Monday, October 31, 2011

festive-ly yours

I'm a pretty big fan of fall and Halloween. And food, and hayrides, and hanging out with people, and costumes. Therefore the latter 2/3rds of my weekend was a lot better than the first third. Whew. I'm as relieved about that as you are.

Saturday afternoon and evening were spent in a nearby-ish town (Washington, Ga, anyone?) at a Fall Party/Chili Cookoff. Several families that go to our church live in Washington (meaning they drive over an hour to get to church...THAT is dedication), and one of the families happens to live on this really old, really ridiculously awesome farm. Their farmhouse is (guessing here) maybe 100 years old?? And SERIOUSLY...their house is like the Pinterest Dream Home. Like all that crap you're pinning on Pinterest and will never, ever do...and if you did, it would probably look weird and out of place in your otherwise-not-crafty house? This is the place all those ideas came from. I think it's the original crafty-and-repurposed-decor house. It's ridiculously envy-inducing. (One of my friends confessed how she deals with her jealousy of this home: "Well...sometimes they have mice. And so just when I'm about to die with jealousy of their house and hatred of mine, I just have to focus on that. THEY HAVE MICE! And I think about the mice, REALLY think about that...and then I feel a tiny bit better about my own house." Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. I use variations on this same technique when I think about people who are pregnant or have babies.)

Right, so, Fall Party. You have probably figured out that I get excited about the annual Fall Party out there halfway because I like fall and chili and stuff, and halfway because I can snoop around the awesome house and think of stuff I could do if I ever owned a 100 year old farm. 

 The house I speak of. There's Matt walking up the front steps...he looks natural there, right? So we should probably start thinking about buying a really old farm somewhere so that we won't have to creep around other people's.

 The outdoor dining area. Naturally, they have 28271 different kinds of tables and chairs. Who doesn't, right?

  Then, just for the fun of it, they decided to make a REAL LIFE "Angry Birds" game! Because who doesn't just have a humongous slingshot laying around? So they set up the slingshot on this hill, and down in the pasture below set up various things to knock over (buckets on top of posts) and huge pieces of plywood with the pigs painted on them. We used water balloons and launched them at the obstacles. It was pretty awesome. Oh, and they had the music from the game playing over the sound system! It was so funny to watch when new people arrived at the party...after a few minutes, they were like "is that the music from Angry Birds? Why do I hear that?" (because you couldn't see the slingshot, etc., unless you went looking for it). So in the picture above, there I am giving it my best shot (literally). Unfortunately, I'm not really any better at Angry Birds in real life than I am on an iPad. Oh well. It was still fun.
Matt got picked to be a chili judge this year. Here, he and the other judges are hard at work.

 After the sun went down, we enjoyed sipping coffee and listening to live music in the perfectly chilly night. We also enjoyed listening to the score updates from the Georgia-Florida game, and had fun celebrating with the whole crowd when we won. Go Dawgs!

So Saturday night was pretty perfect. Then next came Sunday. (Surprising, right?)

On Sunday night our church had our annual Costume Bowling party at a local bowling alley. It's always a fun event (like the time we dressed up as old people, remember?) people usually go pretty all-out with their costumes. Bowling isn't really my best sport (come to think of it, what is?? Not Slingshotting. Not Bowling. Not anything that requires running. blogging a sport?), but costumes are one of my passions, so it all evens out pretty well. This year's costume didn't require much planning...a simple phone call to my mom (previously known as the Woman Who Created the Clown-Baby Costume) and it was done. Then I acted all mysterious for the next few weeks and wouldn't tell anyone what we were going to be. Gotta get people hyped up, ya know?? And then it was last night. And here is what we were:

I know, right?? What the heck ARE you??!!! Well...this. Back in the 70s, my mom sewed together two of my dad's Army fatigues (note my maiden name on the breast pockets) and made this...this 2-headed-Army-monster-sorta thing. And she and my dad wore it to a costume party. And then she saved it in the attic, because after you've done that much never get rid of that thing!

Words wouldn't have done it justice if I'd tried to explain what we were going to be beforehand. This one you just have to see to believe.

 So we enjoyed marching around and bear-hugging people and just generally basking in people's awe and compliments. Oh, and we won first prize in the costume contest which garnered us a Jason's Deli gift card-- not bad for a costume that required literally NO work on my own behalf (other than getting my hair to stay in a side pony, which was a challenge).

 We even perfected our three-legged-bowling! Or not. When it came time to actually bowl, we stripped the costume off and bowled like normal people. Boring but safe.

We had a great time in that costume! I think that all people should be forced to share a costume like that with their significant other before marriage...there's just NO GETTING AWAY from the other person!! Which I apparently forgot, since on one occasion I actually (while we were still 'attached') turned to Matt and exclaimed "oh! Did you know that...[repeated something I'd heard a few minutes before]...?" and he looked at me with the biggest DUH on his face and was like "yeah...I am RIGHT HERE, I've heard EVERYTHING you've heard tonight..." Right. Of course.

So that was our festive weekend. Today my classes went on a field trip to the pumpkin patch, which is also festive, and now we're sitting here waiting for trick-or-treaters to take this candy away from us before we eat it all. Come on, kiddies, come on!!

Happy Halloween!


Saturday, October 29, 2011


GAH!!! So far this weekend has been marked by misadventure. Which is a nice way of saying "despite having Friday off for Fall Break, TONS OF SUCKY THINGS HAPPENED and the rest of the weekend BETTER be better."

Lucky for you, I'll be happy to re-tell the tales. (Also lucky for you: none of this involves infertility-- so you don't have to worry about that. Except you can just keep in mind that while all this other bad stuff was going on, I was STILL LIVING WITH INFERTILITY, which makes other bad things worse, wouldn't you agree??? Yes.)

So last night was a birthday celebration for one of our friend's 3oth birthday. It was at a tapas bar downtown, and I'd been looking forward to a) tapas, b) beverages, and c) hanging out with this fun group of friends all week.

