Confessions of a Crossword Cheater

If you ask me what's worse - cheating to finish something or not finishing at all - I'm going to have to think about that for a second. Now, before anyone calls my preacher or the IRS, keep reading...

I would never cheat on my husband, or my taxes, my expense report, the ACT, etc. I'm a nice, Christian girl. I wouldn't even cheat at a board game unless it was with a group of friend and all in good fun... and I'd probably be busted instantly because I'd laugh about it. (This does not apply to my sister, who mercilessly cheated my elderly grandma at Uno.) When it comes to actual situations, I feel like I have a very clear idea of right and wrong. But what about stuff that doesn't "count"?

I love word games like Scrabble, crossword puzzles and all those sorts of things. When I play Scrabble with a group of people, I take it fairly seriously. In fact, annoyingly serious. I have an official Scrabble dictionary. And I use it. But when I play Scrabble by myself on my phone, I use all 4 of the "best word" hints that are allotted per game. Is that cheating? Surely not. If so, why would it be an option?

Yet, when David downloads cheat codes or uses strategy guides for his various shoot-'em-up video games, I chastise him. "How is it 'winning' if you're using a cheat code!?"

So am I a cheater and a hypocrite?

To make matters worse, I can NOT leave certain things unfinished. Sure, I'll clean one room of the house and leave the rest in shambles. I'll listen to a song for 20 seconds and then skip to something else. But other things make me feel out of whack if I don't finish them. No matter how bad the movie is, I'll probably finish it. What if it gets really good 2 minutes after I turn it off? (So what if that's never happened?) And crossword puzzles. Oh, crossword puzzles. I will literally lose sleep over one if it's left with empty boxes.

Earlier, I began a crossword puzzle and got stuck about two-thirds of the way through. Next thing I know, I find myself Googling "crossword solver". (Yeah, yeah... I know the fact that I do crossword puzzles is dorky enough. The fact that I know such sites like as exist is even worse.) I just got two words. Those enabled me to finish the puzzle and now I know what "turgid" means. So, I breathed a sigh of relief. Until I thought about what a puzzle-cheater I am. Or am I?

I haven't play dreidel since 3rd grade... but yeah, I might cheat at it if there was gelt involved.

I am not in a crossword puzzle contest. I'm not being paid to complete the puzzle. I'm not under oath swearing that I have never accepted clues on a puzzle. I don't proclaim myself as the greatest crosswordian of all time. It's a completely optional game / brain exercise that I chose to engage in and impacted no one else. Does that count? Or is the fact that I learned a new word good enough?

Dena and I were both required to take a Business Ethics class in college. We both got B's. We've had a lot of laughs about this over the years. I had a guy in my section who frequently attend class while high. He got an A. And then she and I, the "goody-goodies", got B's. How does that work? Yet, sometimes when we do something that might be, um, frowned upon (you know, the "If David asks, I got this on sale. I mean, it was for sale, right?" type of thing) we say "Sure, that's fine. But what do I know? I got a B in Ethics."

I'm not trying to start a debate about situational ethics. Like I said, I feel pretty grounded in matters of religion, business, life, etc. But I'm still not sure about crosswords. Furthermore, if I am, in fact, a crossword cheater... do I have to reverse my position on David's video game cheating? Or can I claim I cheat in an effort to learn new words whereas he cheats whilst frying his brain on video games?

I'm also laughing a little at the fact that if I ever run for public office, my opponent will have this blog to use against me. I can see the mud-slinging commercial now: "Audreya says she won't raise your taxes... but can you really believe a crossword cheater?"

Movie Review Monday: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

If you ask me, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past was not Matthew McConaughey's best. It wasn't his worst either - not that I'm sure what his worst would be, it just probably wasn't this.


Again, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I didn't actually watch this movie in the past week. In fact, unbelievably, I did not watch any movies. I was out of town part of the week and then watching season premieres of various shows the remainder of the week... and, of course, football all day Saturday. However, I saw this when it was in the theater, so it still totally counts. So, since it just came out on DVD, here are my thoughts:


I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I don't think this was it. The storyline seemed pretty obvious just from the title. That part didn't disappoint. It just wasn't McConaughey-ish. Or maybe I'm just over the huge crush I had on him in the early part of this decade. I mean, he's still definitely in the "ruggedly handsome" category but I think the whole stoned bongo playing and bragging about not wearing deodorant has gotten to me. Yet, I loved Failure To Launch and thought he was really good in that. I guess I was hoping for something similar. I still can't really decide if it was him or the movie itself...


The story is about Connor (McConaughey)... a big-time photographer totally obsessed with his bachelorhood. As corny as I think the word is, he is best described as a player. So, when his little brother decides to get married, of course Connor tries to talk him out of it and then tries to find a way out of even going. Obviously, he ends up going and causing drama. The drama is compounded by the presence of his childhood best friend / brief girlfriend as an adult, Jenny. I don't fully understand how Jenny was connected to the bride, but she was a bridesmaid and I think she was assigned to Connor-sitting duties. Well, the night before the wedding, the ghost of Connor's uncle (and his role model in womanizing) visits him to let him know that 3 girlfriends will be coming to him to show him all the chaos surrounding his playboy ways. Then the movie starts jumping between past and present and felt a little hectic to me. In between visions, he manages to cause major problems in the present day that put his brother's wedding in jeopardy. I'll stop the summary here so I don't give away too much. It's a romantic comedy, so I'm sure the ending will come as a shock to no one, but still, I'll be polite.


All in all, there were some funny parts (like his first girlfriend - hilarious!) and I don't feel like I wasted the two hours of my life. I think this is a movie that will be better the second time I watch it. And I will watch it again. I liked it okay just not as much as I thought I would. I'll just call it average. And, in keeping with that, I give it a C.


I have The Rocker at home to watch at some point. I'm still debating if I will like the movie or if I'm only watching it because I hope Rainn Wilson will have some Schrute-like moments. Hmm. Not sure.


Theater-wise, I can't wait for Couples Retreat to open weekend after next. Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau wrote the movie and are in it!? I love it already. This just seems like the type of movie that requires you to go with a couple of couples... so who's in?

Swirls

If you ask me to do a cake, there's a pretty good chance you're going to ask me to put swirls on it, aren't you?

I used to do cakes a lot... sometimes one or two a weekend and a few more during the week. I enjoy decorating them. I love taking a plain cake, putting some icing and some elbow grease to it and them coming out with a really pretty creation at the end. Wedding and shower cakes are what I love to do most. Birthday cakes are fun and not quite as time consuming, but they just aren't my favorite. If you look at my Flickr album, there are a lot of birthday cakes, but mostly back from when I didn't feel like I could turn down anyone who asked. This fall, however, my full-time job has made it a lot harder to do any cakes, so I am only committing to a few wedding and shower cakes until the end of the year. And if it doesn't sound fun, I probably will pass Snobby artist? Maybe a little. Anyway, cutting down on the number of cakes I've been doing has really allowed me to enjoy it more when I am doing one.


Last night, I was working on a cake for a small wedding. It's probably been a month or more since I did a cake, so I was looking forward to it. I was really happy with the way it came out. (On a side note, I normally use prepared icing. This time, I had to make the buttercream from scratch. I forgot how delicious it is! The prepared buttercream is good, but homemade is out of this world. Of course, it can also induce a sugar-coma.... but it's totally worth it!) I was really happy when I saw what the bride had picked for her topper. I really like the larger topper on the smaller cake. I thought it made it clearly a wedding cake and not a shower or birthday cake. All in all, I am very pleased with it... and, most importantly, so was the bride. As you can see, it's an ivory cake with maroon ribbon and a swirl pattern. And here we are at the topic of this blog...

