Friday, February 27, 2009

Morning jaunt

This morning on our walk the ear doctor and I had the most amazing conversation. Here are the topics we covered in 45 minutes:

1) the source of creative genius...does it reside inside a person, or is it bestowed from an outside force?

2) how the process of bread making can be interpreted as a transformative symbol of Christ's atonement

3) how we are both annoyed that our neighbor now lets their two annoying little black dogs pee in Roscoe's designated peeing grass

4) ambition in life, how to get more, how to properly direct it

5) how the same shoes that I walked in for 5 days straight at Disneyworld gave me no problem, but after a 20 minute walk yesterday I've got hot spots on my heels

6) my bangs

7) how it feels to be smack in the middle of an overwhelming creative flow where everything you do seems to come together in a perfect combination

8) our need for more dog food at the house

Yet another reason why I love being with the ear doctor. Who wouldn't want to be married to someone who incites such interesting thoughts?

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Great NEWS!

Thanks to my little photo series and all your comments about my dad's sleeping habits he actually, FINALLY, went it to see a doctor! Hooray!

On our next family trip there might be a chance I won't find myself laying awake staring at sparkly popcorn ceiling of a shared hotel room at 3 am desperately telling myself that a jury probably won't believe that temporary insanity can be caused by my father's loud and incessant snoring.

My future children thank you for helping them avoid Saturday morning visits to the clink to see mommy.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

p098uimn ik,j <-my forehead on the keyboard

In middle school I was part of Science Olympiad. If you weren't nerdy enough to be involved in this activity, let me explain it for you. A bunch of kids from all different schools spend all year practicing fun science-y things and then on one weekend they all get together and compete against each other.

If you've read more than 2 posts on this blog you'll probably see that this type of thing was MADE for me.

Geeky? Check. Competitive? Check. Social? Check.

Well, one of the events was a to build a mousetrap-type exhibit. The more different methods of energy transfer (physical contact, heat, wind, ect) the higher your score. For WEEKS I would wake up in the middle of the night with a great idea for the mousetrap device. I'd scribble them down on a piece of paper and fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, I could never decipher my midnight mad-scientist notes.

This waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night phenomenon has persisted into my adult life. Any tough problem I'm working on will invade my dreams and wake me with midnight epiphanies. When they're really good I can't get back to sleep.

Which explains why I was at work at 5:45 this morning.

And I hope my boss understands that when he swings by here at 2:30 and I'm passed out on my desk. Keyboard imprints in the forehead are the MOST professional part of my look.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Dear Adele,

Girl, your voice freakin rocks my world. I even made a pandora station devoted to you so I can jam out to your tunes while I work on my more boring tasks at work.

You're a life saver!

Monday, February 23, 2009

Well, since you asked

First things first, I have to admit this fact: I am NOT a purse person. I've had so many friends that just LOVE having a million different bags and they switch them on a daily basis and they really make their outfits look put together and polished.

That's just not me.

This bag, that I got at Aldo about 2 years ago, is my main workhorse:

See what I'm saying? Not that impressive.

And the average contents?

Digital camera in Kenneth Cole neoprene case, keys (which I can never find), green snakeskin wallet (BR), checkbook, 4 (count them) hair bands, free hearing aid company pens, cinnamon gum, nano (yes, I always wrap the ear bud cords like that), midol (for emergencies), reeses peanut butter hearts (Valentines day!), cell phone, thumb drive, lip treatments and a random baggie of gummy bears.

Anyone care to make up a personality profile from these items?

Over breakfast

This morning the ear doctor and I sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy our day-starting bowls of cereal. My cereal of choice? Lucky Charms.

When I eat Lucky Charms I like to make sure that every bite has at least 1 marshmallow in it. It's just a thing I do. And the ear doctor knows it.

Just as I was finishing up my bowl (2 bites left, 2 mallows) he reached over with his big ole spoon in MY bowl and threatens the red balloon shaped goodness. Immediately spoons changed from food scooping instruments into weapons used to either defend (me) or wage war (him).