So it's Friday night. It's cold and rainy outside. No matter- I decided to wear some super cute/uncomfortable heels that I never wear because...duh, they're impossible to walk in. But the only walking I had to do was from the car to the restaurant, so I figured it was a good time to bust 'em out. So Matt and I make it downtown, and find a really good parking spot right across the street from the restaurant-- score! However, now our stupid town has decided you have to pay for street parking until TEN PM and so we had to track down a parking meter thingy and pay up. It just so happens that there was an old man that beat us to the meter by about 30 seconds, and wouldn't you just know...he was having trouble figuring out how to use it. (Note: I don't blame him- they're brand new, completely electronic, and rather confusing even if you're semi-techno-savvy...which he wasn't). After staring at it for five minutes (IN THE POURING RAIN), he finally asked Matt to help him. Matt was happy to oblige, so then they stood there together staring at it confusedly for another 10 minutes in the rain. At this point, I decided I was tired of being cold and wet and told Matt I was going to walk to the restaurant. As it happens, even though the restaurant was right across the street, I had to walk down the block, wait for a crosswalk, cross that street, then wait for another crosswalk thing to cross another street before I could walk to the restaurant. Not normally a big deal- except that it was rainy and my shoe choice was less-than-ideal for such conditions.

So I walk to the first crosswalk to wait for a white "walk" signal. I happened to be waiting right next to the Arches (UGA landmark), where some local protesters are taking part in Occupying something. Currently they seemed to be enjoying occupying their tent, which was smart in that weather. I made sure not to make any eye contact, because I have zero interest in politics EVER, especially in the cold rain...and I didn't want to get into a conversation. As I am waiting for my signal, suddenly a very tall, unintelligible man walks over and stands THISCLOSE to me. I grab my purse reflexively and take a nice big sidestep, as I turn to give him a face that lets him know I do NOT appreciate him intruding my personal space. Does he get the hint? NO, instead he starts to TALK to me, as he continues creeping closer to me/me sidestep/him creep closer. He's all don't be so scared, honey! I just want to talk to you! Where are you going? You sure look good in those shoes, honey. I liiiiike them. Can I walk you to wherever you're going? You meeting someone? I am CURSING myself for thinking it would be okay to walk 200 yards to a restaurant at night in downtown Athens by myself, and also cursing Matt for STILL BEING ABSORBED WITH HELPING AN OLD MAN while his old lady gets mugged 20 yards away from him. I tell the man several times that no, I would NOT like him to walk me anywhere, that my HUSBAND is right there and coming over to walk with me, and Mr. Mugger does NOT get the clue. I was seriously about to just run into traffic because I would rather get ran over by a car than be accosted by a drunk homeless guy. Also: NOTE TO YOU OCCUPY PEOPLE. It might be nice to say, prevent crime that about to happen like 8 feet away from your tent. I would probably even listen to whatever it is you're upset about if you would like GET THIS DUDE AWAY FROM ME.

Anyway, I finally got my magic "walk" signal and tripped and slipped across Broad St as fast as my little red heels would let me, PRAYING creepy guy wasn't following me. He didn't. I made it to the restaurant, and when I told the hostess I was with the birthday party group, she was like..."there's no group here, but you can look around..." UGH! I should have been about 15 min late at this point, so I couldn't believe NO ONE would be there yet. I opted to wait in the lobby (instead of the table she started setting up for us, or the bar) for Matt and/or the other people to get there. Matt arrived soon, and (I was still shaking from my encounter) I basically bit his head off for letting me get raped (ok, almost) 20 yards away from him...does he even LOVE me?? OK I was totally a witch. But I was SO upset from that guy...and also that there was NO ONE in the restaurant!! So we wait for like 10 min, then I finally text the bday girl and find out I'M AT THE WRONG RESTAURANT. For REAL. I have no idea how I got it in my head we were supposed to be at this one.

So now we have to LEAVE this restaurant, walk through the rain BACK to the car (which we have already paid for parking), drive across downtown (because I can't WALK BECAUSE OF MY SHOES), pay for parking AGAIN, and then walk to the restaurant. I was only about one one-thousandth of a second away from having a breakdown at this point.

Luckily, as soon as I sat down, a drink menu was placed in front of me, and moments later THIS appeared:

Helllllooooo Latin Affair!!! You delightful concoction that taste of sunscreen and summer days! Come to mommy!

Everyone at the table (and apparently the bartenders as well) mocked my delicious, Smurf-esque drink...but I didn't care, because I had just overcome an hour of horribleness and I DESERVED this liquid beach-vacation. It was wonderful.

And then the night got way better, because I got to hang out with some wonderful friends and have some good conversation and delicious tapas and, ya know, the Latin Affair.

My friend Jessie recently downgraded her iPhone and is back to a Really Awesome Dinosaur Phone (like me)...but she can apparently somehow still access the internetz on she proved herself to be my Best Blog-Fan by finding my BLOG on her phone (which took no less than 21849 steps and 15 minutes) was REALLY funny because it loads about 3 words at a time (and I'm very wordy) was kind of like the worlds longest text message. But she said it would be worth it, just to keep up with my blog. That's the kind of friends I like. :) 

Look how dedicated she is!! It warmed my heart. As did our conversation and general shenanigans that night.

So despite the trouble it was to GET to the party, the party itself was wonderful. Good friends, good times.

We made it home without incident, and it seemed as though our Downtown Drama would be a mere blip on the radar of an otherwise good night. But NOT SO FAST, Erika!!! Matt was already in bed, and I was climbing in, when we suddenly heard a very strange and LOUD noise coming from our closet (which is through our bathroom). What the heck??? We both wondered. I'd just left the closet after changing...all was normal!

I walked through the bathroom and opened the closet door...except I couldn't. It was blocked, somehow. I couldn't push it. I shoved really hard, and finally got it open enough to reach my hand in and turn on the light. And then I saw the problem.

Our shelving unit?? The one that has been in there (I assume) since the house was built...the white wire shelves/hanging bars/etc...well, it had just decided to DETACH ITSELF FROM THE WALL. Which means come off the wall, toppling over along with all of the clothes and shoes hanging on it, and all the shelves above it. And this is on the LONG wall of the closet (the closet is a rectangle...the 2 short sides/shelving units were fine. This was the long one...the biggest one...the one holding the most stuff).

AWESOME. This night is AWESOME!!!

You know the funny part?? Matt, after looking in and seeing what happened and saying "wow, I wonder why it did that?? Man, this sucks" and stuff like that...he CLOSES THE DOOR and gets back in bed!!!! HAHAHAHAHA. MEN!

I was my really calm, "you are about to die if you don't get out of bed" voice, say "um, Matt?? We can't just LEAVE IT like that, because then we will have to WASH AND IRON EVERYTHING THAT IS CURRENTLY BEING CRUSHED BY THE SHELVES. Of course, he heartily agreed, so we spent the next hour carefully carrying everything out of the closet and piling it on the bed in the guest room or in the closet (which has NO ROOM for anything to hang, which meant we had to move boxes of Christmas decor and such out of the way....AWESOME NIGHT).

