if cooking a nice dinner is the one extracurricular activity you planned for the evening, but if you’re interested in doing anything else with your time away from work, I require recipes that are more along the lines of combine-this-and-this-and-ta-da-you’re-done-collect-100-gold-star-wife-points. 

Which is what this salads is! It is an exact replica of the Santorini salad from Sweet Green, which is one of the most delicious things in the universe, but, you know, prohibitively expensive for regular consumption.

The picture looks like dog barf but I swear it’s really good:

Here is the formula: Romaine+garbanzos+grapes+feta+shrimp+splash of lemon juice+Gazebo Room or whatever greek-ish dressing you have access to.  BAM.  The shrimpies were just the pre-spiced, pre-cooked ones from the cooler at the store.  I guess it would be more laborious if you had to cook the shrimp.

Okay… Now… My commuting problem.

We had a little left over so I brought it in to eat at work today.  (Gold star frugal wifey WOO!).  I got around to eating it at like 3:00, so by the time I was rushing out the door at 5:10, the empty tupperware was still on my desk.  I was in a super rush to make the 5:30 bus, so ended up just putting the lid back on the tupperware and throwing the whole thing in my purse and running out the door.  Why didn’t I make my way to the office kitchen at 5:08 so I could rinse and dry it before departing? I don’t have the answer to this question.  It’s probably the same reason that I, once again, was sprinting after the bus this morning like a wild woman because I cannot get my mess of a self to the corner at the proper time.  Jeff is dumbfounded as to why I can’t wake up 60 seconds earlier so I don’t keep missing the bus by 10 seconds. It seems so simple, doesn’t it?

I had one of those foreshadowing moments of clarity as I was carelessly tossing the tupperware into my bag.  Because from past experience I do know you cannot trust anything in a purse no matter how well you think it’s secured.  I swear I’m just walking around with this thing over my shoulder at 2 miles per hour, I really don’t know where these crazy forces of physics and nature are coming from that turn my bag into a vessel of absolute destruction.  You leave the office with everything perfectly nestled in the little compartments, and 30 minutes later it’s: Headphones? Crushed.  Sunglasses? Dismembered.  Wallet? Has inverted itself and dumped $8.54 in pennies into the purse abyss.   Cell phone? It’s unlocked itself and is dialing someone who lived on your floor freshman year who is inexplicably still saved in your contacts 9 years later. 

So as I’m looking at this tupperware with about 3/4 tablespoon of dressing residue swirling around the bottom, I’m very clearly saying in my head: Self….. seeeelf? This is not a good idea, self.  Come on.  Go be a good girl and rinse this thing out.  BUT NO! I thought of my embarrassing morning moment and reminded myself that saving 60 seconds and catching the preferred bus would get me home 20 minutes earlier. 

I was about 3 minutes into my commute when I noticed a slight liquidy sheen on my wallet as I swiped through the metro turnstile.  Yep.  Somehow, someway, the bond of bowl-to-lid had been compromised.  Odd, because it was intact upon inspection!  ONCE AGAIN… mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle of the Handbag.

And here is where the fun starts.  One warning about my knock-off Sweet Green salad: SHRIMP-JUICE-RESIDUE-STUFF IS SMELLY.  Like, WAY smelly.  I’m not exaggerating.  I wasn’t noticing it “only because I was looking for it.”    I was most certainly aboard the train with a very strong fish stench wafting from my general direction.  Lolololololol MORTIFYING.

It was kind of one of those moments where I was like… Is this going to be more awkward if I bring this up and explain it to the person next to me?  (I decided yes, yes that would be more awkward).  So now I feel like I need to post, like, a reverse missed connection on Craigslist:

M/F4W: Girl on Metro Who Stank Like Seafood.  I promise there is a very real explanation for my fruits-of-the-sea odor and it is unrelated to any personal hygiene deficiencies.  CALL ME! 

Awkward Commuting Moments Chapter 31095

30 Nov

I’ve pretty much come to believe that if you’re a female, under the age of 90, with vital signs and mammary glands, you need to accept that men will start random conversations with you on public transportation.  It will be a part of your life.  I’ve seen it happen to everyone.  And if you’re carrying anything out of the ordinary with you? You know, sort of like a convenient handheld…. conversation starter? Girlfriend keep your head DOWN!

Like, I accept the higher risk when I’m carrying around a large parcel (“Heavy load for a little lady! Need help?”), food (“Hey is that for me? Well thanks!”), etc.  Once, long story, I was carrying a Jack-o-Lantern, and resigned myself to the fact that there was no way I was getting to work without somebody making a dumb remark.  Y’all… I made it almost all the way there, was like 45 seconds to the promise land, when some idiot comes up and says “Hey nice Jack-o-Lantern.  Next time you should just carve your profile in it.”

