Things that are awesome about pregnancy

See if you can tell which ones I’m being sarcastic about…..

• A “late night” is 10:00 and if I sit or lay down shortly after dinner, all bets are off. Sleep has never come this easy for me, this coming from the girl who pretty much requires a solid 10, 11 sometimes 12 hours of sleep to function, however it can be frustrating when Husband doesn’t come home from class until 10 and you’d like to see him and spend time enjoying a TV show while trying to keep your eyes open. See also: waking up in a puddle of your own drool. Sexay!

• The dull ache that spontaneously erupts in your hip joints when you get up from a seated or laying position. Luckily once the girls warm up, we’re off and running, but for those first 45 seconds I’m probably quite a sight to be seen hobbling around.

• The comments. “You’re so big!” “You’re not showing very much at all!” (What?!)  “You’re not going to go into labor here are you?” "Look at you! You're starting to waddle!" “You think you’re tired now,just wait till you’re up at 2 am with a screaming baby!” “You really shouldn’t be moving furniture” (I was pushing in my chair) Such good opportunities to practice biting my tongue and smiling and nodding. Did someone write me a prescription for patience and tolerance?!

• My “memory foam” legs. I’m retaining water. It’s gross. And also fun! I like to make shapes and spell out ‘hello’ with the indents that my fingers leave on my legs. Husband is not nearly as impressed with my new skill, he calls it “Tempurpedic mattress legs” he really knows how to make a girl’s heart melt, I tell ya.

• Watching your clothes move because of the alien in your tummy. Buttons flinch, zipper pulls bounce, ribbed tank tops become ripply. What’s even more awesome? Lifting up your shirt to watch your skin mutate before your eyes (only in the privacy of my own home, mind you)….have you ever seen a baby bum move underneath 7 layers of skin? No? I encourage you to experience this…..it’s quite unsettling.

In all seriousness though, people…..this whole thing is pretty cool. I’d do it again and again and again in a heartbeat (which I’m sure thrills Mommy Dearest). Pretty neat what our bodies can do, and from what I understand, the best is yet to come.

STOP!

Have you ever wanted to just scream at life and the world just spinning out of control “STOP IT ALREADY! JUST STOP!”

I need a breather… the current state of my house can attest to this. The dark circles under my eyes would second it, and my growing list of to dos would raise its hand as a third.

I blogged once the entire month of October…..once.

But in my defense, because I’m pretty much the only one who will rise to my defense when it comes to not blogging, October was a hellish month.

Don’t get me wrong, it ended spectacularly with the best baby shower evah! And our first Halloween with trick-or-treaters. But dammit if October didn’t kick my butt.

Let me count the ways:

-         The first week of October found husband and I in court, suing our apartment complex for return of our security deposit, a Doctor’s appointment with an almost certain diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes, and a 3-hour glucose test that would, inevitably, unfortunately, confirm said diagnosis.
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!

-         The second week of October was spent crying over the previous weeks’ diagnosis and what that would mean for the remainder of the pregnancy (at the time 12 weeks), constant scrutiny over what I could and was supposed to eat and, finally, a 3-hour long class showing Husband and I exactly what to eat (lots of protein, whole grains and veggies, absolutely NO SWEETS) when to eat (every 2-3 hours….blech) and when and how to prick my fingers (four times a day, side of the finger, squeeze until you get enough blood). To really put the icing on the cupcake (that I can no longer have), a couple of co-workers decided this would be the week to be total jerks to me and my boss decided to sit back and do nothing. To say I was stressed beyond capacity and an emotional wreck is a vast understatement.  
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!  Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it?

-         The third week of October was spent eating force feeding myself, pricking my finger, charting blood sugar numbers and listening to Husband struggle with a terrible head cold. Towards the end of the week,despite eating what I was supposed to, when I was supposed to my numbers kep tcoming back too high, and the Doctor said that since diet wasn’t controlling the GD she advised I begin medication to help regulate my blood sugars. If that didn’t do the trick, she said, I’d move on to injectable insulin. Needless to say, I not only felt like a failure, I was devastated, embarrassed, scared and really friggen frustrated.  She also discussed what this meant for the remainder of the pregnancy (now 11 weeks) i.e twice weekly fetal monitoring sessions to make sure Baby Girl wasn’t in distress or getting too big, and possible induction between weeks 39 and 40.
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient! Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it? To hell with it all!

-         The fourth week of October is when things finally began to turn somewhat. My baby shower, hosted by Mommy Dearest, Big Sister, Ginger Snap and Monster was a total surprise and really made this girl feel pretty darn lucky and loved, despite all the not-so-great that was happening. My first fetal monitoring sessions proved to be exactly the kind of reassurance that I had been craving for the past 31 weeks (I’m a worrier ok?!). I got to see Baby Girl via ultrasound, and hear her heartbeat speed and slow with everykick to my rib and squirm in my tummy. The nurses were patient and kind, answering all of my questions and reassuring me that this diagnosis would not destroy me. (Make no mistake, by this point Husband and I had cemented our Rose Colored sunglasses in place, were focused on the silver lining and were making the best of the situation, as we always do when facing adversity)
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it? To hell with it all! I think I can….