Swirls. I don't know when I made my first cake with a swirl design. I just know I've made a lot of them. For my purposes, it's a fairly easy design AND it's great for covering up anything that needs covering up. I hate to disappoint any of you who only have a knowledge of cake decorating from Ace of Cakes or Amazing Wedding Cakes. Sometimes they show the imperfections but usually they just show the awe-inspiring finished product. In my kitchen, the finished product is a lot of smoke and mirrors. If you saw what the cake looked like at any point before I set down my icing bag and declare it finished, you'd think "Seriously? I'm paying her for that?"

There are always stray crumbs in the icing or a place where my finger ended up as I was trying to put it on my turntable. In a cake with swirls, you never know this because there is not predetermined location for the design. If I mess up, I put a swirl over it. If my icing isn't smooth, I cover it with a swirl. It's the icing equivalent of a push-up bra, a body slimmer and a fantastic concealer. So, for that reason, I love when someone requests a cake with swirls. However, from the first swirl cake I did and posted pictures, that seemed to become the design everyone requested. I'm not saying I started the trend by any means. Just within my group of people who know me and order cakes from me, they saw the first swirl cake and there was no going back.


I'm not complaining... see the previous paragraph about swirls covering a multitude of sins! It just got me thinking about how many swirl cakes I have done in the last few years. Birthdays, baby showers, wedding showers, wedding cakes... swirls, swirls and more swirls.


As I was considering the number of swirly cakes in my repertoire, I first thought "I don't get it." Is it just a trend? It's just rare that one design can suit cakes for so many occasions and age groups. A teenager probably wouldn't want a basket weave and icing roses cake. A bride probably wouldn't choose butterflies and clouds for her wedding cake. Yet, swirls seem to be the way to go across the board. I suppose I'm not exactly a whimsical person. Maybe I'm just not fun enough for to fully appreciate the swirls. Maybe it's that swirls are like a pair of khakis... you can dress them up or dress them down depending on the event. Who knows. Whatever the reason, the swirl cakes I'm putting in this post are only the tip of the iceberg. If I ever open my own bakery (which I doubt that I will for a number of reasons), perhaps I should call it Swirl.


But, if I'm being honest, I am a little concerned that people might think my only decorating talent is the ability to make a wavy, circle-ish shape. I hope that's not the extent of my talent. On the other hand, the trend that completely eclipses swirls is fondant. and I suck at fondant. So, until someone (ahem, Kelli) can successfully teach me how to make a cake using fondant that doesn't look like a cracked blob of Play-Doh, then I guess I'll stick with the swirls!


And, if I'm ever tempted to think "Oh, swirls again. How unoriginal!" feel free to remind me that when I made my own 30th birthday cake a few months ago... I chose swirls for the pattern. (Of course, I'll argue that it was because my birthday is at the end of June. It was 350 degrees with about 145% humidity that day and I definitely needed to hide the fact that the cake was melting before my very eyes!) Okay, fine... the swirls were fun.


Finally, for people who might be wondering why I've had to cut back on the number of cakes I do or why I am not chomping at the bit to decorate cakes full-time, I've posted a picture of my sink after I finished this cake. Just the sink... the stove, the island and my mixer are all in equal states of disrepair. I love decorating cakes. I do not love cleaning up afterwards!

The Best

If you ask me, sometimes the past is the best cure for the present! It's still early, but it seems that I am in a much better mood today than the last few days. I'm not ready to declare the blahs over, but at least on the downward slope. I'm sure any annoyances at work or otherwise could send me back to Blahville, but for now, we're going to go with "better mood". Maybe not the best mood yet, but better.

For one thing, how could a TV addict like myself not be in a great mood after all the fabulous shows that were on last night? I'm pretty sure there was smoke coming out of my DVR! (I haven't watched The Mentalist or Project Runway yet, so don't tell me what happened!) Before the prime time shows started, I re-watched Modern Family with my parents and confirmed that it gets funnier the more you watch it. I hope it stays that way! Right now, it's easily the best new show!

Next, I got a text message this morning from David that actually made me LOL. I mean, how often do we say "LOL" when we really meant that we chuckled a little quietly? Not this time! I actually threw my head back against my chair and laughed hysterically. Probably only Kelli will fully be able to appreciate why. I listen to this sports radio show every day. I know, I'm a girl, but whatever. Last week, one of the hosts said to the other host "What is your favorite KISS song?" He replied "Shook Me All Night Long". Host A: "No, it's not." Host B: "Yes it is. You know... YEAAAHHH, YOOUUUU, SHOOOK MEEE..." Host A: "That's not KISS." Host B: "You're right. It's Ozzy." Host A: "No, it's not." Host B: "It's not?" Host A: "No, it's AC/DC". This aired right before I met David for lunch so I told him about it and we had a good laugh. Well, just now I received a text that said "Hells Bells is on. Now, is that your favorite KISS song?" Maybe you had to be there. Either way, I'm still laughing. Best text I've gotten in a long time!

David and I find very odd things funny.

And finally, the biggest and best blah cure seems to be some old emails I have drudged up recently. I've had my Hotmail account pretty much since the dawn of accessible emails. I really think I got it somewhere around 11th grade... like 1995 or 1996. With Facebook messages and the email account I get from my ISP (and can easily access from my phone), I realized the other day that it's almost pointless to have the Hotmail account anymore. Yet, I can't bear the thought of parting with it. It's high school. It's college. It's those first few years on my own. It's how I've always known what was going on wherever I wasn't. I'll probably be 95 years old and still hanging onto audcole(at)hotmail(dot)com. Who cares if I only check it once a week and mainly use it when I want to sign up for coupons or to email my one cousin who refuses to Facebook? So, as I was pondering my weird, emotional connection to my email address, I started looking back at old messages. I've already told you about my bedroom, so the fact that I hoard old emails should come as no surprise.

Oh my goodness! Rereading some of the messages made me feel like I'd hopped in my DeLorean and been transported back to that exact moment in time. I remember exactly what I was thinking or feeling and how important whatever (or likely whomever) was to me at the time. Other messages had me grasping at straws to remember what was going on then. There was a series of emails spanning a few years from a friend of Rose Petal's. I'd met him through her around 11th grade and had a crush on him for quite some time. We stayed in touch through college (and still say "hi" every now and then on Facebook). He went into the service and had been sent overseas various times. When I was in Italy, I told him the Skittles there were gross. He sent me a bag of "American" Skittles. He later confessed he had a huge crush on me back then and Rose Petal wouldn't give him my phone number! At the time, I remember emailing her and saying "Um, would you like to explain?" Now, I think it's just hilarious. I can't even begin to rehash the night I met this guy... but if Rose is reading this, she's laughing!

Rose Petal and me at her wedding

There were countless emails from my two best friends in high school. All the details of our lives after Newman High. Who we loved... who we hated... what we wanted to be when we "grew up". There were emails to make arrangements to attend each other's weddings. Emails when each of them found out they were expecting. Emails about our 10 year reunion. Emails after our 10 year reunion wondering why we went to our 10 year reunion.

Getting to see my high school girls this summer in Chicago.

From sad and serious to hilarious or totally pointless, it's all there. Camp friends, church friends, Italy friends. Nothing, however, can top an email I found in my "Dena" folder. (Yes, I hoard them, but in a semi-organized way!) To the rest of you, an email from the late 90's entitled "Aud & Dena's Christmas Carols" might not sound at all interesting. You're probably thinking we took common Christmas carols and turned them into barely-rhyming parodies. You're exactly right!! At the time, it was the most hilarious thing anyone had ever done. We laughed until we cried. Now, rereading them, I laugh more at our grammar and sense of humor! I sent an excerpt to Dena the other day. Her response was "We were dorks." I replied "Were?"

Dena and me wearing anti-Texas shirts on the Univ. of Texas campus. Brave dorks.

