So I'm sitting out on my deck, enjoying my early Mother's day present of organic Pinot Grigio, freshly chilled in my new "wine cellar", working on my writing, while the sun sets behind me. It was one of those perfect moments that was only slightly ruined by the fact that my Mother's Day gift was alcohol once again. I have never thought of myself as a problem drinker, but as I look back on recent conversations, I do realize that I have asked a few people "Are you a drinker?" Not "Where are you from?" or "So what do you do for a living?" but "Are you a drinker?" Couple that with the fact that I giggled for 5 minutes over the onesie that reads "Mommy drinks because I cry" and I guess I can understand why my husband and 11 year old figured booze was the way to go. In all reality though, the reason I ask is to determine one's tolerance of me. I find that somebody with a mild "buzz" will probably appreciate my humor more than one who has not imbibed recently. But I digress. It was a perfect evening.
I was sitting perfectly to observe my new neighbors comings and goings. Having determined he was not a sex offender, (and that yes, he was a drinker) I was more or less being nosy and just trying to determine how quickly I wanted to put our house up for sale. I had already discovered, he drove a motorcycle, just like the last neighbor, but unfortunately, I discovered this after telling him what an asshole the previous biker had been. I don't want to assume that just because he rides a motorcycle that he too will wake us up at 2 in the morning while he revs his bike up. So i was feeling a little sheepish.
I needed some saving grace here. A way to still be a good neighbor and not that "annoying bitch who hates motorcycles". I needed to be cool.
I did what every red blooded Minnesotan would do. I stocked up the fridge with good beer. I made sure that we grilled good food so if we saw him, we could casually invite him over for a steak or lobster or whatever expensive piece of animal I could hands on. I really felt a strong desire to bond with this new neighbor.
So at 8pm last night, I was finally just relaxing on my deck, when I saw the cat. It was perched in the drivers seat of my neighbors very nice, very new truck.
At that moment, a million ideas went through my head. I could run inside, get shoes on, go over and let him know there was a cat in his truck. Too busybody? Yeah probably, plus the cat could leave while I was getting my shoes on and then I would look like an idiot. Should I run over, barefoot and scare the cat away? No, that seemed a little too intense and very much opposite from the "Cool neighbor" persona I was going for. I could yell for Dan to go get the cat, but that just seemed like the epitome of laziness. So I went for the bottom of the barrel. I unleashed my dog.
Dexter is a good dog, but he hates this particular cat. Running at the speed of light, he shot like a cannon over to the neighbors. The cat made the mistake of poking his head out the window and Dexter went absolutely ape shit, trying to jump into the bed of the truck and, I can only assume, rip the cats jugular out.
As I watch from the deck, praying that Dexter doesn't scratch up the side of the truck, my nice, non sex offending neighbor pops his head out, Im sure to figure out what the commotion is all about.
It's at this moment that Dexter, distracted by the fact that a man he doesn't know now lives next door, runs at the neighbor, teeth bared, barking and growling. I yell-no I scream- for him to shut the door, so Dexter doesn't attack him. I yell for Dexter to "get your ass over here!" (Like he is some disobedient 14 year old boy from the ghetto... yeah- that one always works) I can't chase after him. I'm barefoot and my one year old has gleefully watching all the action, to crying because I scared her with my hollering. Instead, I slam my hand into the deck. I shake my box of crackers like it's a treat. I swear. I ask nicely. Billy comes out and calls for the dog. I yell at Billy to go get him. My dog ignores me, aggressively barking at the bottom of my neighbors front steps. Effectively telling him, "You come out and I WILL rip your balls off!"
Meanwhile the cat slips out of the truck.
5 minutes later, out of breath and completely red in the face, Billy has the dog contained. The neighbor is peering out his kitchen window now.
"Sorry!" I call out with a shrug. "There was a cat in your truck!" I feel like I have just slapped him and told him there was a mosquito on his cheek, so I add- "For real!"
He just looks at me like I'm crazy and shuts his kitchen window.
I haven't seen my neighbor all day now.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Life lessons from Jack Handy- Sponsored by KY Touch Massage
Ok- so in writing this blog, it has occurred to me that I should offer the public something. Anything. A service. An education. An opinion. So far my posts have been storytelling, so I hope that some of you have been entertained at the very least, but I could really roll some type of moral or life lesson in while I'm at it, right? I mean- we all learn lessons everyday, but do we necessarily share them with one another? I think that might be why people think I'm borderline crazy. Because I DO share. Sometimes too much. But I do it with your best interests at heart. I have learned many lessons that the general population hasn't thought about. For instance- did you know that the police will find NO logical reasoning for you driving and changing your shirt at the same time? (Even if you were 19 and pretty cute, in my humble opinion!) Or that you should really listen when your doctor tells you to not mix alcohol with your Ambien prescription? (They should also advise against social networking while taking it as well!) Some people may not even realize that when becoming a manager, there is no math test, so don't let your manager do math for you. (Even if she is your friend! There is no shame in checks and balances!) Maybe some of you knew these things, but I'm willing to bet that a few of you thought about each of those scenarios for a moment, so I've decided that passing along little nuggets of wisdom is really what I should be doing for now. If I can prevent at least one Ambien induced assault, I have done my job.
