family

Same old

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It’s that time again: time to pick a new book.  But it’s bedtme and I’m sleepy, so I’m going to put it off until tomorrow.  Which really means tomorrow after work.  Why do I even want to put it off?  I certainly don’t want to NOT read something.

I have made this complaint before.  No more.

Hey, my company offered Molly the job she interviewed for, and she’s accepting it!  That’ll be interesting.  Good, but interesting.  More to come as the story unfolds.  Or however that goes.

You know what’s cool?  My keyboard.  It lights up.  See?

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Yeah, that’s a great picture.  I’m on a roll tonight.  I should definitely keep writing random stuff and then trailing off without any attempt to make it interesting.  Yup.  That’s what I should do.

Oh, wait!  I know what I’m reading next.  Finally, I have purpose!  Energy renewed, off to start a new book.  (Is this my process?  Kind of irritating.  Thanks for wading it through it!)

I like games

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Because John’s family knows us so well, we got two copies of the game Geek Out for Christmas.  It seems silly to own it twice, so after playing Lords of Waterdeep with Jess and Chuck on New Year’s Eve (good game, lots of fun), we decided to exchange a redundant Geek Out for that one.

lordsofwaterdeep

Well, we haven’t done it yet, but if we make it to the mall soon, we will.  At least a decision was made.  Margaret, when you decide to start your LARPing career, you should aim for the scary dark-elf-type person on the right for your first costume.  I don’t know who she is, but she looks like she could kick some ass.

We haven’t played Geek Out yet, but it’s a trivia game (that can also be played by two people), so maybe we’ll give it a try this weekend.

geekout

Earning it

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An early Thanksgiving report:

I’m trying to earn my Thanksgiving dinner.  Molly and I ran our own private 5K this morning.  I inadvertantly made it harder by suggesting we take that turn over there.  Yeah, so we went downhill.  A lot.  Steeply.  The only way back was to climb up.  So our thighs were burning, but maybe that means less stuffing will stick to them.  Then I helped Sean shovel a neighbor’s driveway (they’re out of town), so that counts as a good deed AND more calories burned (big driveway and wet snow).  I feel virtuous.  OH, and then I ran to the store for my mother-in-law to get bread and ice.  I would like to win Daughter-In-Law Of The Year again.

Bring on the turkey and stuffing and green bean casserole and sweet potatoes, please.  I’m ready.

Balloons are fantastic

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Birthday balloons!

These are from my team.  They arrived shortly after I got in this morning.  Then they sang Happy Birthday (they were goaded into it by someone walking by).  Then they took me to lunch (and told the waiters it was my birthday, so there was more singing) where I had to deal with this indignity:

Don’t ask what’s wrong with my face. It got stuck that way.

Then I got back from my lunch and was greeted with these:

After much confusion (the card only said “Surprise!”) and many texts, Mom finally admitted to sending them.  So I’ve got LOTS of balloons.  Mom’s are coming home with me.  I’ll probably take my work ones home tomorrow.

I think my favorite rendition of Happy Birthday so far was Gaby and Corey’s (sorry, Dad – yours is classic (for us), but hers is cuter).  It comes complete with cha-cha-chas at the end of every line.

It’s been a really nice birthday so far.  I think I’m going to have to reschedule my birthday dinner for another night, though.  I’m completely stuffed from lunch, and I really want lots of Indian food.  I don’t have it in me to enjoy that tonight.  But hey – that means more birthday time for me!

Audible gasps from all around, seriously

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A couple of weeks ago, our good friend Chuck retired after 30 years in the navy.  It was a really nice ceremony all the way through, but the best part came at the end.  One of his fellow master chiefs stood up to read The Watch (as you do).  It’s sentimental to begin with, but for the most part, it’s like listening to the readings by family members at a wedding.  The readings are nice, and the words are heartfelt (you hope), but you’ve heard them before.

The master chief was introduced, but she bowed out, saying someone more appropriate was going to read it.  Chuck’s son, a brand new seaman apprentice, two weeks out of boot camp, appeared from behind the enormous American flag hanging from the ceiling.  Chuck was taken completely by surprise and choked up immediately.  Cody began to read.

The Watch (with minor adjustments made by Cody):

For thirty years, this shipmate has stood the watch.
While some of us were in our racks at night, this shipmate stood the watch.
While some of us were in school learning our trade, this shipmate stood the watch.
Yes, even before some of us were born into this world, this shipmate stood the watch.
In these many years as war has been waged against us, and as our nation sacrifices blood and treasure, this shipmate stood the watch.
Many times he would cast an eye ashore and see his family standing there, needing his help during those hard times, and yet he stood the watch.
For thirty years, he stood the watch so that we, our families, and our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety each and every night, knowing that a sailor stood the watch.
Today we are here to say, “Command Master Chief, the watch stands relieved, relieved by those you have trained, guided, and led.  Shipmate, you stand relieved.  We have the watch.”