I have the best things in the world. Best husband-friend, best-best friends, best family friends, best friends I never see (and even a few I've never met in person), best DVR schedule, best text messages, best everything. And I have the best email account in the world to remind me of these things! So, take THAT, blah mood!!!

Blah

If you ask me anything right now, you'll probably get a blank look. Last week's inexplicable bad mood seems to have subsided but has been replaced with a very blah mood. I guess it's like a bruise or something. Or maybe like having a terrible migraine one day and then that dull, achy feeling that follows for a few more days. I'm glad I'm not biting off heads as much this week, but I think feeling blah might be worse than feeling grouchy. At least grouchy is something. At least there is a certain momentary satisfaction that comes from snapping at someone. For a second, it feels good... like you did something. Like you made your point. Of course, there are hurt feelings and consequences that might come from it, but the temporary jolt of excitement is there.

For me, a blah mood is almost suffocating. I'm used to being very decisive. I'm used to knowing almost instantly how I feel about something, what I want to do, how I want to do it, etc. But when the blahs overwhelm me and I realize I don't give a crap, it's unsettling. Then, I try to talk myself out of the blahs. That's even worse. The logical part of my brain is saying "Audreya, what is your deal? Snap out of it! The sun is out today. There's a lot of good things on TV tonight. Tomorrow is pay day. And Friday. It's not so bad!!" But it seems like there is a fog over me that just responds to that internal dialogue with "Yeah... and?"

I guess part of it is that I started out the week in a very tedious way. I was at a conference for work. The conference itself was very informative, well-planned and beneficial. But the subject matter was a new federal guideline and how to make that work within our software. Does that sound exciting to anyone? I assure you that it is not. That's not a statement against the presenters or the conference, but really, how exciting can you make RESPA reform? And how cold can you make a hotel conference room before people actually begin to die? I know the lady organizing the conference asked the hotel to adjust the temperature and supposedly they did, but still, I'm pretty sure I entered the first stages of hypothermia. I think listening to mundane subject matter while praying none of your fingers fall off is enough to make even a woodland fairy come down with a case of the blahs.

Then our flight home was delayed. Three hours in an airport Chili's. Awesome. Add to it that my manager and Ryan Howard continued to talk about work the whole time. The other guy traveling with us, our corporate attorney (I admit I was concerned he would be the most boring and likely to engage in incessant work talk but was pleasantly surprised) grew weary of the conversation around the two-hour mark and began helping me with a crossword puzzle. Finally, we were able to board the plane. They continued to talk about work. I read a magazine on the mercifully short flight. Blah!

Yesterday, I didn't have to come to work at 8:00. Thankfully, I was granted a few hours reprieve since our flight got in so late. However, coming back and seeing the little errors and issues left for me to sort out did nothing to improve my mental state. The people who cover for me when I am out are fantastic and deal with the vast majority of things... but there are always a few pesky items with my name on them. Blah!

Today, I went to start on a project I have to do for the start of each quarter. It's not even something I should be doing. Accounting should take care of it... but you know how it goes when you offer to help once and suddenly it becomes your set-in-stone job... Anyway, my co-worker and I got ready to start on the project today and found the majority of it to be already done. What?! This is great news! Bye, bye, blah mood!! Oh, wait... of course it's done wrong. Welcome back, blah mood... glad you didn't go far! And then, I feel ungrateful. I'm so glad they helped... and yes, fixing the mistakes IS faster than doing it all from scratch... but that brief excitement followed by a quick let-down just makes the blahs swirl around in my head even more.

I'm not normally a beaming ray of sunshine, but I'm not usually such a dark cloud either. I'm not clinically depressed. I'm not in a stressful marriage. Money is not any tighter than usual. It's officially fall and I'm very happy about that. So, short of dementors having left Azkaban and relocated to Arkansas, I can't come up with a valid excuse for my mood (or lack thereof). I guess I'm just hoping if last week's mood was foul, this week's mood is blah, maybe next week will be average and the following week will be fantastic? Here's hoping...

So, what about you? Any proven remedies for the blahs? Or anyone want to tell me suck it up? I can't argue that I might need to hear that! (That just made me think of Vince Vaughn telling Owen Wilson to "get some real problems" in Wedding Crashers. And, I think I felt myself smile! Maybe I just need to have a Vince Vaughn-a-thon!)

On a lighter note, did anyone watch Modern Family last night? That was probably the only non-blah 30 minutes of my day. Hilarious!!!!

Movie Review Monday: State of Play

If you ask me, Russell Crowe must age in dog years. I mean, he's still attractive enough for an older guy, I suppose - but he looks twice as old as he did in Gladiator. That came out in 2001... I checked. Anyway, I like Russell Crowe. I just noticed that he seemed a lot older in the last few films I've watched.


Okay, to the topic at hand. State of Play. Since this does not star Will Ferrell or Vince Vaughn or since it in no way looks like a romantic comedy, you can guess whose Netflix list it came from. But, since David has done nothing but watch The Office with me all week, I figured I would indulge him. And, while comedy is my favorite, I don't mind a good crime drama every now and then.


That's pretty much what this was. First, there are two random murders in Washington DC. Russell Crowe plays Cal, a reporter who covers the story. Then, a woman is killed in the subway in what appears to be a suicide. The woman is the mistress of Ben Affleck's character... Congressman Collins. Oh, and it just so happens that Collins and Cal the reporter were college roommates. Rachel McAdams character, Della, starts covering the affair / suicide story. Cal and Collins talk a little about the situation. Somehow Cal ends up covering the story along with Della (I missed that part... I think my Weight Watchers meal finished microwaving.) So, they start doing their own investigation for the story but they end up uncovering a variety of facts and connections the police have missed. Predictably, the two random murders are connected to the death of the mistress. The majority of the movie is spent untangling the web of connections and Collins role in it all. Several versions of the "real story" exist. Including one that bizarrely involves Jason Bateman. Hmmm, Jason Bateman. Sometimes I like him, sometimes I don't. This time, I didn't like his character (which was the point of his character) but thought he did a really good job portraying it. Well, in the end, the truth is exposed and the news story can finally go to print. All in all, not a bad movie. It sort of felt like most other crime movies with the twists and turns, but there were some surprises. The most interesting part was that, as the credits were rolling, they showed how the news story went from being typed on the computer all the way through to the newspapers being printed and delivered. Very cool to see. I especially thinks it's cool because we are probably the last generation that will really have experienced newspapers. I don't think newspapers will vanish completely (or maybe they will?) but news is online now. I get the majority of my news from Twitter. If I want the full story, I click the link on the tweet and read about it at a news website. I don't see that changing... just expanding. So, I thought the end was a neat homage to a fading industry.

I also forgot to mention that Helen Mirren was in the movie as the editor of the newspaper. I like Helen Mirren. I like British words. I try to use them a lot. It's fun and it throws people off. I mean, doesn't it sound cooler to call someone a "prat" than it does "jerk"? Helen Mirren was not a happy camper because Russell Crowe kept pushing his deadline, so she used a variety of colorful language. At one point, she called someone a wanker. I yelled "I love wanker!" and then said "Wait..." after I realized what I said. David laughed and said "I thought you might want to rethink that!" But it's too late... I will always think of this as the "I love wanker" movie. Even if I tried to forget, David has now taken to texting me "Wainker" at least once a day. Yes, I've corrected is spelling. No, he doesn't seem to care.

I think I'm going to give this movie a B-/C+ Pretty good but a little predictable and slow in parts.

PS- This will be my first attempt at scheduling a post. I will be out of town Monday, so I'm going to give this a try. Hopefully you'll get your Movie Review Monday... but if you get Movie Review Saturday or Sunday, then enjoy a little early.