Matt tried to snap a few pictures, but because at this point we couldn't open the door more than a foot, couldn't really get a good angle:

Those sweaters used to be on top of the shelves...I'd already rescued them and stacked them on the tupperware drawers.

We managed to get all of the broken shelves out and make semi-order of the situation. 
 See that big white wall (with holes Matt patched this morning)? There used to be ALL MY CLOTHES on that wall.

Here's one of the (still intact) 'short' sides of the closet. This is sort of what the long side used to look like, only 3 times as long and it had additional shelves on top of the rack.

And here's the state of our previously-orderly guest room, now holding the entire contents of the Fallen Closet Rack.

OK-- so sorry if this is the most boring blog ever. Just wanted to record how RIDICULOUS last night was, in case I ever start thinking my life is super awesome or anything. Then I can look back and be like "FOR REAL??? Remember October 28th?? That was NOT COOL."

If today is not significantly better, I am for real moving to the Middle East. I am so done with stupid Athens and it's stupid muggers and stupid parking and stupid closets!!

Thursday, October 27, 2011

pink out

Today was 'pink out' day at school. You know, for Breast Cancer Awareness month. (Irrelevant side note: we were encouraged to explain to our students WHY we were wearing pink/raising awareness. Pretty sure that message was lost on the four year olds. They were just happy to not wear their uniforms!) Teachers and staff were, of course, encouraged to wear pink.

My dilemma? I don't own a whole lot of pink. I'm not anti or anything...I just noticed I don't have a lot of pink options hanging in the ol' closet. I do have a cute pink sweater dress I bought recently...but it was 80 degrees today, so a sweater dress and boots was not about to happen.

I was so stressed out, scouring my brain and my closet. I MUST WEAR PINK!!! I MUST SUPPORT THE CAUSE!!! And then I saw it, and I knew.

Pink out, you say??

Pink out.
 Who says you only get one use out of a bridesmaid's dress??

Nothing shows love for the ta-tas quite like a skintight hot pink mini-dress!!

Happy Pink Out!

(Note: I did not actually wear the dress to work. Please try to picture me sitting criss-cross on the floor in this dress. Actually, try to picture me sitting, PERIOD, in this dress. NOT HAPPENING. This was just a funny idea I had. I actually wore a pink tank top. I'm sure you're shocked that I had a pink tank top.)

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

that one time i was really really old

Yesterday at work I had a funny conversation with a kid (surprising, I know). We were on the playground, and he'd fashioned himself a 'birthday cake' out of a pile of woodchips and some sticks. After he sang Happy Birthday to himself, I asked how old he was. One hundred years old!, he replied.

"One HUNDRED??" I responded. "100 is REALLY old. You would be a very old man. You would have a cane!"

Oh. about if I am NINETY?

"Ninety is still really old. You would not be able to hear and you would talk like this [here's where I talked in an 'old man voice' for a minute]"

Oh...well, what about being TEN? Is TEN really old?

"Ten? Nah, if you were ten, you could still go to our school! You might be in fifth grade!"

We went on like this for awhile...he suggested that he might be ONE BILLION YEARS OLD, and I had to tell him that no one can ever be that old, because they would be dead. Why? Because your body would break. And I can't explain it any better than that. (But what about ten thousand, Mrs. B? Could I be ten thousand? Nope, you'll still be dead.) When he asked about being 30, I had to make it sound really fantastic.

"THIRTY???!?! Wow, thirty is like SO AWESOME. If you were THIRTY you could maybe be a teacher...or a fireman...or a doctor...or a could be anything!!! Thirty is just like being a regular grown-up."

He was dead onto me. Mrs. B...are you thirty????

Well...almost. I hope it's as great as I've made it out to be.

Then he was all "what about 31?? What about 33??" and it was tough to explain that there aren't very many differences between about 25 and 50. Sorry bud.

Anyway!! All that to say that my little conversation inspired my Way Back When-sday! Halloween is right around the corner, and every year our church does a little Costume Bowling gig at a local bowling alley. It's lots of fun. Back in 2007, Matt and I were a) recently married, b) recently started attending our church, and c) babysat every Sunday night. We babysat for a family whom I worked for for years as a nanny/babysitter. These kids were the love of my life, and once Matt met them, he loved them pretty awesomely too. 

It happened that our Costume Bowling fell on a Sunday night, the night we were supposed to babysit them. Which may have provided part of the inspiration for our costumes that night:

Granny and Gramps take the grandkids bowling!!! Woohoo!!

Yes, we dressed up like old people. I have no idea why we thought that might be a good idea. I do remember having a lot of fun picking out Matt's clothes, though. Mine weren't so fun. I was fresh out of Mom Jeans, so what else could I possibly wear? (Answer: some VELVETEEN pajama pants of Matts, pulled up to my chest, with a tucked-in t-shirt. Obviously.)

Don't our grandkids look happy to be with us? (Yes, the blondes are twins.)

HOW TOTALLY CUTE is ol' grampy Matt??? Pretty sure that's MY cardigan he's wearing. Apparently we're some kind of cross-dressing grandparents...the life of the retirement home, for sure!!

Poor Gramps. All that bowling plum wore him out.

PS. Don't worry. In order to make up for my unattractive costume of 2007, in 2008 I wore my wedding dress to the bowling alley. Yep! True story! I was a bride!!! (And many people actually asked: Is that your REAL wedding dress?? And I was bought a NEW one just to wear to the bowling alley! Um...duh...???)

Sunday, October 23, 2011

bring me your wit!

 This morning (I know!! So timely a blog!! This literally occurred like 15 minutes ago!) I was busy doing the preparations for this chili, which Allison highly recommended earlier this week. Matt and I are tag-teaming it in the kitchen, me cooking the turkey while he preps the other ingredients to add to the crock pot. He's in the midst of the oh-so-important job of draining and rinsing the white northern beans, when he suddenly says "WHOA!" and starts laughing.

Personally, I've never had such an emotional response to rinsing beans.

But I did once I saw what he was seeing.

First of all, here's the can the beans came housed in. That picture on the front is pretty much what I was expecting to see once we dumped the beans out, right? I think that's pretty reasonable.

