Two years ago today, I first put my voice out there on this blog. I wrote a cheery little post about wanting a place to share my deepest, darkest secrets and emotions. If that was the original mission of this blog, I think I have succeeded. You have been here for all my highs and lows.
Thank you for being here. My highs have been higher. My lows have been not so low. It's so therapeutic for me to come here and talk about my day, my woes, my joys.
In the past two years, I have changed a lot as a person. I am pretty confident that most of the change is for the good. I'm not quite as free-spirited as I once was, but I'm a lot more patient. I guess motherhood does that to you.
Motherhood also makes you clean up your vocabulary. Did you know I have a potty mouth? I don't often swear in writing, because it doesn't always feel right to me to say fuck, or shit, or poophead. But I swear a lot in my daily life. Too much.
Laura said shit yesterday morning. In context.
So please join me in this, my third year of blogging, where I move my potty mouth to the internet. I have to release my desire to swer somewhere, right? It's gonna be fucking awesome. Thanks for reading for the last two years! Stay tuned!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Two.
Two years ago today, I first put my voice out there on this blog. I wrote a cheery little post about wanting a place to share my deepest, darkest secrets and emotions. If that was the original mission of this blog, I think I have succeeded. You have been here for all my highs and lows.
Thank you for being here. My highs have been higher. My lows have been not so low. It's so therapeutic for me to come here and talk about my day, my woes, my joys.
In the past two years, I have changed a lot as a person. I am pretty confident that most of the change is for the good. I'm not quite as free-spirited as I once was, but I'm a lot more patient. I guess motherhood does that to you.
Motherhood also makes you clean up your vocabulary. Did you know I have a potty mouth? I don't often swear in writing, because it doesn't always feel right to me to say fuck, or shit, or poophead. But I swear a lot in my daily life. Too much.
Laura said shit yesterday morning. In context.
So please join me in this, my third year of blogging, where I move my potty mouth to the internet. I have to release my desire to swer somewhere, right? It's gonna be fucking awesome. Thanks for reading for the last two years! Stay tuned!
Thank you for being here. My highs have been higher. My lows have been not so low. It's so therapeutic for me to come here and talk about my day, my woes, my joys.
In the past two years, I have changed a lot as a person. I am pretty confident that most of the change is for the good. I'm not quite as free-spirited as I once was, but I'm a lot more patient. I guess motherhood does that to you.
Motherhood also makes you clean up your vocabulary. Did you know I have a potty mouth? I don't often swear in writing, because it doesn't always feel right to me to say fuck, or shit, or poophead. But I swear a lot in my daily life. Too much.
Laura said shit yesterday morning. In context.
So please join me in this, my third year of blogging, where I move my potty mouth to the internet. I have to release my desire to swer somewhere, right? It's gonna be fucking awesome. Thanks for reading for the last two years! Stay tuned!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
My Grandfather
It's so funny how thoughts work. How thoughts sometimes predict life. Last night, while I was cleaning the dome from the kitchen light, somehow my thoughts turned to my grandparents. I thought about how they were so ahead of their time. They were incredibly liberal for the 1940's. My grandfather was an artist against his parents wishes. My Jewish grandmother married my Lutheran grandfather against her parents express wishes. My grandparents eloped and moved into a rural area in upstate New York to raise their family according to their ideals. I was thinking about this just yesterday.
Two days ago, I was thinking about how my grandfather used to trap me in his lap when I was a toddler. He would hold me close and jiggle my body back and force as I "tried" to escape from his clutches. I would laugh until I cried. When he released me, I would beg to be trapped again. I was thinking that I would love for my father to trap Laura in the same way. I was thinking about this just two days ago.
This afternoon I received an email from my father from 32,000 feet in the air. My father was on a plane, on the way to an important meeting, and he had news that was so important, it couldn't wait till he had landed. My grandfather died this morning. He was 94 years old. He was the only grandfather I ever knew. He was a wonderful grandfather.
I have spent most of this afternoon thinking about Grandpa. I thought about the last time I saw him, this Christmas. My family was supposed to drive up to Vermont the day after Christmas, but were thwarted by a major snow storm. So we rescheduled the trip for a few days later. The morning of our trip, my father woke up incredibly sick. It seemed as if we just were not meant to see Grandpa. And then my mother who hates to drive grabbed her keys and started the car. We strapped Laura in her carseat, made sure my dad had enough tea and soup to see him through the day, and hit the highway. We spent a few hours watching Laura play at Grandpa's feet. Laura won't remember meeting Grandpa, but I will. I will always cherish that last visit.
This afternoon, I remembered visiting Grandpa and Grandma in the home they built from the ground up. The home where I got to drink grape juice - which was never allowed at home. I still love purple grape juice, and am sad it's not longer sold in that glass bottle.
This afternoon, I remembered eating "wait-and-see" for desserts every night of our visits. For the longest time, I thought that was an actual dessert, something one could order at a bakery. I think it was usually pie and ice cream, but it was always delicious.
This afternoon, I remembered the smell of Grandpa's studio. I loved going across the porch to the studio to watch him paint. The pungent oils made my eyes water while I stared, mesmerized, at his works. Grandpa's oil paintings are at least a small part of why I was so drawn to Art History in college. Grandpa was always so proud of my career in the museum field.
This afternoon, I remembered going out to Wyoming to celebrate my grandparent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a big number to me back then at age seven - and is still such a big number now. I hope that in forty-six years Nate and I are joined by our children and grandchildren to celebrate our lifetime together.
My grandmother died five years ago. My grandfather has been alone for five years. I miss my grandmother and I will miss my grandfather, but I am happy knowing they are together again.
Two days ago, I was thinking about how my grandfather used to trap me in his lap when I was a toddler. He would hold me close and jiggle my body back and force as I "tried" to escape from his clutches. I would laugh until I cried. When he released me, I would beg to be trapped again. I was thinking that I would love for my father to trap Laura in the same way. I was thinking about this just two days ago.
This afternoon I received an email from my father from 32,000 feet in the air. My father was on a plane, on the way to an important meeting, and he had news that was so important, it couldn't wait till he had landed. My grandfather died this morning. He was 94 years old. He was the only grandfather I ever knew. He was a wonderful grandfather.
 |
| Laura with her great-grandfather, December 2010 |
This afternoon, I remembered visiting Grandpa and Grandma in the home they built from the ground up. The home where I got to drink grape juice - which was never allowed at home. I still love purple grape juice, and am sad it's not longer sold in that glass bottle.
This afternoon, I remembered eating "wait-and-see" for desserts every night of our visits. For the longest time, I thought that was an actual dessert, something one could order at a bakery. I think it was usually pie and ice cream, but it was always delicious.
This afternoon, I remembered the smell of Grandpa's studio. I loved going across the porch to the studio to watch him paint. The pungent oils made my eyes water while I stared, mesmerized, at his works. Grandpa's oil paintings are at least a small part of why I was so drawn to Art History in college. Grandpa was always so proud of my career in the museum field.
This afternoon, I remembered going out to Wyoming to celebrate my grandparent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a big number to me back then at age seven - and is still such a big number now. I hope that in forty-six years Nate and I are joined by our children and grandchildren to celebrate our lifetime together.
My grandmother died five years ago. My grandfather has been alone for five years. I miss my grandmother and I will miss my grandfather, but I am happy knowing they are together again.
My Grandfather
It's so funny how thoughts work. How thoughts sometimes predict life. Last night, while I was cleaning the dome from the kitchen light, somehow my thoughts turned to my grandparents. I thought about how they were so ahead of their time. They were incredibly liberal for the 1940's. My grandfather was an artist against his parents wishes. My Jewish grandmother married my Lutheran grandfather against her parents express wishes. My grandparents eloped and moved into a rural area in upstate New York to raise their family according to their ideals. I was thinking about this just yesterday.
Two days ago, I was thinking about how my grandfather used to trap me in his lap when I was a toddler. He would hold me close and jiggle my body back and force as I "tried" to escape from his clutches. I would laugh until I cried. When he released me, I would beg to be trapped again. I was thinking that I would love for my father to trap Laura in the same way. I was thinking about this just two days ago.
This afternoon I received an email from my father from 32,000 feet in the air. My father was on a plane, on the way to an important meeting, and he had news that was so important, it couldn't wait till he had landed. My grandfather died this morning. He was 94 years old. He was the only grandfather I ever knew. He was a wonderful grandfather.
I have spent most of this afternoon thinking about Grandpa. I thought about the last time I saw him, this Christmas. My family was supposed to drive up to Vermont the day after Christmas, but were thwarted by a major snow storm. So we rescheduled the trip for a few days later. The morning of our trip, my father woke up incredibly sick. It seemed as if we just were not meant to see Grandpa. And then my mother who hates to drive grabbed her keys and started the car. We strapped Laura in her carseat, made sure my dad had enough tea and soup to see him through the day, and hit the highway. We spent a few hours watching Laura play at Grandpa's feet. Laura won't remember meeting Grandpa, but I will. I will always cherish that last visit.
This afternoon, I remembered visiting Grandpa and Grandma in the home they built from the ground up. The home where I got to drink grape juice - which was never allowed at home. I still love purple grape juice, and am sad it's not longer sold in that glass bottle.
This afternoon, I remembered eating "wait-and-see" for desserts every night of our visits. For the longest time, I thought that was an actual dessert, something one could order at a bakery. I think it was usually pie and ice cream, but it was always delicious.
This afternoon, I remembered the smell of Grandpa's studio. I loved going across the porch to the studio to watch him paint. The pungent oils made my eyes water while I stared, mesmerized, at his works. Grandpa's oil paintings are at least a small part of why I was so drawn to Art History in college. Grandpa was always so proud of my career in the museum field.
This afternoon, I remembered going out to Wyoming to celebrate my grandparent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a big number to me back then at age seven - and is still such a big number now. I hope that in forty-six years Nate and I are joined by our children and grandchildren to celebrate our lifetime together.
My grandmother died five years ago. My grandfather has been alone for five years. I miss my grandmother and I will miss my grandfather, but I am happy knowing they are together again.
Two days ago, I was thinking about how my grandfather used to trap me in his lap when I was a toddler. He would hold me close and jiggle my body back and force as I "tried" to escape from his clutches. I would laugh until I cried. When he released me, I would beg to be trapped again. I was thinking that I would love for my father to trap Laura in the same way. I was thinking about this just two days ago.
This afternoon I received an email from my father from 32,000 feet in the air. My father was on a plane, on the way to an important meeting, and he had news that was so important, it couldn't wait till he had landed. My grandfather died this morning. He was 94 years old. He was the only grandfather I ever knew. He was a wonderful grandfather.
|
| Laura with her great-grandfather, December 2010 |
This afternoon, I remembered visiting Grandpa and Grandma in the home they built from the ground up. The home where I got to drink grape juice - which was never allowed at home. I still love purple grape juice, and am sad it's not longer sold in that glass bottle.
