Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Around the World in 80 Naps

Recently, Elsbeth has taken off in terms of her speech and motor skills.  Almost every day I look at her and marvel at how this little girl, this beautiful little girl was once the hairy baby that popped out 'O my womb looking like a baby bird.

The conversations we have, if you can call them that, are the highlight of my days and it is very difficult not to commend her on some of the shrewd and manipulative  things she tries to pull over on me and Jeremy.  

One of the more recent things she has taken to is spontaneous napping anywhere and anytime.  These speed naps consist of her trying out any new textural surface, lying prostrate on the ground with her eyes firmly squeezed shut, the effort of which itself looks to be exhausting enough to require a nap, and the statement: I take nap here.  It lasts only a few seconds usually because I am harping  like a nervous chicken about germs and yucky, yucky stuff on the ground. 

This fear of mine comes from a very traumatic experience I had as a child of about eight.  While walking through a parking lot in Baltimore behind my parents, I spotted what appeared to be the nipple to a baby's bottle on the ground.  We were very poor at the time and so I was up for anything that I could use as a toy.  I picked it up and held it and couldn't wait to get home and play house with my dolls.  When we got back in the car I had time to better examine this new found prize.  Upon further inspection I discovered that the lip of the nipple unrolled and so I began to unroll it.  It kept unrolling and I held it up to ask my parents what kind of balloon I had found.

They just about ran the car into a ditch trying to extract the thing from my hands and heave it like the plague from our car.  Apparently I had not in fact discovered the nipple to a baby's bottle, but rather a condom.  A. Used. Condom.   Although I did not know what a condom was at that time (bless my innocent little soul), I knew the thing had felt slimy and my parents were significantly freaking out, so it must be a pretty nasty thing.  And that readers is why, to this day I HATE condoms, AND dirty parking lots.  But mostly just condoms because that day I essentially unknowingly touched someone's penis, AND vagina, or colon, however you want to look at it.

Wow, what a tangent!  So as Ellie prefers lying on hard, man-made surfaces for these naps of hers, I keep insisting that this is asphalt, hot and yucky while that grass over there is green and soft and made just for feet and heads to rest upon,  all to no avail.

I have managed to capture a few photos of this phenomenon known as the quirkiness of childhood.  And the fact that I don't very often have a camera with me and yet I still have several of these photos should be a testament as to just how often she does this.  



A nap on the steps, ahh wood is by far her favorite surface of all.

Although this rocky pavement for a nap also called.

But soon it was back to the wood.  Wood down low when the day is drawing to it's end.
Wood of a chair is best when shared with a friend.
Jack, she decided was too soft for napping, but juuuuust right for back handed slapping.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Where to Draw The Line

During the course of the almost six years of my marriage I am lucky to say there have only been three fights that involved loud voices and the slamming of doors (in one instance it was more like the pulling of my hair as I tried to jump out of the moving car, but we'll save that one for another day).  One of these instances involved our small full size bed in the apartment we lived in before Hurricane Katrina.  As I've mentioned before, I know better than to mess with my Husband's sleep.  On this occasion I had come home from a late spinning class at the gym, checked my emails and had my favorite snack of popcorn and pickles (and no, I wasn't pregnant at that time).  It was after 10 at this point and Jeremy had been asleep for over an hour as he even then had to get up very early in the morning.  

I changed clothes and showered as quickly as possible and tried to slip silently into bed.  I think I was successful at this as he didn't wake up, but then the real trouble began.  For me to fall asleep requires alot of flipping from one side to another, adjusting the pillow between my knees, making sure the pillow under my head is on the cool side, and the list goes on.  While I was trying to go through this process as quietly and cat like as possible, Jeremy sat bolt upright in bed like a zombie and said into the darkness: THAT IS IT, JILL, YOU HAVE CROSSED THE LINE!  I blankly stared at him, puzzled and said: What line?  He said: The line that goes down the middle of this bed, you have crossed it for the last time.  I said: I don't see any line.  To which he replied: That's because it's invisible.  It goes directly down the center of this bed and once I am asleep, you are not to cross it with your turning and flipping and turning and all that nonsense.  