GROAN. #WorldsMostAtrociousHalloweenPickupLinesEverSeriously

Once on the bus, when I was wearing a houndstooth skirt, some dude goes “Did you go to Alabama?” I figured he thought he knew me or something, and I said no I had not, and he said “Oh.  I thought you did, because the pattern on your skirt is what the basketball coach always wears.  He’s like known for it.”  Ummmm…. K? Sorry, coincidence? And OK one last stupid story, and OK technically this was at Chop’t, but I was wearing a green sweater, their walls are green, and a guy goes “I see you wanted to match the walls today!”

COME ON! I forgive you for taking the pumpkin lure, and EVEN for my mistake of daring to wear a pattern, but all I did was put on a GREEN SWEATER for God’s sake.

My only dream in life is that someday I can drive to work in my own personal vehicle where nobody can pester me and I can rock out to Air Supply, or listen to Emily Giffin books on tape, or make dentist appointments in privacy.  All you folks out there with that privilege, appreciate that crap.  

ANYWAY.  Geez I always come on here wanting to say one little thing and end up thinking of a million other stories relating to it.  Focus.  I no has it.  Anyway again.  Tonight.  I was on the bus reading innocently. (And another thing, why do people feel they can interrupt if you’re reading or have headphones in!? Closed for business!) And this dude next to me goes “I see you’re still reading print!” Now I exercised great restraint and didn’t tell him that I thought e-readers could lead to the demise of society as we know it, and instead chose the more PC “Yep… heh heh!”

Then he says “Yea I just got the Kindle Fire.  Let me show you this special case I use for it.” And I’m like are you SERIOUS not only do I have to suffer through feigned affection for e-readers but now their accessories?! And out of his bag he pulls….

Some sort of plastic packaging with some sort of label that says something like “Men’s Briefs- 3 Pack” with a little undie graphic on it. 

OH DEAR GOD he meant to show me his stupid Kindle case and accidentally pulled out empty underwear packaging.  I’m so embarrassed for both of us right now.  MAKE IT STOP.

Why is he still holding this in front of me!??!!? WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!?

OH MY GOD IT’S THE PUNCHLINE I get it I get it OK.

“Oh! Haha! Well isn’t that funny,” I belatedly reply.  “Very high tech!”

(lololololololololololol)

A Disappointing New Friend / Happy Halloween / Surprise Bonus Reading Material

31 Oct

So today it was freezing and I didn’t feel like walking anywhere good for lunch.  We have this crap salad bar place on the first floor of our building that I’m convinced is in business exactly for that reason, that people from the building begrudgingly go there when it’s cold or raining.

One of the things this venue lacks is a logical system of salad ordering.  They have those little slips where you check off what you want on it, but once you’ve filled it out, it’s kind of a cluster as to the next step.  Like, at Au Bon Pain you stick them facedown on a designated tray, so it’s very evident to the salad-manufacturer what order they should get made.  At this place, it’s like the freaking Lost island or something.  CHAOS.  And once, out of confusion and lack of system, I made the mistake of handing mine to the salad-maker-dude, and some grouchy, miserable broad honest to God YELLED at me for butting in the sacred salad line.  I swear, mean people ruin my day sometimes!

So anyway.  There I was today.  Confusedly standing with another chick, clutching our salad order forms.  Ours ended up getting made by two gentlemen simultaneously, so she started chatting with me.  She explained that over the weekend she had a bad turnout at her Halloween party due to the terrible weather, so ended up eating all the food herself, and now had to make up for it with salads this week.  I explained that I too was at a Halloween party* and had raped a bowl of guacamole, so was in a similar predicament.  Our rapport went on for a while and I was trying to figure out what was happening.  Are we, like, building friends now? Do people make friends this way? Am I supposed to ask her for her email or something so we can meet up again for crappy salads when it’s cold and/or raining?

So, then, the nice gentlemen handed our salads back to us.  Let me explain what was in mine.  Lettuce, green peas, green beans, and green peppers.  It was one of the most awful, boring things I’ve ever ingested.  And would you believe it, this chick says to me “Oh…  I guess you don’t know the thing about vegetables. You’re supposed to eat them in many colors.”

SRSLY lady? You’re going to give me a complex over my vegetable selection? You’re telling me there is something unhealthy about this craptastic mound of green things? And she wasn’t kidding either.  It was a very serious tone.

I tried to defend myself. “Buh……But…..the…..I didn’t think…. the carrots…. italian dressing…. did not compute….?” 

But the damage was done.  My newfound friend… over as quickly as it began.  Apparently because she likes beets and gets some sick superiority complex from it.  (Freak).