This afternoon, I remembered eating "wait-and-see" for desserts every night of our visits. For the longest time, I thought that was an actual dessert, something one could order at a bakery. I think it was usually pie and ice cream, but it was always delicious.
This afternoon, I remembered the smell of Grandpa's studio. I loved going across the porch to the studio to watch him paint. The pungent oils made my eyes water while I stared, mesmerized, at his works. Grandpa's oil paintings are at least a small part of why I was so drawn to Art History in college. Grandpa was always so proud of my career in the museum field.
This afternoon, I remembered going out to Wyoming to celebrate my grandparent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was a big number to me back then at age seven - and is still such a big number now. I hope that in forty-six years Nate and I are joined by our children and grandchildren to celebrate our lifetime together.
My grandmother died five years ago. My grandfather has been alone for five years. I miss my grandmother and I will miss my grandfather, but I am happy knowing they are together again.
Weather or Not
I am sleepy and a titch grumpy today. I am affected by the gloomy weather outside. Yesterday there was sun and I was sunny. Today there are clouds and my countenance is clouded.
Yesterday (though cheery) I was having dizzy spells all day. At first I thought I'd had too much caffeine. Then I thought I was too hungry. Then I thought I hadn't had enough caffeine. Then I fell fast asleep on the train home and felt much better.
So maybe I was tired yesterday, despite my cheeriness. Maybe my body was so physically exhaused, I couldn't stop twitching. So I gave myself the evening off from housework, because I felt some quiet rest was more important.
Then a lightbulb burnt out over the sink. So I took off the dome, replaced the bulb, and decided to clean the dome. Then I figured, while the lightbulbs were out, I should change the bulb that has been burnt out over the stove for over a year. So I figured out how to remove the airvent to actually get to the bulb... and stuck my hand in a pool of ancient grease. So of course that had to be cleaned. And scrubbed. And soaped. And brillo-ed. And then dried and replaced.
I had given myself the evening off from cleaning, and wound up doing some of the grossest cleaning to date!
Weather or Not
I am sleepy and a titch grumpy today. I am affected by the gloomy weather outside. Yesterday there was sun and I was sunny. Today there are clouds and my countenance is clouded.
Yesterday (though cheery) I was having dizzy spells all day. At first I thought I'd had too much caffeine. Then I thought I was too hungry. Then I thought I hadn't had enough caffeine. Then I fell fast asleep on the train home and felt much better.
So maybe I was tired yesterday, despite my cheeriness. Maybe my body was so physically exhaused, I couldn't stop twitching. So I gave myself the evening off from housework, because I felt some quiet rest was more important.
Then a lightbulb burnt out over the sink. So I took off the dome, replaced the bulb, and decided to clean the dome. Then I figured, while the lightbulbs were out, I should change the bulb that has been burnt out over the stove for over a year. So I figured out how to remove the airvent to actually get to the bulb... and stuck my hand in a pool of ancient grease. So of course that had to be cleaned. And scrubbed. And soaped. And brillo-ed. And then dried and replaced.
I had given myself the evening off from cleaning, and wound up doing some of the grossest cleaning to date!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
I'm in trouble!
My favorite store just opened 2.1 miles from my house. I could practically walk there. Except that I'm too lazy to walk 2 miles just to shop for things I probably don't need.
But what am I talking about? Of course I need all the shoes, clothing and home furnishings that Marshalls can offer me!
Laura and I went over to check out the new heaven on earth store after school yesterday. And we left with one pair of sandals, one shirt, and two pairs of pants in a size six that fit me perfectly. Um, all of the aforementioned articles of clothing might have been for me. I might have neglected to buy anything for Laura.
In fairness, I picked out a new board book for Laura - Moo, Baa, La La La! - for the little minchkin. We read it while we shopped. When we finished the tome, Laura waved her hands in the air and shouted "Gall Gahn!" (which means all gone) and then shoved the book away. I took that to mean that it wasn't her literary styling, and that she didn't want to take it home. So we saved $3.99 off a bill of $100.
All I'm saying is that having a Marshalls so close to home is probably not a good thing for my wallet. But it is a very good thing for my soul!
But what am I talking about? Of course I need all the shoes, clothing and home furnishings that Marshalls can offer me!
 |
| Yes. I am fabulous. |
In fairness, I picked out a new board book for Laura - Moo, Baa, La La La! - for the little minchkin. We read it while we shopped. When we finished the tome, Laura waved her hands in the air and shouted "Gall Gahn!" (which means all gone) and then shoved the book away. I took that to mean that it wasn't her literary styling, and that she didn't want to take it home. So we saved $3.99 off a bill of $100.
All I'm saying is that having a Marshalls so close to home is probably not a good thing for my wallet. But it is a very good thing for my soul!
I'm in trouble!
My favorite store just opened 2.1 miles from my house. I could practically walk there. Except that I'm too lazy to walk 2 miles just to shop for things I probably don't need.
But what am I talking about? Of course I need all the shoes, clothing and home furnishings that Marshalls can offer me!
Laura and I went over to check out the new heaven on earth store after school yesterday. And we left with one pair of sandals, one shirt, and two pairs of pants in a size six that fit me perfectly. Um, all of the aforementioned articles of clothing might have been for me. I might have neglected to buy anything for Laura.
In fairness, I picked out a new board book for Laura - Moo, Baa, La La La! - for the little minchkin. We read it while we shopped. When we finished the tome, Laura waved her hands in the air and shouted "Gall Gahn!" (which means all gone) and then shoved the book away. I took that to mean that it wasn't her literary styling, and that she didn't want to take it home. So we saved $3.99 off a bill of $100.
All I'm saying is that having a Marshalls so close to home is probably not a good thing for my wallet. But it is a very good thing for my soul!
But what am I talking about? Of course I need all the shoes, clothing and home furnishings that Marshalls can offer me!
|
| Yes. I am fabulous. |
In fairness, I picked out a new board book for Laura - Moo, Baa, La La La! - for the little minchkin. We read it while we shopped. When we finished the tome, Laura waved her hands in the air and shouted "Gall Gahn!" (which means all gone) and then shoved the book away. I took that to mean that it wasn't her literary styling, and that she didn't want to take it home. So we saved $3.99 off a bill of $100.
All I'm saying is that having a Marshalls so close to home is probably not a good thing for my wallet. But it is a very good thing for my soul!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Lent: The Wrap-Up
Before I go into details of how Lent changed my life this year, here are some pictures of the cutest baby ever.
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| Laura at Sherwood Gardens in downtown Baltimore. The tulips are amazing! |
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| Laura with her Easter basket filled with empty plastic eggs. It doesn't take much to keep a toddler happy! |
So back to Lent. Now that all is said and done, I can reflect on Lent 2011. I said from the beginning that I was giving up telling Laura that she was driving me crazy. But what I actually did was added patience to my life. In adding patience, I found I was less easily frustrated. I was more relaxed. I got more done around the house. Life was better.
In the last two weeks of Lent, I started to struggle with this new found patience. I've never been a patient person, so simply saying I would be patient was difficult. There were moments where Laura drove me nuts (and I might have even told her so once or twice). There were evenings where I wanted to yell at Nate for not being more helpful around the house while I worked my butt off washing dishes and preparing meals.
I started to wonder what would happen to the wonderful changes I had made in my life after Lent was over. Well, we're two days into the "new year," and I'm still wondering if I can keep up the patience (and housework). I think I can.
No. I know I can. I know that I can continue to be more patient than I was before this Easter season. I know I can be more mindful about getting housework done. But I also know I'm human. I know it's ok to have a night where I sit and watch TV instead of exhausting myself with a million other little things that keep me on my feet until bedtime. When I feel myself getting frustrated or overlooking the house, I know I will reflect back on the forty days I spent being
There is no reason for me to be impatient with my daughter. There is no reason for me to be neglectful of my house. There are plenty of reasons for me to be happy, relaxed and proud of myself. This was a great Lent. A life-changing Lent. I can't imagine going back to the way things were before.
Lent: The Wrap-Up
Before I go into details of how Lent changed my life this year, here are some pictures of the cutest baby ever.
|
| Laura at Sherwood Gardens in downtown Baltimore. The tulips are amazing! |
|
| Laura with her Easter basket filled with empty plastic eggs. It doesn't take much to keep a toddler happy! |
So back to Lent. Now that all is said and done, I can reflect on Lent 2011. I said from the beginning that I was giving up telling Laura that she was driving me crazy. But what I actually did was added patience to my life. In adding patience, I found I was less easily frustrated. I was more relaxed. I got more done around the house. Life was better.
In the last two weeks of Lent, I started to struggle with this new found patience. I've never been a patient person, so simply saying I would be patient was difficult. There were moments where Laura drove me nuts (and I might have even told her so once or twice). There were evenings where I wanted to yell at Nate for not being more helpful around the house while I worked my butt off washing dishes and preparing meals.
I started to wonder what would happen to the wonderful changes I had made in my life after Lent was over. Well, we're two days into the "new year," and I'm still wondering if I can keep up the patience (and housework). I think I can.
No. I know I can. I know that I can continue to be more patient than I was before this Easter season. I know I can be more mindful about getting housework done. But I also know I'm human. I know it's ok to have a night where I sit and watch TV instead of exhausting myself with a million other little things that keep me on my feet until bedtime. When I feel myself getting frustrated or overlooking the house, I know I will reflect back on the forty days I spent being
There is no reason for me to be impatient with my daughter. There is no reason for me to be neglectful of my house. There are plenty of reasons for me to be happy, relaxed and proud of myself. This was a great Lent. A life-changing Lent. I can't imagine going back to the way things were before.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Hello, Monday!
Happy Easter! I have a whole lot I need to write about how Lent wrapped up for me. For a quick summary, I gave up being frustrated with Laura. So in actuality, I added patience to my life. It was a good experience, and I hope that the changes I made continue now that Lent is over.
But today is Monday, and instead of talking about my Lenten Sacrifice, I'd rather talk about my New Year's Resolution. This year, I resolved to be sexier which, for me, translated to dieting and working out. I have been a super star at going to the gym. Seriously! I have gone at least twice a week every week since January 1 (minus that two week period where I had the plague).
I have no idea how much weight I have lost, because this isn't about the numbers for me. I didn't weigh myself at the outset of 2011, and I haven't weighed myself this week. But I do know that I have been successful. I'm wearing size 8 pants that are too big.
The size 10 pants I bought after Laura was born were lately too big, but still comfy. Now, they are so too big they are uncomfortable. I don't need to be pulling my pants up to hide my butt crack every second of the day! The size 8 pants that I adore for their matchstick style are definitely looking baggier. Which defeats the purpose of the styling.
I think it's about time for me to shop for some new jeans. And I can't wait!
And am I feeling sexier? Oh man. If I were to go into detail on Hubby's reaction to my weight loss, it wouldn't be PG. I'll just say that I'm renewing my gym membership at the end of the month. Clearly, going to the gym is working out!
(Get it? Working out? I crack myself up!)