Danger: Bad Mood

If you ask me, this is just one of those weeks. You know - where nothing has gone particularly wrong, but you just want to rip off the head of anyone who dares cross your path. I don't feel like I'm in a bad mood but then I hear the snippy, more-sarcastic-than-usual tone in my voice or I feel the way my face is scrunching up in disapproval and I think "Hmm, maybe I am in a bad mood."

Here are a few instances this week where I have caught myself being shorter than necessary:

1. First, let me explain a little about my work situation. I essentially work for my company's corporate office. However, since my job can pretty much be conducted entirely by email or phone, Corporate lets me work from a branch office that is 2 miles from my house. It's pretty sweet. My direct manager is in the Jonesboro branch (over 2 hours away). Then, I also report to / coordinate things with the VP who is my manager's boss (and, incidentally, is my age - not that that is relevant, but it's just a very Ryan Howard a la The Office situation). I am responsible for maintaining the piece of software used for the majority of our operations and training other employees on it. So, what I do and the decisions I make overlap with the IT department / tech support, the operations department and, well, a little bit into just about everything. It's actually a really neat position and I enjoy it as much as I am going to enjoy anything short of being independently wealthy. I like the people I work for just fine. And I like that they let me vent. Heaven knows how I need my venting. So, right now, we are spending the remainder of the year preparing for a new federal guideline that will change a lot about our industry. Just getting ready for it has meant and will continue to mean a lot of retraining, updates to software, more training, stress, etc. In addition, we are moving our sister company over to our software in a few weeks so they will be better able to handle these changes. Earlier this week, I called my boss to give him a quick update on a few projects. That was it. I actually was calling to give him good news that one project was going along better than expected. Instead, I end up spending 10 solid minutes griping about all the pieces of the project that were annoying me, who was to blame, how I don't understand why this one guy never wears socks, why this other guy had to ask a million questions about everything, etc. I ended by saying "If I make it through October without yelling at someone, it will be a miracle!" He calmly replied "You've got a lot going on and you're right, [Name] never makes it easy on people. I think you should yell at someone, just out of principle." That made me laugh and apologize for getting off on such a tangent. Oh, and did I mention the part of the call where I had my own Ryan Howard moment and threw a fit that someone faxed me something that could have been emailed? But seriously - if I emailed a Word document, why wouldn't you type the information I needed, save it and attach back to me in an email? Faxing? What is this - 1996!?

2. I like the game FarmTown on Facebook. It's sort of a low-tech version of a Sims or Tycoon game. You have a farm, you grow stuff, you sell it, you buy stuff, you try to make money, etc. There are two kinds of FarmTown players. First, the kind who just play the game because it's kind of fun. Second, the kind who post status updates about their farm and who take pictures of their farm and post to their profile and who schedule their real-life plans around when their imaginary crops are due to be harvested. I think I have done a very good job of staying in the first category. Well, until David started his farm. This week, he said "I want to start a farm, will you help me?" So I said "Yes..." and began laying out a strategy for him of the best crops to farm when you're getting started, then what to farm after you've progressed a little way and so on. All in all, not too nerdy. I mean, he asked. Plus, I do know a thing or two about Economics. For example, I know it was a waste of money to spend as much as I did on a piece of paper that says I have a theoretical grasp of Economics. Nevertheless, I can calculate return on investment in FarmTown. So, imagine my surprise when I came home yesterday and he said, "Look, I planted some wheat!" I said, "Why would you do that?" David: Because I just got to where I can buy it. Me: So!? I already told you that rice was a better 2-day crop than wheat. David: It's just a game. Me: Even so, why would you intentionally play a game inefficiently? David: I don't know - because it's not real. Me: Still, I don't understand why you would not want the best return on investment. Wheat is okay but rice is better. Why did you even ask for my help? David: I really don't know. It's just wheat. It's okay. Me: No it's not. I can't talk to you about this if you're going to make bad choices. David: I can't talk to you if you're going to care this much about pretend crops! Okay, maybe I am now part of Group 2. Crap.

3. A person had emailed me a question about a new feature in our software. I explained to her how it operated. She emailed back that she wished it could be arranged this other way. I replied that it couldn't. She replied back "Oh, I know... I just wish..." and my final reply was "It just isn't". I mean, I stand by that fact. I didn't write the software. I can't make it do what she wants. But, in retrospect, I probably could have found a more professional way to say that. Ooops. And maybe I didn't need to email our IT director asking if we could institute "3 Strikes" and refuse to help people who frequently violate a "reasonable intelligence" policy. He agreed, but still...

4. I will be in Dallas part of next week for a conference (relating to all the aforementioned federal changes). I am going with "Ryan Howard", our attorney and my boss. Boss and Attorney are flying out early on Sunday and have tickets to the Cowboys football game (don't get me started). Ryan Howard and I are taking a later flight. Today, I said, "Are you going to go on-line tomorrow and check us in for the flight?" He said, "I'm guessing that means you want me to go on-line tomorrow and check us in?" I said, "Yes - and tell your wife thank you for teaching you to pick up subtle clues." He laughed and said, "Yeah, I'm usually the lame key checking in at the kiosk in the airport." Then, before my brain processed the words, I said, "Well, we're flying Southwest. If you don't check in early, you end up in C Group in the back of the plane between the fat guy and the screaming baby." Hmmm, I think I need a nap!

So, I guess the purpose of this blog is that I do a lot of griping about other people, so I thought it was only fair to gripe about myself! You know it's bad when you are getting on your own nerves! And, like I said, no real reason for the funk. As David always says, everything is runnin' smooth. It's not the rain - I actually like the rain and the fact that I can leave the house without being slathered in SPF 2,000. It's not the fact that Notre Dame, um, well, sort of lost a little bit to Michigan last weekend. I'm WAY over it. And, if there are any males reading this who are tempted to make PMS / time of the month jokes, I can assure you that is not the case either. It's just one of those weeks.

I couldn't resist...

And for any other uber-cheesy folks like me, you can do it too. Go here.

Inaugural Movie Review Monday

If you ask me, perhaps blogging about the movies I watch will justify the sheer volume of them. So, I've decided to institute Movie Review Monday. A while back I commented that I didn't think I had a future in movie reviewing. I still don't think I have a future in movie reviewing, but I'm going to do it anyway. My favorite thing about having a blog is that I can do whatever I want and pretend I'm good at it. I am good at watching movies. I've written before about my love of going to the movies. Even when we don't go to the theater, hardly a week goes by that we don't watch something at home. I love Netflix.

Let's start with All About Steve. There are several reasons I wanted to see this movie. First, I like comedy. I like movies with an overly-involved plot. I watch movies for entertainment. I don't want to finish a movie feeling emotionally drained, scared, worried, etc. I just want to zone out and laugh for two hours. That doesn't mean I never watch other types of movies. Just comedy is my preferred genre. This looked funny. Also, I love Sandra Bullock. I was interested to see her in a movie where she was silly and over-the-top. I've liked her in just about everything, but she plays "polished" really well. I wondered how she'd do at "goofy". And, finally, I have a crush on Bradley Cooper. So, how was the movie? Funny, fairly predictable in a good way, had some good one-liners and was worth watching. David felt it was more of a "DVD-watcher" but I don't feel like it was a waste of a movie ticket. What was it about? Sandra Bullock plays a geeky crossword puzzle constructor. She is (obviously) single and lives at home with her parents. They set her up on a blind date with Bradley Cooper's character. The date never even really gets off the ground, but she deludes herself into thinking it went much better than it actually did. That's when she begins stalking him. Not stalking in a psychopathic shovel-wielding kind of way... but still pretty bizarre stuff. Like I said, it was entertaining to see her play such a silly character. The best part of the movie was when her stalking (literally) landed her in some trouble. The rescuers sent her a note to check on her... and she responded by correcting their grammar. At this point, David began elbowing me and saying "That's you!" Okay, fine. I can't argue with that. So, summary: The previews pretty much tell you exactly what to expect but it was a cute movie. I don't think you'll miss anything if you wait for DVD, but I don't think you'll feel like you wasted money if you go see it at the theater. Sandra Bullock really can play anything. Bradley Cooper played off of her really well. (Not as well as her and Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal though.) And I forgot how much I love Thomas Hayden Church. B+