*Halloween party! I did the funnest thing this weekend.  So, I thought for the longest time I had yoga class this weekend, so many many weeks ago had declined with regret the invitation to the Halloween bash being put on by my homeslice Luna (in NYC).  She is my beloved little, for those familiar with greek operations.  Then, at the same time I found out I did NOT have yoga class this weekend, our friend Jordana (Luna’s little, for those following at home) , also found out that SHE was free of a conflict she thought she had.  So, having both told Luna we would not be there, we instead went to New York and surprised her! So, so fun… Love those two :-)

Check it!

Jordana (L) was… get this… one of those hip hop hamsters from the Kia commercials (hard to tell because you can’t see her Hammer pants in this shot) and Luna (R) was a self-described sea captain, although the consensus was that her costume was more reminiscent of an official in the airline industry.  Potato, potato.

Bonus reading material day! My sweet yoga school classmate Cheri is a fledgling blogess, and is doing a series of interviews on all of us for her blog.  Go check out my deep thoughts on my yoga journey!

Oh Geez

24 Oct

Went out for lunch today and came back with an adopted international child… crap!

I swear our office building is in some sort of geographic mecca for street solicitor people.  Evverrrryy day I am getting hit up by someone different! There’s nowhere to run! It’s not a good neighborhood to be strolling around when you have the perfect storm of ENFJ+Catholic guilt complex+inability to say no.  And apparently, approachability. 

Which people have told me before, and actually I once read that a trait of Libras is a constant “friendly” look regardless of one’s actual mood.  So, when I was crossing the street and saw the dreaded sweater vest guy with a messenger bag and clipboard, I was like CRAPPITY CRAP why can’t I catch a break here?! As I was crossing the street, I took DELIBERATE measures to look unapproachable, crossing my arms and, I believed, grimacing.  The guy, OF COURSE, stopped me with some pseudo pick-up line: “Look at that smile! We’ve been waiting for you all day!”  WTF! I was grimacing!

To rewind.  Somehow I got on the mailing list for Heifer International (a charity organization that provides livestock to impoverished folks in the third world) and I randomly was reading a catalog I got from them over my morning muffin today.  So I ended up reading the whole thing and I was like, dagnabbit, I need to be better about this sort of stuff.  I’m going to buy someone a goat or an alpaca or something. 

Because I HAVE been sucking at the charitable stuff lately… Back when I worked for the government I gave through their program (coming in at the extra generous double eagle level… be impressed)  and had an adopted kid then too (as a result of being stopped on the street of course).  Then, if you recall, that job ended, and when I no longer had the luxury of income, I cancelled all of the auto-deductions on my checking account including my adopted kid from Thailand (I’m an awful person).  What I mean to say, is that it’s a lot easier to brush aside the street solicitors when you can say “Oh no thank you! I’m already giving through work!” instead of “Don’t wanna hear it! And step aside, I have a $9 salad to buy!”

Sooooo as this guy is going through his whole spiel about school uniforms and vaccinations and my kid will draw me pictures, I’m like you know, I was just thinking this morning that I needed to do more… and now here this person is… and there’s no way I can honestly convince myself I can’t afford $25 a month…. and I will probably get this poor guy halfway to his quota for the day if I sign up……and, well, the children……..

OH ALRIGHT GIVE ME A KID.

And I did indeed make this guy’s day.  And now I am the proud adoptive sponsor to a girl of a TBD nationality.  He gave me a list of countries to pick from and I was like wait what?! Like I’m supposed to look at it and be like “PFFFT those Indonesians can fend for themselves, give me a Cameroon kid!” (Libras aren’t known for their decision making abilities either).  So he designated me in the “emergency need” category so I’ll go to wherever’s at the top of the list.  Ahh, that’s more fair. 

Anyway, if anyone is feeling particularly inspired by my true life tale of awkwardness, www.children.org.

Tales from the Hood

12 Oct

One of the things I’ve looooved about this year is that in January we were able to move into a great new home. (Rented of course, don’t get too excited).  We had lived in our previous neighborhood for 2 years until it suddenly became really, really trendy and our building decided to ask for $200 more in rent.  Later, apartment complex tycoons and hip neighborhood on the metro.  And helloooo ”revitalizing” area on the bus line! I couldn’t have imagined it working out any more perfectly though, because I ADORE our new neighborhood and would gladly ride a thousand stinky buses before I’d go back to sharing hallways with people in an apartment building.  Eww, I always felt weird about that.  Like, if I opened my door to make a run to the garbage chute and some stranger happened to be walking by, it was like “Hello there! Do you like my really really messy entryway which you’re 4 feet away from? Don’t mind me taking this trash out in my panda boxer shorts from Limited Too circa 1998 that I inexplicably still own and wear on weekends!  Good day!”