Now read those last couple of sentence again, with one minor adjustment, knowing that Cody is his father’s son.

“Command Master Chief, the watch stands relieved, relieved by those you have trained, guided, and led.  Shipmate, you stand relieved.”  Then he paused, looked up at his dad, and said, “Dad, I have the watch.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  In fact, I’m tearing up just thinking about it. That kid’s good.

Gobble gobble giggle

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The turkey is stuffed and in the oven, the leftover stuffing is in a pan, the sweet potatoes are in a car on their way here, the cranberries were accidentally left in PA, and the other stuff (mashed potatoes and green bean casserole) can wait until later.  John and I have spent the morning in the kitchen with oldies on Pandora for food prep.  Now that we’re in clean-up mode, we’ve moved on to 80s pop.  It’s been fun.  Only sad part?  It’s not really cold enough for a fire.  Maybe at pie time.  (Well, that’s not the only sad part, but who wants to get serious now?  Miss you, family of mine!)

Happy Turkey Day!

Freedom!

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We are free from our manipulative real estate agent!  Hooray for us!  She actually fired us.  🙂  It was kind of awesome.  She said she couldn’t sell it at this price, we said we weren’t willing to change it, and she suggested we sign a release from the agreement.  We win!  And now we’ll take a little time, maybe enjoy the holiday season, and do it on our own soon.

I was doing so well with keeping up here, and then last week started.  It was a horrible, crazily busy, totally exhausting week.  Work was nuts, our evenings were not our own, and we just got back from a whirlwind 36-hour trip to PA and back for Emily’s engagement party.  I can barely keep my eyes open.  We braved Wegmans to get the basic pre-Thanksgiving shopping done, mostly because I have pies to make.  Lots of pies.  This year I actually need to double my recipe.

I’m too tired to make any more sense, so I’m going to shut down the computer, heat up dinner (we scored leftovers from the party last night), and watch TV with John.  I might last another hour, max.  I will try really really hard to post regularly again.  I like it.

It was great

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I had a glorious weekend.  So much time to READ.  Tempting as it was, though, I didn’t read ALL weekend.  I did some stuff for others – I spent a couple of hours on Saturday trying on bridesmaid dresses and taking pictures of them (or notes where pictures weren’t allowed) for Emily (no, you may not see those pictures), and I helped John test out his new recording toy.  (I may have enjoyed doing both of those things, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did them primarily to help John and Emily.)  On Saturday afternoon, John and I went for a run together, something we haven’t done in a while.  I think I enjoy it more than he does.  (I’ve heard I sometimes talk too much.  I don’t know who starts these rumors.)  But Sunday?  Yeah, I spent hours and hours reading.  It was heavenly.

Mom can’t always be right

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A couple of months ago, I went to my favorite nail salon, and the manicurist talked me into trying gel nail polish on my fingers.  Mom has been talking it up to me for a long time because it doesn’t chip, so it lasts longer, and it looks nicer, and she’s right on all of those counts.  I was going to go bare (just buff up the nails) because I don’t really like color on my nails and clear nail polish chips, and the manicurist said, well, gel doesn’t chip, and it comes in a natural color.  Okay – it’s time to try it.  First, natural my ass.  It was light pink and sparkly.  Pretty, but in no way natural.  Still, it was pretty and light enough not to bother me much.  It dried super quickly (always a plus), and then the lady swiped nail polish remover across the nails and it didn’t come off!  I was impressed, and everything was great for about three weeks.  My nails were growing, but it wasn’t obvious to anyone but me that my nails weren’t all painted anymore.  After that, I was about done with the pink and sparkly and ready to go clear again, so I went back to have the gel polish removed (since I had no idea how to take it off myself).

What Mom neglected to tell me is what a HUGE PAIN it is to have it removed.  You can’t just swipe with some special gel polish remover.  Oh, no.  My nails were wrapped in acetone-soaked cotton and foil for what felt like an hour (and was at least 20 minutes in real time), and then when the manicurist removed the foil and cotton, she still had to chisel away at each nail to get it all off.  It took FOREVER.  I thought it was never going to be over.  And even once the polish was removed, my nails still felt like regular polish was fading and chipping off on its own.  Not a nice feeling.

Conclusion?  No gelicures for me.  No way.  Uh uh.  Sorry, Mom.  Can’t agree with you on this one.