From there it got pretty ugly and resulted in my commandeering all of the possessions that had come into the marriage with me, including the down comforter that was covering Jeremy.  Needless to say, he wasn't too thrilled about that and a battle royale ensued.  But dear readers, not to worry.  We kissed and -ahem- made up quickly thereafter and the rest is humorous history.

I tell you that story because I have been thinking alot about invisible lines lately.  Lines that should not be crossed in the precious moments of my life, lines that are sometimes hard to see and may look different to others than they do to me (even though they are invisible in the metaphorical sense).  Since moving to D.C. I have met some of the most amazing people and my conversations with them have been very thought provoking.  But even though I have asked several of these people for their permission to reprint here some portions of these conversations, I feel a certain taboo in doing so.  

maybe it's because they are not of the light and fluffy variety which is my usual air on this website.  Part of me wants to share with all of you the things that are going through my mind and coming from my mouth and the mouth of these intelligent and cultured people, but then there's the other part.  And that part says, it was special, keep it in your heart.  Keep it between you because someone may not understand and it may be read by the other person and even though it was reprinted with their permission, you may get it wrong.  And then someone will get hurt.  And that's just what I want to avoid above all.  

So I have decided not to tell you about the scientist who is working with anthrax and the Israeli woman who talked about her time in the army and the Palestinian conflict and Hamas, and I won't tell you about the African refugees, but I will tell you that I cherish these moments.  And for the very first time in my life I feel as though some invisible lines and walls in my mind have come down as stereotypes I didn't know I held have been dispelled and new friendships formed.

My question to you is this: Where do you draw the line on what you will and will not talk about in your blogs?  Was it a conscious decision or were there moments you held down the delete key on impulse?

Friday, August 22, 2008

Born on the Fourth of July

Our recent move made number 30 for me.  When Jeremy and I were dating I felt confident that by marrying a dentist I would finally be able to put my wandering shoes away for good.  We were in the process of buying a little bungalow a couple blocks away from my parents when he mentioned something about the Navy and seeing the world.  In hindsight I think it was the whole in laws right in your backyard aspect that drove him to it, but now, six years later I can't imagine our lives any other way.

I appreciate our lives in the military, but am I one of those people that has American flags at every turn in this house?  Do I have yellow stickers on my car?  No.  I have always felt a quiet sense of national pride.  It was unspoken and understood, I suppose I assumed that everyone felt the same way.  When Elsbeth was eight weeks old Jeremy left for a deployment in Kuwait.  Did I cry?  For a minute.  But I knew it was part of the bargain when we signed up for this adventure and I accepted it and trusted that the divine hands of fate would return him to me in the same condition in which he left me.  And they did.

My experience with military life has been very limited thus far.  I visit the commissary occasionally  and I've been to hail and farewell events.  I've enjoyed the people my Husband has worked with, but so far I have really only been exposed to his colleagues within the medical department, many of whom are civilian employees.  And then we moved here.

Last week I had to take Elsbeth to the doctor for her well visit and now we go to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland.  It is a very large facility and also the place where Jeremy will begin his residency next year.  I suppose I was unprepared for what I would see when I went inside.  The walls are covered with pictures of past and present Naval officers and one large wall had shadow boxes featuring scale models of some of the Naval medical ships.  I remember reading the names of the ships and being touched that they were all compassionate names like Mercy and Comfort and I thought of the people that serve on them.  And then I thought of my husband and how when he found out that he was to be deployed soon after the birth of his first   child never once complained but accepted with a sense of pride and duty his assignment and I in turn felt proud.  

As I walked through the hospital to the pediatric center with Elsbeth, I witnessed so many men with injuries of a very devastating nature.  One had a large scar covering most of  the back of his head and  another had both legs amputated from the knee down.  Over and over again we were met with injuries like this and  I'm sure most of which were a direct result of the war.  And yet as terrible as they were, each of these people were smiling, many of them accompanied by their families, wives, and children.  