This evening was much like any other evening in Minnesota, in late April... Oh hell who am I kidding? It was yet another day in the world's longest winter season ever. After a brief thaw, we had yet another 5-6 inches bearing down on us. (Stop snickering, if that's all you have grown accustomed to... well that's another topic.) I was making a valiant attempt to pick my son up from school, but because my husband needed our SUV for some baseball related reason, I was driving his car. (For those of you taking notes- here's lesson number one.) The roads were so bad, heading back to my son's school, that I had to pull over. I literally, couldn't drive another foot, for fear of getting stuck in a ditch somewhere. With my daughter in the back seat, I just couldn't risk it. I'm pretty accustomed to winter driving, but in my husband, Dan's car, I was useless. I pulled over and called him and begged him to come get us. (That's lesson number one- there is NO shame in asking for help. Better to deal with your husband making snarky remarks about how women can't drive than to wind up in the ditch with a 1 year old!)
While I sat in the middle of Nowhere, I realized how incredibly tense I was. I must have been white knuckle driving the whole 15 miles, because as soon as I put the car in park, it was like my entire body turned to jelly. .
After Dan rescued me, I thought it was safe. I told him that my back was still "un-tensing" (Yeah- probably not a real word) and maybe I could get a back massage when I got home? Here's lesson number two. Never ask your husband for TOO much help. You need to properly reward them for each individual task BEFORE moving on to the next one. He unloaded the dishwasher? An emphatic thank you with balloons and streamers falling from the ceiling might be appropriate. He put gas in your car? Plan on sleeping naked. He watched the kids you both created together after he put gas in your car? Well that's going to require a lot of stretching before you can properly thank him. It's all common sense. Failure to adhere to this basic plan can only result in system malfunction... which is what happened tonight.
When we got home, I was ecstatic to find that Dan immediately went upstairs and found the KY Massage oil.
Ok- I'm going to break off here. I know what you're thinking, "Gee Heather, what do you have THAT for??" (Sarcasm dripping from every syllable!) But really! We had bought it a little over a year ago- really for massages! I was pregnant and in pain. I needed to get the knots worked out pretty regularly! Admittedly though, it was a pretty awkward purchase, especially when the pharmacist that my mom had worked with, when I was maybe 13 happened upon me in the "naughty" aisle of Target. "Well hello there!" he had said, before realizing where we both stood. I remember awkwardly searching for any kind of conversation. He was too. I blurted out "Hey guess what? I'm pregnant!" He nodded, slowly. I could see in his eyes that he wasn't surprised. That was generally the end result for girls who hung out in this aisle too much. What could he say? Perhaps- "Well congratulations- and good for you, still keeping things spicy!" No...instead he kicked into professional mode. "Well that's great. Are you finding everything ok?" The moment couldn't have been more awkward. I couldn't say yes, that implied that I knew my way around the condoms, pregnancy tests and lubricants. "Actually- I'm looking for massage oil" He nodded. "Sure sure" (Im still not sure if this was a dead air filler or if he didn't believe me.) He grabbed the KY Touch and handed it to me. "This one's good." Oh god what did THAT mean??? "Tell your mom I said Hi" I am pretty sure he knew that wasn't going to happen. "Oh hey mom- guess who I bumped into while looking for special massage oils?" So that's how I came to be the proud owner of a bottle of KY Touch Bali Moonlight Warming Massage oil. But I digress..
I shouldn't have been surprised that Dan didn't acknowledge my complaints of back pain, because he didn't hear it. His head was wired to only understand the next logical step, which would be for me to thank him for saving my life. He HEARD the words "back rub, but that was it". All I managed to do was put the idea in his head. With a big grin he held up the massage oil and a towel. "You wanna give me a back rub?" It was a very classy moment.
Realizing that this was really MY fault, I sighed and nodded. "Let me just slice up a mango really quick." I told him. He pulled off his shirt and sat at the counter patiently while I cut up my mango. (We are very hygienic in our house.)
Yes, I know. There was no "fault" here. But I have to give Dan credit. He just recently re-joined a baseball team after a 10 year hiatus. That's a pretty big deal and I'm really proud of him. I don't have any problem bragging about this accomplishment and I take a lot of pride in letting people know that my husband isn't just some outfielder. Oh nay nay, he is a pitcher. And not just any old pitcher. He is a highly coveted, southpaw. I am grinning while I write that. I know very little about sports and I couldn't tell you much more than the score at any given game, but I can tell you this- there is no uniform like a baseball uniform. Hockey and football? WAAAY too much padding. Basketball? Puh-lease. Thugs who couldn't manage anything more than saggy shorts and a tank. Golf? Gag- hi Grandpa! But Baseball? Not only does the uniform leave little to the imagination, but they send your imagination running wild by ACCENTUATING what you can't help but notice. Why more girls don't take in a good baseball game now and again is beyond me! So when my husband said he needed a good rub down on his shoulder, I happily complied.