It was almost what we got. Check this out. Look closely !! of these things is not like the of these things is not like his brothers...

For some reason, that really cracked us up. And immediately brought to mind about a thousand deep/cheesy/hilarious metaphors. And then I thought-- I bet my BLOG FRIENDS have tons of great metaphors that THEY thought of, too!! And I'm sure we can all benefit from a Deep Metaphor on this brisk Sunday morning, right?? So I propose that YOU (yes YOU) leave me your best/cheesiest/deepest/funniest/whatever thought/metaphor that came to you when you saw my very special can of beans.

Seriously. Do it. If I come home from church in a few hours and there are zero comments, I am probably going to cry. And I've cried enough this weekend. You really don't want to get me started again.

Metaphors! Go!!

Friday, October 21, 2011

writer's block: through the ages

I feel like I spend a lot of my life dealing with writer's block. Like tonight. I want to blog. I just can't think of anything (non-whiney) to write about. It sucks, because all week long I thought of things to write about, but I had to work late all week and never had time. But now I have time, and nothing to talk about. Boo.

Anyway, as I was perusing old pictures and such (on the computer), trying to think of something to write about, I happened upon an old gem: the entirety of an old blog, downloaded and saved as a text file.

You see, this here spot in the blogosphere ain't my first dance. My first blog was at an old (now-defunct) place called OpenDiary (OD) (which some of you remember well, because some of you were my co-bloggers even then!!! Shout out to the old school bloggers!!). I started blogging there in the year 2000, when I was a senior in high school. OpenDiary disappeared in about 2003, but before they left, they gave everyone the opportunity to download their entire blog history as a text file (actually, pictures on your blogs weren't even an option back then anyway. It was only text). I did that, and occasionally-- like tonight-- will go back and scroll through my old posts. They cover my senior year of high school through sophomore years of college, and it's funny slash embarrassing to re-read them. 

But wouldn't you just know: EVEN THEN, in the 'prime' of my life (let's hope that wasn't actually the prime)...I sometimes experienced writer's block. And one day...May 8, 2001, to be exact...I decided that in lieu of anything better to write about, I'd write a list of factoids and trivia about myself. I guess I don't change much through the years, since I still do boring crap like that all the time! But tonight, just for your Friday night reading pleasure, I thought I'd re-post that old blog entry in its entirety for you. Be forewarned: it's really dorky and EMBARRASSING. I am still deciding whether or not to edit out a few of the most embarrassing statements...only time will tell. I am also going to put any relevant information or current updates about situations to the side in red...just so that you know I'm way cooler now than I was then. Or at least I hope I am.

OMG. I am already embarrassed and we haven't even started. Alright. Brace yourselves, folks. We're going back in time!!!

I, I, I                                            - 5/8/2001

I was writing an essay the other day (for a scholarship, I think).  I went back to look over what I'd written, and I realized that I started something like 9 out of 10 sentences with "I".  ( far in this entry I'm 2 for 2) I think I've had this problem my entire life.  As I look over old OD entries, essays, letters...I start a heck of a lot of sentences with "I." Even if the sentence isn't about me.  So I was laying in bed last night and I decided I'd write an entire entry full of sentences starting with I.  Hopefully I'll say everything I ever wanted to say about myself, and I'll be cured of this. :)  Probably not, but either way...I can't really think of anything better to do. I don't think it cured me. I still start all my sentences with "I."

*I am 5 feet 7 inches tall.  Ever since I was little, I've wanted to be 5 foot 10.

*I have scoliosis, and 4 years ago my orthopedist told me that if my spine were straight, I would be 5 foot 10.  That ticked me off.

*I am a self-proclaimed sunworshipper, and I will probably die of melanoma. I hope not. I shouldn't be so flippant about stuff like that!

*I have not, however, ever been to a tanning bed. Errr...that is no longer a true statement.

*I have absolutely no respect for people who cheat. That bothers me more than anything I can think of.

*I used to be obsessed with the idea of having a twin sister.  It was all I ever thought about.  When I was little, I convinced myself that one day I could get one. (How? Buy her in a store?) I am still obsessed with the idea. That is why I decided to become BFFs/triplets with an already-existing set of twins, Amanda and Allison.

*I drive a red pick-up truck with a cheetah print steering wheel cover. RIP, truck. I miss you, and I will never forgive Matt for throwing away your steering wheel cover.

*I once ran a mile in 8 and a half my knowledge, that's the fastest I've ever ran.  That was in 5th grade. :)

*I used to run hurdles and do the long jump in track, though.  I was better at that.

*I took dance lessons for 13 years and danced competitively for about 5.  I miss it a lot.

*I get extremely jealous of people.  All the time.  I never talk about it, though.

*I never talk about very many of my true, deep down feelings at all, come to think about it. WINNING, I talk about my feelings all the time now!! Woohoo!! High five for emotional growth!

*I used to be a REALLY good speller.  I won the school spelling be in 2nd grade, and competed every other year through 7th grade.  But for some reason...I suck at it now.  I think my spelling vocabulary stopped in 7th grade. I don't SUCK at spelling. I'm just not extremely awesome anymore.

*I do, though, have a huge vocabulary, and I love to use big words.  I just can't spell them.

*I am obsessed with Gone With the Wind.  I've read the book 4 or 5 times, and seen the movie a million.  I own several collectible-type things, but am just in general fascinated everything GWTW-related. I am not really obsessed anymore. But I still love the book and movie.

*I think that may have something to do with the fact that I am a die-hard Southerner and far-right conservative. THIS STATEMENT IS SO EMBARRASSING I WANT TO DIE. Why don't you just throw a rebel flag over my coffin when I'm gone, mmkay?? Suffice it to say, this statement no longer applies. I don't think it even applied then, I just thought I wanted it to to fit in with...I don't know, rednecks??? AHHHHHH.

*I am allergic to benzyl peroxide and everything outside.

*I hate Spanish with a passion. No I don't. I speak it every day and wish I spoke it better!

*I (okay, not just me, my whole family) breed miniature snauzers. Original misspelling left intact. And we not longer breed them.

*I believe in the power of prayer.  In January of 1999 my mom took my cat to the vet cause she was getting really skinny and all her hair was falling out.  (By the way, my cat is the love of my life) The vet said Kitty had a heart condition and would not live past July.  I cried for two days and never stopped praying.  Well, as I speak my cat is asleep on my bed, robust at 10 pounds and with a body full of fur.  God likes cats. :)

*I used to have panic attacks almost every day.  It's the worst thing in the world. Oooh it is, and I'm really glad I hardly ever have them any more.