So you see, in my defense, there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot that I was “loving on Wednesdays” or fun photos to take with my iPhone, or even things that I was ready to share with members of my own family, let alone with the entire blogosphere and whomever may stumble here on occasion.  This blog might have taken a turn for the worst and could have been pretty dark there for awhile. But like the saying goes, when it rains it pours and then the sun comes out.
It goes without saying that the sun is definitely back in my life….

Missing the biggest ray of sunshine of them all, my Mommy Dearest

What an odd life I do lead....

Gosh, if you re-read some of my posts it's like a smorgasboard of humiliating tales, weird creepy people and just downright absurdity.

So, in keeping with the trend, file this one away in the WTF file, mmkay?

There's a coffee shop around the corner from work that I walk to with a coworker to sate her penchant for extra-hot Chai Lattes (the gal is a woman after my own heart I tell ya).

One day last November I decided on one of these little outings that I would partake in the lovliness that is an extra-hot Chai Latte.

It should be known that the counter guy knows my coworker not only by order, but by name as well, considering she's a daily patron.

Make sure the record shows that the counterhelp did not ask for my name when I placed the order.

It should also be known that said co-worker is about 5'10". Tall? Yes. Freakishly so? Absolutely not.

Let the record show that I, myself, am 5'6". Tall? Not necessarily. Average? Sure.



I paid the counterhelp, took my receipt and didn't think anything more of it until several weeks later when I was cleaning out my wallet and saw on the reciept that the order identifier was for "short lady."

Stop by again soon...yeah, right



Short Lady?? Short. Lady??

What the hell?



I stared at the offending words incredulously, as if I had imagined them.

I took a second look. 

Nope. Not a mistake, there it is right there in black and white: Order for: short lady.

Although it's crazy to feel offended, I couldn't help but feel a latent embarrasment for myself.  How had I not read the reciept until now? More than that, is that the best identifier the counter guy could come up with? How about (coworker's name)'s friend? Or girl with the blue top?

I don't remember the cafe being all that busy, certainly the counter guy could have been a little more creative and, ahem, nicer?

It should be known that I thought I had thrown the reciept away and it was not until this morning when I was digging through another wallet that I rediscovered it and got to relive the humiliation. Yay for me!

I placed the found reciept in my current wallet this morning before heading out the door, determined to confront the cashier guy should my coworker decide she needed an afternoon Chai.

Sure enough, she popped her head out of her office and, shortly after noon, we made the short trek around the corner to the cafe.

Armed with the offending reciept in my pocket, I felt the butterflies and anxiety begin to create a pit in my stomach.

After she ordered and moved aside to wait for her beverage, I slapped the reciept on the counter and said "So this is my identifier? What are my options in switching to another one in the future when I order my drink?"

The counter guy looked at me as if I was crazy to even be contesting him and said, unflinchingly, "We get to type in whatever we want."

"In that case, I suppose of all the other things the person could have called me I should be glad I got short lady then. Am I right?"

All he did was blink back at me.

Moral of this story? Sometimes the silver lining hurts, folks.

Wordless Wednesday:

"Grey is the new chic and pink is the new joy"

*~ Stolen from a friend who took the words right from my mouth ~*

You look like a baby!

The other day I was walking over to the Capitol to take pictures of a bill hearing. I do this quite frequently during the week and as I've posted before (**apparently I haven't! Ok, well I will**), there's always something new to look at or people to watch.

This day was no exception.

As I approached the Capitol, I noticed an older man walking his bike, our eyes met and I politely smiled as we crossed paths.

No sooner had I taken two paces past him, he calls out to me, "C'mere a minute!"

I, thinking he's lost or needs help, stop and turn to the man.

He walks up to me and, well beyond the social norm of personal space, gets thisclose to my face and squints into my eyes.

"How old are you?" He interrogates.

"26" I say with an obvious question mark at the end of the statement.

He bolts back from my face and exclaims "You look like a baby! You're just a baby!"

"I thought you were one ah them kindey-gartners here on a school trip! I was gonna call security and have them find yer mommy cuz you're just a baby!"

"Nope, I'm a grown up. I'm here for my job! Ok, see you later!" (God, I hope not..)

He takes up his bike again and continues on his way muttering loudly and dotting his sentences with "she's a baby!"

First this and now this?

What am I, fly paper for crazy old people?

What the Tub Threw Up

**This post is a week late…deal with it**

Last Monday was the day that just Would.Not.Die.

Long story short, it was the horrible, awful, no good, very bad day that got better (!) before it turned black, ugly and smelly.

The bright spot of the day was when I learned Mommy Dearest was in town shopping with Monster. After a particularly rotten day at work, Husband and I decided I needed a hug and some sympathy from MD .

We met up with them at Sam's before heading to Wal-Mart before MD decided to treat us to dinner at Red Robin (where we surprised her by having the wait staff sing Happy Birthday to her 4 days early…she was totally out of the loop and it was HY-sterical!)