Next up, Sunshine Cleaning. This came out a while back and I just watched it on DVD. It has Amy Adams (the redhead from Talladega Nights and Julie & Julia) and Emily Blunt (the other assistant from The Devil Wears Prada). Incidentally, Emily Blunt just got engaged to my beloved Jim Halpert John Krasinski, so I am not sure if I like her right now or not. :-) This is the story of two sisters, raised by their single father (mom died when they were kids). Neither are particularly stable. Adams' character, Rose, has a son with some behavior problems, she works as a housekeeper, is in a fairly unhealthy relationship and she never finishes anything she starts. Blunt's character, Norah, is the younger sister... can't keep a job, smokes weed, etc. Someone suggests to Rose that she open her own cleaning business instead of working for the maid service. They tell her there is a lot of money to be made in crime scene cleanup. Rose ropes Norah into helping with her and they set out to make a business of it. Of course, Rose never finishes anything, so she doesn't get the right sort of training, insurance, etc. Drama, of course, ensues as a result of this. The movie sort of had a Dan In Real Life or The Family Stone feel to it. It was light enough to be funny, but definitely had some depth to it. All in all, it was a different kind of funny than I expected. It was more of the "dark comedy" thing. No, not dark... maybe "grey comedy". Is there such a thing? If so, that's what it was. It's the kind of movie you watch when you're home sick and tired of Judge Judy. I wouldn't rush right out to Blockbuster to rent it, but I would put it somewhere on your "To be watched" list. B-

And finally, what has kept my DVD player running hot all week long: The Office, Season Five. It's not a movie, but I'm mentioning it because it's the reason I must confess that I watched both of the previously-reviewed movies two weeks ago, not last week. This season of The Office came out on Tuesday and has zapped all of my free time since. I did not see this season last fall when it was on TV, so I am trying desperately to get caught up before the new season starts this week. I had been told not to expect much; this season didn't live up to the previous ones. Every show seems to go through that, so whatever. Well, I'm only halfway through the season but so far, the people who told me that were wrong! I cannot stop laughing. I absolutely love this show. If you've ever worked in an office, you will be able to relate to at least something in every episode. It's exaggerated, of course, but I can assure you that I have worked with some form of almost every character on the show. I can't really recap what I've seen so far because either you already watch the show and you already know... or you don't watch the show and it wouldn't make sense. But, I'm love, Love, LOVING it!! I'll be done in a couple of days and can get back to watching other things. A++

So, there you have it... my non-expert opinion on the most recent movies I've seen. This week, maybe I'll go see Love Happens... or maybe I'll take SW and BB to see Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs. Yes, I want to see it. No, I'm not ashamed to admit it. But no, I'm not proud enough of the fact that I want to see it to go see it without the accompaniment of a 6 and 4 year old.

I remember...

If you ask me, 8 years seems like a long time and still seems like yesterday. I've debated for a few days if I wanted to write something relating to September 11th. On one hand, I don't feel qualified. I didn't personally lose anyone or even know anyone who did. I've never been to New York City. I never saw the towers standing. On the other hand, if the attacks had happened 24 hours later, it would have been a very different story from my personal perspective. Since I don't think I've written much about 9/11 before, I'll begin by answering the question that seems to be the main topic of discussion today, just as it has been for the 7 previous years. "Where were you when you heard the news?" I'm not sure where I'll conclude. I don't know how to keep this brief, so if I lose you somewhere along the way, I totally understand.

I was at Dena's parents' house. September 12th, 2001 was probably the day I had most anticipated in, well, my life, I suppose. I was leaving for a semester in Italy. It was my last semester of college and wasn't even really necessary for my degree. I could have graduated in May, but I chose to stick around an extra semester so I could study abroad. What a better way to end a college career, right? So, I had spent the summer working for Dena at the clothing store she managed, trying to save up as much money as possible for all the meals and trips and leather goods I knew I'd be purchasing. I had already finished the days I was scheduled to work and I was planning on sleeping in and doing very little on the 11th. But, Dena's grandma called early and woke me up. She wasn't feeling well and her sister-in-law wasn't feeling well and they were going to spend the day not feeling well together. She wondered if I would give her a ride. So, I threw on who knows what and gave her a ride. I got back to the house and turned on The Today Show. I don't know at what point I even began to process what I was seeing. I think both towers had been hit at that point but hadn't fallen. I honestly don't remember. I just remember picking up the phone and calling my parents.

My dad answered. My dad is a retired Sergeant with the Illinois State Police. (He was not retired at that time.) My mom was a paramedic. I grew up in a home that didn't mince words. When you ask a question, you get a factual answer, no fluff. I said "What's going on?" My dad gave me the kind of bullet-point answers that come standard with his job. "Terrorist attack. Lots of people dead. Probably thousands. I've got to go pack - Sears Tower may be next. I'm probably headed into Chicago." I very distinctly remember looking at the front door. My luggage was packed and sitting at the door. "Dad," I said "I'm supposed to leave tomorrow." He replied, "You're not going anywhere, kiddo." He didn't mean it in a fatherly, emotional way. He meant it as a fact - no one was flying anywhere for the foreseeable future.

From that point on, the day was a blur of phone calls. So many people thought I was leaving on the 11th, not the 12th. If they had been right, I would have been in the air at roughly the same time. I got phone calls, Dena got phone calls at the store, my parents got phone calls. The school called. They were letting me know that, of course, the trip was on hold. They would call with more information.

I was to be the R.A. for the semester, so the school contacted me almost daily letting me know how things were going. After a few days (that felt like years), it was decided we would all come to campus and begin our classes. If the trip had to be cancelled, we would just continue with those classes from Searcy. If the trip was able to proceed, at least we would be close to on-schedule when we arrived. I was asked if I could make a couple of trips to the airport to pick up students who would be arriving. Of course, I did. I don't remember how many trips I made. I just remember one girl who was supposed to be going to the England campus. She was from New Jersey. She saw the smoke from her house. While I never stopped thinking about the tragedy and the loss of lives from the first moment I found out, she was the first person I met who had a personal connection. It all seemed so real at that point.

When we all arrived on campus, there were continued discussions about the trip. A couple of students decided they wouldn't go. One girl in particular had a brother in the military. She didn't feel like she could justify a semester of travel and fun knowing her brother might soon find himself in harm's way. For the most part though, our group wanted to go as soon as it was feasible. We adopted the same motto as it seemed the rest of the country had: If you don't keep living your normal life, the terrorists have won. So, about two weeks after the tragedy, we were on a plane headed overseas.

This is the point where I feel really unqualified to talk about the events surrounding Sept. 11th. I wasn't here for most of it. I didn't have to deal with the aftermath. I had two weeks of constant news coverage. Everyone else had weeks that blurred into months. While in Italy, we had our fair share of news coverage, for sure. An attack on American soil was definitely the biggest story around the globe... but it just wasn't the same. We got USA Today at the villa... but it came the a day late. We called it USA Yesterday. We had news coverage, but it was CNN International. An anchor with indeterminately-accented English, not the comforting Matt Lauer I was used to. It was a different perspective than I was used to also. The news I saw the first two weeks was tragedy, bathed in prayer and patriotism. The international news was very respectful, but more matter-of-fact. The selfish part of me is grateful for the distance between myself and the events of that day. The citizen in me felt guilty about it. I still feel that way, to some extent. I don't know how it would have been different if I had experienced the aftermath from home. I just wonder what it was like sometimes.