I’ve run out of clothes to buy

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I have tried on every dress within 15 miles of my house over the last week looking for the one I’m going to wear to the wedding this weekend.  ALL by myself.  I’d walk into a store, grab armloads of dresses in my size, take over a dressing room, and try on every one.  I took pictures of the good ones and sent them to my posse (Pat, Emily, and Molly for immediate feedback via text, Mom and Mindy for more leisurely feedback over email), all of whom talked me into buying entirely too many dresses, most of which I will be returning (I’ve returned one.  Two more are in the car, waiting for me to get back to the mall.).  Sunday was about shoes.  I bought THESE most awesome shoes in hot pink:

I should take a break from shopping.

I might need a haircut

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My right eye was bothering me this morning, so I decided to take a break from my contacts and wear my glasses to work today.  I wore one of my favorite sweaters (if only I had it in a forest or olive green or a deep red – this blue is beautiful, but it’s not really my color) and the little clock Mindy got me from JewelMint.  My outfit had nothing to do with my decision to wear glasses, but apparently the combination of glasses and little clock clicked for me.  A coworker told me I looked studiously cute.  I will totally take that.  So here I am, looking studiously cute:

And very pale and very tired.  But I am NOT wearing a 3/4-sleeve sweater.  This is according to John, who doesn’t believe in them.  Therefore, that is not what I’m wearing.  Because they don’t exist.

Goats!

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Did you know goats are evil?  It’s their eyes.  Their eyes give them away.

All of that adorable playing and attention-hogging is just a ruse. What adorable playing?  This adorable playing!  (Please bear with me through this 2-minute video.  They really do do some cute things.)

Clearly, I met some goats last weekend.  And fed them and played with them and picked a favorite.  (Baxter, the brown one, is my favorite.  Dad’s favorite is Bruiser (black with blue eyes).  Trixie wasn’t all that interested in us.)

Baxter: “Whatcha doin’?” Or possibly, “My plan to take over the world begins with you. Look into my eyes so I can take over your brain.”

It wasn’t all bad, I promise!

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I realize I’ve posted nothing but negative things these last few days, and I’d hate for you to think I didn’t enjoy myself.  I totally did.  Molly and I got our nails done on Sunday, and Tom and I lost to Molly and Tania (by a whisker) and John and Emily (by a lot) at Taboo on Christmas Day.  John and I kicked everyone’s butts (especially Emily and Sean’s) at Cranium on Saturday night.  Christmas itself was a very fun day, as usual.  Molly got me possibly my favorite present of the year.  I am now the proud owner of a TARDIS hat.

Also, I have a flashing Rudolph nose, but I only wear it on special occasions.

 

I shouldn’t try sports that need actual equipment

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Despite my recent enthusiasm for shopping, Black Friday is still something I avoid.  Like the plague.  I have absolutely no interest in dealing with crowds of shoppers, and I think the day after Thanksgiving should be a national day of rest.  I did go to one store.  One superstore.  One store I have no need to ever visit again.  Cabela’s.  It’s a hunting/camping/fishing kind of store.  Like Bass Pro Shop, but with more taxidermied bears.  (I assume.  I’ve never been in a Bass Pro Shop, but it sounds more civilized.)  SO totally not my kind of store.  We tagged along with Emily and her boyfriend (who fishes) because, I guess, family time?  It was…interesting.  Aaaannd we came home with two bows.  With arrows.  Actual bows.  Well, junior bows, like toddler’s first bow.  Kid bows.  And blunt arrows (of course).  We set up cardboard boxes as a target in the backyard and pretended we were Robin Hood or Welsh longbowmen.  And you know what?  It’s kind of hard.  And kind of painful.  I don’t know if I was holding the darn thing wrong or what, but the string kept recoiling against the inside of my left elbow.  Out of 20 or so shots, the string hit me (hard) 3 or 4 times.  After the last one, I was about to start taking bets as to how long it would take before a bruise showed up when I rolled up my sleeve and actually looked at my arm.  That’s when I ended my illustrious career as an archer.  I already had the nastiest bruise I’ve ever seen, and on top of that, there was an egg-sized welt right in the middle.  Even now, three days later, I look like I caught a fast ball with my arm.  (The swelling went down pretty quickly after I iced it.)  So I’m retired now.  No more archery for me.

Can you believe it’s almost October? What the hell is that about?

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I took Riley with me on my run the other morning – huh.  Feels like several days ago, but it must have been just yesterday morning.  It’s only Tuesday.  Shoot me.  Anyway, a deer got really close to us.  I think he wanted to play.  It was cute, but Riley was a little freaked out.  The deer was following us down the trail, and Riley kept checking it out over his shoulder, ears pinned back.  It eventually ran ahead of us, and he calmed down, but it made for a very exciting morning.