I remember when Jeremy had first returned  from Officer Indoctrination School and we went to eat at Ruth Chris steak house.  He wore his uniform and during the course of our dinner we were sent a complimentary bottle of wine, a free appetizer which we were informed by our server were compliments of other patrons with the remark of thanking Jeremy for his service.  When we left several people stopped him to shake his hand and thank him for what he was doing.  I was still a young idiot and didn't understand  this.  Now I've had a taste of the storms of life and I understand a little better.

As we were leaving the hospital, a man with injuries to his legs that I couldn't quite understand came walking in our direction with his service dog.  A large sign upon the dogs back read: Please don't pet me, I am working.  And yet when this man who struggled to take every step saw the joy on my daughters face at the sight of his dog, he stopped and offered to let her pet him.  I told him that it was OK, I understood that it must happen many times a day and that we were fine just looking.  He told me that he stopped for anyone under nine and over 70.  

In that moment I wanted to hug him.  And not just because he was kind to a child, but because this spirit of resilience and joy despite debilitating circumstances was so prevalent it was almost contagious.  I told him thank you but what I really wanted to say to every one of those men and women there was Thank you for what you do, for your service, for your sacrifice and your spirit.  Because now, NOW I finally understand.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Shootin With the "Big Guns"

I'm about to tell you about the amazing camera that Jeremy bought that is worth more than all my possessions put together and about the little treasure hidden in the woods of Danville, Pennsylvania, but first, first  I have to say AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!  

While hanging laundry to dry in the basement just a few moments ago, a very large wooden hanger fell with it's pointy end right into the delicate skin below my eye, right next to the spot where my nose tried to kill the rest of my face a couple days ago.  What is it with my face this week?  It's out to kill me!  So now I have a purple knot next to my eye and a red bump on my nose.  Maybe I'll be a witch this Halloween.

Now back to the story, I just needed to get that out there.  Jeremy is entering a residency next year for comprehensive dentistry and will be in school for two more years.    Part of his residency work will include photographing and documenting work that he's done, inside the mouths of people.  And for this he needed a camera.  Not just any camera.  A really big camera.  A really big expensive camera.  So last Friday he bought the Nikon big something or other with a fancy lens and we toyed around with it all weekend.  How is it?  How do I put this?  The pictures look prettier than the real life moments.  It. Was. Worth. Every. Penny.

So we went to Pennsylvania and stopped at this barn full of old stuff and antiques which is like better than a pedicure and sleeping in until noon for me.  Jeremy, um, not so much.  I bought a vintage cruiser bike which I will soon be selling if anyone is interested and can come and get it.  I also got a cool old felt fedora and the man in  the shop seemed surprised at first when I told him it was for me, and then something happened in the back of his eyes and he looked like a cat about to eat a mouse, and he said....ohhhhhh sexy.  Yes, I like boys clothes.

When Jeremy and Rachel's husband had had just about all they could take of waiting for us outside the barn we headed over to a small seemingly unknown amusement park called Knobels.  I used to go there when I was in high school and had forgotten how wonderful a place it is.  Although I have never been to Germany, I felt like I was there.  This park is in the middle of a Forrest surrounded by rolling hills and the prices are really reasonable.

So, here for your viewing pleasure and critiques are some of the photos of that weekend taken with the "big boy".  That's what I call it.  Jeremy just keeps referring to it as "the precious" while stroking it huddled over in the corner.

So my question to you is this:  can you tell a difference in these photos from the others I have shown here before?  Or perhaps you've never really paid attention, or perhaps you'd rather watch paint dry.  


One of my favorite things about this camera is it's ability to sharply focus in on whatever you want it to and then kind of blur out everything else as if the focal point is the only thing that really exists.  I can see the future pissed off face of Ellie when I tell her as a teenager that under no circumstances can she wear that tartish outfit out of the house. 

I normally really hate pictures of myself, but I kind of like this one which was spontaneously captured by Jeremy without my knowledge.  It looks as though I'm having a good time riding that ridiculously small train through a forest.