*I can't ever figure out what kind of "girl" I am.  I'm not a tomboy...but I'm not a girly-girl. I like to wear makeup and go shopping, but I HATE that high-pitched, whiney "OH IT'S SO CUUUUTE" crap.  I think it's fun to talk about boys and stuff for like...10 minutes.  I cannot stay up all night doing it. Haha, I can't stay up all night doing ANYTHING!

*I love to "one-up" people..but I try not to do it outloud, because it really annoys me when other people do it!

*I learned to read when I was 3 years old.  It was the best thing I've ever done.  It is still my favorite passtime.

*I will not marry a man who doesn't wear khaki's at least once a week. Sorry, it's a standard. I'm pretty sure somewhere between ages 18 and 24, when I actually GOT married, I lowered my standards. :)

*I always set all of my standards waaaay too high...and I am often disappointed. I don't feel disappointed when Matt doesn't wear khakis. I like his jeans better.

*I don't like when people whine a lot.  I's not perfect, but it's a lot better if you don't always complain about how much it sucks.

*I don't like to talk on the phone about nothing. SO TRUE TIMES TEN THOUSAND

*I am having a lot of fun sitting here being conceited when I should be working on my project. :)

*I am eighteen years old and I have never been kissed. LOL EMBARRASSING!

*I have extremely long everything.  Long hair, long fingers, long toes, long feet.  I get a lot of grief for it, too. I miss you, long hair. Sigh.

*I have never had a nickname.  Not even a "shortened version of your name" nickname.  My name doesn't shorten to anything.  It's kinda depressing! but I don't lose too much sleep over it.

*I hate the winter and cold weather.

*I love the town I live in and can picture spending the rest of my life here (except for college)

Okay.  I really can't think of anything else to write about myself.  Maybe I'm cured.  Really, I need to go write another chapter ("Criminal Psychology: Are Criminals Inherently Different?").  Hope yall didn't get too bored!!


AHHHH. So glad that's over. I am turning red with embarrassment over some statements. I'll have you know I only deleted ONE, so the above blog is ALMOST in its entirety. :) Please now be a nice friend (if you've made it this far, you are probably long lost identical twin...this is LONG...) and reassure me that you, too, were really dorky and goofy and lame when you were 18. Please. I feel all alone here.

Goodnight, and thanks for traveling through time with me on this exciting Friday night!!

Monday, October 17, 2011

the new dress (& a blogging tip)

I got a new dress yesterday. Since it's sorta relevant to the rest of the story, here's what it looks like:


It was one of many clearance steals I found at Old Navy. Don't be fooled if you go look at the link-- it was not $25. It was ELEVEN DOLLARS!!! I know, I almost peed my pants, too.

I figured I'd have to wait til spring to wear it...but then, in a pleasant twist of "only in Georgia" weather, today's high was expected to be almost 90 degrees!! Whereas I would normally complain about such unseasonably warm weather, I bit my tongue since it meant I'd get to wear my new dress today. So I wore it to work.

All the little girls were fans. Mrs. B...I like you dress. (Not a typo, that's how most of them talk. I love it.) Mrs. B...your dress is pretttttyyyyy. I could hardly escape the compliments. I think it's a combination of not seeing me for a week, and then...yeah, compared to my normal work clothes, this dress is like...something special.

When I got to recess,  one of the girls (who talks and acts like an adult) ran up to me. "Mrs. B! You are looking FABULOUS today! LOVE the dress! Let me see." and she held me at arm's length and twirled me around. Nodding with approval, she continues: "yes, that dress is beautiful. Where'd you get it, is it new?"

I told her where I got it, and she nodded and said that maybe her mama would go to Old Navy to see if they had some more. Her mama would look really pretty in my dress, didn't I think so? I agreed. Her mom would look great in it.

She stands at arm's length again, holding the fabric from the bottom of the dress and inspecting it very closely. Then she lets it billow back down and declares: "Mrs. B-- you could go to a BALL in this dress!!! And then you can get a boyfriend!!"

I laughed for a minute, then told her "I don't need a boyfriend. I'm already married!"

"Married?? To who?"

"To Matthew."

"Matthew?? Matthew who? What's his last name?"


"Ba---?? Wait, what's YOUR last name?"


"Hey, yall have the same last name!...[thinking], you're already married so you don't need a boyfriend. Well, do you have any kids?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"uhhh...I don't know, I just don't."

"Oh, you have any babies?"

"Nope, no babies either."

"Why not?"

"Umm...I just don't. Maybe I'll have some one day. Just not now."

"Yeah, I think you need some babies. But it's okay. I don't have any children, either."

Thanks, kid. You're basically the only person I know that DOESN'T have kids...glad we have something in common!!

Anyway, I thought that was cute. And now I bet all the girls are really going to be disappointed the rest of the week when they see what I'm wearing. Oh well.


And now, on a completely different note: a blogging tip for you!!

Do you have your email linked to your Blogger profile? This is important to do so that other bloggers (like me) can respond to you directly when you comment on a blog. I've noticed *cough cough* that most of yall do NOT have your emails linked, which is why you do not receive responses from me when you comment! 

I found a really easy tutorial that explains why and how to do this a few months ago: go here to figure things out. I promise it takes about 2 seconds and is totally worth it-- I have had my own email linked for maybe 6 months now, and it makes commenting WAY more fun when I know that I usually get responses from whomever I'm commenting to!

(Now that I just looked back over the link I'm sending you to...go ahead and follow through on her second tip, too. So true-- it's way better.)

I guess that's all for today. You're welcome!! :)

Sunday, October 16, 2011

bug in my bonnet

Let's just get brutally honest here and jump right into things:

I want to move to the Middle East.

I am bored with my life. 

I didn't even realize how bored I was...and then it just hit me this weekend. Bam. Bored. I'm so over it.

Kelly's Korner was hosting another blog carnival on Friday, this time to feature international bloggers. At first I thought it was a boring idea. Then I noticed that a few of the girls who linked up were American expats living in the Middle East. Then I started reading their blogs (Far More than Rubies and The Acord Family). And by "started reading," I meant I've spent the entire weekend reading years of back-entries on their blogs. Because to truly appreciate their relatively new lives in the Middle East, I felt like I needed to get to know them when they were just regular girls/couples/families in America, like me/us. So I've spent the weekend doing just that.