Anyway.  That doesn’t have anything to do with the story.  I’m not sure why I started with that.  Is it possible to start with a tangent? We’ll just write that off as a little glimpse into my autobiography, years 2009-2011.  You are most welcome. 

Carrying on!

So today I have to share with you this harrowing tale Jeff heard from a neighbor in our current townhome community.  Here we go.  So we’ll call this neighbor Neighbor Guy, and he was minding his own business and walking his dog when disaster struck.  Another neighborhood member, who apparently is known for his badly behaved and loosely controlled dog, was out with said Bad Dog.  Bad Dog was unleashed and took off after a cat, and…. oh my gosh seriously this is insane…. OK…. Bad Dog attacked the cat and…..killed it right there.  CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT.  Now remember Neighbor Guy and his dog were outside witnessing this; upon seeing the attack, Neighbor Guy’s dog LEAPS into his arms and proceeds to poop down his shirt in terror.  I want to say that’s comic relief, but actually it’s terrible thinking how scared that poor doggy bystander must have been!

Seriously, I cannot believe this story! If some maniacal, homicidal dog ever attacked or God forbid offed Chooch, I cannot even tell you the level of rage I would have.  I would have no problem going to jail to avenge wrongdoing to Chooch.  And I HOPE I am being hyperbolic when I say that, but I can’t be positive.

So we got this little insert in our mail today… (neighborhood name redacted such that it’s not stalker fodder)… and the footnotes are references to the condo bylaws, of course:

 

Safe pets are happy pets indeed.

ZOMG EARTHQUAKE!

23 Aug

Oh.  Mah.  God.  Things I did not believe I’d have to worry about when I woke up this morning:

1.  The Washington Monument falling over.
2.  Weathering a 5.9 level earthquake.
3.  Being attacked by a pack of spider monkeys.

OK… 2 OF THOSE THINGS HAPPENED.  And I’m sure everyone is juuuuust a liiiiittle bit tired of hearing about the stinking earthquake, but whatever I’m going to document it for personal perpetuity.

To set the scene.  There I was, at my desk, working, innocently, when….. disaster!  I don’t know if anyone else had the same experience but for us it seemed like things jiggled mildly for a few seconds, then backed off for another few seconds, then the quake rage set in. So, my colleague was standing by my desk as it started, so during that brief lull, thinking whatever it was was over, we sort of looked at either other quizically, then she was like “you know I heard this morning there was an earthquake in ColoradOH MY GOD!!!!!!”

When the building started rocking I pretty much was petrified.  Working many stories up in a huge office building smack dab between the Capitol and the White House, you pretty much resign yourself to the fact that if there’s ever a bomb or a nuke or other terrorist shenanigans, there’s a good chance you’re kapooey.  So, my thinking was pretty much OH SWEET LORD IT’S A BOMB GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD! And when people started shouting “Earthquake! Earthquake!” I was all like Oh right… an earthquake… pfft… we can survive THAT!  Seriously, this is DC, it hadn’t even crossed my mind that this was, you know, an option!

So the people on our end of the hall huddled under a door frame, then from the other end of the hallway we hear “Away from the windows! Away from the windows!”, so mid-quake we scurried to another door frame on the interior side of the office.  Then the fire alarm went off so we got the heck out of there.  So did everyone else on the street.

Fun outside…

Everyone busting their phones out reminded me of this that I saw on Pinterest the other day…

Now, apparently the media was reporting hysteria in the city (including the RIDICULOUS reports of the “leaning” Washington Monument… WTF, seriously) .  Good grief.  I wish I could personally pummel every news network CEO.  Did your scare tactics get you a few extra viewers today? Yea well you also terrified my Grandma, TURDS.

Like, here was that purported metro pandemonium…

Meanwhile… the devastation back at home….

And one more casualty….

 

NO….

 

NO PLEASE!

 

Don’t say it! ANYTHING BUT THAT!

 

wwwWWWaaaaaahhhhhhhh Noooooooo the Scrabble tiles!!!

Oh! Speaking of the tiles.  How could I forget! Voting for the Better Life Bags contest is live through Saturday! Go to their facebook page, “like” the page, then “like” my tiles to vote for them! (Hey… slacker husband… you too!) Yea, I know, nobody likes being f0rced to like random pages, but remember you can revoke your like immediately! Anyone who votes also gets this Awesome Friend Badge proudly posted on their wall:

(You know you want it).  Alright, Jeff pulled an oblique at softball tonight so I’m off to tend to THAT… later gators!

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