I do think I was afforded a unique opportunity though. I feel like that semester in Italy made me feel both more connected to my identity as an American but also made me feel apart of a global society as well. To meet people from various countries and have them ask us if we were Americans and, when we said yes, immediately ask if our families were okay and pass along encouragement or prayers was very eye-opening and touching. To be at the villa when an American couple working as missionaries in Pakistan arrived was humbling. Knowing they agonized over the fact that seeking safety put their mission work on hold was unsettling. To return to the villa one evening and find out the US had begun bombing Afghanistan was, for lack of a better word, weird. To call home and rarely speak with my dad because he was assigned long shifts patrolling outside a nearby nuclear plant was bizarre. Being overseas while America dealt with the ramifications of what happened 8 years ago today was a blessing and a curse. I don't regret going. In fact, it was one of the best experiences of my life. The timing was just odd.

The strangest part was coming back a few months later to a different country than the one I had left. I was changed by new experiences, travel, culture, etc. My home was changed by tragedy. I felt out of place for a while. All the songs on the radio seemed to be tributes to the attacks. Everyone else knew all the words. I'd never heard the songs before. People would ask what I thought of a picture or the story of a hero that I hadn't seen or heard yet. It took a while to get my footing back under me. But, eventually I did. The reverse culture shock went away and I was comforted to see the strength and the pride the was shining through in spite of that terrible day.

So today, like every Sept. 11th, I think about all these things. I see the images from the newscasts. I remember the faces of the well-wishers I met overseas. I feel grief for the families of those that were lost. I continue to pray for the men and women who are still fighting for our country. I pray for those who are still opposed to our country. This anniversary is a sad one. It will always be a sad one. There's no getting around it. We all experienced it differently. Hopefully we all learned something. What that might be is not for me to say. So, we remember. I remember...

Bird Pillow

If you ask me, this pillow belongs in my living room! Which is strange, because it's not exactly my usual style.

Pillow from Pier 1

Yesterday, a flyer came in the mail and this was on the cover. I saw it and instantly fell in love. Again, it's not really my style. I'm not so big on flowers in decor... I have a deep-seeded hatred of birds... and, frankly, it doesn't really look like anything else in my living room. So why am I still obsessed with this pillow?!

I think part of it is that David specifically told me yesterday, before I saw this pillow, that I should not go spend money on new pillows for the couch. So, of course, I'm like a 5 year old and have an overwhelming desire to do the exact opposite. I mean, if I came home with new pillows after he asked me not to, that would be impolite enough... but if I came home with a $30 pillow that would be worse. And let's face it, it's not like I'm going to let this pillow be all alone in the living room. I would have to buy it some friends. As husbands go, David isn't a big meanie and doesn't usually say anything when I shop, so I will agree he has a valid point. Next week, I have to go have the crown put on my tooth and we're still awaiting a bill on the remaining portion of the root canal. Plus, personal property taxes are due in a month. Not to mention that we are supposed to be putting any extra money we have towards paying off credit cards (one down, two to go!!) And the holidays are coming. And the list goes on. So fine, buying a bunch of pillows wouldn't exactly be prudent. But that doesn't make me want it less.

My living room is in a transitional period at the moment. Rather, my taste is in a transitional period. I had kind of a traditional / Tuscan sort of thing going on for the last several years. Well, I guess since I got back from my semester in Florence, actually. I picked up some really pretty watercolor prints while I was there. My grandpa made some beautiful oak frames for them and they have been sort of my "design inspiration" for the last few living rooms I've had. Then, because I'm not really a neutral fan, I painted the living room green. I am not sure how to describe the shade, not a Kelly green, not a hunter green... somewhere in between. With the white crown moulding, the oak-colored floors and the cappuccino-colored furniture, it all came together to my liking. I'm not exactly tired of it, but I feel myself wanting a little less of a traditional look. More pops of color... not "retro", not "modern", not any one particular label... I guess maybe more of an eclectic look. Of course, none of that is a priority (see previous paragraph) but it's just something this pillow proved to me. My tastes are changing.

Then there is the saga of a particular chair. While the couch and the chair and a half are in a cappuccino color, we got an accent chair that was a tapestry print when we bought the other pieces. At the time, I really liked it. It was a rust color, with lots of green and yellow and all my Tuscan colors woven through it. It went perfectly in the living room. Then, my dad fell through the chair. He's not a small man, but it was not his fault. When we started looking at the underside, we realized it was complete crap. It was stapled together rather than bolted. It just wasn't made well. We couldn't replace it, but we were able to repair it. Still, that is when I first started to dislike the chair. Then, over time, the fabric didn't wear well. It was the chair the most directly faced the TV, so, of course, it became David's spot. I'm trying to come up with a respectful way to say that my husband has oily hair, but I can't. So, my husband has oily hair. The fabric soon got a dark yucky area from hours of David's head against it. Finally, we both concluded that we hated the dangerous, cheaply made, oily-head-stained chair. We have a glider that has been residing in our office. It's not my favorite but David asked if I would please consider allowing it to be in the living room until such a time as he could save up for a proper "manly" recliner.

Tuesday, courtesy of an energy boost from a steroid shot related to a sinus infection I have acquired, I decided to rearrange the living room while he was at work. I drug the horrid tapestry chair into the office and pulled the glider into the living room. I repositioned the couch, chair and half and ottoman. All in all, it came out pretty well. The glider looks better than expected. I wont' say I love it, but I don't hate it. It's a good change. And then, as I sat their admiring my redesign, I realized something.

The tapestry chair was out of sight. The tapestry chair was the reason I could never buy the pillows I wanted before. It was so hard to find pillows that didn't clash. I watch enough HGTV to know that you can mix and match some patterns... but trust me, it was harder than you might think with that chair. I even made some pillows that I hoped would match. They were okay, not great. But now, with the chair gone, the pillow possibilities were almost endless. And why stop at pillows? Maybe I want to repaint? Maybe I want some new accessories. Stupid actual bills that require our money. I had to talk myself back to reality... but a couple of pillows should be okay, right? Yesterday at lunch, David said he loved the new layout of the living room but then proceeded with the aforementioned anti-pillow conversation. Fine. Whatever.

Then I got home last night and saw the Pier 1 flyer... with that pillow on the front cover. I mean, the pillow is seeking me out, right?! What's a girl to do?! Lately, I've been turning down more cake jobs than I've been accepting. My full-time job is starting to require a lot of travel... mostly day trips, a few overnights... but that makes me more tired when I get home, so it's just too hard to try to decorate a quality cake and have the energy to clean the kitchen after all of that. Normally, my cake money would be the answer to my pillow dilemma. Without it, I'm not sure. I can't sell plasma. I will not allow myself to put it on the credit card. I could skip a few Starbucks trips and save the money to go into a pillow fund, but that's unlikely. I could put it on my Christmas list, but that's 3 months away. I'm at a loss and yet all I can think about is this stupid bird pillow. I need help!! I mean, I've just written a novella about my living room! But I need that bird pillow! So, if anyone has any ideas, I'm all ears... or eyes, in this case. :-)

Oh, and lest anyone think I've gone off the deep end and the bird pillow has forced me to lose sight of reality, let me just add that while I was at the clinic getting the steroid shot that led to the redesign that led to the bird pillow obsession, I also had some blood drawn that my lupus doctor requested. He just called and all my counts were great and I'm good to go for another six month. Even though I've been blessed with good health for a few years now, I still get very anxious anytime I have to have blood work done and wait for the results. So, I'm very pleased and thankful right now! In fact, maybe I should get myself a celebratory prize... like a bird pillow.

For Spooky... sort of...

One of my favorite bloggy friends, Spooky, (yes, bloggy is a word) asked how David and I met, ended up dating, etc. And, because of that, I will now share the tale for all of you. As with everything in our lives, we don't do anything the easy way.