And I quickly came to the conclusion that the only antidote to my current boredom with life is to move there. To Saudi Arabia. Or Bahrain. Or Qatar. Or the UAE. Somewhere. Anywhere.

What am I bored with? Well, everything. I'm totally over our boring dead-end jobs. I'm bored that our whole lives revolve around said jobs, plus commuting and like...going to grocery stores. I'm bored with having nothing else to think about besides infertility. Sometimes I wonder why I never have anything to talk about with people. Then I realized it's because there's nothing in my life worth talking about. All people talk about are their jobs or their kids. I have neither. What am I supposed to talk about? Driving to Publix? Looking at Facebook? I'm just over it. We have friends and family, but (other than Matt's family) most of our interactions with them are through a computer anyway. So moving extremely far away wouldn't really change that. Laptops can go anywhere. I think I'm just disillusioned with the fact that even though sometimes I think my life is 'hard,' it's really ridiculously cushy and easy. From a global perspective, we've got it made. It's not that I want to go live in poverty or be persecuted. I just want...I don't know...a challenge.

Their lives...these girls whose blogs I'm reading... are HARD. Moving from the comfortable ease of middle-class life in America to Saudia Arabia is RIDICULOUS. Nothing about their stories seemed easy. I was actually incredibly stressed out reading most of the time. Overwhelmed. Mesmerized. Jealous. Their new lives are completely different. More complex. More stressful. But totally not boring.

I've been selling Matt on the idea. At first he was reluctant. "Why don't we just move to another state? How about out west?" No. It's too close. Too easy. Too much the same. "Well, what about Peru? Costa Rica?" Nope. Too Western. Women have too many rights. And I speak too much Spanish. I want total culture shock. Only the Middle East will do. I want to be able to complain about having to wear an abiya (the long black dress thing) and a headdress. I want to be grossed out when my neighbors slaughter a cow on the front porch. I want to be inconvenienced by a sandstorm. I want to live on the Arabian Gulf. I want it to be a four-hour adventure to get across a border to a grocery store where I can buy American food. I want to go to a house church. I want to be challenged. I want to have to work hard to survive. I want to have something new to think about.

I think I've convinced Matt. At least convinced him enough to spend the last 3 hours with me looking at jobs for Americans in the Middle East. :)

Oh, and did I mentioned that I studied Arabic in college? For three whole semesters. This basically makes me fluent in Arabic (HAHAHAHAHAHA). Or not. I think about all I remember is a few greetings and a few random words and factoids. But I do remember (most) of the characters and how to sound out words!! And I can write my name! That would put me at the literacy level of your average American kindergartner, haha. A good place to start at for my new life in the Middle East.

 So that's where I'm at tonight, folks. Tired of being an American. Ready for a change. I guess I should start by getting a new passport.

Maybe this'll all blow over quickly. Maybe it won't. At least it's giving me something new to think about. Maybe that's enough for now.

Or maybe I'll move to the Middle East.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

so maybe babies should SOMETIMES wear clown costumes

Thanks for all of your moral support and kind words about my clown costume. It really warmed my heart to hear that you think that I look like "a Hispanic boy" and "creepy." (Note: I do not think that Hispanic boys look creepy. I think they are cute as all get out. Those were just a few of the things YALL thought I looked like in my baby clown costume.)

I decided to confront my mom about the whole issue. She and my dad came last night for a 24-hour visit...and there's no time like the present for an Intervention. I came at her, armed with the Polaroids I showed yall on Wednesday. Before I even had a chance to start talking/ranting, she was overflowing with "awwwwww!!!!! Look how cuuuuuuuuuuute you were!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My widdle baaaaaaaabbbbbyyyyyyy!!!!!!" and it's really hard to stage an Intervention with a woman who is making googly eyes at a Polaroid picture.

"Mom. Stop. Listen to me. I need to know--"

"you were so tiiiiiiinnnnyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!! Look how cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute you were!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Mom!!! That is not cute!!! You painted a mustache on me!!!"

"it's not a mustache, it's your clooowwwwn cuuuuuuuteeeeee"

"Mom, it's not cute, it's creepy. I look like a Hispanic boy!! Why did you do that to me?!!!"

She stopped cooing long enough to look at me like I was out of my mind. She then explained that she MADE that costume--with her own two hands!!!! Out of love for her baby daughter!!!! And it was SOOOOOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE.

My dad chimed in. As HE recalled, I pitched a FIT that day. I wanted NOTHING to do with having that costume on. Me and him about HAD IT OUT and he was determined that a 10-and-a-half month old was not going to beat him in a battle of will. He'd never seen me so ornery!!

Here's where I explained that I ACTED like that because I was wearing a clown costume and I looked scary!!!!!!! Lacking the ability to converse like a grown-up, write them a letter, or send them a text, pitching a holy fit was my only method of communicating that I DID NOT WANT TO WEAR THAT CLOWN SUIT. Or have a mustache.
This conversation could have gone on all night. Until my mom said this:

"I still have that costume! And the doll! I saw it in the attic today!"

Game changer, friends.

Sure, that costume is creepy as hell. But SHE STILL HAS IT!!! It's IN THE ATTIC!!!

Obviously, one day when I am blessed with a child of my own, it will be that child's legacy to wear the creepy clown suit. Not because I think it's cute, or because I made it with my own two hands (although the kid's grandma did, which has to count for something), but because then it can be a CREEPY FAMILY TRADITION!!!!! Not just a one-time creepy event I had to suffer through. A creepy event FOR THE GENERATIONS TO COME!! To be followed by side-by-side photo comparisons of creepiness!! It's going to be amazing.

So I guess I am amending my thesis statement from my last post (did you know my blogs have theses? I'm just THAT good of a writer.): If you have children, you will not dress them in creepy clown costumes unless they are the same costume you yourself wore as a baby. Then by all means, dress 'em up and have a good laugh.

 I do not, however, plan on giving them mustaches. That's just going a little TOO far.

Happy Saturday, friends!!

PS. The reason my mom was in the attic and saw the CCC (can we just start abbreviating the Creepy Clown Costume?) was because she was fetching the costume that Matt and I are going to wear this year. Yes, I am planning a costume more than 15 minutes in advance. This is another Costume by Jacky-- a costume my mom made for she and my dad to wear to a Halloween party back in the 70s!!!!! I have loved this costume my whole life and am super excited to rock it out this year! Matt and I tried it on last night and let's just say...we're going to have to practice before we can step out in public in this one. Suspense!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

babies should not be dressed like clowns

 Hello and welcome to the creepiest-ever edition of Way Back When-sday: Children Dressed like Clowns.