We never once used a flash, because like a black hole this camera has the magical ability to pull in all surrounding light.  And that is pure scientific fact right there, go ask Stephen Hawking.  In the picture above you are witness to Ellie demonstrating her excellent ability to boss everyone around.  She practices this on the dogs at home by wagging her finger at them and yelling, "NO NO and GET DOWN!"



This photo was taken by my friend rachel and I love it.  It again demonstrates the cameras skill at capturing a focal object and saying effff you to everything around it.

For some reason I really really like this shot and the focus is not even on Ellie, it's on the bicycle seat.  This by the way is the bike I'll be selling.  She's got alot of potential eh?



Just another shot 'O the bike.  Reminds me of a certain movie.  And with that my pretties, I'll leave you with this:



Monday, August 18, 2008

GPS Didn't Discover the New World

During a three hour drive to Pennsylvania this past weekend (more on that later) Jeremy was deploring the GPS system on my iPhone.  After repeated attempts to restart the phone and map our route, the system was still unable to locate our cars position on the interstate.  This was the conversation that followed:

Jeremy: This thing sucks, I now know FOR SURE I'm not getting this phone in December.

Me: Good, because there's only room for one really cool person in this family and now we know who it is.

Jeremy: We HAVE to get a GPS system soon.  We can't find our way around with this thing.

Me: Ummmmm, what about maps?  What did people ever do before GPS?  How did Christopher Columbus discover the New World without GPS Jeremy? HUH HUH HUH?

Jeremy: He discovered the New World ON ACCIDENT.  

Me: Uhhhhhh, Touche.  But it's pretty awesome here so it was a good accident.   

Jeremy: I'm Sooo the cool one.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I Am Not a Ninja, Repeat, I Am Not a Ninja

So, as I mentioned in my last post, I've been feeling a bit, um rather a WHOLE LOT, hormonal the past few days.  As my Mother would put it, I've been an "itch with a B" because as you remember she doesn't swear.  That's about as potty as her words get.

Predominately I've just been feeling intense bouts of rage that are accompanied with the urge to scream at strangers and break dishes.  Crazy, I know.  This doesn't usually happen to me,  I'm the one that just cries at commercials and wails about how no one understands me in this big, lonely world.

So needless to say, while I have painstakingly been trying to shield Elsbeth from any of these feelings, Jeremy has taken the brunt of most of them.  Someone had to!  And he has been nothing but nice to me.  He has been diligently working on his bike to get it in good working order so that he is able to ride it to and from the metro each day, and because of that he has been going to bed around ten or later each night.  And did I mention that he gets up at FOUR?

If there is one thing I have learned about my Husband over the years, it is this: Don't mess with his sleep.  He is one of those individuals that requires at least eight hours a night, where as I can go on five and be all right.  I have a video of him when I was about eight months pregnant and I have snuck into our bedroom while he is still asleep and am attempting to get him to wake up.  I am saying all manner of nice and tempting things to get him to get up; offers of hot food drenched in syrup, mountain biking, nothing works.  You finally see the corner of the pillow that is covering his head lift up and a voice comes out of the darkness underneath.  He says, "NO, It's too EFFING COLD OUTSIDE, NOW TAKE YOUR LITTLE DOG AND LEAVE ME ALONE.  I WANT TO SLEEP."  And then I can be heard doing what during my pregnancy Jeremy referred to as the "Fat mouse Gus from Cinderella chuckle".

While everyone still thinks Jeremy is a Golden Boy without flaw, and for the most part he is, I am Delilah and I know his Achilles heel.  But I know better than to poke it.  That would be like poking a hornets nest while sticking out your tongue.  The point of all that was to tell you that while I have been a royal "itch with a B" I have also felt guilty about it afterwards because it has always been unwarranted. 