I’m getting to the ugly part, don’t you start thinking I’m a drama queen….

Husband dropped me off at home around 9 before driving Monster back to her apartment. I decided to treat myself to a nice warm bath to relax before heading to bed but, when I started to drain the tub, I heard a bubbling, gurgling noise coming from our second bathroom down the hall. Wrapped in a towel I sprinted down the hall and found this in the second bathtub:

Well that can’t be good.

You can’t tell in the pictures but there were leaves, bark and what appeared to be seaweed in the muck. Last time I checked I wasn’t bathing trees in that tub and I certainly wasn’t using the second bathroom as a makeshift sushi bar so this was all really quite interesting to me.

And it smelled like dirt, mixed with standing water mixed with poo-filled pond. It was like the thing from the black lagoon had a tummy ache and exploded in my bathtub.

Being the smart girl that I am, I grabbed the plunger and got to work (yes, still in a towel with my hair in a turbie-twist. I looked like a white Aunt Jemima churning black, stinky butter, not my best look).

When 10 minutes of plunging did squat, I got myself presentable and waited for Husband to come home, I’m sure he was really sorry to miss the Aunt Jemima Butter Churning show.

Another 15 minutes of plunging had reaped no reward so we called our afterhours emergency maintenance team to come give it a shot.

Grumpy McDouchey (not his real name, obviously) showed up about 20 minutes after we called and explained the problem and that 20 minutes of plunging the crap out of our bathtub had done nada and what does he do? Gets a plunger and starts going to town on our bathtub.

Right. Cuz we hadn’t tried that.

-30 minutes later- Estimated time 10:30

“It seems to be clogged.”

Oh, really?

“We’ll have to call a plumber in the morning, because plunging doesn’t seem to be working.”

Yeah! We Know! That’s why we called you! And no, we can’t wait until morning because we have jobs.

No, for real. We. Have. JOBS.

“We have to work in the morning and I really don’t feel comfortable sleeping with this just standing in my bathtubs (by this point the sludge had begun to come up in our master bathtub..you know, the one I shower in?) it's a health hazard so I’d appreciate it if you’d call a 24-hour plumber or else I’ll go to a hotel and see that the apartment manager reimburses us for the expense.”

“I can’t do that, it’s not my authority and if you’ll have to take it up with the manager. What time can the plumber be here in the morning?”

“Well, like I said, we have to go to work so can he be here by 6?”

“Oh that’s not going to happen. He can be here between 11-2."

It was at this point that Husband stepped in because I was quite literally about to lose my shit on this guy.

Husband was able to sweet-talk Grumpy McDouche into getting his manager to come investigate the problem.

CrabApple McJerkface (also probably not his real name) knocked on our door with a vaccumy tool at around 11 and began trying to suck out whatever was clogging our drain. Thirty minutes go by and:

“It’s not working; we’ll have to have a plumber come by in the morning.”

He basically has a repeat of the conversation I had just had with Grumpy McDouche, with Husband.

Now Husband is about to read these guys the riot act (notice his version of losing his temper is a lot more dignified than my ‘losing of the shit’??) When Grumpy McDouche dawdles out of the hall bathroom and says “It’s stuck (referring to their vaccumy tool) we’ll have to call a plumber.”

FREAKING FINALLY!

The plumber is called and CrabApple McJerkface informs us that he will be arriving by 2 a.m., at this point it is midnight and we have spent 3 hours fighting to get them to call a plumber so we agree.

Husband brews a pot of coffee, I settle in with a book, Grumpy McDouche goes home (presumably) and CrabApple McJerkface leaves and tells us to call him when the plumber arrives and he’ll come back to sign the work order.

At 1:30 the plumber arrives with a bigger vaccumy thingamajig, followed closely by CrabApple McJerkface who is giving a recap of the issue heavy on the emphasis that we refused to wait until morning thus the reason why his dinky tool is stuck in our tub drain.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER(!!)

I hear the drain sucking and slurping down the muck that the bathtub threw up. The plumber emerges from the secondary bathroom holding the biggest dreadlock I’ve ever seen like the winning trout in a fishing competition.

“That’s not mine!” were the first words out of my mouth.

The plumber explained the hair was probably built up over years and because our two tubs share a drain pipe, the blockage got lodged in the pipe between the two bathtubs and thus caused the black muck to back up into both bathtubs.

“It was a quick fix! You guys shouldn’t have any problems.”

!!!!! - yeah, we were ticked. We had just spent 4 hours fighting with the circus troupe our apartment complex calls a maintenance team for what a plumber called a quick fix.

As the plumber left, CrabApple McJerkface practically had his tail between his legs as he followed the plumber out of our apartment mumbling something about being right back.

He returned 10 minutes later…armed with some 409 and a sponge.

And that is how I got my bathtubs cleaned for free by my apartment maintenance manager.

And yes, I might have been doing a little victory dance while whispering “Scrub my tub, sucka” in the living room while he cleaned out the bathtubs. That’s just how I roll…

**P.S. He did a really crappy job so it technically wasn’t a victory, but still, you gotta take what you can get**

Like Taking Candy From a Baby...