I graduated college in December of 2001 and took a job as a bank teller. It was not what I imagined I would be doing but it paid the bills. As it turns out, a degree in Economics is best suited for a career in further education. I had intended to go to law school but didn't. So, in the absence of people beating down my door to hire me for my hypothetical skills, I started telling. Or tellering. Whatever it is that tellers do. I cashed checks, handled nasty money and got yelled at regularly by customers who thought I personally was responsible for their negative balance. Suffice it to say, this was not the high point of my life.

Beginning around May 2002 or so, there was one guy that came through my drive-thru window about once a week and withdrew cash. The first time I saw him, I thought he might be cute but he had a goatee. Since he violated my "no facial hair" policy, I didn't give him much thought. Eventually, he came through without a goatee. He was always very nice. He kind of had that "flirty but in a joking way" type of personality. I never took him very seriously because he also had a girlfriend. After all, he had a joint account... David P. and Laura R.

After a couple months of our weekly drive-thru conversations, he put a note in my drawer that said "Are you seeing anyone?" Well, 10 points for creativity! For real, I thought it was a cute way to hit on a girl. Of course, minus 25 points for doing it while you have a girlfriend. Jeez! What a creep! However, I was a professional. I didn't want to be rude to the customer, despite his two-timing ways. I simply returned the note back through the teller drawer with the words "Sort of" written on it.

I mean, I was "sort of" seeing someone as much as I "sort of" wasn't. Didn't The Waterboy have some quote like that? "Oh, I see lots of people. I see my mama. I see the coach" - something along those lines? Okay, fine. I wasn't seeing anyone. But I sure wasn't going to be seeing that guy either. Just the week prior, a guy we all knew to be engaged... a guy who frequently came through with his fiancee, asked one of the other tellers to go out on a date with him. I was beginning to think it was something in the water. What a bunch of cheaters!

When he read the "sort of" note, he smiled and said "It was worth a try" and drove off. My teller manager then said "Did that cute guy just ask you out?" I said "Yes, but I'm not going out with that cheating scumbag." I specifically remember using the word scumbag. She then said "You're an idiot!" Clearly she must have thought I just turned down some different guy. I said "No, look..." and pulled up his information screen on the computer "...he has a joint account with some girl... David P. and Laura R. and he's hitting on me." Again, I'm told I am an idiot. What?! "That girl is his sister!! She used to work here!"

Ooops.

In my defence, I didn't work there when she did. They had different last names. How was I to know? So, the damage control planning commenced. First, his brother-in-law came in every day to make a deposit for his company. We'd begin by casually mentioning this David fellow. See if we could find out how badly "sort of" had damaged things. That phase went well. And by "well", I mean, the brother-in-law said typical brother-in-law things like "He's a nice guy." Umph. Men. Time for Phase 2.

I was not on board with Phase 2. Another teller, Mandy, suggested that I just give him my phone number in the drawer next time he comes through. He'd just think whoever I was "sort of" seeing didn't work out. No harm, no foul. Except I thought it was desperate and I wasn't about to give him my number. I took the scrap of paper where Mandy had written my name and number and threw it in the trash.

So, here he comes through the drive-thru. I take his paperwork and go to the computer. In the meantime, I notice Mandy digging through my trash. Before I could stop her, she had taken the paper and pushed it out to him. He smiled... a little too much. I mustered up what dignity I had left and finished his transaction. He called the next day. I let it go to voicemail and called him the following day. Aaah, childish dating rules. From that point on, we pretty much became an item. And, as they say, the rest is history. Sort of.

One of our first pictures together. August / Sept. 2002. Yes, my hair was naturally that curly. No, it's not now. I don't want to talk about it. It's too painful. :-)

After we had been seeing each other for a few months, David said, "Hey, did you know that the first time I called you, I thought I was calling Mandy?" Um, what?! He said, "You never wore a name tag. Neither did she. So, when she gave me a name and number, I assumed it was her. I just thought she realized what you missed out on and figured she'd take advantage." He did say he figured out within the first couple of minutes of our phone conversation that it was me and not her. We still joke about it. We saw her just yesterday at lunch and David told the guy eating with us that he nearly dated her on accident.

We dated for about a year and a half before we got engaged. (That's a much less eventful story, so I'll skip it.) We got married in April of 2004. I've since thanked Mandy... not so much for embarrassing me... but for being cute enough that David called even when he thought it was her. Ironically, her wedding announcement ran in the newspaper right next to our engagement announcement, so I'm thinking she probably wouldn't have said "yes" even if he had called her. :-)

And there you have it... my first "by request" blog. Feel free to send me others. Thanks, Spooky! It's always fun to retell that story!

The Anti-Auntie

If you ask me, children should come with warning placards and bio-hazard suits!

This is my niece, MJ. She is nearly 3 months old. Oh look, she's waving. What a sweet little girl. In fact, so sweet that I even made her that dress she's wearing. Well, after tonight, I may have to take it back.


Okay, okay, I won't take it back. After all, it's not technically her fault she's not in control of her bodily functions. We'll get to that shortly.


First, let me explain my position on children. I am not a baby person. I love them for the fact that they are innocent and have so much promise and just might be President someday. I abhor the fact that some people abuse or neglect them. I wish only good things for babies. But, I tend to wish those things from a distance. I didn't grow up around babies. I've never been very comfortable around them. Despite the limited ways 14 year olds can make money, I tended to pass on the babysitting jobs. I don't think all babies are cute (GASP!!). In fact, I can't really tell them apart. When I smell a baby, my ovaries don't skip a beat. If anything, they shrivel up a little. I always thought this might change as I got older and the babies got less random. Surely I would feel differently about my best friend's baby or my cousin's baby, right? Hmm. Not really. I mean, now that my best friends and my cousins have babies, I do love them. But again, from a distance. I'll hold a baby, pose for a picture for a scrapbook page, whatever... been when the squirming or burping or the crying start, it's right back to Mom. Once the baby is less of a baby, I start to come around a little. Dena's baby is now nearly a year old. and I'm starting to enjoy hanging out with him more. He can do tricks... like laugh and smile and clap. Plus, he seems more durable now. I'm not afraid to hold him for fear of breaking him. (Yes, everyone assures me that even the tiny ones are fairly durable but I'm not willing to test out this theory and break someone else's kid.) When kids really start talking and interacting, I'm much better. I actually ask to spend time with BB and SW... but they are 4 and 6 now. So, to summarize... babies are not my thing. When you show me your newborn, please don't take the fact that I don't oooh and aaaah or immediately try to hold them personally. All the best to you, but I'd rather stay upwind.


Next... the inevitable question. "Are you and David going to have kids?" When we figure that out, we'll let you know. Right now, it's looking like kids are probable, babies are not. Confused? Because of the fact that pregnancy creeps me out my lupus, we will adopt a child when we decide it's time. Honestly, even if the lupus were not a factor, I would probably be more drawn to adoption. While we will probably request a child 0-2 years old, I'll definitely be hoping for a little distance from the zero! 9+ months would go along way to helping with my baby-phobia. As far as when and from where and all those questions, the answer is quite simply that we don't know. Actually, I don't know. I have a lot of soul-searching to do before then. I have a lot of peace to make with a number of fears I have. I could go on for days about this. Basically, I'm not ready yet. I might wake up tomorrow and be ready or I might not be ready for 5 more years. I just pray about it and evaluate the situation from time to time. That's all I really know to do. (Side note: One of the great things about the people I've met through blogging is finding friends who are close to my age and either don't have children yet or don't plan to have children at all. I was starting to think I was the only one...)