It wasn't a big deal really. Billy and Emily were chasing the dogs around the living room while I worked the kinks out. I was very liberal with the oil. It made things so much easier. The air around us was filled with the scent of sandalwood and mandarin...and I guess whatever else Bali smells like in the moonlight. Not thinking, I reached over to the table and haphazardly grabbed a piece of mango. Now, for those of you who have never enjoyed a mango, I need to give one more lesson. Mangoes have a large seed in the middle that likes to surprise you with where it will actually be located. You can't cut through it, down the middle, so you end up cutting all around it and wind up with a couple big pieces and then some random scraps. I personally hate waste on such a delicious fruit, so I oftentimes cut the large pieces, whittle off whatever I can from the seed and if I'm feeling especially motivated, I will even chew the delicious goodness off the seed itself. The problem with that last part is that the further into the Mango you get, the stringier the flesh gets. It can almost get like corn silk, as was the case tonight. While I rubbed the knot in Dan's shoulder out with my right hand, I popped a mango piece in my mouth with the left hand. Unfortunately, it was the seed section. No worries. I just sort of chewed around the seed, until I started to get the hair like pieces in my teeth. The sensation of hair in my mouth, thoroughly disgusts me.(Yeah yeah- insert joke here i know.) I immediately spit the seed out, stopped massaging Dan's shoulder and used both hands to begin foraging for mango hair in my teeth.
Not only did I introduce the flavors of Bali Moonlight to my tongue, but I had apparently rubbed off a couple of Dan's hairs as well. It was awful. I was spitting mandarin, amber and sandalwood into the sink, gagging and pulling hairs, both male and mango out of my teeth. With every attempt at pulling a hair out, I re-introduced more KY. I frantically washed my hands, but as any good KY expert knows, it acts as a sort of water repellent. The water just beaded up on my hands and rolled down my arm. While I choked out broken sentences like "Dear God that one was yours!" and "It's all over my tongue!" Dan calmly walked over to the fridge and started to make a drink. Really? This was too much.
With my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a dog, I scowled at him. "I just got lube all over my tongue and you're making a drink??" (Well- it sounded more like "I jus god oob aww ober my tun and yo magging a dink??")
He shook his head "It's for you. Alcohol cuts the oil."
I was way to grateful to care where he had learned that little lesson... well until now. How did he learn that??? All of a sudden I'm thinking of ex-girlfriends and wondering which one taught him that! Actually, I should thank her, because the end result was me enjoying a black cherry SOCO while I wrote this blog and Dan ended up looking like a hero.
So the moral of the story here? Don't be reckless when using oils and edibles. Read the instructions, be sure you are ok with the possibility of one item getting where the other one should be, and proceed with caution. Tonight, it was I that experienced a foreign country in my mouth, next week it could be you.
G'night!
This evening was much like any other evening in Minnesota, in late April... Oh hell who am I kidding? It was yet another day in the world's longest winter season ever. After a brief thaw, we had yet another 5-6 inches bearing down on us. (Stop snickering, if that's all you have grown accustomed to... well that's another topic.) I was making a valiant attempt to pick my son up from school, but because my husband needed our SUV for some baseball related reason, I was driving his car. (For those of you taking notes- here's lesson number one.) The roads were so bad, heading back to my son's school, that I had to pull over. I literally, couldn't drive another foot, for fear of getting stuck in a ditch somewhere. With my daughter in the back seat, I just couldn't risk it. I'm pretty accustomed to winter driving, but in my husband, Dan's car, I was useless. I pulled over and called him and begged him to come get us. (That's lesson number one- there is NO shame in asking for help. Better to deal with your husband making snarky remarks about how women can't drive than to wind up in the ditch with a 1 year old!)
While I sat in the middle of Nowhere, I realized how incredibly tense I was. I must have been white knuckle driving the whole 15 miles, because as soon as I put the car in park, it was like my entire body turned to jelly. .
After Dan rescued me, I thought it was safe. I told him that my back was still "un-tensing" (Yeah- probably not a real word) and maybe I could get a back massage when I got home? Here's lesson number two. Never ask your husband for TOO much help. You need to properly reward them for each individual task BEFORE moving on to the next one. He unloaded the dishwasher? An emphatic thank you with balloons and streamers falling from the ceiling might be appropriate. He put gas in your car? Plan on sleeping naked. He watched the kids you both created together after he put gas in your car? Well that's going to require a lot of stretching before you can properly thank him. It's all common sense. Failure to adhere to this basic plan can only result in system malfunction... which is what happened tonight.
When we got home, I was ecstatic to find that Dan immediately went upstairs and found the KY Massage oil.
Ok- I'm going to break off here. I know what you're thinking, "Gee Heather, what do you have THAT for??" (Sarcasm dripping from every syllable!) But really! We had bought it a little over a year ago- really for massages! I was pregnant and in pain. I needed to get the knots worked out pretty regularly! Admittedly though, it was a pretty awkward purchase, especially when the pharmacist that my mom had worked with, when I was maybe 13 happened upon me in the "naughty" aisle of Target. "Well hello there!" he had said, before realizing where we both stood. I remember awkwardly searching for any kind of conversation. He was too. I blurted out "Hey guess what? I'm pregnant!" He nodded, slowly. I could see in his eyes that he wasn't surprised. That was generally the end result for girls who hung out in this aisle too much. What could he say? Perhaps- "Well congratulations- and good for you, still keeping things spicy!" No...instead he kicked into professional mode. "Well that's great. Are you finding everything ok?" The moment couldn't have been more awkward. I couldn't say yes, that implied that I knew my way around the condoms, pregnancy tests and lubricants. "Actually- I'm looking for massage oil" He nodded. "Sure sure" (Im still not sure if this was a dead air filler or if he didn't believe me.) He grabbed the KY Touch and handed it to me. "This one's good." Oh god what did THAT mean??? "Tell your mom I said Hi" I am pretty sure he knew that wasn't going to happen. "Oh hey mom- guess who I bumped into while looking for special massage oils?" So that's how I came to be the proud owner of a bottle of KY Touch Bali Moonlight Warming Massage oil. But I digress..