Last week I was asked to photograph a lunch function for work. A bigwig was in town and lots of people were coming to our offfice to have lunch and hear him speak.

On the day of the event, a few people had canceled and, to make the room appear full, I was asked to sit in on one of the tables and partake in the free, catered lunch.

I know. Major Imposition, right? I lead a hard life, indeed.

I sat at a table next to an older lady who immediately congratulated me on  having a job after college (yay!), and on being smart enough to take pictures (double yay!?).

Judging by her age, I can only assume that to have your photograph taken when she was young meant holding the same pose for an hour. Regardless, I was polite and made small talk while I nibbled on my salad.

When the caterers brought out our real lunch, I was only a few bites in when the bigwig took the stage and the part I was supposed to be photographing started.

Although I was still hungry, I politely excused myself, jumped up and started snapping away.

About halfway through the hour-long presentation, I noticed the caterers were serving dessert; a little sampler plate of tiny cookies, a brownie bite covered in ganache, a creme brulee fruit tart and some strawberries drizzled with chocolate. How could you not notice, right? YUM!

Still hungry, I glanced at the clock and saw that I could blow this popsicle stand in 10 minutes and cozy up to my dessert plate. Who NEEDS lunch?

As I walked back by the table, the little old lady grabbed my arm and thrust her glass into my hand, "be a dear and get me some iced tea, would you?" Slightly confused, I smiled and said sure. Maybe she forgot that I was not, in fact, one of the catering staff, but an attendee of the luncheon who was *just* sitting and having a conversation with her and who happens to take photos. Whatever, Alzheimers is a bitch, right?

I returned with her glass of tea and positioned myself near her side of the table to take a few more pictures as the presentation was beginning to wind down.

As I walked behind the lady again to cross to the other side of the room, she once again grabbed my arm and asked if I might bring her a paper napkin. Again, trying to be nice I agreed and quickly returned with the napkin before rushing off to snap my last photos of the event that was rapidly coming to a halt.

I was waiting for the perfect shot when, out of the corner of my eye I saw the little old lady slide my dessert plate over to her, now empty, plate and watched as she began to delicately arrange my dessert into the napkin I had just delivered to her.

I noticed the caterers were beginning to clear plates and my first thought was 'aww, how nice! she wanted to make sure I at least got to enjoy my dessert!' The little old lady caught me watching her and I gave her a smile to thank her for her thoughtfulness. She returned my smile and then promptly placed the napkin of goodies inside her purse, stood from the table and shuffled towards the door.

Me, still smiling like an idiot as she left the conference room, took a few seconds before it dawned on me, "Hey! That bitch stole my cookies!"

A Box of Happy!

Big Sister turned 27 on the first of this month and I thought I'd share what I put together for her birthday.

Our house budget has really put a crimp in my gift-giving style so I've been forced to be as resourceful and thrifty as possible, especially as we go into the Birthday Hell part of the year. Here's a rundown of birthdays happening in the first 4 months of the year:

-Monster: February 22

One week later...

- Big Sister: March 1st

Two weeks later...

-Mommy Dearest: March 22

A week and a half later...

- Me!: April 3

Two weeks later...

- Husband: April 17

And by that time our rendition of Happy Birthday is tired, out of tune and probably quite unpleasant for anyone listening, and we're so sick of cake it's pathetic.

This year, I knew I needed to do something a little more special for Big Sister, the transition from "just one of the girls" to "mommy" is not as easy or glamorous as one might think and it takes a toll on a girl. Her birthday present needed to be all about her fabulous self, not even the slightest hint of "mommy," and simply decadent.

Big Sister is on a budget herself, apparently babies are expensive or something?? And I knew whatever funds were left over at the end of the month probably go towards babywipes, nipple cream and laundry detergent— oooh fun!

So I came up with a box of the simple stuff you buy yourself when you need a little pick me up, and called it a Box of Happy!

Wanna peek inside??

Lots of good loot! Such as:

- Peeps- Big Sister's favorite Easter candy

- Bubblegum- When was the last time you blew bubbles just for fun?? (plus it always reminds me of being a kid)

- A soft cuddly scarf. Seriously, that scarf is like a little piece of heaven wrapped around your neck. I think magical fairys knit it with Unicorn hair or something ridiculous because IT.IS.CRAZY SOFT.

- A relaxing candle. One thing about Big Sister? She ALWAYS has a candle burning when you go over to her house. The girl loves her some candles.

- Pink sparkly lipgloss and fuschia nailpolish- The nailpolish had to be of the instant dry variety because with Baby E around, it takes Big Sister 2-3 times as long to do anything anymore. At least this way she can have pretty nails in an instant.

- A pretty frame with the poem 'I Carry Your Heart' by E.E. Cummings that is a pretty fantastic description of the relationship between sisters. Take a look:

My graphic designer work friend is going to help me turn this into something really cool so it's not just a poem printed out on lame paper shoved into a frame.

In the end, Big Sister was really excited to have a whole box of stuff just for her. I really hope she understands that just because she's a "mommy"now, she's still "one of the girls" and deserves to be spoiled once in a while.