I would like to thank my parents, Paul and Jacky, for making this blog possible. And for instilling in me a lifelong fear of clowns. And when you see these pictures, you're going to feel scared, too. Just warning you.

In general, I am all for dressing up. I'm a huge fan of costumes and dressing up for Halloween. I'm a big fan of babies dressed up for Halloween.

I am not a big fan of clowns. I don't really know anyone in my generation who is.

But at the ripe old age of ten-and-a-half-months-old, I didn't have much say in my Halloween costumage (that's a word, stupid red underliner thing). I'm told I was an opinionated child, but obviously I wasn't opinionated enough to make it clear that I DID NOT WANT TO BE A CLOWN FOR HALLOWEEN THAT YEAR. Or ever, for that matter.

And really, for the record, I'd like to say that I think my parents did an excellent job parenting. I have no qualms or questions about how they raised my siblings and I. Looking back through the photo albums, there are very few instances that caused me to think what WERE my parents thinking? (EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE!!!!!!!! LOLOLOLOL!!!!!!!!!!!) But I'm gonna have to say...Mom and Dad, what were you thinking, dressing your only child up like a friggin CLOWN?!?!! What's with the creepy face paint??!! Why would you DO that to your beautiful daughter??!!!

Well, I won't hold you in suspense any longer. Bring in the clowns (har har har)...

Umm...yeah. Do you see how they painted a mustache on me?? I know this was the early 80s and all, but I'm pretty sure mustaches on baby girls has never been trendy.

I feel like I'm majorly bashing my folks here, so I do want to point out one positive thing I see in the picture above. If you look really close, you can definitely see a toy behind me (and my toy clown). I'm like 98% sure it's a toy truck (dump truck, maybe). At this point in my life, I was an only child (and a girl). I would like to thank my forward-thinking parents for not gender stereotyping me with only 'girl' toys. I'm sure that helped form me into the well-rounded person I am today. Maybe that's what they were going for with the gender-neutral costume, too...but I think that's just crossing the lines. Clown costumes are not gender-neutral. They are inappropriate for all forms of human beings.

Parents: If you love your children, you will choose SOMETHING OTHER THAN A CLOWN to dress them as for Halloween. 

This is a Public Awareness message. It has not been endorsed by anyone except for all thinking humans.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

a really important list

So today I gave in and stayed home sick. I don't know why I went to work yesterday. Obviously I'm a control freak. Going to work caused me to become 28729 times sicker than I was. Seriously. My chest started feeling extra tight by the end of the day: a sign I need to use my inhaler, right? Unfortunately, my inhaler was at home. I hardly ever need it...and so it somehow doesn't crack the list of "things important enough to add weight to my purse" (even though my purse weighs like 40 pounds anyway)...15 different chapsticks? They make the cut. The inhaler, which could theoretically save my life? Nah, it lives at home in the gym bag. Seriously, how did someone let ME be in control of my life?

Anyway, so I'm driving home with a quickness because I can't like, inhale all the way. Naturally, I assume I will probably get pulled over, so I was pre-planning my explanation. I seriously can't breathe, officer. Can you just follow me to my house and write me a ticket after I get my inhaler? Or maybe it would have been better to just hop in his car and let him drive me to my house really fast, sirens and all! And then he could give me a lift back later? I dunno. I didn't have all the details worked out, but luckily the cop scenario never materialized, so I didn't have to worry about it. I made it home and took some beautiful puffs of albuterol and then proceeded to spend the rest of the night feeling like crap. Lucky for me, I got all my ducks in a row at work before I left yesterday so that I could be okay with staying home sick today. Which is good, since I've now completely lost my voice and would be useless in a room of four-year-olds anyway.

So since I'm lying around here like a big old sack of useless, I've had plenty of time to make a list. This is a really special list, because it's a list of Things I Would Like to Pay Someone to Do For Me If I Had Money. A mouthful, I know. The thing is: I don't really want to do these things. Even if I felt well enough. These are just the things that need to get done (today, or in general)...that I don't wanna do. And as I was hanging out with my girlfriends from Beverly Hills and New Jersey earlier...I noticed that they can just hire people to do these things (and more) for them. Now that would be nice.  

1. Clean the house. That probably seems generic, but it's true. When you're laying on the couch, you have plenty of time to notice the piles of dog hair on all of the baseboards and the dust on the bookshelves. That seriously needs to be remedied. But not by me.

2. Make me some tea. I know this doesn't seem like a hard job, but it's a lot of steps. First, someone would need to unload the dishwasher, because we're out of spoons and mugs. Then make the water hot. Then put the teabag in. Then...I dunno, there's a lot more steps, and it exhausts me to think about all of them. Basically, someone needs to come deal with all that so that I can have some relief in my throat.

3. Walk Lola. Matt walked her this morning, but it was raining pretty hard and he said she didn't really go. I don't want her to have an accident, because then someone would have to come clean it up. So if I could pay someone to come walk her, that would be great.

4. Pay bills. I'm pretty sure there are some due on the 15th, but I really don't feel like dealing with that.

5. Erase stuff from the DVR. You would THINK that someone whose entire day has amounted to lying on the couch could handle mashing a few buttons on a remote, but no. Because you have to make judgment calls about the things you're deleting. Have you watched it yet? Has Matt? Do you want to? Does he? That's a lot of thinking. But it needs to be done, because there's only like 10% free.

6. Give me a mani-pedi. My fingers and toes are lookin' SICK. Someone please fix them.

7. Make some Shutterfly photo books. I really need to be working on these for Christmas...but it seems like a lot of work.

 I think that's all I need for now. Also, thanks for all the positive feedback about me and Catherine's BSC night. I'm glad we can all bond over the defining book series of the late 80s/early 90s. Actually, here's a little trivia and question for you. To help you make it through your Tuesday and all.

In third grade, my BFFs and I "were" the BSC. As in, we each "were" a character, and we would have "meetings" and sleepovers where we would dress as our character, act like our character, and...I dunno, play pretend like kids do. Anyone want to guess which character I was?

We may or may not have been SO FOR REAL about this thing that we always called each other by our character names. On the bus, at school...wherever. I was never Erika. I was _______. I'm just hazarding a guess here, but I bet other kids thought we were really weird. 