So getting into bed last night after Jeremy was already asleep I tried to be ninja silent and slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me before turning on the light to wash my face and yes, brush my teeth.  Guess what?  I flossed too, yeah it sucks being married to a dentist sometimes.  After all of that was done, I turned off the light and opened the bathroom door and slipped back into our bedroom, thinking to myself: Ninja, you are a ninja, silent and  deadly.  I quietly opened our dresser to extract some ninja pajamas and impressed myself with how I managed to get dressed silently.  I then shut the drawer and turned around to get into bed.

I turned, took a step and walked very un-ninja like into our huge, brown bedpost.  I heard my nose crack and saw flashes of white light as searing bursts of pain shot up my face.  I fell over on the bed and waited for the blood to start pouring from my nose as it has on the other occasions when I have broken it.  I thought I wasn't making any sounds but I must have been because in two seconds flat Jeremy was out of bed, had the lights on and was bent over me examining  my face.   I had to admit that he was the REAL ninja.

As he gently felt my face and asked me if I was OK, I saw the twinkle of laughter and silent mirth in his eyes.  Because walking face first into a bedpost is just something that WOULD happen to me.  But he never said anything to that effect, even as mean as I've been to him over the past few days.  And it was in looking into those smiling eyes I saw the amber flecks against the chestnut and remembered years ago when I was his patient while he was a second year dental school student.

Even though his face was covered by a mask I could see the smile inside his eyes and I thought to myself, how utterly wonderful a person this was, that his eyes can smile for the rest of his face.  And then when our daughter was born, we were hard pressed to get her to laugh, but in those eyes was a very familiar twinkle of laughter.

So, in my bedroom last night with a possibly broken nose, I fell in love with the man behind the smiling eyes again.  Not that I had ever fallen out of it, but sometimes one needs to be reminded because one can tend to forget and let the little things in life like  TIDAL WAVES OF HORMONAL RAGE cloud their vision.

This morning I awoke to discover with much relief that I had not turned into Marsha Brady.  I would have suffered it though just for the outcome.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Weekend Shmeekend

It was another eventful weekend for the Hayes Family.  But since Jillian is experiencing a hormonal tsunami because she is expecting something that rhymes with  schmeareeeuuuddd; yall's gettin the much abridged version so I can go back to consuming copious amounts of chocolate and whimpering about my feelings....ughhhhhhh!

Laugh all you want Ellie, but you won't be laughing when Aunt Flo comes to YOUR house!

Went to the fair, felt like a minority, rode shoddily assembled rides, ate food that should never be fried, and petted animals that live on a farm.



Discovered a store called Loehmann's, fell in love, and purchased designer duds for cheap.

Went to a garage sale, found Jeremy a vintage Peugeot road bike, and fixed it up. (more on that later, if I do not die from chocolate overdose)


As you may have noticed these last two pictures have nothing to do with this post, but I just happen to like my hair in them.  And anything that makes me feel like something other than a water balloon with a migraine wearing spandex  is a GOOD thing.

Rode for long durations with Ellie on the back of my bike.  Did not die.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Blogging About Blogging is Like Looking Into a Folding Mirror.

Having spent most of my adult life as a wandering dilettante, I have found it hard to pick a craft and stick with it now that I'm a married chick with a baby.  Why oh why aren't there gypsies in America?  'Cause I could totally rock as a gypsy.  I vowed to stay at home to raise my children, but sometimes it has been hard financially. And at times I was compelled to look for a way to contribute to the finances. So the dilettante in me reared her paint covered, bookish head and said, Do something, be creative.  But to an even greater extent there was and is a voice inside of me that longed to be heard.  A voice that desired to share my experiences with others and connect with people in a way that makes us say, Yeah, we are human too and we know exactly what you're feeling.

So as I was trying to figure out a way to stay at home and still contribute to the family finances, I came across an article about a teenage girl who had formed  a company worth a million dollars just by making layouts for Myspace pages.  And then a light bulb went off in my head. The dilettante in me said: You could write a blog for other Mothers like you and talk about the things that affect us, make us cry, make us laugh, and maybe you could make money doing it.  And then after a few clicks of the mouse I discovered that about a million other Mothers had the same idea.  Damn, too late once again! 

