Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Because he totally did.
And I was pretty mortified.
On the plus side, that's the first poop in 3 months that one of us hasn't had to bend over and personally scoop up a handful of excrement. I guess that's worth $50 a lesson, right?
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Katie: Did you see the new jcrew catalog? It's so great. I just love it.
Ear doctor: (slightly confused) Ummm, no.
Katie: Really, it's so great. I love everything in there. It's perfect. And I know that I've already said this about 3 times but I just really think its great.
Ear doctor: (rolling his eyes at my perceived utter dorkiness) Katie, I just don't get into catalogs like you do.
Ear doctor: Unless it's skymall or something.
Yeah, who's the dorky one now?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Luckily, Bon Appetite was man enough to let me be me. He understands that I need space and that sometimes you have to let someone walk away to prove that you really love them. My first foray into the world of Cook's Illustrated started simple enough. I love fall and I LOVE soup. I cracked open the mag and was a little stunned to see the plain, informative layouts; I was used to the glitz and glam of the BA.
While the soup simmered I watched the floor show....
And in the end this recipe was fantastic and warmed me to the tips of my toes...not hard consider it is still about 80 degrees here in Colorado. I guess just making soup does not force the weather to be more like fall...
Then all h*** broke loose. This is the kind of crazy, out of control man I live with.
I've learned to just avoid making him angry. I hope you all learned a similar lesson.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
This year we haven't been invited to any Halloween parties. My bff whose birthday is Halloween moved to Baltimore (curses) so now it looks like we may not have any real plans for the big night. This was a bit of a relief for me. I thought maybe we could just get some scary (ish) movies and stay up late together getting freaked out.
However, the past couple of weeks the ear doctor has started trying to talk me into going TRICK-OR-TREATING with him. Um, we don't have any kids or anything. He thinks it is totally legit for two adults almost 30 years old to dress up and beg for candy. He keeps insisting that it would be hilarious to see the looks on people's faces when they open the door and there we are, bags extended. Our dignity for the bargain basement price of a stale, rock hard tootsie roll and partially opened smarties.
I just can't bring myself to catch his vision for the evening.
What do you think? Strange or kind of funny?
WHOA, lots of you are very passionate about this one. What if instead of just showing up and asking for a treat we provide a trick as well? I could play my fiddle and the ear doctor could make our dog dance on his back legs? Would that be funnier/prevent hostility?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Julia Baum writes a blog all about redheads. Have you heard that we are becoming extinct? Well, Julia is trying to preserve us, which is pretty cool. Luckily I married a man who's maternal grandfather had red hair so we should have a pretty decent shot at having a red headed little munchkin.
Nell, you should totally go and tell me all about it. Sorry, but you're my only friend that lives in the city.
At about 10 am my friend Derrick (aka Pan Song) sent out an innocent meeting notice. The title of the meeting? "TIME TO RIDE." This piqued my curiosity. I opened the meeting notice and was delighted to see this totally dorky picture:
How deliciously nerdy is mountain unicycle riding?!?!? Seriously, can you think of something more stereotypically dorky? I didn't think so.
About an hour later this is what my eyes spied in the parking lot:
Sweet glory! Does it get better! A bunch of engineers all gathered around watching each other nearly crack their heads open during work hours! On a UNICYCLE. A method of travel usually reserved for trained chimps in a circus!
Add a free, giveaway T-shirt advertising our modeling software and you've really got a doozy of a combination.
Then I realized what a spectacular background this big red wall was!
Anyone else involved in anything quite as spectacular at work today?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
So often they seem at odds.
As a pretty logical educated person, this can be difficult for me. But I find that in the struggle to understand the seeming disparity I grow as a person and am granted enlightenment beyond my own powers of deduction. Usually I am able to settle the difference in my mind, or lean on my faith to bridge the gap.
However, when leading scientists in their field do it for me it satisfies me my very core.
Yesterday I was clicking around and was floored by this quote I read:
The initial organization of the brain does not rely that much on experience...Nature provides a first draft, which experience then revises...'Built-in' does not mean unmalleable; it means organized in advance of experience." written by leading neuroscientist Dr. Marcus Kaiser.
I was seriously beaming all afternoon after reading this. Am I just the biggest nerd in the world, or what?
***And if you're going to leave a rude or mean comment, save yourself the time and trouble, I'm a quick deleter****
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
One day we were walking through the halls at school and he noticed I had a strange bruise on my shin. He asked what happened and I gave him the same response I always give to this question, "I don't really remember."
This kind of blew him away. The thing is, I bruise so easily that I never remember how I get them. I told him this to his incredulous face and he didn't believe me. I insisted that almost anything will give me a bruise. To test my posit, he balled up both fists and lightly punched me in both of my biceps.
It didn't really hurt, but boy did he feel bad for the entire next week when I had two exactly matching bruises on each arm.
You all probably don't believe me, right. Well just check this out:
Yup, what you are seeing on my right forearm is a huge bruise the size of a ping pong ball. I have no idea what happened.