But today is Monday, and instead of talking about my Lenten Sacrifice, I'd rather talk about my New Year's Resolution. This year, I resolved to be sexier which, for me, translated to dieting and working out. I have been a super star at going to the gym. Seriously! I have gone at least twice a week every week since January 1 (minus that two week period where I had the plague).
I have no idea how much weight I have lost, because this isn't about the numbers for me. I didn't weigh myself at the outset of 2011, and I haven't weighed myself this week. But I do know that I have been successful. I'm wearing size 8 pants that are too big.
The size 10 pants I bought after Laura was born were lately too big, but still comfy. Now, they are so too big they are uncomfortable. I don't need to be pulling my pants up to hide my butt crack every second of the day! The size 8 pants that I adore for their matchstick style are definitely looking baggier. Which defeats the purpose of the styling.
I think it's about time for me to shop for some new jeans. And I can't wait!
And am I feeling sexier? Oh man. If I were to go into detail on Hubby's reaction to my weight loss, it wouldn't be PG. I'll just say that I'm renewing my gym membership at the end of the month. Clearly, going to the gym is working out!
(Get it? Working out? I crack myself up!)
Hello, Monday!
Happy Easter! I have a whole lot I need to write about how Lent wrapped up for me. For a quick summary, I gave up being frustrated with Laura. So in actuality, I added patience to my life. It was a good experience, and I hope that the changes I made continue now that Lent is over.
But today is Monday, and instead of talking about my Lenten Sacrifice, I'd rather talk about my New Year's Resolution. This year, I resolved to be sexier which, for me, translated to dieting and working out. I have been a super star at going to the gym. Seriously! I have gone at least twice a week every week since January 1 (minus that two week period where I had the plague).
I have no idea how much weight I have lost, because this isn't about the numbers for me. I didn't weigh myself at the outset of 2011, and I haven't weighed myself this week. But I do know that I have been successful. I'm wearing size 8 pants that are too big.
The size 10 pants I bought after Laura was born were lately too big, but still comfy. Now, they are so too big they are uncomfortable. I don't need to be pulling my pants up to hide my butt crack every second of the day! The size 8 pants that I adore for their matchstick style are definitely looking baggier. Which defeats the purpose of the styling.
I think it's about time for me to shop for some new jeans. And I can't wait!
And am I feeling sexier? Oh man. If I were to go into detail on Hubby's reaction to my weight loss, it wouldn't be PG. I'll just say that I'm renewing my gym membership at the end of the month. Clearly, going to the gym is working out!
(Get it? Working out? I crack myself up!)
But today is Monday, and instead of talking about my Lenten Sacrifice, I'd rather talk about my New Year's Resolution. This year, I resolved to be sexier which, for me, translated to dieting and working out. I have been a super star at going to the gym. Seriously! I have gone at least twice a week every week since January 1 (minus that two week period where I had the plague).
I have no idea how much weight I have lost, because this isn't about the numbers for me. I didn't weigh myself at the outset of 2011, and I haven't weighed myself this week. But I do know that I have been successful. I'm wearing size 8 pants that are too big.
The size 10 pants I bought after Laura was born were lately too big, but still comfy. Now, they are so too big they are uncomfortable. I don't need to be pulling my pants up to hide my butt crack every second of the day! The size 8 pants that I adore for their matchstick style are definitely looking baggier. Which defeats the purpose of the styling.
I think it's about time for me to shop for some new jeans. And I can't wait!
And am I feeling sexier? Oh man. If I were to go into detail on Hubby's reaction to my weight loss, it wouldn't be PG. I'll just say that I'm renewing my gym membership at the end of the month. Clearly, going to the gym is working out!
(Get it? Working out? I crack myself up!)
Friday, April 22, 2011
Happy Earth Day!
Happy Earth Day!
 |
| Source |
And also, Happy Good Friday (?) and Happy Passover. If one wishes happiness on those days. But regardless, my sentiment to you is have a great day. It's Friday on a very Holy weekend. Let's celebrate what we've got:
- We've got the Earth, which is all pretty and covered in spring blossoms and stuff
- We've got wonderful and strong beliefs - no matter what those beliefs specifically are. They're all great!
- We've got friends and family
- We've got Starbucks giving out free coffee today!
I love the fact that we as humans have so many diverse religions and belief systems. I love that so many of our religions are inter-dependent on one another. Without Judaism, we have neither Christianity nor Islam. That's pretty cool, right? In my mind it's pretty fantastic. So many ways of believing in the same God. The one who created Earth, which we are celebrating today as Lent winds down and Passover ramps up.
Wow. I am sounding all trite and possibly offensive today. I admit to not knowing a whole lot about most religions. But my point is... I am not even sure what my original point was. But regardless of my point, Starbucks is giving out free coffee and tea today, in honor of Earth Day!
So go out, celebrate this life, and drink some free coffee. And be glad you are not in my head.
Happy Earth Day!
Happy Earth Day!
|
| Source |
And also, Happy Good Friday (?) and Happy Passover. If one wishes happiness on those days. But regardless, my sentiment to you is have a great day. It's Friday on a very Holy weekend. Let's celebrate what we've got:
- We've got the Earth, which is all pretty and covered in spring blossoms and stuff
- We've got wonderful and strong beliefs - no matter what those beliefs specifically are. They're all great!
- We've got friends and family
- We've got Starbucks giving out free coffee today!
I love the fact that we as humans have so many diverse religions and belief systems. I love that so many of our religions are inter-dependent on one another. Without Judaism, we have neither Christianity nor Islam. That's pretty cool, right? In my mind it's pretty fantastic. So many ways of believing in the same God. The one who created Earth, which we are celebrating today as Lent winds down and Passover ramps up.
Wow. I am sounding all trite and possibly offensive today. I admit to not knowing a whole lot about most religions. But my point is... I am not even sure what my original point was. But regardless of my point, Starbucks is giving out free coffee and tea today, in honor of Earth Day!
So go out, celebrate this life, and drink some free coffee. And be glad you are not in my head.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
There's a plan for that
It's a little ironic that I'm terrified of death, and yet I am married to a man who deals with death in his profession every single day. No, I'm not married to a mortician or a funeral director. Nate doesn't perform autopsies, he's not a crime scene investigator.
Nate is a Certified Financial Planner. He sells life insurance. Rather than death, "life" is the name of his game. At the most basic level, Nate's job is to ask his clients, "Can you take care of your family after you're gone."
Someday, sooner or later, one of Nate's clients will move onto whatever is next, and Nate will deliver a policy to the grieving family. Usually, thinking of death makes me upset. But when I think of what Nate does, reaching out to families to make sure they can live their lives to the fullest, I feel hopeful. I feel as though there are people out there, in this world, making sure we are doing alright. And if we can live to the fullest while we are here on Earth, we can go to whatever is next without worrying (too much) about the loved ones we leave behind.
Sure, I hate the long hours. I hate never knowing what the paycheck will be that month. I hate that Nate is always working, every day, every night - even taking phone calls when we are out. But what kind of Financial Planner would Nate be if he didn't make himself 100% available to his clients? Which is why I support him entirely, and do whatever I can to make his job a little easier. And of course, Financial Planning is not just life insurance - it's making the most of your money so you can achieve your goals.
Want to send your kids to college? There's a plan for that. Want to buy a boat? There's a plan for that. Want to go on vacation, secure long-term care funding, and leave college funds for your grandchildren? There's a plan for that, and Nate's your guy.
Life is too important. If you haven't already, start talking to your loved ones about saving, investing and planning. It's never too early - or too late - to start planning.
Nate is a Certified Financial Planner. He sells life insurance. Rather than death, "life" is the name of his game. At the most basic level, Nate's job is to ask his clients, "Can you take care of your family after you're gone."
Someday, sooner or later, one of Nate's clients will move onto whatever is next, and Nate will deliver a policy to the grieving family. Usually, thinking of death makes me upset. But when I think of what Nate does, reaching out to families to make sure they can live their lives to the fullest, I feel hopeful. I feel as though there are people out there, in this world, making sure we are doing alright. And if we can live to the fullest while we are here on Earth, we can go to whatever is next without worrying (too much) about the loved ones we leave behind.
Sure, I hate the long hours. I hate never knowing what the paycheck will be that month. I hate that Nate is always working, every day, every night - even taking phone calls when we are out. But what kind of Financial Planner would Nate be if he didn't make himself 100% available to his clients? Which is why I support him entirely, and do whatever I can to make his job a little easier. And of course, Financial Planning is not just life insurance - it's making the most of your money so you can achieve your goals.
Want to send your kids to college? There's a plan for that. Want to buy a boat? There's a plan for that. Want to go on vacation, secure long-term care funding, and leave college funds for your grandchildren? There's a plan for that, and Nate's your guy.
Life is too important. If you haven't already, start talking to your loved ones about saving, investing and planning. It's never too early - or too late - to start planning.
There's a plan for that
It's a little ironic that I'm terrified of death, and yet I am married to a man who deals with death in his profession every single day. No, I'm not married to a mortician or a funeral director. Nate doesn't perform autopsies, he's not a crime scene investigator.
Nate is a Certified Financial Planner. He sells life insurance. Rather than death, "life" is the name of his game. At the most basic level, Nate's job is to ask his clients, "Can you take care of your family after you're gone."
Someday, sooner or later, one of Nate's clients will move onto whatever is next, and Nate will deliver a policy to the grieving family. Usually, thinking of death makes me upset. But when I think of what Nate does, reaching out to families to make sure they can live their lives to the fullest, I feel hopeful. I feel as though there are people out there, in this world, making sure we are doing alright. And if we can live to the fullest while we are here on Earth, we can go to whatever is next without worrying (too much) about the loved ones we leave behind.
Sure, I hate the long hours. I hate never knowing what the paycheck will be that month. I hate that Nate is always working, every day, every night - even taking phone calls when we are out. But what kind of Financial Planner would Nate be if he didn't make himself 100% available to his clients? Which is why I support him entirely, and do whatever I can to make his job a little easier. And of course, Financial Planning is not just life insurance - it's making the most of your money so you can achieve your goals.
Want to send your kids to college? There's a plan for that. Want to buy a boat? There's a plan for that. Want to go on vacation, secure long-term care funding, and leave college funds for your grandchildren? There's a plan for that, and Nate's your guy.
Life is too important. If you haven't already, start talking to your loved ones about saving, investing and planning. It's never too early - or too late - to start planning.
Nate is a Certified Financial Planner. He sells life insurance. Rather than death, "life" is the name of his game. At the most basic level, Nate's job is to ask his clients, "Can you take care of your family after you're gone."
Someday, sooner or later, one of Nate's clients will move onto whatever is next, and Nate will deliver a policy to the grieving family. Usually, thinking of death makes me upset. But when I think of what Nate does, reaching out to families to make sure they can live their lives to the fullest, I feel hopeful. I feel as though there are people out there, in this world, making sure we are doing alright. And if we can live to the fullest while we are here on Earth, we can go to whatever is next without worrying (too much) about the loved ones we leave behind.