I shouldn't have been surprised that Dan didn't acknowledge my complaints of back pain, because he didn't hear it. His head was wired to only understand the next logical step, which would be for me to thank him for saving my life. He HEARD the words "back rub, but that was it". All I managed to do was put the idea in his head. With a big grin he held up the massage oil and a towel. "You wanna give me a back rub?" It was a very classy moment.
Realizing that this was really MY fault, I sighed and nodded. "Let me just slice up a mango really quick." I told him. He pulled off his shirt and sat at the counter patiently while I cut up my mango. (We are very hygienic in our house.)
Yes, I know. There was no "fault" here. But I have to give Dan credit. He just recently re-joined a baseball team after a 10 year hiatus. That's a pretty big deal and I'm really proud of him. I don't have any problem bragging about this accomplishment and I take a lot of pride in letting people know that my husband isn't just some outfielder. Oh nay nay, he is a pitcher. And not just any old pitcher. He is a highly coveted, southpaw. I am grinning while I write that. I know very little about sports and I couldn't tell you much more than the score at any given game, but I can tell you this- there is no uniform like a baseball uniform. Hockey and football? WAAAY too much padding. Basketball? Puh-lease. Thugs who couldn't manage anything more than saggy shorts and a tank. Golf? Gag- hi Grandpa! But Baseball? Not only does the uniform leave little to the imagination, but they send your imagination running wild by ACCENTUATING what you can't help but notice. Why more girls don't take in a good baseball game now and again is beyond me! So when my husband said he needed a good rub down on his shoulder, I happily complied.
It wasn't a big deal really. Billy and Emily were chasing the dogs around the living room while I worked the kinks out. I was very liberal with the oil. It made things so much easier. The air around us was filled with the scent of sandalwood and mandarin...and I guess whatever else Bali smells like in the moonlight. Not thinking, I reached over to the table and haphazardly grabbed a piece of mango. Now, for those of you who have never enjoyed a mango, I need to give one more lesson. Mangoes have a large seed in the middle that likes to surprise you with where it will actually be located. You can't cut through it, down the middle, so you end up cutting all around it and wind up with a couple big pieces and then some random scraps. I personally hate waste on such a delicious fruit, so I oftentimes cut the large pieces, whittle off whatever I can from the seed and if I'm feeling especially motivated, I will even chew the delicious goodness off the seed itself. The problem with that last part is that the further into the Mango you get, the stringier the flesh gets. It can almost get like corn silk, as was the case tonight. While I rubbed the knot in Dan's shoulder out with my right hand, I popped a mango piece in my mouth with the left hand. Unfortunately, it was the seed section. No worries. I just sort of chewed around the seed, until I started to get the hair like pieces in my teeth. The sensation of hair in my mouth, thoroughly disgusts me.(Yeah yeah- insert joke here i know.) I immediately spit the seed out, stopped massaging Dan's shoulder and used both hands to begin foraging for mango hair in my teeth.
Not only did I introduce the flavors of Bali Moonlight to my tongue, but I had apparently rubbed off a couple of Dan's hairs as well. It was awful. I was spitting mandarin, amber and sandalwood into the sink, gagging and pulling hairs, both male and mango out of my teeth. With every attempt at pulling a hair out, I re-introduced more KY. I frantically washed my hands, but as any good KY expert knows, it acts as a sort of water repellent. The water just beaded up on my hands and rolled down my arm. While I choked out broken sentences like "Dear God that one was yours!" and "It's all over my tongue!" Dan calmly walked over to the fridge and started to make a drink. Really? This was too much.
With my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a dog, I scowled at him. "I just got lube all over my tongue and you're making a drink??" (Well- it sounded more like "I jus god oob aww ober my tun and yo magging a dink??")
He shook his head "It's for you. Alcohol cuts the oil."
I was way to grateful to care where he had learned that little lesson... well until now. How did he learn that??? All of a sudden I'm thinking of ex-girlfriends and wondering which one taught him that! Actually, I should thank her, because the end result was me enjoying a black cherry SOCO while I wrote this blog and Dan ended up looking like a hero.
So the moral of the story here? Don't be reckless when using oils and edibles. Read the instructions, be sure you are ok with the possibility of one item getting where the other one should be, and proceed with caution. Tonight, it was I that experienced a foreign country in my mouth, next week it could be you.
G'night!
Friday, April 19, 2013
I bet Martha Stewart doesn't do that!