You can just go ahead and call me the queen of graceful now.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
In other words, how best communicate information to people who may have a different cultural background than your own.
One of his lectures is on ethnocentrism...or thinking that your own ethnicity/culture/country is the bomb. Sometimes it means that you think so much of yourself that you can't even see reality.
Which is why we both just DIED the other night when we were watching America's Got Talent and the "Hoff" (wise, sage of our generation) made this statement:
I guess I've been wrong all these years thinking that the Olympics were a world event where country and cultural differences are put aside to celebrate the great athletic accomplishments of an individual.
It's pure American.
Last Friday Gabby at Design Mom wrote a great post reporting the outcome of NieNie day a few weeks ago. All told, since August 28th $117,000 has been donated to help Stephanie and Christian Nielson, mostly in small increments from blog auctions. Amazing.
So, by now you may be bored of hearing about all of this. But I can't seem to let it go. Participating in this one little event really impacted me on so many different levels. It helped me realize the ability that I can personally have to help. It showed me that not only can I help make the world around me a better place, but I have the responsibility to do so.
It reaffirmed my positive outlook on life and the of the goodness of people. Sometimes I start to feel jaded. I see the great potential in people squandered. I see selfishness and thoughtlessness and begin to think that the majority of humanity is like that. But that just isn't the case. By far, most people are good. Most people are honest and true. And that is so nice to remember.
As I read down through the comments on Gabby's Friday post I was completely overwhelmed by one of the commenter's thoughts. She wrote:
From a Grandmother:In another era, women would have shared news while hanging out the laundry, chatting over the back fence with a neighbor. And those same women would have put their sympathies into a bake sale, etc., for a good cause.It's wonderful to witness that timeless compassion at work in your current world of blogging "neighbors." Bless you all!
I was so moved by this idea. I was humbled to be part of a group described as having timeless compassion.
On our previous poll (the one about the old versus the new cereal box tops) you found in favor of the ear doctor's preference, 4 to 2.
This time, however, I am fully validated in my stance. Most of you smart, lovely, attractive people out there agree with me that the typical Sizzler dining experience is a cut above that of the Golden Corral.
The final results were thus: 10 of you agreed with me that the likelihood of getting hepatitis A is far less at sizzler than at golden corral. 2 of you sided with the ear doctor that both establishments feature the same amount of food crushed and ground into that weird green-with-little-Fleur-de-lis carpet. And 3 of you sounded off even though you haven't been to both, so you can't really compare.
Ear doctor, put that in your pipe and smoke it. (wink)
Monday, September 15, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
I say that she was a hygienist not because she recently had a career change, but because she passed away about 4 and a half years ago from colon cancer. And I really hope she doesn't have to clean people's teeth in the next life.
Although, if someone cleans teeth in heaven it would be my aunt because she was just that good at it.
As a result of my affection for her and her lessons in flossing I have a very strong personal testimony of the benefits brought by good dental hygiene. Going to the dentist means more to me than just something that a responsible adult does, its a way to honor her memory. Strange, yes.
As a consequence I look forward to my visits to the recumbent chair.
Yesterday I had such a visit. I was a bit late and scurried into my appointment at the exact stroke of 8:50. Being the first appointment of the day means that you don't have a chance to catch up on your important US Weekly readings. I was whisked away back into the sterile cubicles.
Together Cindy (my hygienist) and I began to explore the exciting, tarter filled cavities of my molars. At first she gingerly picked and prodded, but I could tell she was holding back. Flashes of my aunts warnings about gum disease and rotting teeth filled my memory.
Cindy's tool slipped and she apologized for being a bit forceful.
Confused by my mingled feelings of loss and determination to make my aunt proud, I foolishly answered, "don't worry. I'm hardcore. I want every bit of gunk out of there."
And boy did she remove it.
I've never felt such violence in my poor little mouth. Giving a hygienist the go ahead to mercilessly scrape, poke, prod and polish is a BAAAAAAD idea. I knew I was in for it when she pushed up her sleeves, struck a power stance next to my chair and braced her full weight against the strength of my jaw bone.
The rest of the day my mouth was throbbing with pain. But each throb reminded me of my dear aunt who I miss terribly. Each pulse reassured me that I did the right thing and that she would be proud. So even though it was one of the more painful dental visits of my life, at least Aunt Sandy would be happy with me.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Today I'm remembering the devastation of 7 years ago. The lives that were lost. The countrywide anguish. The power and ability of tragedy to unify a people. Which is especially important right now as the political arena seems to be creating an ever widening gulf between people.
It reminds me to be a little kinder. Slower to anger. More patient and open minded with everyone around me. The time we have is precious, not a second of which should be wasted.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A bandanna with a gown? Huh? I don't get it. If it's warm enough to go with a strapless gown there is really no need for a scarf, now is there?
Is this so that she can hold up everyone at a ritzy party for their wallets and jewels and make a speedy, anonymous get away?