It was in my search that I came across this blog, which I read every day and laugh at almost every day.  And this blog which led me to my long lost hurricane neighbor and this blog which I read almost every day and also makes me laugh.  Through the course of writing here I feel like I have formed a kind of friendship with people that regularly comment or email me even though we have never personally met.  And that's exactly what I was hoping for. Well, that and a million dollars. But alas, I have given up the hope to profit financially from this venture.  And that's OK.  The human connections are well worth it alone.

In the reading of the other blogs I just mentioned, I discovered something called Blogher, which I guess is a network for all of these women to connect, learn, and grow.  I really couldn't tell you.  I'm too busy trying not to let the house burn down.  Over the past couple of days there has been some drama and rumblings on the internet about an incident that happened at the Blogher conference in San Francisco recently between her and her.  I'm not going to lie and say I didn't read up on it.  I did.  And in the course of doing so I found some very ugly and hateful things being said about both sides.  And it made me take a step back and think.

I realized that it is so easy to get caught up in this world just like Megan said, and the world that really doesn't even exist can somehow cloud our perception of the people behind it who are real, with real feelings.  It made me very sad.  Especially sad to realize that even the women who should be steadfast in their support of each other can act catty and childish like so many of the comments and posts I read were proof of.

After saying all of that, my point really is this.  What I read yesterday and today formed the head of a giant, nasty pimple of feelings that have been brewing in me for awhile now.  In the process of trying to form connections outside of my home and through a craft that I enjoy, I have neglected to strengthen the connections that are right in front of me.  I think I may spend way too much time in front of the computer.  And not only is this likely causing some kind of retinal dysplasia; I am missing precious moments of life with my Husband and child.  Moments that can never be relived.

No, I'm not going away.  I will continue to update you on recent shenanigans, probably daily.  But I am making a personal vow to step away from this piece of hardware for all but one hour a day.  So, I better come prepared and with fingers of lightning speed when I do come.  I'm gettin dirty folks.  I'm going to be a coloring, swinging, Elmo watching, bike riding, peanut butter and jelly in little heart shapes making, husband worshipping fool.  And that's the way it should be. 

Right now there is a little girl with big green eyes asking me to share some "hot coffee" out of blue plastic teacups in front of a huge play kitchen.  And I couldn't think of anything that would make me happier. 

Thursday, August 7, 2008

DIY Hip Child's Bicycle Seat and It's Even Better Than Bobike!

I'm sure all of you who have been with me from the beginning, or close to the beginning will remember my frustration at trying to find a Bobike seat in a particular color for my bicycle.  And for the kid, but who's counting?  For months I searched online and called bicycle shops in the US looking for a dealer that could supply me with the seat I was looking for.  All with no success.  I did have some very generous people offer to help me import the Bobike from Europe, but the cost was just too much in the end.  I know I may act like a diva sometimes, but I am learning to live on a very modest budget.  During my search I also became increasingly frustrated with the lack of attractive and stylish options of child bicycle seats offered in the US.  So, I got crazy... and took matters into my own hands.

Like I said before necessity is truly the MUTHA of invention.  My green experiment has been on hold for the most part as far as the cycling aspect goes because I had no seat to transport Ellie.  And frankly, I just couldn't justify spending over a hundred dollars for one of the ghastly seats that are available to me here.  So, I paid 30 for one of those ghastly seats.  You gotta love craigslist.


What I got for that amount was the Copilot Limo seat which retails for around $130.  Saved quite a bit there.  Which left me some room to purchase the items to personalize it.  I know, I know, those of you who may read this trying to figure out how to do it are like, GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!  So here's what I did.

First I took off the seat padding and any straps that were removable.  Then I taped off the remaining harness with duct tape.  The rack that comes with the seat was originally black and I couldn't have that on my pretty white bike, so I spray painted it a high gloss white.  The dentist in Jeremy came out and he was all you know the spectrum of white is huge so it may not match.  But to me, white next to pretty white is better than black on white.  So as that was drying I spray painted the body of the seat lime green.  I chose green for a couple of reasons. 1 I thought it would be highly visible in the event of our imminent death by truck squashing.  2.  If we ever have a son I can just change out the fabric on the seat cover and it will work for him also.