In an effort to keep the blood pumping on this blog, I hope to get on here at least every other day. Hopes and dreams are great and often don't turn out the way we planned, but it's a nice thought and really- how lazy would I be if I only did this a few times a month? Kind of like my gym attendance.... Anyway, there will be days where I introduce you to some of the characters in my life (and while they won't admit it, they are really the ones that make my life so interesting!) and other days, I might just bitch. Today I'm just going to storytell...
So I'm sitting in my car eating double stuffed Oreos and making a sundae... (see this is how an interesting story starts!) Ok- let me back up a bit... Over my lunch, I was doing what I do best. Last minute shopping. Actually, I shouldn't say I do it best, because I never come up with anything good and I always end up with the most random gifts. I give myself credit because I have never ran into a gas station for a gift, but I have come alarmingly close. Tonight was my friend Chelsea's baby shower. I had been asked to bring two appetizers. I had big plans. I had a delicious pasta salad in mind and some alarmingly delectable looking garlic knots. I imagined myself walking in with these amazing dishes that people would eat every last bite of and when they asked me how I did it, I would smile and shrug and tell them I just followed the recipe and it was just that simple. Instead, I bought a prepackaged meat tray and a case of soda. I don't even eat meat. Nor did two other guests. WTF?
Now, you might be assuming that my gift for the momma-to-be was just a gift card. There, you would be wrong. I have to give Pinterest credit where credit is due. If you scour that site for hours on end, days, weeks and months even, you occasionally stumble across something that even a monkey could do. The trick, is to look past the glitz and glamour. Or in my case, have your friend Kerry tell you it's so simple a monkey could do it. (Sidenote- she's at home right now putting together what I can only describe as "Pinspiring" words like "WASH" in the laundry room, "COOK" in the kitchen and maybe "WIPE" in the bathroom. Her husband probably ideas for in the bedroom as well.)
This brings me to my car, where I sat in the front seat, engine running, Bruno Mars blaring, while assembling an adorable sundae made out of onesies, washclothes, baby food and cotton balls. Because I didn't want to waste anytime stopping for food, I was eating double stuff oreos. Don't judge me. I've seen you eating your double cheeseburger while driving. Yeah- I saw that ketchup drip on your chin. I'm no worse and you're no better. Moving on... I'm eating and assembling when I hear a horn honk. A looong deliberate honk. I look around and realize there is a woman, about my age, impatiently sitting behind me, expecting me to move! Really? I get that its snowing and blowing and cold and I have the 4th spot in front of the door, but I don't see a time limit on my spot, so I go back to my project. A few seconds later- hooooooonk!
seriously! What is this ladys issue? I turn the music up and eat another Oreo.
Honk honk hooooonk!
This is quite literally the laziest woman in the world. I too am lazy though. There is no better fight than one between two sloth like individuals. So I casually put my car into reverse. She backs up a bit, suprisingly to allow me room to back up. I put my car back into park, eat another Oreo and go back to my project.
I wish I were a better lip reader because I'm sure she called me some names I hadn't been called before and I'm always looking for new words to add to my repetoire! She was obviously pissed. I don't normally go out of my way to "fight" people, but I had a project to do and there is no law against doing it in the Target parking lot!
After one more honk, she peeled off.
In the end, I had assembled an adorable gift that Martha Stewart would have been proud of, taught a lazy person a lesson and enjoyed a dozen cookies. I feel like I got the job done. Maybe I will start Pinning some appetizers that monkeys could make now!
Ciao!
So I'm sitting in my car eating double stuffed Oreos and making a sundae... (see this is how an interesting story starts!) Ok- let me back up a bit... Over my lunch, I was doing what I do best. Last minute shopping. Actually, I shouldn't say I do it best, because I never come up with anything good and I always end up with the most random gifts. I give myself credit because I have never ran into a gas station for a gift, but I have come alarmingly close. Tonight was my friend Chelsea's baby shower. I had been asked to bring two appetizers. I had big plans. I had a delicious pasta salad in mind and some alarmingly delectable looking garlic knots. I imagined myself walking in with these amazing dishes that people would eat every last bite of and when they asked me how I did it, I would smile and shrug and tell them I just followed the recipe and it was just that simple. Instead, I bought a prepackaged meat tray and a case of soda. I don't even eat meat. Nor did two other guests. WTF?
Now, you might be assuming that my gift for the momma-to-be was just a gift card. There, you would be wrong. I have to give Pinterest credit where credit is due. If you scour that site for hours on end, days, weeks and months even, you occasionally stumble across something that even a monkey could do. The trick, is to look past the glitz and glamour. Or in my case, have your friend Kerry tell you it's so simple a monkey could do it. (Sidenote- she's at home right now putting together what I can only describe as "Pinspiring" words like "WASH" in the laundry room, "COOK" in the kitchen and maybe "WIPE" in the bathroom. Her husband probably ideas for in the bedroom as well.)
This brings me to my car, where I sat in the front seat, engine running, Bruno Mars blaring, while assembling an adorable sundae made out of onesies, washclothes, baby food and cotton balls. Because I didn't want to waste anytime stopping for food, I was eating double stuff oreos. Don't judge me. I've seen you eating your double cheeseburger while driving. Yeah- I saw that ketchup drip on your chin. I'm no worse and you're no better. Moving on... I'm eating and assembling when I hear a horn honk. A looong deliberate honk. I look around and realize there is a woman, about my age, impatiently sitting behind me, expecting me to move! Really? I get that its snowing and blowing and cold and I have the 4th spot in front of the door, but I don't see a time limit on my spot, so I go back to my project. A few seconds later- hooooooonk!
seriously! What is this ladys issue? I turn the music up and eat another Oreo.