Love you Big Sissy!

Lions and Tigers and Bears….Oh, MY!

Last week husband and I were having a conversation about….something, and in typical fashion one topic bled into another, which then inspired a tangent that somehow re-routed us to childhood toys and whether or not they were given names.
I recalled one Christmas in particular I was given a stuffed bear that I named Ophelia and used to love to pretend it was my baby because it was filled with pellets that gave it a comforting heft to hold and sleep with.

In trying to further explain the wonder that was my stuffed bear, Husband was puzzled by a teddy bear having “heft” and being “dressed to look kind of like people.” I explained that the bears were really popular and were quite expensive, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the brand name, suffice to say they were essentially a “designer” teddy bear.

This conversation, that I can assure you dear Husband has forgotten about, has had me cross referencing my brain and memory bank in attempt to recall the name of those elusive bears that have since lost popularity outside a small niche of people.

For the last week, in my few moments of down time at work I’ve conducted a series of Bear-centric Google searches in an attempt to exhaust my own resources before using one of my lifelines.

I stuck with Google Image searches because I knew I’d recognize the bears themselves immediately.

My results were nothing short of colorful.

Of course, searching for any combination of the words ‘designer,’ ‘bear,’ ‘American,’ and ‘teddy bear,’ will bring up photos of all types of teddy bears, people dressed as bears, a teddy bear dressed in a Chanel tweed suit and thousands of pictures of the Grizzly, Panda, Polar and Black Bear variety. But not the beloved toy I was hoping to find.

The search that followed included some permutation of the words “heavy,” “stuffed,” “bear” and “doll” in a combination I won’t soon repeat, as what was retrieved was a collection of images that quickly educated me on the homosexual subculture of Bears.

If you’re curious, I’ll spare you the humiliating task of performing a Google search which subsequently requires catlike reflexes to close the hundreds of X-rated pop ups that follow: Bears are essentially tall, heavy set, hairy gay men that inspire the waif-like gay men or just gay men, period, to cuddle.

Let's leave it at that shall we? Wikipedia it (yes, I used that as a verb) if you're that interested...

I quickly minimized the page and had a brief premonition of me being escorted out of the building, signing termination papers for looking at Gay Porn during work hours and trying to reasonably explain myself to future employers. My co-workers would have been SO confused!

Embarrassed for myself (isn't that the worst kind?!) and still none the wiser on the name of that damn bear company, I surrendered and texted my mom.

Me: Question: remember those expensive teddy bears you bought
us for Christmas one year?? What were they called??

Mom: Boyd's Bears

Me: Yes! It's been driving me crazy for a week!

Mom: And why are we thinking about these bears?

Me: I don't know! You should see my google history though: teddy bears,
designer bears, American bears, bear dolls (which had some porn!?!)

Mom: That figures

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wait, What??

My mom is aware of the gay subculture that is BEARS?? What in God's great world are my parents doing in that big empty house of theirs? And furthermore, in what world should a person EXPECT to find porn when Googling bears.

How you know you're in the sexual slow lane: When your mother knows more about gay subcultures than you do.


(***Edited to add: Mom didn't actually know about Gay Bears, she just figured the porn industry will tag just about anything so it'll pop up in Google searches and Dad assumed it was for those with lower IQs who would spell bare as bear when looking for porn. Wahoo! I'm back to traveling with the flow of traffic on the sexual super highway***)

Why not go site seeing today?

Today is rainy, windy and cold. Not a very good day for donning walking shoes and grabbing your camera, so why not take a little tour of some of my new favorite blogs and websites.

Go Site seeing if you will.....

** Editor's note: If you right click the link and select view in new tab or view in new window, you can visit the site without losing your place here. Just a thought**

First up is Picnik, this is the site that helped me design my blog header (which still needs some work, I'll admit). This site is great for designing quick and easy photo collages, granted, you have more accessibility with the premium membership dealy (about $25/year), but those with the free membership can still upload 5 photos at a time to play with and the interface is super easy. If someone wanted to see more pictures on my blog and wanted to try the premium membership, I'd be open to sharing....

Ok, here is one of my favorite new online hobbies— Pinterest. Have you ever seen designers or really creative types with bulletin boards jam-packed with things that inspire them? Well, those are called 'Mood Boards.' Now, have you ever kind of thought, 'man, I really like that but am not a designer or creative type who says hippy-dippy things like 'Mood board' or 'This spoke to me''? Uhm, those are fabric swatches dude, if they're speaking to you I think some pharmaceuticals may be in order...
Yeah? Well, this basically a collection of Mood Boards but they're online, so that makes it cooler, get it? It's also really helpful for all those times that you're on a website and see a picture of something that you want to keep, but don't want a ton of bookmarks clogging up your Favorites tab. The only caveat is that it's by invitation only, so if you're interested (side eye to Big Sister and Mom) let me know.  