At first I left the handlebar red but after some time the contrast between the green really got to me and I spray painted it green too.  As all of that was drying I made a very basic pattern for the seat cover by tracing it onto a piece of scrap fabric I had left over from my bicycle basket liner.  When I cut the pattern out I left about a two inch margin.  Then I simply hot glued the fabric margin to the opposite side of the seat cushion.  It is important to note that if I had a sewing machine or a drop of patience I could have made a much better cushion cover that could be easily removed and washed as needed.  Well, that's the plan but for now I needed immediate gratification and there's nothing better than a glue gun for that.  

When that was finished I slipped the straps from the harness through it and attached it to the seat with the Velcro that came with it.  I also added a couple of self adhesive Velcro strips to the edges to make it a little more secure.  The I took some coordinating hot pink fabric and hot glued it around the arm rest and added a Velcro strip to it and I was done.  Jeremy had to file the rack down slightly for it to fit my bike, but when it was all said and done I had only spent a total of $41.
$30 Child seat
$8 two cans of spray paint
$3 one yard of hot pink fabric from the clearance rack.









So, now that it is all done and on my bike I can honestly say that I am happier with it than I would have been with the bobike seat of my dreams.  Because I created it.  It is one of a kind and I'm proud of myself.  For not accepting something that I wasn't happy with and being resourceful.  Now I just have to pray that I don't kill us both.
THE END

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Hump Day Humor

Today is hump day, so to celebrate, I'm going to share with you some things that have recently made me laugh.

Riding in the car yesterday, the topic of Frodo (you know that guy from Lord of The Rings) came up, how I don't remember.  This is the conversation:

Me: It would be funny if someone made a caricature of the Pillsbury dough boy with an afro.

Jeremy: Ummmm, I don't get it.

Me: You know, FRO- DOUGH.

Jeremy: Smiles, and then says Yeah and they could put him in a bag.

Me: Now I don't get it.

Jeremy: You know Fro-Dough Bag-Ins; Frodo's last name is Baggins.

Me: Ohhhhhhh, HAHA you just won the who is a bigger nerd contest.  You know his first and last name.  And then I proceeded to sing a song with the word nerd repeated over and over to the tune of  The Star Spangled Banner (In hindsight, I believe THAT actually qualifies me as the bigger nerd)

Jeremy Gave me what I call the "courtesy chuckle" which is worse than not laughing at all and then said: Well you married the biggest nerd.

Me: And I luuuuvvvvvvvv it.


And then there was yesterday when this happened:


I find it a very sad and ironic state of affairs when an innocent tube of toothpaste has to be dismembered to extract the last bits of paste from her minty bowels.  This house is presided over by a dentist for Pete's sake!  And not only is he a dentist, but he is also a member of the ADA.  I don't think they recommend chopping your tubes of toothpaste in half with sharp, potentially deadly objects to obtain proper oral hygiene. 

This morning when I went to brush my teeth, I found the severed end of the tube with the spout neatly and tightly rolled back up in what appeared to be a blatant display of denial on the part of Jeremy.  It was as if he was saying, oh, there's at least 10 more squirts left in her.  While her poor back end lay crumpled and empty beside her in the drawer screaming I'M ALL USED UP, What a world, what a world.

This was my text to him later in the morning:  Steal copious amounts of toothpaste from your office.  Uncle Sam will understand.

Of course he won't because he doesn't posses one thieving drop of blood in his saintly system.  I like to get him riled up all the same. 

Monday, August 4, 2008

My Awesomely Awesome weekend

On Thursday I had the pleasure of picking up my friend Amanda from the train.  She was in town for a few days and planned on spending the night with me.  This meant I got to take Ellie on the metro which, for her, is equivalent to me hijacking the ice cream truck and letting her eat till she pukes.