As soon as I was sure that the red balloon was safe in the protection of my sliver-domed utensil I looked up and, with fury in my eyes said, "Oh, I'm SO sure!"

At which point the ear doctor almost squirted milk through his nose because he realized that he has married Cher Horowitz.

But seriously, like was even going to get my last Lucky Charm! AS IF!

Saturday, February 21, 2009

A question for you

Two things that have been rolling around in my brain today:

1) Are you the type of person who eats the last cookie from the cookie jar?

2) If you found yourself in the position of wanting to date someone and not being able to find someone using conventional methods, would you consider using an Internet site to find someone?

For me, the answer to both inquiries is the exact same.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Nature vs Nurture

About 5 years ago I went on a week long trip with a bunch of friends to Mexico. It was SOOOO much fun. I sort of hate renting cars on trips and taxis are so expensive, so we decided to take the bus everywhere we wanted to go. Plus, as an added bonus, the buses that we took were pretty much roller coaster rides so we got a free jolt of adrenaline every time we boarded one.

However, after a few consecutive late nights and sun drenched days I started getting really sleepy every time we got on a bus. I don't think any of my friends will ever forget me actually falling asleep while sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs on a wild, bumpy Mexican bus ride.

My reputation of public sleeping will forever live in infamy.

But really, they should understood that I didn't just spontaneously gain this ability. From a very young age I have been groomed to enjoy a quick nap on a public bench, bus, theater, patio, anywhere.

Don't believe me? Observe my dad, at Disney world for 5 days:

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Last night a good friend of mine said I was very brave. She actually said that she wished that she was as brave as I am.

And up to that point I'd never in a million years considered myself brave. I'm not the type to scale mountains with just a piece of twine and a Swiss army knife. I've never attempted to sail a boat through a tempest storm where the vessel lilts at a 75 degree angle to the pounding waves. And I'm pretty sure if I ever saw a bear in the wild from less than a mile away I'd pee my pants.


Decidedly NOT brave.

However, this morning I've been thinking a bit more about it. I did move out to Colorado without knowing a soul and made a home for myself. I swallowed my fears and committed my life, heart, and future to one man. I pushed myself to a career that is intellectually challenging. I drink milk passed the expiration date.

So maybe I am pretty brave after all. I mean, would a coward do this to herself:

Monday, February 09, 2009

Get ready

I just want to let you have a second to prepare yourself for the total and uncontrollable jealousy that you are about to experience.

My dad MADE me this chair:

Yup, he MADE that! He took raw, unfinished boards and made an awesome Danish/Mid-century chair for me! Can you even believe that one person could be that talented?!?!? Now all I have to do is run to an upholstery store and get them to make me a couple of cushions for it! I cannot WAIT to have it in my family room!

Could I possibly use more exclamation points?!!!!

Ultimate shame

Remember the time I had friends over for dinner and I torched the kitchen?

Last night I invited them over again in the hopes that I could redeem my hostess skills. I decided to make Thomas Keller's fried chicken. This chicken is so good it kind of makes me weak in the knees when I take my first bite. It's juicy, spicy, crunchy and everything fried chicken should be.

I knew with this recipe there was no way I would fail.

Unforch, the breasts on my little chickens must have been thicker than usual because, despite frying them for the recipe prescribed amount of time and keeping my eagle-eye watch on the frying thermometer, the middle of the breasts were raw.

I'm not talking a little underdone, here people. I mean pink, squishy, cold RAW!

I was horrified when I saw my sweet guests politely picking off the outer crust and attempting to eat around the nasty embarrassing rawness. The ear doctor whipped the offending breasts off their plate and replaced with perfectly done thighs, but I couldn't believe I'd let it happen.

These people are never going to come back to my house. Ever. And, really, I don't blame them. I'd be pretty hesitant to return to a house that first tried to asphyxiate my child and then poison me with salmonella.

Denying your roots

On the way into work the radio station was interviewing Chevy Chase. I guess there is an international film festival in Boulder and they're honoring his body of work. And, personally, I love Chevy. Give me a little Fletch rounded out with Caddy Shack and topped with Christmas Vacation and I'm one happy girl.