Another new hobby, in the same vein as Pinterest is Polyvore. Basically this is like playing paperdolls, without the doll...make sense? You can create outfits using Polyvore's database of major retailers (and designers) or you can clip images of clothes from the websites themselves by saving the Polyvore link to your favorites tab. It's pretty addicting, but it's been a more interactive form of window shopping and it's helped me easily put together new outfits by playing with the clothes I already have in my closet.

Ready for some fun blog reading?? Who isn't?

Let's go someplace Glamorous, shall we??  This blog has some of the prettiest pictures of architecture, room designs and clothes imaginable. They also have a pretty labyrinthian segment on Fridays of links to other lovely sites worth checking out (this is where that right click, open in new window comes in handy!)

If you haven't heard of the Neotraditionalist, go there and swoon at her classically prep style, her pixie haircut and her charming prose. Also, be jealous of her impeccable taste... She also just started an online magazine called Matchbook. Again, swoon, sigh and be jealous...

For a good combination of intellectual stimulation, pop culture drivel and, at times, heated comment threads head to Jezebel. Sure, sometimes the feminist opinion makes me do this:

But for the most part, it's wildly entertaining and thought provoking.


Finally, if you're ever looking for something to do, something to download or just cute things to pin to your Pinterest mood boards, breeze on over here. Her finds have so far made appearances at my Oscars party, on my laptop background and in a folder marked 'Things to Do.'

Ok that's it, go explore and enjoy!

I miss working two jobs...

Never thought you'd hear me say that now didja??

Yes it's true, I miss working those additional 12-15 hours each week with some of the coolest and most stylish kids in town, playing Barbie with real life people and the extra $200 in my bank account, but most of all? I miss the discount.

I used to be able to fully clothe my husband and I for a song. Jeans for $10? Got 'em, T-shirts for $5? Check! All the cardigans I could ever want or need? -sigh-

Ever since that little shit troubled young man burned down half the mall and I was laid off, shopping for clothes (or in my case window shopping...thanks a lot house budget!) has woken me up to the sticker shock that comes with buying clothes at.....wait for it.....full price. The horror!

Now I walk into Target's sale section and balk at the prices. $30 for a pair of dress pants? Yeah they're wool, but $30?? What's that, they want $15 for a top?! Ugh!

It's all I can do to not grab a sales associate by her little red vest and scream "WHERE ARE THE $10 JEANS?? This is MADNESS I tell you! MADNESS!"

Anyways, I was doing fine NOT shopping and all until the mail came last night...and that's when I found this:



J.Crew's March 2011 Catalog

  

Dammit!

So...in case any of you are reading this and are wondering, What Would Megan Wear?? Let's take a peek, shall we?

This:



Katie Eyelet Cami $75



With jeans and a cardigan (duh) or with capri pants and sandals in a few short months when Sacramento turns into the 9th ring of hell...

This:





Delaney Eyelit Shift $128



Prettiest color ever, and right on trend with the nude/natural thing that's happening now, eyelit trim and pockets?! How will I live without this in my closet??  Dammit!!

All of these:



(L to R) Solid Pocket Cardi $49.50,
Forever Cardi $69.50, Mixed-Tape Cardi $49.50



~*Sigh*~ Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink....


And finally, this little beauty:

Suvi Ruched One-Shoulder Tank $225

I'm not normally one for swimsuits period, but seeing this one was quite possibly the first and only time I've ever actually squeed at the sight of swimwear. I LURVE it....

Think I can find look a likes at Target or Old Navy??

That's what I thought.... DAMMIT!



February can suck it

This has been my mantra for the first two weeks of the month. It’s amazing how an entire month can go to hell in a hand basket in just 11 days, but it can and it has.

Here’s a rundown of the Joys of February thus far:
- A work project sent me down to San Jose for a day. For anyone not paying attention, that’s a round trip of about 6 hours…and that’s if you're traveling at off peak hours and no one of lessened IQ or driving competence is on the road. Seeing as how i'd need to be there by 2:30 and leave to head home at 4 and this is THE BAY we're talking about, I could expect a good long time in the car trying to not go completely ape $#!%

- I learned of this day-long road trip exactly 18 hours before I was due to leave prompting a rush to rearrange schedules to accommodate two people sharing one car, an emergency gathering of batteries, video tapes, lighting gear and camera to prepare for the project and a quick prayer to The Man Upstairs to keep my car (which had recently began shuddering when I accelerated or was stopped at a light) to get me safely down and back.

- Lost equipment that not only induced panic and crying jags, but also a last ditch effort to purchase a new microphone a mere 12 hours before I left for San Jose.

- A court mandated freeze on Husband’s and my bank account, for which we got a “courtesy call” from our bank en route to San Jose. Cue a day of telephone with a bank representative and a paralegal from the law firm working on the case trying to iron out the details only to discover it’s a case of mistaken identity that will take another week and counting to un-FUBAR it.

- A $400 repair on the aforementioned shuddering car (which lasted the entire trip…half of which before the ‘check engine’ light came on. Between that and the call from our bank, husband and I were thisclose to Thelma and Louise-ing it)

- Sore throat, head congestion and a cough that lasted for a week (so far…) that has totally put me off the taste of cherry cough drops, tissues without lotion and the color green. TMI??