Sure, I hate the long hours. I hate never knowing what the paycheck will be that month. I hate that Nate is always working, every day, every night - even taking phone calls when we are out. But what kind of Financial Planner would Nate be if he didn't make himself 100% available to his clients? Which is why I support him entirely, and do whatever I can to make his job a little easier. And of course, Financial Planning is not just life insurance - it's making the most of your money so you can achieve your goals.
Want to send your kids to college? There's a plan for that. Want to buy a boat? There's a plan for that. Want to go on vacation, secure long-term care funding, and leave college funds for your grandchildren? There's a plan for that, and Nate's your guy.
Life is too important. If you haven't already, start talking to your loved ones about saving, investing and planning. It's never too early - or too late - to start planning.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Looking for an excuse?
I was all proud of myself Friday morning when I woke up in New York, pulled on my running clothes, and left the vacation house for a run. And then I got two feet up the cliff of a driveway and thought I would die. I huffed and puffed (walking) to the top of the steepest part of the cliff, then got myself running again. When I got to the top of the drive, I had a great idea:
I know! I'll run down the street to the next driveway, then I'll run down that one to the lake again, and then I'll run along the shore to our house! I'm a genius!
And it was a very geniusy idea until I got to the "shore" and realized that there isn't much shore to Seneca Lake after all. It's really just a brambly mess. But I had the idea and I was committed. Or maybe committable. Because that was one of my worst ideas in a long time.
Well, it was my worst idea until I fell in the hot tub and split my chin open that afternoon. So here I am back at home, completely covered in scratches and bruises. I can't tell which injuries are from my "run," and which are from my hot tub antics. I'm pretty much a mess.
I'm due back at the gym tomorrow, and I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "But I can't get my stitches all sweaty! I am supposed to keep them both clean and dry! Sweating is neither!" But it's not like I don't clean myself after taking a shower, right? I can still go the gym, right? Or am I just looking for a reason to sleep in a little tomorrow?
Dear readers,
Please tell me if I am allowed to work out tomorrow! I've been so good!
Love, Mrs. MidAtlantic
I know! I'll run down the street to the next driveway, then I'll run down that one to the lake again, and then I'll run along the shore to our house! I'm a genius!
And it was a very geniusy idea until I got to the "shore" and realized that there isn't much shore to Seneca Lake after all. It's really just a brambly mess. But I had the idea and I was committed. Or maybe committable. Because that was one of my worst ideas in a long time.
Well, it was my worst idea until I fell in the hot tub and split my chin open that afternoon. So here I am back at home, completely covered in scratches and bruises. I can't tell which injuries are from my "run," and which are from my hot tub antics. I'm pretty much a mess.
I'm due back at the gym tomorrow, and I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "But I can't get my stitches all sweaty! I am supposed to keep them both clean and dry! Sweating is neither!" But it's not like I don't clean myself after taking a shower, right? I can still go the gym, right? Or am I just looking for a reason to sleep in a little tomorrow?
Dear readers,
Please tell me if I am allowed to work out tomorrow! I've been so good!
Love, Mrs. MidAtlantic
Looking for an excuse?
I was all proud of myself Friday morning when I woke up in New York, pulled on my running clothes, and left the vacation house for a run. And then I got two feet up the cliff of a driveway and thought I would die. I huffed and puffed (walking) to the top of the steepest part of the cliff, then got myself running again. When I got to the top of the drive, I had a great idea:
I know! I'll run down the street to the next driveway, then I'll run down that one to the lake again, and then I'll run along the shore to our house! I'm a genius!
And it was a very geniusy idea until I got to the "shore" and realized that there isn't much shore to Seneca Lake after all. It's really just a brambly mess. But I had the idea and I was committed. Or maybe committable. Because that was one of my worst ideas in a long time.
Well, it was my worst idea until I fell in the hot tub and split my chin open that afternoon. So here I am back at home, completely covered in scratches and bruises. I can't tell which injuries are from my "run," and which are from my hot tub antics. I'm pretty much a mess.
I'm due back at the gym tomorrow, and I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "But I can't get my stitches all sweaty! I am supposed to keep them both clean and dry! Sweating is neither!" But it's not like I don't clean myself after taking a shower, right? I can still go the gym, right? Or am I just looking for a reason to sleep in a little tomorrow?
Dear readers,
Please tell me if I am allowed to work out tomorrow! I've been so good!
Love, Mrs. MidAtlantic
I know! I'll run down the street to the next driveway, then I'll run down that one to the lake again, and then I'll run along the shore to our house! I'm a genius!
And it was a very geniusy idea until I got to the "shore" and realized that there isn't much shore to Seneca Lake after all. It's really just a brambly mess. But I had the idea and I was committed. Or maybe committable. Because that was one of my worst ideas in a long time.
Well, it was my worst idea until I fell in the hot tub and split my chin open that afternoon. So here I am back at home, completely covered in scratches and bruises. I can't tell which injuries are from my "run," and which are from my hot tub antics. I'm pretty much a mess.
I'm due back at the gym tomorrow, and I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "But I can't get my stitches all sweaty! I am supposed to keep them both clean and dry! Sweating is neither!" But it's not like I don't clean myself after taking a shower, right? I can still go the gym, right? Or am I just looking for a reason to sleep in a little tomorrow?
Dear readers,
Please tell me if I am allowed to work out tomorrow! I've been so good!
Love, Mrs. MidAtlantic
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Bloody Weekend
It was a bloody weekend. Like, every member of my little family bled heavily during some portion of the weekend. We were all in different places, which makes the pints of blood lost even more impressive.
Nate was last. His involved a punch to the nose. Noses bleed, quite a bit. Nothing broken, no dignity lost, but bloody nonetheless. Nate's just lucky his sore nose isn't outwardly visible to any potential clients he might be meeting this week.
Laura was the saddest. Any blood spillage for a one-year-old is sad. She was so excited to see her dog cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Saturday morning, she completely bit it. She has three little scabs covering what must have been a very bloody affair. I tell ya, I leave my kid with the grandparents for one weekend and she comes home all scabby!
My incident was the bloodiest. And also the kick-off event of the weekend. In my last post, I mentioned I was heading up to the Finger Lakes in New York State for a weekend of wine tasting for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party. We all arrived late Thursday night, and started our weekend adventure at the house we had rented Friday morning. There was a hot tub and a lot of booze. I really enjoyed the hot tub. I was in there for hours. Completely pruned, but loving the hot tub on the shore of the lake. What a view!
And that was the end of my evening. One of the girls (pregnant, thus sober) drove me to the ER, while another girl kept me somewhat calm in the back. I received my first ever stitches - five - right on the bottom of my chin. My chin hurts, for sure. But no matter how black and blue my chin is, it's not nearly as bruised as my ego.
But, it was a great weekend. Stitches and all. My sister-in-law has some really great friends. Truly, it was a great bachelorette party - and I know it will be an even better wedding and marriage.
Nate was last. His involved a punch to the nose. Noses bleed, quite a bit. Nothing broken, no dignity lost, but bloody nonetheless. Nate's just lucky his sore nose isn't outwardly visible to any potential clients he might be meeting this week.
Laura was the saddest. Any blood spillage for a one-year-old is sad. She was so excited to see her dog cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Saturday morning, she completely bit it. She has three little scabs covering what must have been a very bloody affair. I tell ya, I leave my kid with the grandparents for one weekend and she comes home all scabby!
My incident was the bloodiest. And also the kick-off event of the weekend. In my last post, I mentioned I was heading up to the Finger Lakes in New York State for a weekend of wine tasting for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party. We all arrived late Thursday night, and started our weekend adventure at the house we had rented Friday morning. There was a hot tub and a lot of booze. I really enjoyed the hot tub. I was in there for hours. Completely pruned, but loving the hot tub on the shore of the lake. What a view!
 |
| Gorgeous Seneca Lake |
Well, I really enjoyed that hot tub. And I really enjoyed that booze. So much so, that my inner-ballerina came out in full force. And believe it our not, I was completely injury free for all my leg extensions and pirouettes IN the hot tub. And then I decided to get out (probably to get more booze?) and my foot slipped. I wasn't even doing anything stupid! But my foot slipped, and I landed chin first on the side of the hot tub.
 |
| Five Stitches! |
But, it was a great weekend. Stitches and all. My sister-in-law has some really great friends. Truly, it was a great bachelorette party - and I know it will be an even better wedding and marriage.
Bloody Weekend
It was a bloody weekend. Like, every member of my little family bled heavily during some portion of the weekend. We were all in different places, which makes the pints of blood lost even more impressive.
Nate was last. His involved a punch to the nose. Noses bleed, quite a bit. Nothing broken, no dignity lost, but bloody nonetheless. Nate's just lucky his sore nose isn't outwardly visible to any potential clients he might be meeting this week.
Laura was the saddest. Any blood spillage for a one-year-old is sad. She was so excited to see her dog cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Saturday morning, she completely bit it. She has three little scabs covering what must have been a very bloody affair. I tell ya, I leave my kid with the grandparents for one weekend and she comes home all scabby!
My incident was the bloodiest. And also the kick-off event of the weekend. In my last post, I mentioned I was heading up to the Finger Lakes in New York State for a weekend of wine tasting for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party. We all arrived late Thursday night, and started our weekend adventure at the house we had rented Friday morning. There was a hot tub and a lot of booze. I really enjoyed the hot tub. I was in there for hours. Completely pruned, but loving the hot tub on the shore of the lake. What a view!
And that was the end of my evening. One of the girls (pregnant, thus sober) drove me to the ER, while another girl kept me somewhat calm in the back. I received my first ever stitches - five - right on the bottom of my chin. My chin hurts, for sure. But no matter how black and blue my chin is, it's not nearly as bruised as my ego.
But, it was a great weekend. Stitches and all. My sister-in-law has some really great friends. Truly, it was a great bachelorette party - and I know it will be an even better wedding and marriage.
Nate was last. His involved a punch to the nose. Noses bleed, quite a bit. Nothing broken, no dignity lost, but bloody nonetheless. Nate's just lucky his sore nose isn't outwardly visible to any potential clients he might be meeting this week.
Laura was the saddest. Any blood spillage for a one-year-old is sad. She was so excited to see her dog cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Saturday morning, she completely bit it. She has three little scabs covering what must have been a very bloody affair. I tell ya, I leave my kid with the grandparents for one weekend and she comes home all scabby!
My incident was the bloodiest. And also the kick-off event of the weekend. In my last post, I mentioned I was heading up to the Finger Lakes in New York State for a weekend of wine tasting for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party. We all arrived late Thursday night, and started our weekend adventure at the house we had rented Friday morning. There was a hot tub and a lot of booze. I really enjoyed the hot tub. I was in there for hours. Completely pruned, but loving the hot tub on the shore of the lake. What a view!
|
| Gorgeous Seneca Lake |
Well, I really enjoyed that hot tub. And I really enjoyed that booze. So much so, that my inner-ballerina came out in full force. And believe it our not, I was completely injury free for all my leg extensions and pirouettes IN the hot tub. And then I decided to get out (probably to get more booze?) and my foot slipped. I wasn't even doing anything stupid! But my foot slipped, and I landed chin first on the side of the hot tub.
|
| Five Stitches! |
But, it was a great weekend. Stitches and all. My sister-in-law has some really great friends. Truly, it was a great bachelorette party - and I know it will be an even better wedding and marriage.