Honk honk hooooonk!
This is quite literally the laziest woman in the world. I too am lazy though. There is no better fight than one between two sloth like individuals. So I casually put my car into reverse. She backs up a bit, suprisingly to allow me room to back up. I put my car back into park, eat another Oreo and go back to my project.
I wish I were a better lip reader because I'm sure she called me some names I hadn't been called before and I'm always looking for new words to add to my repetoire! She was obviously pissed. I don't normally go out of my way to "fight" people, but I had a project to do and there is no law against doing it in the Target parking lot!
After one more honk, she peeled off.
In the end, I had assembled an adorable gift that Martha Stewart would have been proud of, taught a lazy person a lesson and enjoyed a dozen cookies. I feel like I got the job done. Maybe I will start Pinning some appetizers that monkeys could make now!
Ciao!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Don't run, but WALK! At least this year...
Good evening world! Im super excited to report that I have people looking at this! Some in Germany even! (Totally random following, if I do say so myself, but I will take it!) While I was worried that I wouldn't experience the self satisfaction of counting how many "Likes" or comments I got, like on Facebook, I was relieved to find a lovely little tool that shows me where everyone logged on from. At first, I was positive that most would be just me or my husband, but it's not! Yay! I had Ipads, Iphones, Androids, Windows and even a couple Blackberry folks logging on! I am an equal opportunity blogger!
So- lets get down to business! This week the office is abuzz with all the excitement of the upcoming Earth Day 5k and half marathon. We actually have people that are just chomping at the bit to run in one big circle on the pretense that doing so might save the earth. Ha ha ha. I don't believe it either.
I admit, I haverun power walked strolled the 5k myself. Twice. The first time, I started from a co-workers house, had a glass of wine then ended at her house where we finished off a bottle. I needed the bottle to shake off the shame I felt when I realized that many of my co-workers (and for some reason, their families?) were patiently waiting for me to saunter across the finish line, while chatting it up casually with 2 other less inclined ladies. They cheered. Probably because they could all go home now. The second year, I was with a little rowdier crowd. My team lead convinced us all to go to the local watering hole PRIOR to the race. Five of us intended to run. One bailed after the bar. I ran power walked strolled with one other girl. I managed to shave off about 7 minutes and felt pretty good about that little accomplishment. Year three I fully intended to shave at least another 10 minutes off. I had a plan. It involved so much more than just working out. I had a diet plan in place. I had an exercise routine. I lost weight and I have to admit- I looked good! My dear friend Kerry told me regularly how impressed she was with my resolve! My husband thought so too! So much in fact, that he helped me out with my exercise routine! We worked out together a lot! Ok that's a lie. I think he helped me out on the Bowflex once, bought me an elliptical and then got me pregnant. In that order.
Now I fully realize that women are totally capable of working out while pregnant, but I am not one of those women. Ask Kerry, who once while we were shopping (our preferred form of exercise- ask her husband, he'll agree 100%), quite delicately asked me
"Are you worried the baby is going to fall out?"
Me- "Um- nope"
Kerry- "Then why on earth are you walking like you have a really big pole stuck up there?"
It was true. After years of trying to have a baby, once I found out that this one was going to stick, I closed up like Duluth in the winter. There would be no year 3 5k for me. Instead, I delivered a very healthy baby girl and promised myself I would do the 5k in 2013.
This time I was a little more gentle on myself when devising my workout plan. I joined a gym, and became a regular. I would show up once, maybe twice a month. One time, I showed up three times that month. They asked me for my ID, so I am pretty sure they were convinced someone else was using my card, because really, nobody could be THAT dedicated. I worried that some might begin to look at me as a gym rat, so I have scaled back a bit to a monthly visit, where I check to make sure my card still works.
After that, I fell back into my tried and true method of training. Shopping. It was so much easier! Not only did it smell better, but I had a dedicated partner for this routine. Quite often, Kerry and I found ourselves out of breath and complaining of the sweat dripping down our backs, cracks and cleavage while we tried on clothes. We had to have been burning calories if we were sweating that much! While I'm sure I spent more on this routine than if I had say- purchased a trainer at the gym, it was definitely more fun. However, FUN is nowhere to be found in a true workout program. At least in my experience. This "program" I was on, has brought me to today. Three days from the 2013 Earth Day 5k and in roughly the same shape I was in 3 months after giving birth. Something was telling me that I might not do any better than I had in the past, but I figured I could at least have fun trying again.
My biggest concern? Find a suitable walking partner. I had lots of people that I knew were signed up that I could go with.
First there was Sheila. I had just started working on Sheila's team about a year ago and being from the same town, we have found that we can both have a good time together... if there is a beer, some good jokes and maybe a little eye candy involved. While Sheila swore up and down that she "probably couldn't run much" I knew better. She has a competitive streak in her and I knew I would get out there with her and all of a sudden she would bolt, fueled up on her Sugar Free RockStar Energy drink and a desire to be all that she can be. Big thumbs down from this girl.