There are more, smaller insignificant details and possibly some larger more significant events that I’m probably forgetting but you get the jist.

Actually, seeing it all typed out and in front of my face it may not sound terrible as most of these events happened in a single day, but understand that while they may have only happened on one day, their after effects are taking weeks (or in the case of the car, a month) before they are resolved or the cost ceases to be felt.

Like I said before, if the first two weeks of February are any indication of how the rest of the month is expected to go, February can suck it….

I’m a registered text offender...

My apologies to anyone who’s texted me in the last month and has been utterly confused, confounded or downright offended by my written communication.

But you see I have a completely logical and reasonable explanation; I have an iPhone. And that iPhone has Auto Correct which is simultaneously my saving grace and the bane of my existence.

For the most part, Auto Correct is the perfect angel; capitalizing proper nouns because I’m too darn lazy, adding apostrophes in the correct places thus narrowly avoiding a homonym fail (see: their, there and they’re) or keeping me healthy or ironically trendy (see: I’ll vs. Ill).

But more often than not, Auto Correct loves nothing more than to make an ass of me at the most inopportune times.

Please allow this post to act as a PSA to those who regularly engage in text conversations with me:

• Please know that I mean books when I ask to borrow your boobs. I’ve got a pair of my own, 4 would be overkill.

• When I tell you I’m about to poop in the shower, I mean pop. And by all means, I’m sitting in the car not….well, you get it.

• I didn’t mean to call you a prick, honest. That was supposed to say pick.

• And please, spare me the Revolutionary War tales when my text reads Whigs. I meant to say ‘which.’

And the best part about Auto Correct? As soon as you realize you’ve made the initial mistake and are in a rush to correct it in a subsequent text, Auto Correct wants to continue to correct you with it’s recommended verbiage. A text conversation will often look like this:

Big Sister: Maybe instead of scones with tea on Sunday we can have Dutch Babies

Me: Oooh yes, Duty babies

Me: **DUTY

Me: Dangit! **dutiful

Me: aah! Dots

Me: Duty

Me: Duty

Me: D U T C H….damn iPhone

Big Sister: I totally LOL’d. I was about to confirm we weren’t actually making duty babies.

Me: Come to think of it, we should totally make duty babies….they get S#!@ done!

And yes, I have tried turning Auto Correct off and either my thumbs are disproportionately huge to the iPhone keyboard, or typing on the damn thing is meant to be impossible so that in order to get anything resembling a cohesive thought across you'd have to use Auto Correct.

Husband: Be there soon

Me: Oo

Me: **Oo

Husband: Wait, what?

Me: *OK

Me: Damn iPhone

Husband: It might be operator error this time babe

And don’t think Steve Jobs isn’t enjoying every last second of these shenanigans... anyone else see the resemblance??



Things I've learned this week:

Remember in kindergarten, the teacher would send home a progress report of lessons taught that week that reiterated to parents that no, teacher wasn't implementing day-long naptimes or sniffing glue to get through the day, but that she was actually teaching thankyouverymuch? It might have included counting to 10, writing capital letters and teaching the children not to share their bodily functions during storytime.
Mine may not be as....colorful, but here's this week's progress report:

- That if I have any kind of chocolate in the house that I might want to eat, I had either better hide it, or eat it by Monday evening, because Mondays are when little Monsters come to raid my pantry and it likes the sweet stuff best. And, under no circumstances am I to leave it out where Husband can find it. That 1lb bag of M&Ms I received as a white elephant gift? I think I had a handful....

**Field note: Monsters do not like Peppermint Bark, must stock up as that's the only chocolate she will not eat**

- That sometimes, when I have (and please excuse the metaphore, i'm not particularly fond of it but for this situation, it works) diarrhea of the mouth that some people will throw money at the problem just to get me to stop jabbering at them. Needless to say, chattering on like a squirrel is not a tactic I intend to call upon in future endeavors, but this time, I think it worked in my favor.

- That my forgetfulness is contagious with a two week incubation period. Case in point: two weeks ago I forgot my ballet pants and therefore, couldn't go to dance. This week, Monster forgot all of her ballet clothes and we couldn't go to dance. Thank goodness we have a measure of what's appropriate attire for public. Imagine if we had decided, to hell with it! Let's go anyways! I'll fashion my two tanktops as a fancy strappy minidress and you prance about naked as the day you were born and we'll show them our high kicks and double pirouettes.

- That when you have a migraine, no matter how awful, it's NEVER a good idea to mix your prescription medication with 2 4 extra strength Excedrin Migraine tablets. What you'll end up with is a limp, numb tounge, little to no ability to form cohesive sentences and a bit of a drooling problem the following day.  If however, you are bored on a Saturday night with no forseeable possibility of fun, it may be a good idea to slip your best friend your prescription medication with 4 extra strength Excedrin Migraine tablets, just to see what happens.

- That no matter how persuasive they might be, you shouldn't believe everyone who tells you that you could have a real future in stand-up comedy. You don't.
Also, nothing takes away your ability to entertain the idea of doing stand-up comedy faster than watching a really bad comedian....