Friday, April 15, 2011
This one time? At band camp?
Ok, so I never actually went to band camp. I never even went to camp ever. But this one time? At my dad's college reunion? In Ithaca, NY? Days before my 17th birthday? I made out with a college senior. Who was my tour guide.
For a girl days before her 17th birthday, it was pretty cool. He was so much older! It was so inappropriate! For the 22 year old, it might have been weird or creepy. I was in high school. I didn't even have my driver's license.
But really, why am I writing about some weirdo guy I never cared to contact again? Because whenever I think of the Finger Lakes, that is what I remember. My father's 25th college reunion. In reality, I should have many other stories come to mind ahead of the college guy.
I should remember how my parents met by the shores of Cayuga Lake, which is where my father later proposed.
I should remember all the other wonderful college reunions up there, when I was nearly seven and another when I was not quite twelve.
I should remember stopping to visit the first home my parents had together as newlyweds. Mrs. Eggbert is long deceased, but the current owners were surprisingly eager to let my parents reminisce.
I should remember the wedding Nate and I went to a few years ago on Seneca Lake, and all the fun we had wine tasting the next day.
But as I drive up to Seneca Lake this weekend for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party, all I can think about is one evening in a quiet garden with a much older man. All I can think about is the evening that a young girl on the brink of her seventeenth birthday was no longer quite such a little girl.
For a girl days before her 17th birthday, it was pretty cool. He was so much older! It was so inappropriate! For the 22 year old, it might have been weird or creepy. I was in high school. I didn't even have my driver's license.
But really, why am I writing about some weirdo guy I never cared to contact again? Because whenever I think of the Finger Lakes, that is what I remember. My father's 25th college reunion. In reality, I should have many other stories come to mind ahead of the college guy.
I should remember how my parents met by the shores of Cayuga Lake, which is where my father later proposed.
I should remember all the other wonderful college reunions up there, when I was nearly seven and another when I was not quite twelve.
I should remember stopping to visit the first home my parents had together as newlyweds. Mrs. Eggbert is long deceased, but the current owners were surprisingly eager to let my parents reminisce.
I should remember the wedding Nate and I went to a few years ago on Seneca Lake, and all the fun we had wine tasting the next day.
But as I drive up to Seneca Lake this weekend for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party, all I can think about is one evening in a quiet garden with a much older man. All I can think about is the evening that a young girl on the brink of her seventeenth birthday was no longer quite such a little girl.
This one time? At band camp?
Ok, so I never actually went to band camp. I never even went to camp ever. But this one time? At my dad's college reunion? In Ithaca, NY? Days before my 17th birthday? I made out with a college senior. Who was my tour guide.
For a girl days before her 17th birthday, it was pretty cool. He was so much older! It was so inappropriate! For the 22 year old, it might have been weird or creepy. I was in high school. I didn't even have my driver's license.
But really, why am I writing about some weirdo guy I never cared to contact again? Because whenever I think of the Finger Lakes, that is what I remember. My father's 25th college reunion. In reality, I should have many other stories come to mind ahead of the college guy.
I should remember how my parents met by the shores of Cayuga Lake, which is where my father later proposed.
I should remember all the other wonderful college reunions up there, when I was nearly seven and another when I was not quite twelve.
I should remember stopping to visit the first home my parents had together as newlyweds. Mrs. Eggbert is long deceased, but the current owners were surprisingly eager to let my parents reminisce.
I should remember the wedding Nate and I went to a few years ago on Seneca Lake, and all the fun we had wine tasting the next day.
But as I drive up to Seneca Lake this weekend for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party, all I can think about is one evening in a quiet garden with a much older man. All I can think about is the evening that a young girl on the brink of her seventeenth birthday was no longer quite such a little girl.
For a girl days before her 17th birthday, it was pretty cool. He was so much older! It was so inappropriate! For the 22 year old, it might have been weird or creepy. I was in high school. I didn't even have my driver's license.
But really, why am I writing about some weirdo guy I never cared to contact again? Because whenever I think of the Finger Lakes, that is what I remember. My father's 25th college reunion. In reality, I should have many other stories come to mind ahead of the college guy.
I should remember how my parents met by the shores of Cayuga Lake, which is where my father later proposed.
I should remember all the other wonderful college reunions up there, when I was nearly seven and another when I was not quite twelve.
I should remember stopping to visit the first home my parents had together as newlyweds. Mrs. Eggbert is long deceased, but the current owners were surprisingly eager to let my parents reminisce.
I should remember the wedding Nate and I went to a few years ago on Seneca Lake, and all the fun we had wine tasting the next day.
But as I drive up to Seneca Lake this weekend for my sister-in-law's bachelorette party, all I can think about is one evening in a quiet garden with a much older man. All I can think about is the evening that a young girl on the brink of her seventeenth birthday was no longer quite such a little girl.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Calm
Today, I am calm. I feel calm. I feel like I'm radiating calm. I think it's the calm in the eye of the storm.
Yesterday, I was a little crazy. My to-do list had its own to-do list. I had a list of things to pack. I had a list of things I needed to buy last night. I had a timetable written out displaying the order in which I wanted to get things done. I had a list of questions to ask my sister-in-law. I have another list of things we will need to buy when we get there.
Maybe I am too dependent on lists? But how else would I remember the 8,000,000,000 things I need to do? So I write them down. And I feel a sense of accomplishment as I cross things off my various lists.
I did a lot of crossing last night. I got groceries, retrieved Laura, started laundry, baked brownies, made dinner, switched the laundry, folded the laundry, fed my family, did the dishes, painted my toes, folded the rest of the laundry, and packed. I did all of this between the hours of 6 pm and 10 pm. I feel like I did a helluva lot in a four-hour time frame!
Things on my list I didn't do: pluck my eyebrows.
I'd say that the frenzy of my evening was pretty successful. I'd say that my crazy night has allowed me this feeling of calm today. A few more hours of calm before the crazy sets in again.
Tonight, I am driving with a bunch of fun girls to Upstate New York for a bachelorette weekend. The crazy starts tomorrow!
Yesterday, I was a little crazy. My to-do list had its own to-do list. I had a list of things to pack. I had a list of things I needed to buy last night. I had a timetable written out displaying the order in which I wanted to get things done. I had a list of questions to ask my sister-in-law. I have another list of things we will need to buy when we get there.
Maybe I am too dependent on lists? But how else would I remember the 8,000,000,000 things I need to do? So I write them down. And I feel a sense of accomplishment as I cross things off my various lists.
I did a lot of crossing last night. I got groceries, retrieved Laura, started laundry, baked brownies, made dinner, switched the laundry, folded the laundry, fed my family, did the dishes, painted my toes, folded the rest of the laundry, and packed. I did all of this between the hours of 6 pm and 10 pm. I feel like I did a helluva lot in a four-hour time frame!
Things on my list I didn't do: pluck my eyebrows.
I'd say that the frenzy of my evening was pretty successful. I'd say that my crazy night has allowed me this feeling of calm today. A few more hours of calm before the crazy sets in again.
Tonight, I am driving with a bunch of fun girls to Upstate New York for a bachelorette weekend. The crazy starts tomorrow!
The Calm
Today, I am calm. I feel calm. I feel like I'm radiating calm. I think it's the calm in the eye of the storm.
Yesterday, I was a little crazy. My to-do list had its own to-do list. I had a list of things to pack. I had a list of things I needed to buy last night. I had a timetable written out displaying the order in which I wanted to get things done. I had a list of questions to ask my sister-in-law. I have another list of things we will need to buy when we get there.
Maybe I am too dependent on lists? But how else would I remember the 8,000,000,000 things I need to do? So I write them down. And I feel a sense of accomplishment as I cross things off my various lists.
I did a lot of crossing last night. I got groceries, retrieved Laura, started laundry, baked brownies, made dinner, switched the laundry, folded the laundry, fed my family, did the dishes, painted my toes, folded the rest of the laundry, and packed. I did all of this between the hours of 6 pm and 10 pm. I feel like I did a helluva lot in a four-hour time frame!
Things on my list I didn't do: pluck my eyebrows.
I'd say that the frenzy of my evening was pretty successful. I'd say that my crazy night has allowed me this feeling of calm today. A few more hours of calm before the crazy sets in again.
Tonight, I am driving with a bunch of fun girls to Upstate New York for a bachelorette weekend. The crazy starts tomorrow!
Yesterday, I was a little crazy. My to-do list had its own to-do list. I had a list of things to pack. I had a list of things I needed to buy last night. I had a timetable written out displaying the order in which I wanted to get things done. I had a list of questions to ask my sister-in-law. I have another list of things we will need to buy when we get there.
Maybe I am too dependent on lists? But how else would I remember the 8,000,000,000 things I need to do? So I write them down. And I feel a sense of accomplishment as I cross things off my various lists.
I did a lot of crossing last night. I got groceries, retrieved Laura, started laundry, baked brownies, made dinner, switched the laundry, folded the laundry, fed my family, did the dishes, painted my toes, folded the rest of the laundry, and packed. I did all of this between the hours of 6 pm and 10 pm. I feel like I did a helluva lot in a four-hour time frame!
Things on my list I didn't do: pluck my eyebrows.
I'd say that the frenzy of my evening was pretty successful. I'd say that my crazy night has allowed me this feeling of calm today. A few more hours of calm before the crazy sets in again.
Tonight, I am driving with a bunch of fun girls to Upstate New York for a bachelorette weekend. The crazy starts tomorrow!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Where is the love?
I had a complete and utter meltdown last night. My train broke down 100 yards outside the station. We finally returned to the station for repairs, where I got off the train and sprinted to another train that would leave the station sooner than the repair of the original train. The new train was packed - it is already a busy commuter train, before the addition of so many passengers from the broken train. I stood the 40 minutes from the station to my stop, got off the train, and sprinted to my car.
I arrived at my car with just enough time to get to day care before their 6pm closing time. But having to run to get my daughter made me feel pretty unsettled. And as soon as I got in and started driving, I noticed a little yellow slip tucked under my windshield wiper - a ticket for an expired registration. Which I thought I had paid.
Cue hyperventilation. I was fine from the run - thank you to all of those mornings spent on a treadmill! - but the stress of the train and getting to day care with the ticket on top was just too much. I was gasping and heaving for breath as I drove as fast as I could through the masses of commuters, left turns and traffic signals to get to my daughter. I needed to compose myself - I couldn't let the teachers see me like that! And I did. Long enough to get Laura strapped into her carseat for the ride home.