Then there was Cassi. Tall, skinny, Cassi, who would probably wear something with little wind resistance and would do a lot of stretching at the beginning of the race. Cassi, whose walking strides tripled my own stubby little legs in a jog. Not only would she have left me in the dust, but I would have looked like one of the munchkins chasing after Glinda the Good Witch of Oz. "Take me with you!!" I would yell. No... She wouldn't do. I needed... I needed my Kerry.
Instant Messenger:
Me: Will you do the 5k with me on Friday? I have no intention of running. I just need a walking buddy.
Kerry: Whats the weather going to be like?
Me: Cold
Kerry: I'm tempted, but it sounds terrible. No. (Kerry has a very small window of opportunity where she will exude any energy outside. This window is approximately between the temperatures of 52 and 55.)
Kerry: Why don't you come over and we can walk on my treadmill?
Me: That will never happen.
Truth be told, it sounded awesome. I knew I would get over there and we would attempt to get on the treadmill, make fun of each other for sweating profusely, complain about how we had to wear two bras but all it really did was increase sweat production and our boobs still hit ourselves in the chin OR stomach if we ran too fast and then we would decide it was enough, watch tv and eat something she had prepared with her vast collection of Pampered Chef tools. I was SO close to telling her yes. I even went over to the coordinator to find out who was running so I could possibly offer my spot up to someone who had perhaps missed the deadline.
Horror of all horrors awaited me though. My BOSS was running. Not my team lead, not my manager, but my BOSS. Let's just call him Boss to keep things simple. The last thing I want Boss to think about me, is that I'm a quitter. So with slumped shoulders and the fleeting thought that maybe I'll break my leg or get pregnant before Friday, I turn to head back to my desk, however I am interrupted by the Heavens opening, shining a bright light into the office and the sound of angels singing. (Actually, it was just Sara telling me that she would walk with me, but I will go to my grave with the first version of the story.)
So now I have a walking buddy. I may not shave off any time from my walk, but Sara has a sharp wit that i thoroughly enjoy and since she never joined the gym after a traumatic wisdom tooth surgery, I don't have to worry about her bailing on me and leaving me alone to find my way around the circle.
Oh and I'm serious about getting lost on that big circle. My friend Sue accidentally ran a 10k not too long ago. It was terrifying for her. It was so cold that her phone died so she didn't have a GPS or music. We don't have the sun here in Minnesota, so she couldn't rely on that for guiding her home. It was a miracle she made it to the finish line alive. Tears of joy and relief were shared among many. This Friday I will be wearing a "Live Strong" bracelet in her honor.
Wish me luck!
So- lets get down to business! This week the office is abuzz with all the excitement of the upcoming Earth Day 5k and half marathon. We actually have people that are just chomping at the bit to run in one big circle on the pretense that doing so might save the earth. Ha ha ha. I don't believe it either.
I admit, I have
Now I fully realize that women are totally capable of working out while pregnant, but I am not one of those women. Ask Kerry, who once while we were shopping (our preferred form of exercise- ask her husband, he'll agree 100%), quite delicately asked me
"Are you worried the baby is going to fall out?"
Me- "Um- nope"
Kerry- "Then why on earth are you walking like you have a really big pole stuck up there?"
It was true. After years of trying to have a baby, once I found out that this one was going to stick, I closed up like Duluth in the winter. There would be no year 3 5k for me. Instead, I delivered a very healthy baby girl and promised myself I would do the 5k in 2013.
This time I was a little more gentle on myself when devising my workout plan. I joined a gym, and became a regular. I would show up once, maybe twice a month. One time, I showed up three times that month. They asked me for my ID, so I am pretty sure they were convinced someone else was using my card, because really, nobody could be THAT dedicated. I worried that some might begin to look at me as a gym rat, so I have scaled back a bit to a monthly visit, where I check to make sure my card still works.
After that, I fell back into my tried and true method of training. Shopping. It was so much easier! Not only did it smell better, but I had a dedicated partner for this routine. Quite often, Kerry and I found ourselves out of breath and complaining of the sweat dripping down our backs, cracks and cleavage while we tried on clothes. We had to have been burning calories if we were sweating that much! While I'm sure I spent more on this routine than if I had say- purchased a trainer at the gym, it was definitely more fun. However, FUN is nowhere to be found in a true workout program. At least in my experience. This "program" I was on, has brought me to today. Three days from the 2013 Earth Day 5k and in roughly the same shape I was in 3 months after giving birth. Something was telling me that I might not do any better than I had in the past, but I figured I could at least have fun trying again.
My biggest concern? Find a suitable walking partner. I had lots of people that I knew were signed up that I could go with.
First there was Sheila. I had just started working on Sheila's team about a year ago and being from the same town, we have found that we can both have a good time together... if there is a beer, some good jokes and maybe a little eye candy involved. While Sheila swore up and down that she "probably couldn't run much" I knew better. She has a competitive streak in her and I knew I would get out there with her and all of a sudden she would bolt, fueled up on her Sugar Free RockStar Energy drink and a desire to be all that she can be. Big thumbs down from this girl.