-That two long island iced teas at the Punchline Comedy Club has similar effects on my mother as mixing your prescription medication with 2 4 extra strength Excedrin Migraine tablets. :) Just kidding, Mom! Sort of

- That I should never expect just a walk conversation from my father. No, instead I'll get grandiose career advancement ideas taken from the smallest tidbits of our discussion that include, but are not limited to, iPhone apps, podcasts, twitter feeds and planned discussion sessions and talking points a week in advance to schedule what topics to discuss on our walk that day and whether or not that would be a good one to record for a podcast for our iPhone app that we'll make....someday.

- That every idea sounds like a good idea when dad says it.

So Long 2010, Hello 2011

My deepest apologies for not checking in more frequently, and to you Mom, for leaving you without proper reading material.

The last few weeks of 2010 and the first (almost) week of 2011 have flown by leaving me in its wake and overcome with the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of a great precipice, both excited and terrified of what the year will bring.

Despite what others have said about 2010, it was a pretty hallmark year for my neck of the woods (pun not initially intended).

Here’s a recap:

- Daniel was getting settled in his new role of store manager in Downtown Capitol City and knocking the other guys out of the park in store GP and sales.

- Big Sister announced that her food baby was actually a real baby and we could expect to have the little nugget make its appearance around Thanksgiving. Cue jaws dropping (me), an estatic “wahoo” (Husband) followed by an “I knew it!” (Mom), and marching around the room giggling and clucking like a hen (Grandma).

- The very next day, I began a new job on the 15th floor in a tall building in Downtown Capitol City and, amid the click-clacking of heels, crisply pressed suits and elevator rides, feel more and more like a real adult.

- 2 glorious weeks spend on the coolest and most amazing houseboat ever. Days were spent water-logged, napping and snacking; evenings were filled with silly games, delicious food and delirious happiness.

- Husband fetches himself another promotion (and pay increase) and is transferred to the top-earning store of the region, ironically, the one he started at as a sales associate. His career with the company has truly come full circle.

- A week later, after four years of nagging by family and…yes, some by me too, Husband finds it in himself to go back to school. This time for a degree in business, the man has found his calling and is unstoppable, watch out world!

- Thanksgiving came twice this year, one loud, crazy one spent in San Jose and a second more traditional, quiet, low key one spent at home. Both insanely delicious. Both filled with love and laughter. Neither spent with a new baby…

- Until (!) Monday morning, Big Sister is rushed to the hospital — ok, probably not, but in my mind it was very dramatic made more so by an uplifting movie soundtrack— and a mere 9 hours later, Baby Girl E is born.

- Christmas was made that much more magical by having the newest member of our family cooing and squeaking while we unwrapped presents and took turns fawning over her.

- The last weeks of 2010 brought grandparents, newly made great-grandparents on a train from Colorado to meet Baby Girl E and tour the grandchildren’s recent stomping grounds.

The family rang, ok more like calmly and obligatorily, welcomed the New Year in the nick of time (someone woke from their mid-movie nap and said “Hey! It’s midnight”) and kisses were exchanged as we rushed off to bed.

The next morning, without warning or foresight, we awoke to a blanket of snow. Sparkly, white and pristine. I take that as an omen that 2011 will be a year of fresh starts, more new beginnings and more beautiful moments than a year can possibly hold.

What I came home to. Alternately titled: I got up at 4, YOU got up at 7:00

Is returning to your long-lost (not forgotten) blog only to bitch considered tacky??

If you answered yes, I have a business trip post coming down the pipes so...don't judge.

Many people who meet my dear Husband think he's perfect. I'm not about to destroy the facade he's so carefully built, but I'm not above putting a few cracks in the foundation.

Vindictive? Who, Me?!

If you're not married to the guy and don't have to live with him, then you don't get an opinion.... just sayin'

Most of the time he's close to perfect, but then he goes through these spells where all I can think is "What the hell?!"

The past few days has been one of those spells.

Case in point, the other night was Lasagna night and what do you need with lasagna?? French Bread.
Or at least I do.

Nearly every night of the week, I make sure dinner is done and ready for Husband the second he walks in the door so that all he has to do is change, sit down and eat. The guy does work full-time and go to school y'know.

I rarely ask him to pick up something from the store on his way home, but this particular night, I forgot to get french bread on my way home and so I asked him to get some.

After one big sigh and much hmm-ing and haw-ing, Husband finally said "Can't I just come home? I can do without it."

O.k. fine.

I wound up toasting regular bread in the oven...not the same.

Anyways, I got home from work today, after waking up at 4:30 to be at work at 6 to train a new hire, to this:

And this:



And this:

Seriously?! SERIOUSLY!?

Then, after tidying up the kitchen a little, I came to the conclusion that I really must be the maid because dear Husband left me a tip:

A whopping $.15 which is going in our my collection bin:



Mama needs a new pair of shoes...



*Editors note: Microsoft paint is hard!! *

**I'm also really glad Husband doesn't have a blog...Lord knows what he'd post about me**