And then I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks as I reflected on everything that had gotten me so worked up. The train, the ticket, the day care deadline. But also how tight money is these days. And the laundry I need to do so I can pack for this weekend. And how Nate hadn't answered his phone in time to get Laura for me. And how there are dishes in the sink. And dinner to be cooked. And how on earth am I going to keep up all the housework I have done since the start of Lent after Easter dawns and my sacrifice is over? And how I must have bitten off more than I can chew.
Laura and I got home and went upstairs to see Daddy. I cried to Nate over everything that had gotten me so upset. I told Nate how frustrated I was that he didn't answer his phone when I needed him. I told him about the overdraft on my bank account, thanks for poor planning of checks written to daycare and my student loans. I told him how hard it has been for me to cook dinner every (week) night and still keep up with everything else.
And just as I wanted to get angry with everyone, as I sat crying on the bed, Laura reached over to hug me. Riesling bounded up the stairs to join the family. Nate transferred money into my account, and told me that I'm doing a great job.
Just when I wanted to get angry and give up, my family swooped up to support me. I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel so angry or frustrated. I didn't feel so overwhelmed and exhausted. I felt loved.
I arrived at my car with just enough time to get to day care before their 6pm closing time. But having to run to get my daughter made me feel pretty unsettled. And as soon as I got in and started driving, I noticed a little yellow slip tucked under my windshield wiper - a ticket for an expired registration. Which I thought I had paid.
Cue hyperventilation. I was fine from the run - thank you to all of those mornings spent on a treadmill! - but the stress of the train and getting to day care with the ticket on top was just too much. I was gasping and heaving for breath as I drove as fast as I could through the masses of commuters, left turns and traffic signals to get to my daughter. I needed to compose myself - I couldn't let the teachers see me like that! And I did. Long enough to get Laura strapped into her carseat for the ride home.
And then I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks as I reflected on everything that had gotten me so worked up. The train, the ticket, the day care deadline. But also how tight money is these days. And the laundry I need to do so I can pack for this weekend. And how Nate hadn't answered his phone in time to get Laura for me. And how there are dishes in the sink. And dinner to be cooked. And how on earth am I going to keep up all the housework I have done since the start of Lent after Easter dawns and my sacrifice is over? And how I must have bitten off more than I can chew.
Laura and I got home and went upstairs to see Daddy. I cried to Nate over everything that had gotten me so upset. I told Nate how frustrated I was that he didn't answer his phone when I needed him. I told him about the overdraft on my bank account, thanks for poor planning of checks written to daycare and my student loans. I told him how hard it has been for me to cook dinner every (week) night and still keep up with everything else.
And just as I wanted to get angry with everyone, as I sat crying on the bed, Laura reached over to hug me. Riesling bounded up the stairs to join the family. Nate transferred money into my account, and told me that I'm doing a great job.
Just when I wanted to get angry and give up, my family swooped up to support me. I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel so angry or frustrated. I didn't feel so overwhelmed and exhausted. I felt loved.
Where is the love?
I had a complete and utter meltdown last night. My train broke down 100 yards outside the station. We finally returned to the station for repairs, where I got off the train and sprinted to another train that would leave the station sooner than the repair of the original train. The new train was packed - it is already a busy commuter train, before the addition of so many passengers from the broken train. I stood the 40 minutes from the station to my stop, got off the train, and sprinted to my car.
I arrived at my car with just enough time to get to day care before their 6pm closing time. But having to run to get my daughter made me feel pretty unsettled. And as soon as I got in and started driving, I noticed a little yellow slip tucked under my windshield wiper - a ticket for an expired registration. Which I thought I had paid.
Cue hyperventilation. I was fine from the run - thank you to all of those mornings spent on a treadmill! - but the stress of the train and getting to day care with the ticket on top was just too much. I was gasping and heaving for breath as I drove as fast as I could through the masses of commuters, left turns and traffic signals to get to my daughter. I needed to compose myself - I couldn't let the teachers see me like that! And I did. Long enough to get Laura strapped into her carseat for the ride home.
And then I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks as I reflected on everything that had gotten me so worked up. The train, the ticket, the day care deadline. But also how tight money is these days. And the laundry I need to do so I can pack for this weekend. And how Nate hadn't answered his phone in time to get Laura for me. And how there are dishes in the sink. And dinner to be cooked. And how on earth am I going to keep up all the housework I have done since the start of Lent after Easter dawns and my sacrifice is over? And how I must have bitten off more than I can chew.
Laura and I got home and went upstairs to see Daddy. I cried to Nate over everything that had gotten me so upset. I told Nate how frustrated I was that he didn't answer his phone when I needed him. I told him about the overdraft on my bank account, thanks for poor planning of checks written to daycare and my student loans. I told him how hard it has been for me to cook dinner every (week) night and still keep up with everything else.
And just as I wanted to get angry with everyone, as I sat crying on the bed, Laura reached over to hug me. Riesling bounded up the stairs to join the family. Nate transferred money into my account, and told me that I'm doing a great job.
Just when I wanted to get angry and give up, my family swooped up to support me. I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel so angry or frustrated. I didn't feel so overwhelmed and exhausted. I felt loved.
I arrived at my car with just enough time to get to day care before their 6pm closing time. But having to run to get my daughter made me feel pretty unsettled. And as soon as I got in and started driving, I noticed a little yellow slip tucked under my windshield wiper - a ticket for an expired registration. Which I thought I had paid.
Cue hyperventilation. I was fine from the run - thank you to all of those mornings spent on a treadmill! - but the stress of the train and getting to day care with the ticket on top was just too much. I was gasping and heaving for breath as I drove as fast as I could through the masses of commuters, left turns and traffic signals to get to my daughter. I needed to compose myself - I couldn't let the teachers see me like that! And I did. Long enough to get Laura strapped into her carseat for the ride home.
And then I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks as I reflected on everything that had gotten me so worked up. The train, the ticket, the day care deadline. But also how tight money is these days. And the laundry I need to do so I can pack for this weekend. And how Nate hadn't answered his phone in time to get Laura for me. And how there are dishes in the sink. And dinner to be cooked. And how on earth am I going to keep up all the housework I have done since the start of Lent after Easter dawns and my sacrifice is over? And how I must have bitten off more than I can chew.
Laura and I got home and went upstairs to see Daddy. I cried to Nate over everything that had gotten me so upset. I told Nate how frustrated I was that he didn't answer his phone when I needed him. I told him about the overdraft on my bank account, thanks for poor planning of checks written to daycare and my student loans. I told him how hard it has been for me to cook dinner every (week) night and still keep up with everything else.
And just as I wanted to get angry with everyone, as I sat crying on the bed, Laura reached over to hug me. Riesling bounded up the stairs to join the family. Nate transferred money into my account, and told me that I'm doing a great job.
Just when I wanted to get angry and give up, my family swooped up to support me. I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel so angry or frustrated. I didn't feel so overwhelmed and exhausted. I felt loved.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Like!
My dear friends and followers,
I am now on Facebook. I'm all over that place. Friend me! Cait MidAtlantic! Like my page! Mrs. MidAtlantic!
I figured since I was making a clean sweep of my life and home, I might as well make some Lenten resolutions over here on the blog too. So I'm going to be more proactive. I'm going to work harder. I'm going to post better.
And I'm going to be even less cagey. My name is Cait, and I just told one of my bestest friends about Le Blog. Hi M-Pants!! I have been feeling all restless in my soul, having such a big secret. And on so many occasions recently, the truth has nearly come out. And then, yesterday, talking about a potential baby #2...
M-Pants: Well, if Nate doesn't want to know when you start "trying," aren't you going to go nuts without someone to talk about it to?
Me: I...
I have a secret blog.
M-Pants: WHAT?! I NEED THE LINK NOW!
And so, dear friends, this blog of mine is a little less anonymous. I don't want to go crazy or anything, but I am pretty excited to be a little less secretive! So please, like me on Facebook!
I am now on Facebook. I'm all over that place. Friend me! Cait MidAtlantic! Like my page! Mrs. MidAtlantic!
I figured since I was making a clean sweep of my life and home, I might as well make some Lenten resolutions over here on the blog too. So I'm going to be more proactive. I'm going to work harder. I'm going to post better.
And I'm going to be even less cagey. My name is Cait, and I just told one of my bestest friends about Le Blog. Hi M-Pants!! I have been feeling all restless in my soul, having such a big secret. And on so many occasions recently, the truth has nearly come out. And then, yesterday, talking about a potential baby #2...
M-Pants: Well, if Nate doesn't want to know when you start "trying," aren't you going to go nuts without someone to talk about it to?
Me: I...
I have a secret blog.
M-Pants: WHAT?! I NEED THE LINK NOW!
And so, dear friends, this blog of mine is a little less anonymous. I don't want to go crazy or anything, but I am pretty excited to be a little less secretive! So please, like me on Facebook!
Like!
My dear friends and followers,
I am now on Facebook. I'm all over that place. Friend me! Cait MidAtlantic! Like my page! Mrs. MidAtlantic!
I figured since I was making a clean sweep of my life and home, I might as well make some Lenten resolutions over here on the blog too. So I'm going to be more proactive. I'm going to work harder. I'm going to post better.
And I'm going to be even less cagey. My name is Cait, and I just told one of my bestest friends about Le Blog. Hi M-Pants!! I have been feeling all restless in my soul, having such a big secret. And on so many occasions recently, the truth has nearly come out. And then, yesterday, talking about a potential baby #2...
M-Pants: Well, if Nate doesn't want to know when you start "trying," aren't you going to go nuts without someone to talk about it to?
Me: I...
I have a secret blog.
M-Pants: WHAT?! I NEED THE LINK NOW!
And so, dear friends, this blog of mine is a little less anonymous. I don't want to go crazy or anything, but I am pretty excited to be a little less secretive! So please, like me on Facebook!
I am now on Facebook. I'm all over that place. Friend me! Cait MidAtlantic! Like my page! Mrs. MidAtlantic!
I figured since I was making a clean sweep of my life and home, I might as well make some Lenten resolutions over here on the blog too. So I'm going to be more proactive. I'm going to work harder. I'm going to post better.
And I'm going to be even less cagey. My name is Cait, and I just told one of my bestest friends about Le Blog. Hi M-Pants!! I have been feeling all restless in my soul, having such a big secret. And on so many occasions recently, the truth has nearly come out. And then, yesterday, talking about a potential baby #2...
M-Pants: Well, if Nate doesn't want to know when you start "trying," aren't you going to go nuts without someone to talk about it to?
Me: I...
I have a secret blog.
M-Pants: WHAT?! I NEED THE LINK NOW!
And so, dear friends, this blog of mine is a little less anonymous. I don't want to go crazy or anything, but I am pretty excited to be a little less secretive! So please, like me on Facebook!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Happy Monday!
I'm back at work today, which couldn't make me happier. Seriously, I have never been more happy to be at work on a Monday. Thank you, government, for passing a budget! I get to come to work!
Which means all those wonderful home-organization projects I was planning to do this week while the government was shut down are not going to happen. But really, being able to be at work is the best excuse ever to NOT do house work. And I have gotten a lot of organization done anyway. Thank you, Lent. Purple Heart is picking up 8 trash bags and 3 boxes of donations this morning, and my bathroom has never been more tidy.