Back at the house Ellie took a nap because she had exhausted herself from the sheer ecstasy of riding the train and screaming, TRAAAAIIIIINNNNNN!  Being told how adorable you are every 15 seconds must wear one out too.  Amanda and I sipped on Earl Grey out of my fine ($5 at an estate sale) china and pretended to act like civilized ladies.  Although I had to pepper the conversation with an occasional gynecological reference or potty word.


When Jeremy came home we grilled some burgers and Amanda proved in record time that she has in fact  surpassed my former drinking abilities.  She was all, Is that still your FIRST glass of wine?  I'm almost done with my second.  And I was all, that smells like a challenge.  So, with Jeremy and Ellie in bed we proceeded to down two bottles of wine and wax drunkenly philosophical.  It was during this time that I discovered something I never knew about Amanda.  She has a small addiction to scratch off lottery tickets.  WHO WON A DOLLAR?  Who who?

*Internet, THIS is how we roll on a Thursday night without Survivor, or CSI, or Grey's Anatomy

The next morning I awoke with a headache and feelings of regret, because although I hadn't embarrassed the hell out of myself like I used to do in my heinous years, I still don't like feeling hungover.  And then there was Amanda.  Who jumped out of bed practically ready to leave the house and smelling like flowers.  

We decided to head to Georgetown to have some lunch and walk around.  We had to drive because Amanda had her giant suitcase full of dead bodies that we had to haul around.  So I googled the directions to Jeremy's base in DC because I had to steal the bank card from him.  We made it there and he came out in his lab coat and scrubs and I was all, I LOVE YOU BILL NYE!


* As you can see from the blurriness of this photo and the look of glee on Amanda's face, we had been left alone with far too much wine.

So then he explains that if we just take M street all the way down it will pop us out in Georgetown.  Easy breezy. DUN DUN DUN  Famous last words if ever any were spoken.
So this is about the beginning of my hatred for driving in this city.  M street would go for awhile and then all of the sudden, BAM you're on effing K street and I'm all ummmm excuse me, can you tell us how to get to Georgetown?  And then the directions would inevitably be, oh, just take M street and you'll be there.  And then M street would split and turn again.  After the third time of asking directions, nearly running out of gas and being honked at, my head started to spin around and had I any crucifixes they would have been hurled.


* And she wonders why he's in love with her?  Letting him lick you is tantamount to him flogging her with his tail and barking "Who's your Daddy?"

Just as I was about to ask directions for the fourth time, Amanda looked up and said, oh look, we're here.  So we had finally made it.  We had a lovely lunch together and browsed some of the shops in the blazing heat.  Soon after I had to take her to meet her husband at their hotel about a mile away.  I dropped her off, and made my way home on the interstate.  I thought, it won't be that bad, it's only 3:00.  And then I saw the traffic.  There are not enough DUNs to describe what looking at the cars inch along felt like.  When it was all said and done it had taken me three hours to get home.  A distance of about 19 miles.  You think you have experienced road rage?  Not until you've driven in that.  That was worse than anything I had ever seen.

We ate some pizza and I slipped into a coma and dreamed of endless, empty expanses of road with no cars as far as the eye could see.

Also this weekend my dear Husband stood in line for four hours so I could get the new iPhone.  My old cell phone has been shorting out on me, and he decided that it was a good time to get a new one.  Let me just say, UHHHHHHHHH I LUVVVVV IT!  I have pretty much been walking around like a zombie teenager on drugs for the past two days admiring all of the spectacular things this phone could do.  Right now I am trying to think of some pretty words that would adequately describe how awesome this phone is, but all I can do grunt in approval for the magnitude of it's coolness.  Get one, you'll thank me.



So Yeah, Ummm...

Well, I joined awhile ago, but I am now officially linked on Twitter and posting there sometimes. Because who doesn't need just ONE MORE FLIPPIN bit 'O internet in their life? And I wanted to be Amish, sheesh.

So, if you're on you can find me here. I don't follow that many people now, so if you are twitterpated send me a comment or email with a link and I'll look you up.

Other than that chillen, I gots some excitin news for you tomorrow.