The DJ asked this question and I was pretty surprised with his answer. He said, "Have you seen SNL recently? What do you think of our contemporary comics like Steven Colbert or John Stewart?"

His response?

"Actually, I don't really watch much now. So I don't really know." (said in a sort of I'm-too-cool voice)

Um, what? Excuse me? So you are trying to tell me that you are one of the handful of people who didn't tune in to see Tina Fey as Sarah Palin? I find that veeeeeeerrrrrrrry difficult to believe.

Since when was it OK for someone who was practically BORN by SNL to badmouth it? To make it seem like only the little people had time to watch the show.

This kind of stuff just drives me nuts. It's like me saying, "Oh, BYU? That university is so lame and stupid. Totally out of touch since I attended." or "Oh, my parents? I don't really stay in touch with them anymore. I don't really owe them anything for helping shape me into the person I am today."

Give me a break.

Chevy, we all know you sit at home in your million dollar mansion on Sunday afternoon watching the DVR'd episode of SNL from the night before. Critiquing their delivery. Bemoaning their inability to creatively end a sketch. Falling head over heals in love with everything Kristen Wiig does. Pretending you are Gilly with a curly afro and a propensity for sticking pencils in people's arms.

Er, um, maybe I'm confusing the two of us....

Friday, February 06, 2009

Two ships that pass

Yesterday the ear doctor and I spent a total of 47 minutes under the same roof and conscious.

This is R-A-R-E for us, since we are kind of that couple that likes to be together. We wait to eat together, we try to leave the house at the same time so we depart together, we walk the dog together, we're just pretty much always together.

If you think that's co-dependant or lame, you're wrong. He's just he person I most like to be around. I have a sneaking suspicion that he might feel the same way.

Which makes it really strange to go through a day without him around.

I found myself laughing at something funny I saw, instinctively turning to where he usually would be and starting to comment before I realized that he wasn't even there. When I was pouring myself a glass of milk I accidentally grabbed 2 glasses out of the cupboard, thinking he would probably want some too. When I ate a handful of mini-M&M's I looked around to offer some to him.

It was really actually kind of creepy.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Truth in advertising

From the back of my dog's food bag:

Amen, brother, A-Men!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Patent leather

When I graduated from high school my parents got me a really awesome outfit. I remember feeling really polished and grown up because I'd purchased my khaki pencil skirt from Nordstrom's t.b.d department instead of brass plum. REALLY fancy.

To round out the ensemble they bought me a pair of black strappy sandals with a .5" square heal. I loved them but I was REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEALLY nervous that the solid heal would make a deafening CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK as I walked across the stage to collect my diploma.

As the days to graduation ticked down I became more and more concerned with the CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK. I could just picture it, me, starting to walk across the elevated hardwood floor of the opera house and the sound of my footsteps so loud and piercing that no one could even hear my name being read. Or worse yet, they couldn't hear the name of my crush who just happened to be walking 2 or 3 people behind me.

It was unthinkable!

So, ever resourceful, I taped big wads of quilters batting to the bottom of my shoes.

Yup, DORKY as charged.

I just wasn't ready to fully own the grown-up sound of a person walking in high heels.

The thing is, in most of my childhood memories my mom is wearing high heels. The distinctive sound of those spiky shoes walking along a hard surface is a reassuring, very grown-up sound to me. At 17 I don't think I was ready to be the one making that sound. I was insecure, inexperienced and definitely not ready to be an adult.

In college I didn't wear them either. Well, maybe I borrowed a pair here and there from friends to go out or on a nice date, but I never really WORE them. They always felt like a costume. Not me.

But now? It's different. When I walk down the street in these babies they feel real.

When I'm making the sound of a high heeled woman walking down the street I don't feel out of place...I feel confident and sure of myself.

Is that strange? Should I be worried that I feel mature and validated by the sound emanating from a $100 pair of shoes? Wouldn't a deep and self assured person not care?