But I'm not blogging today about my house or the government. I'm blogging about me and my wonderful weekend. I spent the weekend with one of my best friends in the whole wide world. Laura stayed home with Nate, and I went out for a girl's night. And it was fantastic!
For one, I was able to enjoy a few drinks without getting completely shit-faced like I have on recent outings. I was mindful of my intake, slowly enjoyed my wine, and remembered to drink lots of water. I was having fun while drinking responsibly. And I was rewarded by NOT being a warmer shade of death the next day. I drank just enough to laugh, a lot. Oh my god, did we laugh! We stayed out till the bars closed, and then stayed up till nearly 4am. We gossipped and chatted. And laughed. We were completely inappropriate. We were those girls laughing down the street in the wee hours of the morning telling naughty jokes. It was fantastic. And much needed.
About halfway through the evening, I noticed that I was excited to talk about Laura to my friends and acquaintances at dinner. When asked how is Laura, I skipped my automatic response of "she's great! I love her!" which always felt so fake and forced. When asked, my answer was:
Oh, Laura! She is just so much fun these days. Busy, busy and into everything. I just love watching her play - she's so imaginative! I had no idea that a fourteen-month-old would already play pretend.
I had trouble getting myself to stop talking about Laura. And that felt really good. It was a turning point for me, to realize that I truly enjoy my daughter. I truly enjoy expounding on the wonderfulness of my daughter. I truly enjoy being a mom. It was a wonderful weekend.
Which means all those wonderful home-organization projects I was planning to do this week while the government was shut down are not going to happen. But really, being able to be at work is the best excuse ever to NOT do house work. And I have gotten a lot of organization done anyway. Thank you, Lent. Purple Heart is picking up 8 trash bags and 3 boxes of donations this morning, and my bathroom has never been more tidy.
But I'm not blogging today about my house or the government. I'm blogging about me and my wonderful weekend. I spent the weekend with one of my best friends in the whole wide world. Laura stayed home with Nate, and I went out for a girl's night. And it was fantastic!
For one, I was able to enjoy a few drinks without getting completely shit-faced like I have on recent outings. I was mindful of my intake, slowly enjoyed my wine, and remembered to drink lots of water. I was having fun while drinking responsibly. And I was rewarded by NOT being a warmer shade of death the next day. I drank just enough to laugh, a lot. Oh my god, did we laugh! We stayed out till the bars closed, and then stayed up till nearly 4am. We gossipped and chatted. And laughed. We were completely inappropriate. We were those girls laughing down the street in the wee hours of the morning telling naughty jokes. It was fantastic. And much needed.
About halfway through the evening, I noticed that I was excited to talk about Laura to my friends and acquaintances at dinner. When asked how is Laura, I skipped my automatic response of "she's great! I love her!" which always felt so fake and forced. When asked, my answer was:
Oh, Laura! She is just so much fun these days. Busy, busy and into everything. I just love watching her play - she's so imaginative! I had no idea that a fourteen-month-old would already play pretend.
I had trouble getting myself to stop talking about Laura. And that felt really good. It was a turning point for me, to realize that I truly enjoy my daughter. I truly enjoy expounding on the wonderfulness of my daughter. I truly enjoy being a mom. It was a wonderful weekend.
Happy Monday!
I'm back at work today, which couldn't make me happier. Seriously, I have never been more happy to be at work on a Monday. Thank you, government, for passing a budget! I get to come to work!
Which means all those wonderful home-organization projects I was planning to do this week while the government was shut down are not going to happen. But really, being able to be at work is the best excuse ever to NOT do house work. And I have gotten a lot of organization done anyway. Thank you, Lent. Purple Heart is picking up 8 trash bags and 3 boxes of donations this morning, and my bathroom has never been more tidy.
But I'm not blogging today about my house or the government. I'm blogging about me and my wonderful weekend. I spent the weekend with one of my best friends in the whole wide world. Laura stayed home with Nate, and I went out for a girl's night. And it was fantastic!
For one, I was able to enjoy a few drinks without getting completely shit-faced like I have on recent outings. I was mindful of my intake, slowly enjoyed my wine, and remembered to drink lots of water. I was having fun while drinking responsibly. And I was rewarded by NOT being a warmer shade of death the next day. I drank just enough to laugh, a lot. Oh my god, did we laugh! We stayed out till the bars closed, and then stayed up till nearly 4am. We gossipped and chatted. And laughed. We were completely inappropriate. We were those girls laughing down the street in the wee hours of the morning telling naughty jokes. It was fantastic. And much needed.
About halfway through the evening, I noticed that I was excited to talk about Laura to my friends and acquaintances at dinner. When asked how is Laura, I skipped my automatic response of "she's great! I love her!" which always felt so fake and forced. When asked, my answer was:
Oh, Laura! She is just so much fun these days. Busy, busy and into everything. I just love watching her play - she's so imaginative! I had no idea that a fourteen-month-old would already play pretend.
I had trouble getting myself to stop talking about Laura. And that felt really good. It was a turning point for me, to realize that I truly enjoy my daughter. I truly enjoy expounding on the wonderfulness of my daughter. I truly enjoy being a mom. It was a wonderful weekend.
Which means all those wonderful home-organization projects I was planning to do this week while the government was shut down are not going to happen. But really, being able to be at work is the best excuse ever to NOT do house work. And I have gotten a lot of organization done anyway. Thank you, Lent. Purple Heart is picking up 8 trash bags and 3 boxes of donations this morning, and my bathroom has never been more tidy.
But I'm not blogging today about my house or the government. I'm blogging about me and my wonderful weekend. I spent the weekend with one of my best friends in the whole wide world. Laura stayed home with Nate, and I went out for a girl's night. And it was fantastic!
For one, I was able to enjoy a few drinks without getting completely shit-faced like I have on recent outings. I was mindful of my intake, slowly enjoyed my wine, and remembered to drink lots of water. I was having fun while drinking responsibly. And I was rewarded by NOT being a warmer shade of death the next day. I drank just enough to laugh, a lot. Oh my god, did we laugh! We stayed out till the bars closed, and then stayed up till nearly 4am. We gossipped and chatted. And laughed. We were completely inappropriate. We were those girls laughing down the street in the wee hours of the morning telling naughty jokes. It was fantastic. And much needed.
About halfway through the evening, I noticed that I was excited to talk about Laura to my friends and acquaintances at dinner. When asked how is Laura, I skipped my automatic response of "she's great! I love her!" which always felt so fake and forced. When asked, my answer was:
Oh, Laura! She is just so much fun these days. Busy, busy and into everything. I just love watching her play - she's so imaginative! I had no idea that a fourteen-month-old would already play pretend.
I had trouble getting myself to stop talking about Laura. And that felt really good. It was a turning point for me, to realize that I truly enjoy my daughter. I truly enjoy expounding on the wonderfulness of my daughter. I truly enjoy being a mom. It was a wonderful weekend.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Social Media
Ok, so I could use some help. Or advice. Or an explanation. Or something.
There are many aspects of social media that I get. I love Facebook for the ability to share pictures with my friends and family, and for chatting with my mom, and for Scrabble. I love Blogger clearly. I get flickr and photobucket, even if I don't personally use them. I like reading reviews of places on Yelp. I am a huge fan of UrbanSpoon - both the website and their iPhone app. YouTube, sure, I'll watch some silly videos - I'll even post one or two for my family.
I have a Twitter account, but let's face it: I suck at Twitter. I am not using it to it's full potential because, well, because I don't know how. I can't spend so much time on there to make friends and get involved (except for #WineParty). And I just don't know how to make use of it.
I don't get Digg, or StumbleUpon. I don't even know what del.icio.us or Reddit are. Seriously. What are these things?!
I want to make use of social media. I want to spread the "Mrs. MidAtlantic" brand (if I even have one!) to raise my visitorship. I know I need social media (and probably Twitter) to do this, but I seriously don't know how.
Does anyone out there understand social media? Please throw me a bone here!
@mrsmidatlantic - if I can figure it out!
There are many aspects of social media that I get. I love Facebook for the ability to share pictures with my friends and family, and for chatting with my mom, and for Scrabble. I love Blogger clearly. I get flickr and photobucket, even if I don't personally use them. I like reading reviews of places on Yelp. I am a huge fan of UrbanSpoon - both the website and their iPhone app. YouTube, sure, I'll watch some silly videos - I'll even post one or two for my family.
I have a Twitter account, but let's face it: I suck at Twitter. I am not using it to it's full potential because, well, because I don't know how. I can't spend so much time on there to make friends and get involved (except for #WineParty). And I just don't know how to make use of it.
I don't get Digg, or StumbleUpon. I don't even know what del.icio.us or Reddit are. Seriously. What are these things?!
I want to make use of social media. I want to spread the "Mrs. MidAtlantic" brand (if I even have one!) to raise my visitorship. I know I need social media (and probably Twitter) to do this, but I seriously don't know how.
Does anyone out there understand social media? Please throw me a bone here!
@mrsmidatlantic - if I can figure it out!
Social Media
Ok, so I could use some help. Or advice. Or an explanation. Or something.
There are many aspects of social media that I get. I love Facebook for the ability to share pictures with my friends and family, and for chatting with my mom, and for Scrabble. I love Blogger clearly. I get flickr and photobucket, even if I don't personally use them. I like reading reviews of places on Yelp. I am a huge fan of UrbanSpoon - both the website and their iPhone app. YouTube, sure, I'll watch some silly videos - I'll even post one or two for my family.
I have a Twitter account, but let's face it: I suck at Twitter. I am not using it to it's full potential because, well, because I don't know how. I can't spend so much time on there to make friends and get involved (except for #WineParty). And I just don't know how to make use of it.
I don't get Digg, or StumbleUpon. I don't even know what del.icio.us or Reddit are. Seriously. What are these things?!
I want to make use of social media. I want to spread the "Mrs. MidAtlantic" brand (if I even have one!) to raise my visitorship. I know I need social media (and probably Twitter) to do this, but I seriously don't know how.
Does anyone out there understand social media? Please throw me a bone here!
@mrsmidatlantic - if I can figure it out!
There are many aspects of social media that I get. I love Facebook for the ability to share pictures with my friends and family, and for chatting with my mom, and for Scrabble. I love Blogger clearly. I get flickr and photobucket, even if I don't personally use them. I like reading reviews of places on Yelp. I am a huge fan of UrbanSpoon - both the website and their iPhone app. YouTube, sure, I'll watch some silly videos - I'll even post one or two for my family.
I have a Twitter account, but let's face it: I suck at Twitter. I am not using it to it's full potential because, well, because I don't know how. I can't spend so much time on there to make friends and get involved (except for #WineParty). And I just don't know how to make use of it.
I don't get Digg, or StumbleUpon. I don't even know what del.icio.us or Reddit are. Seriously. What are these things?!