So, back to the topic at hand, my niece. When my sister had a baby, I thought I would be even more likely to get over my "baby" thing with her. After all, we share some flesh and blood. In fact, I played the Notre Dame and the Arkansas fight songs to my sister's belly when she was pregnant. It was all part of my plan to make her my clone. So far, the clone part is working. Her baby pictures are identical to mine at the same age. Waaa haaa haaa haa. Having a clone is cool. Having a niece is cool. But, the fact that she is an infant is still not cool. I like to hold her when she's sleeping peacefully. I like to buy or make her cute little things. But, like with any other baby, I hand her right back at the first sign of distress. Well, the second sign of distress. I attempt to hand her back at the first sign but my mom / sister / David / whoever always laugh and say "You look terrified. Just bounce / swing / hum to her for a second and she'll calm down." 2 seconds later, still terrified, I hand her back.


David (who does love babies and would probably be pretty glad if I woke up tomorrow ready to adopt... and didn't change my mind 12 hours later) wanted to hold her during church. Then she got fussy. Apparently when a baby gets fussy, you are to shove something in her mouth. He shoved a pacifier in her mouth and she spit it back out. Then he was handed a bottle to shove in her mouth. She responded much better to that. Halfway through the bottle, David put her up on his shoulder to burp her. It's kind of bizarre how he just "knows" to do these things. I suppose technically as the one with estrogen, I am supposed to know... but I don't. I don't think my mom ever made me attend the "Your Changing Body" class at school. Perhaps that was a topic covered there. (Why would David know? He most likely attended the class to flirt with girls.)


Okay, so pat-pat-pat... burp. And then... spit up. Eeeew! David calmly wipes it up and goes on like nothing happened. I guess after a successful burp, the baby gets to finish the remainder of the bottle. So, slurp-slurp-slurp... followed by more pat-pat-pat-burp. I braced myself since last time the burp was followed by spit up. Oh, and don't forget that we're in church, mid-sermon, at this point. It began looking like a spit up was eminent so I began inching away from David and MJ. And then it happened. An Exorcist-style explosion!! I did what any good wife / aunt would do and made a horrified face and practically flew down the pew nearly into my sister's lap to escape the formula fountain. Yes, fountain. She had one bottle but it looked more like she swallowed Old Faithful. Again, calmly, David grabbed the burp rag and cleaned off the child. Never mind that he has been painted with the foul substance. So had the pew. Dena was a row ahead of us and began throwing extra burp rags back to him. My sister ran to the bathroom and returned with about half a roll of paper towel. And me? Yeah, I sat frozen like a statue as far away from the haz-mat scene as possible. Church ladies were pointing and laughing. I can't be sure if it was at David's decorations or my expression. Whatever it was, it was NOT COOL!! He had to leave church and go home to change. Eeew... eeew... eeew!! Good thing he pretty much does his own laundry.


People always say "Oh, it is different when they are your own" or "The baby phase doesn't last long and you then you miss it." Really? I doubt that. If we do end up adopting an infant, I can't imagine that I will find it endearing when they cover me with their bodily fluids... and I certainly can't imagine I will miss it when they get old enough to not do that on a regular basis.


Bottom line: I love my niece and I can't wait until she's old enough to do fun stuff like take to the movies or teach about football. In the short term, I can't wait until she's old enough to generally keep down her food. Until then, I'll stick to holding her for brief intervals while she is sleeping. And, if you attend church with me, the right side of the back pew in the middle section... don't sit there! (Yes, Big Al washed it down with soap and water after church, but still, why risk it?!)

Happy Holidays!

If you ask me, I should have been born in early September! My mom might disagree, as I can't see her being in favor of carrying a child an extra two and a half months, but otherwise it would been great. You see, I'm not big into the traditional holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas are nice for seeing family (and, okay, I like the presents), Easter is cool because I usually buy a new dress, but they just aren't my "thing". I decorate somewhat for Christmas mainly because David likes it. I put up a tree and have a few odds and ends in the living room. I don't do lights on the house. I think those inflatable yard concoctions should be outlawed. I'm just not that much of a major-holiday kind of person. The holidays I like the most are not noted on the calendar. You don't get a day off of work to observe them, unless you take a vacation day... which I sometimes do.

First amongst my favorite holidays is my birthday. It's June 26th. It's my day and I love it. I don't care how old I am, I think my birthday is a big deal. I want a cake. I want presents. I want a nice dinner or some sort of party. It doesn't have to be over the top, but it should be something. (As a just person, I also try to make a big deal out of the birthdays of others. In fact, I think I care much more about David's birthday than he does.) It always bummed me out in school because I had a summer birthday. All the kids with fall, winter or spring birthdays got to bring cupcakes and celebrate with the class. Sometimes their parents checked them out for the day and took them to do something really cool. Everyone else was totally jealous and wished it was their birthday. I never got to do that. I got to have the "Summer Birthdays" party... lumped together with a handful of other crestfallen classmates born between June and August. Everyone knew it wasn't actually our birthday... and the party was usually sometime in the last couple of weeks of school, so that was the real cause for celebration. It was a big deal to an 8 year old. Clearly it's still a sore subject for a 30 year old. (Incidentally, I couldn't opt to celebrate my half-birthday either. December 26th. The day after Christmas. Boo.) But, despite my elementary school disappointments (or maybe as a result of them), I go out of my way to enjoy my birthday each year.

If my birthday just could have fallen in September, I could have shared it with two of my other favorite holidays. Both of those holidays fall in the same week this year. So, while that last paragraph might have taken a depressed turn, I assure you this one will not!

If you follow me on Twitter, are my friend on Facebook or were within 100 yards of the 3-D me this week, you are well aware that Tuesday was Pumpkin Spice Latte Day. It's pretty much the greatest drink that will ever cross your lips. And, the marketing meanies geniuses at Starbucks capitalize on its deliciousness by making it available only in the fall and winter months. So, somewhere around mid-July, I begin my countdown to September 1st and the return of my beloved beverage. With thousands of other like-minded folks, I made my annual pilgrimage for that first Pumpkin Spice of the season.

My first Pumpkin Spice of 2009

This year did not disappoint. Mmm!!! I look forward to consuming copious amounts between now and the dreaded day early next spring when it returns to hibernation.

Tomorrow marks another of my holidays. The official beginning of football season. (True, sometimes this day falls in late-August. And true, some games have already been played. That doesn't count.) Tomorrow is the day, trust me. How do I know? Well, Notre Dame and Arkansas both play their season openers. I can't wait. I assure you that our TV will be tuned to a football game from about 11AM tomorrow until sometime approximately 12 hours later. Actually, as we have learned how to use the split screen feature of our Dish satellite box, our TV will be tuned to two games at most points in time. Expect this process to be repeated every Saturday until then end of November. I don't have time to get into the hows and whys of my love for football, but I love it. Period.

Finally, fall. Yes, fall is a holiday. No, not just September 22nd when the calendar says fall begins this year. The whole darn season is a holiday. I don't like cold weather and I've come to realize I don't like hot weather. I like weather that's cool enough for a sweater but doesn't require a coat. I like weather where you can eat soup, not feel like it has replaced the air outside. (Ugh. Humidity.) I like hearing the crunch of the leaves underfoot. I like the smell outside... that crisp, "fall" smell that I can't describe. I like seeing the leaves change colors. I try to caputre fall all year long with the scents and colors in my home. It sort of works. I just wish it actually could be fall all year long. I don't even mind the red eyes and frequent sneezing as my body attempts to reject all that I love about fall. Thank goodness Zyrtec can be bought over-the-counter now.

So, there you have it, the kick-off (pun intended) of my holiday season. Technically, my holiday season begins in June and then goes on hiatus until September. Then official concludes with Festivus on December 23rd. Feel free to wish me glad tidings on the more traditional holidays... but don't be surprised if you see me tomorrow and I wish you Happy Football Day. (On the other hand, do be surprised if you see me tomorrow. I can't imagine I'll be prying myself away from the TV... except maybe for a Pumpkin Spice run, that is.)

Happy Holidays, everyone!!