1) there was a string cheese in my purse
2) I had no change except pennies
When I looked down into my purse to try to fetch the string cheese I became a bit confused. On first glance I couldn't find it. Now, my purse isn't really one of those bottomless-pit types so I can pretty much tell if something is in there. Despite that fact I frantically pushed aside random receipts and gum wrappers thinking somehow a standard size string cheese could be obscured by trident packaging. It wasn't there.
Curiously enough there was a random quarter in there.
Suddenly my mind leaped to the following (insane) conclusion:
Someone must have stolen my string cheese out of my purse and dropped a quarter in like I am some kind of WALKING VENDING MACHINE!!!!!!
30 minutes later I found the cheese on the floor of my car, still no explanation for the extra quarter. Don't worry, in-depth investigations will commence shortly.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
However, if we don't go to the store we starve. So I go.
I like to go on Friday afternoons when I'm done with work. That's just the time that works out the best for me. I fortify myself with a nice cold Intajuice (so much better than Jamba, IMHO) and force myself past the annoying petitioners into the building.
This last Friday I made a similar effort. The ear doctor accompanied me for moral support. We rapidly ticked down the shopping list and found ourselves in the check out line surprisingly quickly.
I watched as our items rang up on the computer screen. I once heard somewhere that people pay on average $5 more than they should because things ring up incorrectly and they are too distracted to notice.
The checker got down to the bottom of my cart and pulled up my 2 heads of lettuce..BIBB lettuce. She stared blankly at them and then looked up at me. She asked, "what is this?"
I was a bit stunned.
There is an entire wall of lettuce in the produce section. I would have thought that almost every other customer had a random head of lettuce in their cart. I shrugged and said, "lettuce?"
"I know that....but what kind?" She responded back.
Here is where she lost me even more. Every single type of lettuce at this market is the same price. $1.49 a head. I know this because we get at least one head every single week. So for her to ask what kind, to me, seemed a silly question. Does it really matter to her?
"It's bibb, I think" I offered....even though I was 100% sure that it was bibb lettuce.
"No, it ABSOLUTELY is not BIBB LETTUCE" She responded. Our eyes locked. The tension between us was palpable. This woman was not going to back down from her non-bibb lettuce stance and I realized that this was a battle not worth fighting. I shrugged, she rang it up as bibb (it cost $1.49...like every other type of lettuce in the store) and we moved on.
And that is why my hatred of the grocery store lives on.
Monday, September 08, 2008
On my left, sat my work-weary dad. He assumed his standard family night pose: strong arms folded up high over his chest, head rolled to the side, eyelids drooping dangerously close to closed.
My mom gave a short lesson to the family...probably on being nice and not loosing our tempers. She must have known what that nights activity would entail. Hesitantly, she brought out the Monopoly board.
Nathan's previously rolling eyes lit up. I also perked right up to attention. A game? That I could win? Count me in! Maggie squirmed, saw me get excited and followed suit. My dad woke himself up with his own snort.
We began to play.
As is to be expected, my ruthless cunning take-no-prisoners personality reared it's ugly head. I was in control of the game. I had almost all the money in the game, properties on 3 sides of the board. However, Nathan held that one precious jewel out of my Trump-like grasp. He had hotels on boardwalk and Park place.
No matter, I was winning.
Until, suddenly I found myself landing on his hotel laden square. The horror of what had just happened slowly sank in. All my money, power, and most important WINNINGs were for naught. Like a bad dream, Nathan slowly turned toward me and one look at that jeering self-satisfied face was more than this little 8 year old could take.
Without thinking my two little hands shot out across the table, grabbed the unsuspecting edges of the game board. With more force than you would think possible I violently threw board, bank and the whole community chest across the kitchen.
In the stunned silence that followed the overly emotional outburst you could have heard a single green plastic little house drop on the floor.
I have always been too competitive for my own good. Obviously I've frustrated my family with this embarrassing drive, but it goes further. I've let it prevent real friendships from growing. I've let it make me feel bad about myself. I've let it define who I am instead of choosing who I want to be.
Constantly I hear that being ambitious is a praiseworthy trait. That a person will accomplish more by really turning up the ambition and letting that guide them. But I'm not so sure if that model works for me.
You see, the thing I get most ambitious about is being the best and/or WINNING. And it really doesn't matter what I'm the best at. In my mind ambition and competition are intertwined and so mixed together that its nearly impossible for me to straighten them out. This is probably one of my greatest personal weaknesses. So, my question to you is this: Are you able to feel a spirit of ambition without any overtones of competition? If so, how does that feel?
Because I'd love to figure that out.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
You dominated the intermediate level of Guitar Hero (I'm such a proud wife)
You helped me eat my weight in garlic cheese toast at Claim Jumper.
You creeped me out at the St. Patrick's Day parade.
You earned your first of two doctoral degrees.
You were really thrilled to be at DisneyWorld.
You finally convinced me to get a dog.
You buried yourself in ties
You ate monkey balls
All in all, a very successful year for you.
Happy birthday sweets. Love, wifey.