I want to make use of social media. I want to spread the "Mrs. MidAtlantic" brand (if I even have one!) to raise my visitorship. I know I need social media (and probably Twitter) to do this, but I seriously don't know how.
Does anyone out there understand social media? Please throw me a bone here!
@mrsmidatlantic - if I can figure it out!
Government Shutdown 2011
I'm not a federal employee (holla trust fund!), which means in the increasingly likely event of a government shutdown beginning at midnight tomorrow, I would still have to get to show up for work on Monday. But I work in a federal building, which means in the increasingly likely event of a government shutdown beginning at midnight tomorrow, I would not be able to get to my desk on Monday.
Beyond the personally tragedy of not being able to work (and not getting paid for missing work - the irony), this shutdown is a terrifying prospect. Did you know that none of the national museums or parks would be open during this time? It's the peak tourist season for Washington, DC. There are already thousands of people in the city, hoping to participate in the Cherry Blossom Festival this weekend. Thousands of people have already purchased tickets to special events at various museums - that they won't be able to attend. I work at one of these museums. This isn't good.
To date, I haven't been taking this shutdown very seriously. Because it was so far out in the future and they kept extending the grace period. Because I am trust employee and would still come to work and receive a paycheck. Because, I mean really, they were going to agree on a budget in time, right? But today, on the eve of the potential shutdown, it's really starting to sink in.
This shutdown is petty and disastrous. Would I love to have more time to play with Laura and get my house properly organized? Sure. But I'd also like to get paid. I'd also like the visitors to this beautiful city to be able to experience our fantastic museums. I'd also like to trust in my government to move past partisanship to focus on the needs of the people. I'm scared.
Beyond the personally tragedy of not being able to work (and not getting paid for missing work - the irony), this shutdown is a terrifying prospect. Did you know that none of the national museums or parks would be open during this time? It's the peak tourist season for Washington, DC. There are already thousands of people in the city, hoping to participate in the Cherry Blossom Festival this weekend. Thousands of people have already purchased tickets to special events at various museums - that they won't be able to attend. I work at one of these museums. This isn't good.
To date, I haven't been taking this shutdown very seriously. Because it was so far out in the future and they kept extending the grace period. Because I am trust employee and would still come to work and receive a paycheck. Because, I mean really, they were going to agree on a budget in time, right? But today, on the eve of the potential shutdown, it's really starting to sink in.
This shutdown is petty and disastrous. Would I love to have more time to play with Laura and get my house properly organized? Sure. But I'd also like to get paid. I'd also like the visitors to this beautiful city to be able to experience our fantastic museums. I'd also like to trust in my government to move past partisanship to focus on the needs of the people. I'm scared.
Government Shutdown 2011
I'm not a federal employee (holla trust fund!), which means in the increasingly likely event of a government shutdown beginning at midnight tomorrow, I would still have to get to show up for work on Monday. But I work in a federal building, which means in the increasingly likely event of a government shutdown beginning at midnight tomorrow, I would not be able to get to my desk on Monday.
Beyond the personally tragedy of not being able to work (and not getting paid for missing work - the irony), this shutdown is a terrifying prospect. Did you know that none of the national museums or parks would be open during this time? It's the peak tourist season for Washington, DC. There are already thousands of people in the city, hoping to participate in the Cherry Blossom Festival this weekend. Thousands of people have already purchased tickets to special events at various museums - that they won't be able to attend. I work at one of these museums. This isn't good.
To date, I haven't been taking this shutdown very seriously. Because it was so far out in the future and they kept extending the grace period. Because I am trust employee and would still come to work and receive a paycheck. Because, I mean really, they were going to agree on a budget in time, right? But today, on the eve of the potential shutdown, it's really starting to sink in.
This shutdown is petty and disastrous. Would I love to have more time to play with Laura and get my house properly organized? Sure. But I'd also like to get paid. I'd also like the visitors to this beautiful city to be able to experience our fantastic museums. I'd also like to trust in my government to move past partisanship to focus on the needs of the people. I'm scared.
Beyond the personally tragedy of not being able to work (and not getting paid for missing work - the irony), this shutdown is a terrifying prospect. Did you know that none of the national museums or parks would be open during this time? It's the peak tourist season for Washington, DC. There are already thousands of people in the city, hoping to participate in the Cherry Blossom Festival this weekend. Thousands of people have already purchased tickets to special events at various museums - that they won't be able to attend. I work at one of these museums. This isn't good.
To date, I haven't been taking this shutdown very seriously. Because it was so far out in the future and they kept extending the grace period. Because I am trust employee and would still come to work and receive a paycheck. Because, I mean really, they were going to agree on a budget in time, right? But today, on the eve of the potential shutdown, it's really starting to sink in.
This shutdown is petty and disastrous. Would I love to have more time to play with Laura and get my house properly organized? Sure. But I'd also like to get paid. I'd also like the visitors to this beautiful city to be able to experience our fantastic museums. I'd also like to trust in my government to move past partisanship to focus on the needs of the people. I'm scared.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
G-Spot
Kit is one of my favorite bloggers. I want her to be my friend. I want to go to bars and get silly drunk with her. Because she is awesome and I'm pretty sure we would have a raucous good time. Kit has a little "G-Spot" feature where guest bloggers post about some of their more explicit experiences.
Imagine my delight at being featured! Seriously! Click on over to Blogging Dangerously today to read about my alternative bucket list. Unless you don't want to read about some of my more interesting experiences. If you don't want to read where I've done it, then don't read this post. But DO read Kit's posts. They are clever, and funny, and awesome. I want to be Kit.
Don't just blog. Blog Dangerously!
Imagine my delight at being featured! Seriously! Click on over to Blogging Dangerously today to read about my alternative bucket list. Unless you don't want to read about some of my more interesting experiences. If you don't want to read where I've done it, then don't read this post. But DO read Kit's posts. They are clever, and funny, and awesome. I want to be Kit.
Don't just blog. Blog Dangerously!
G-Spot
Kit is one of my favorite bloggers. I want her to be my friend. I want to go to bars and get silly drunk with her. Because she is awesome and I'm pretty sure we would have a raucous good time. Kit has a little "G-Spot" feature where guest bloggers post about some of their more explicit experiences.
Imagine my delight at being featured! Seriously! Click on over to Blogging Dangerously today to read about my alternative bucket list. Unless you don't want to read about some of my more interesting experiences. If you don't want to read where I've done it, then don't read this post. But DO read Kit's posts. They are clever, and funny, and awesome. I want to be Kit.
Don't just blog. Blog Dangerously!
Imagine my delight at being featured! Seriously! Click on over to Blogging Dangerously today to read about my alternative bucket list. Unless you don't want to read about some of my more interesting experiences. If you don't want to read where I've done it, then don't read this post. But DO read Kit's posts. They are clever, and funny, and awesome. I want to be Kit.
Don't just blog. Blog Dangerously!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Summer
The first time I walked into the staff area of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, I was overcome by a smell. The distinct smell of must and old. The smell of my great-grandmother's home. The smell of summer. The smell of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years. But such is the nature of napthalene. The smell lingers on.
And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother. My Grammy. The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life. The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.
I remembered summers at her home on the Cape. A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months. I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell. My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house. Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.
I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell. Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play? I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore.
I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on. My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child. And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.
And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother. My Grammy. The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life. The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.
I remembered summers at her home on the Cape. A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months. I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell. My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house. Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.
I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell. Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play? I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore.
I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on. My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child. And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.
Summer
The first time I walked into the staff area of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, I was overcome by a smell. The distinct smell of must and old. The smell of my great-grandmother's home. The smell of summer. The smell of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years. But such is the nature of napthalene. The smell lingers on.
And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother. My Grammy. The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life. The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.
I remembered summers at her home on the Cape. A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months. I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell. My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house. Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.
I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell. Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play? I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore.
I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on. My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child. And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.
And so as I walked to class on that first day in the back rooms of the museum, I thought of my great-grandmother. My Grammy. The regal woman who never wore pants a day in her life. The proper woman who sipped a tiny glass of watered sherry every evening after dinner.
I remembered summers at her home on the Cape. A home sealed with moth balls for most of the year, opened only for a few brief months. I remembered arriving at the house and being overwhelmed by the smell. My mother would quarentine me and my brother in a "safe" room until she could go through the closets, sofas and drawers to remove the thousands of candy-like balls that had spent the winter in the house. Rain or shine, my mother opened every window and door to air out the toxic smell of the napthalene.
I remembered arriving at the house one summer, and asking my mother why it didn't smell. Don't you have to find all the little white balls before we can play? I remembered the triumphant smile on my mother's face as she told me that Grammy wasn't going to use moth balls anymore.
I walked through the back halls of the storied museums on that first day, and wondered at the millions of specimens that had been kept safe from infestation for over one hundred years by the presence of moth balls. The museum hasn't used moth balls in years, and yet the smell lingers on. My mother hasn't used moth balls since I was a child. And yet if I open the drawers of the sideboard in the dining room, I am overcome by the lingering smell of moth balls and summer.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
My Girly-Girl
Nate is so disappointed. We have a very, very girly-girl. He was so hoping for a tomboy. A little girl who would prefer to get her knees muddy outside while playing football. A little girl who would prefer hiking and discovering worms and frogs. What he got was a little girl who adores her dolls, tea sets and purses. Laura loves her purses.
Laura seriously has a thing for purses. She has stolen at least four of mine, and she has her eye on my Dooney, the little minx! Most of what she has stolen thus far are little handbags that my grandmother made for me, so I'm fine with sharing. But Laura will take anything that could possibly be considered a bag, and tote her toys around. No basket, tote bag, or shape sorter container is safe. They can all be used at any given time as a fashionable purse. I once saw Laura with five purses and a basket draped over her little arms. I'm not even how she managed it, since she dropped most of them before I could whip out the camera!
The best though? I came downstairs last night after putting Laura to bed and noticed something funny about her bear. She seemed to be ready for some shopping! I am so impressed by Laura's creativity - and dexterity! Laura is just too cute.
Seriously, can she stay this cute forever?
My Girly-Girl
Nate is so disappointed. We have a very, very girly-girl. He was so hoping for a tomboy. A little girl who would prefer to get her knees muddy outside while playing football. A little girl who would prefer hiking and discovering worms and frogs. What he got was a little girl who adores her dolls, tea sets and purses. Laura loves her purses.
Laura seriously has a thing for purses. She has stolen at least four of mine, and she has her eye on my Dooney, the little minx! Most of what she has stolen thus far are little handbags that my grandmother made for me, so I'm fine with sharing. But Laura will take anything that could possibly be considered a bag, and tote her toys around. No basket, tote bag, or shape sorter container is safe. They can all be used at any given time as a fashionable purse. I once saw Laura with five purses and a basket draped over her little arms. I'm not even how she managed it, since she dropped most of them before I could whip out the camera!
The best though? I came downstairs last night after putting Laura to bed and noticed something funny about her bear. She seemed to be ready for some shopping! I am so impressed by Laura's creativity - and dexterity! Laura is just too cute.
Seriously, can she stay this cute forever?
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