Then there was Cassi. Tall, skinny, Cassi, who would probably wear something with little wind resistance and would do a lot of stretching at the beginning of the race. Cassi, whose walking strides tripled my own stubby little legs in a jog. Not only would she have left me in the dust, but I would have looked like one of the munchkins chasing after Glinda the Good Witch of Oz. "Take me with you!!" I would yell. No... She wouldn't do. I needed... I needed my Kerry.
Instant Messenger:
Me: Will you do the 5k with me on Friday? I have no intention of running. I just need a walking buddy.
Kerry: Whats the weather going to be like?
Me: Cold
Kerry: I'm tempted, but it sounds terrible. No. (Kerry has a very small window of opportunity where she will exude any energy outside. This window is approximately between the temperatures of 52 and 55.)
Kerry: Why don't you come over and we can walk on my treadmill?
Me: That will never happen.
Truth be told, it sounded awesome. I knew I would get over there and we would attempt to get on the treadmill, make fun of each other for sweating profusely, complain about how we had to wear two bras but all it really did was increase sweat production and our boobs still hit ourselves in the chin OR stomach if we ran too fast and then we would decide it was enough, watch tv and eat something she had prepared with her vast collection of Pampered Chef tools. I was SO close to telling her yes. I even went over to the coordinator to find out who was running so I could possibly offer my spot up to someone who had perhaps missed the deadline.
Horror of all horrors awaited me though. My BOSS was running. Not my team lead, not my manager, but my BOSS. Let's just call him Boss to keep things simple. The last thing I want Boss to think about me, is that I'm a quitter. So with slumped shoulders and the fleeting thought that maybe I'll break my leg or get pregnant before Friday, I turn to head back to my desk, however I am interrupted by the Heavens opening, shining a bright light into the office and the sound of angels singing. (Actually, it was just Sara telling me that she would walk with me, but I will go to my grave with the first version of the story.)
So now I have a walking buddy. I may not shave off any time from my walk, but Sara has a sharp wit that i thoroughly enjoy and since she never joined the gym after a traumatic wisdom tooth surgery, I don't have to worry about her bailing on me and leaving me alone to find my way around the circle.
Oh and I'm serious about getting lost on that big circle. My friend Sue accidentally ran a 10k not too long ago. It was terrifying for her. It was so cold that her phone died so she didn't have a GPS or music. We don't have the sun here in Minnesota, so she couldn't rely on that for guiding her home. It was a miracle she made it to the finish line alive. Tears of joy and relief were shared among many. This Friday I will be wearing a "Live Strong" bracelet in her honor.
Wish me luck!
Monday, April 15, 2013
Test
So this is my first blog post. (Actually- it's my first from another site that I couldn't figure out, so I cut from there and pasted here!) Does it count if I don't have any "followers" yet or is this simply a way for us crazies to justify talking to ourselves? It will be interesting to see what sort of things I can find to talk about. It will be even more interesting to see what kind of people want to read what I have to talk about! Sometimes when I get on a wine induced rant, I find I get angry with myself the next day... this could get ugly...Speaking of ugly, I struggled a little bit on the profile pic. With things like Twitter and Facebook I ignored the suggestion for an actual picture of MY face, instead choosing to sub in my kids or worse yet my dogs, but this time, I actually tried. Unfortunately, Google disagreed with what I considered to be a good pic and literally told me there was no face in my images. LITERALLY!! Hey. I'll admit, I can have a bad face day like anyone else, but don't you think blatantly telling me there is no FACE in my chosen pic is a little harsh? Call me Phantom of the Blog I guess. I'll get my metallic half mask ordered up and learn to emphatically gesture with my cape while I criticize other bloggers. Anyway, I took the tried and true way out and slapped a picture of my little cherub up there. Google was much more forgiving of her image. Good for them too. I can tolerate Google telling me I am a faceless blob, but don't you DARE mess with my baby!
Anyway, I guess I should introduce myself! (Or pretend to since at this point, I'm still talking to myself.) My name is Heather. My age is nunyabizness, but let's just say that I am still lucky enough to be part of a target audience for what they try to pass as quality tv there right now. You know- after you get that big discount on your insurance, its the little things that matter. I live in central Minnesota with my husband, kids, dogs and fish. Trust me, you will hear a lot more about all of them as we continue. I work in the transportation industry, which admittedly, I didn't realize existed until I got the job, but if you know the industry, you will understand why some days I might appear to be a very cynical raging lunatic.The only things keeping me sane some days is the unlimited supply of free caffeine and a few select people who have been blessed to sit within earshot of me for a few years. I kind of consider myself a living example of what NOT to talk about with a driver. I am the oldest of three kids. Shockingly, my parents are still together. I say "shockingly" because staying together is not the norm anymore. Of course, if you know my mom, you wouldn't be shocked my parents are still together. Divorce was never an option. Death by suffocation, on the other hand, may have been... I enjoy writing and photography. That doesn't mean I am good at either one really, just that I find it fun to create. I'm hoping that translates into something enjoyable for somebody else as well. If I can make one person laugh, smile, roll their eyes, etc... I will be a happy camper.
So that's it for now. I'll try to get in and give you a little more tomorrow. BTW- I am not calling this my first official post. This is my TEST post. My first official post was promised to one of the aforementioned co-workers. ;) Hopefully I remember how to get here!
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