Sunday, October 9, 2011

nephews, the BSC, and getting hacked

What a weekend it's been! I am sad to see it end. Except for being sick. If that could end, that would be great. And then if I could re-do the weekend, only not feeling like crap? That would be great, too, thanks.

Whatevs, though.

This was the long-awaited weekend that my sis-in-law Amy and bro-in-law Tom came to town and brought with them my new (and FIRST) nephew, Timmy!!! It has been almost two long months since Timmy made his arrival into the world. Unfortunately, he and his parents have the misfortune of living in Vermont, which is not actually very close to his Auntie Erika in it's meant I've spent almost two months not-knowing my only nephew. (Note: Why is there not a gender-neutral word to describe nephews and nieces? It's not that I want to be extra-PC or anything, it's just that by saying "he's my only nephew," you may be thinking "oh, she has some nieces..." but I DON'T!!! He's my only OFFSPRING OF MY SIBLINGS, which doesn't really have a nice ring to it. So may the record show that Timmy is the first baby of the next generation in both mine and Matt's families. Thanks.)

Anyway-- I know you are chompin at the bit to see those pics of me and Timmy, but I'm going to make you wait. Because I didn't get to meet Timmy until Saturday. And Friday night comes before Saturday!!

On Friday night I hung out with my sister/friend Catherine. We had an excellent night eating some yummy seafood and then we went back to her house where she had a most fantastical surprise for me:

THIS GAME!!! She purchased it at a consignment sale last week. It may help if you know that we (along with our other sister/friend Kristina) are were slightly obsessed with the Baby-Sitter's Club as youngsters. I personally started devouring those books with a religious fervor in about second grade, and pretty much didn't stop until....well, until Ann M. Martin stopped writing them. In college, when Catherine, Kristina, and I lived together, we combined our sizable collections of books and brought them to our college apartment, where we proceeded to re-read them and discuss them as though they were fine literature. Which they are. Now, back in the day I did own this board game (along with a lot of other BSC paraphernalia), but I'm pretty sure my mom got rid of the game when she decided I was "too old" for the BSC (which is impossible, by the way). Catherine saw this one at the consignment sale and just KNEW what we would be doing on our Friday night.

We might be almost 30, but you are NEVER too old to hang out with Stacey, Kristy, Mary Ann, and Dawn for the night. And you wouldn't BELIEVE how much of my brain is being clogged up with loads of useless trivia about the BSC. Seriously. If I could've cleared out all that stuff to make room for the stuff I was supposed to be learning in college...sheesh. Anyway. Mad props to Catherine for locating this gem of a game...and if there are any other super awesome people who would like to challenge either of us to some BSC it at your own risk and prepare to lose. Also, Ann M. Martin, if you read this blog...I think you are the greatest author ever and Catherine and I wish you would write some new books and tell us what happened with all the girls. Also, we may or may not be writing our own fan fiction to do just that.

I could the rest of my weekend EVER measure up to such a fantastic Friday night?? It was tough, but luckily...Timmy was up to the job. Are you ready??

 BABY TIMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! With his Aunt Erika and Uncle Mattie.

And with his Aunt Erika, his most favorite [GENDER-NEUTRAL TERM THAT ENCOMPASSES AUNTS AND UNCLES]. I am the best at getting him to sleep on my chest.
And at having a really obnoxious part in my bangs. 
 Me and Timmy had a lot of good times together. Mostly I held him and talked to him and he stared off into space or fell asleep. Actually, the previous sentence could easily also describe my relationship with Matt. HAHA. Just kidding, Mattie. Not that you read this. 

See, Timmy even has the power to wow and amaze groups of men! Look at them fawn over the cute little thing!

(In case you don't know, that would be Tom (Timmy's proud dad) on the left, Matt holding Timmy, and Matt's dad/Timmy's grandpa on the right)

We had a lot of fun hanging out with Amy and Tom (and Timmy, did I mention him?) and the rest of our family all weekend. We had a big surprise 60th birthday party for Matt's mom last was a lot of fun and a TOTAL surprise to her. There were almost 40 people there!! We also had a family photo shoot today with a photographer. That was fun. Now that we're out of weddings (we had 'em every 6 months for awhile there), we have to think of other reasons to have photographers follow us around. Crazy.

The main thing we did, though, was spend lots of time laying around at the parents' house...eating, playing games, watching football, and HACKING EACH OTHER'S FACEBOOKS. No, seriously. 

See, the parents have a few iPads. Naturally, when we're all hanging out, we're passing the iPads around and around, checking emails and facebooks, playing Words/Hanging With Friends, and having photo shoots with ourselves: 

 I was thinking of making this my Blogger profile you think I would get a lot of new traffic from people seeing my pic on my comments on other blogs and clicking out of morbid curiosity? Or am I the only person on earth still fascinated/entertained by Photo Booth? Valid questions.

I always wanted to be a twin!! But maybe not a Siamese love with myself...okay, maybe not that.

Anyway. It's bound to happen, when you're just passing around iPads, that you forget to log yourself out. And someone, probably a well-meaning sister-in-law, will notice and take advantage of that fact. And then a little while later, you might notice that SHE forgot to log HERSELF you return the favor. And then later...well, you get the idea. And then you notice the whole family congregating in the kitchen, but you're so doped up on cold medicine that you don't stop to think that they are probably conspiring against you, and when you finally wake up enough to find this:

And you realize that everyone you know (that you're FB friends with) has had their newsfeeds BLOWN UP with your hacked status updates...and you want to apologize, but that would mean showing up AGAIN, and you start wondering how many people un-friended you as a result of aforementioned hackation. Ridiculous, for sure.

If you're my FB friend, I apologize. If you're my brother or better sleep with one eye open. And make sure you log yourself out of your facebook EXTRA GOOD next time. And if you're NOT my facebook friend, but you WANT to be...I totally understand. This has got to be better than seeing people's political rants, right?

So that was my weekend. It was great, and now I want to sleep for about 3 days. Unfortunately, instead of doing that, I will be working. Awesome. To make things even better, tomorrow is Columbus Day, which my banker-husband will have off. To add insult to injury, he is spending the day getting a MASSAGE (and then his weekly acu appointment). Let's review. I will be at work, even though I'm sick. Matt...who is not sick...will be spending the day NOT going to work and getting massaged/acupunctured instead. Life is so not fair.