We don’t get out much.  Actually, part of why I’ve been MIA is because I did get out over the weekend.  Went home to visit Mom and Dad and Corey and Mindy and Mark and Gaby and Candy.  Watched a gaggle of six-year-olds play soccer, found that I’m a natural at soccer myself (when one of those six-year-olds is the goalie), picnicked by the lake, played catch, flew a kite, got sunburned, went for a run – and that was all on Saturday.  It was a whirlwind weekend, but I got to see everyone (for not long enough, but it was better than not going).

And now it’s the work week, the last week of the fiscal year, when everyone freaks out, and I have to go to DC every day.  Here’s hoping next week is better.

I don’t want to do anything

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You know, it’s been a fun weekend, but I need another weekend to recover from it.  Friday night was the concert, and it was nearly 2am before we went to bed.  Six hours later, I was awake because I still had stuff to do in the house before John’s dad and sister showed up.  Then John and his dad spent the day replacing a column on the porch, and Emily and I went wine-tasting and got pedicures (which was a very nice way to spend the afternoon – I highly recommend it), and then we picked up sushi for dinner.  And then we sat at the damn table until 1:30 last night because we are incapable of shutting up and going to bed.  So now?  I’m exhausted.  I’m sacked out on the couch when I should be at the grocery store or out on my bike or walking the dogs or doing something productive…  It’s taking everything I’ve got just to keep my eyes open.

Since when have there been seven days in a week?

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I have found myself completely unable to tell what day of the week it is.  At least I’m not alone.  I told Mom today I would check on something Tuesday, thinking today was Saturday, even though I went to work today and complained about it  being Monday several times.  Probably.  That’s something I’ve been known to do.  I’m sure I did it today.  Unless it was last Monday…  Mom thought it was Tuesday all day.  I talked to Jess yesterday, and she was convinced (or at least hoped) it was Saturday.  It’s probably just wishful thinking, like my dream last night that I was eating brownies and cake with whipped cream and strawberries.  (Oh how I want that.)  Let’s continue to assume it’s wishful thinking and not the deterioration of my brain.

It’s not Cinderella’s Castle, but I guess it’ll have to do

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I’m of two minds about being home.  On one hand, there’s my bed, my shower, my clothes, my DOGS – I’m SO tired, and it’s SO nice to be home.  On the other hand, DISNEY WORLD.  It’s the happiest place on earth, and I LOVE IT.

Some pictures before I collapse.  Details at some later date.

Molly, Emily, and me in line for the It’s A Small World ride.

 

Our first five minutes in the park.

 

Happy to finally be in the air-conditioned line for Pirates of the Caribbean.

 

Hey! You can totally see my new house. It’s right there behind John’s head.

 

Leaky brain syndrome

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I had a couple of half-formed ideas of things to write about today, but they’re pretty much gone.  Or far enough away that I don’t have more than a sentence.  You know, like how Jess’s phone called me without her knowledge this afternoon, and how I can’t get enough avocado lately, so I was terribly disappointed when I asked to have avocado added to my sandwich from Panera this evening and they left it off and I didn’t realize until I got home and then it was too late and I was sad.  I had avocado in my salad for lunch (Au Bon Pain – spinach, egg, bacon, avocado, chicken, black beans, honey mustard, and a little more avocado – oh wow good), so it’s not like I had to get through the whole day avocado-less.  Just dinner.

Insert Homer Simpson drooling noise

Mom has made some really good book choices lately.  The last two books I read (well, the one I’m reading now and the one I just read) were her recommendations, and I am very happy with them.  That’s not to say that her recommendations aren’t normally trustworthy – they very much are – but sometimes I need more persuading.  Maybe I’m just being stubborn for no reason.  Or for the same reason John gets stubborn he’s looking for his next book and I send a continuous stream of suggestions his way.  Suggestion overload!  Anyway, I think the best thing – okay, best things about these latest two are a) I knew almost nothing about them before I read them, and 2) they are not at all similar to each other but are both really good.  And good to read back to back, for reasons I have not yet thought out.  And I really like that I hardly knew anything about them.  Mom told me the premise of The Age of Miracles, but she told me absolutely nothing about Gone Girl, and I think I kind of prefer it that way.  John and I work pretty hard to avoid spoilers for movies and TV shows, avoiding just about anything that mentions them.  We really like going into these things with no preconceptions.  With books, you’ve usually got the cover, the blurb on the back, some expectation based on the genre or author or something.  With Gone Girl, since I’m reading it on the Kindle, I don’t have anything but the title and the author’s name.  In the long run, I can see how that might make it difficult to decide what to read next since I often decide based on what genre I’m in the mood for, but once in a while starting a book completely in the dark about it is fun.

Speaking of my book, I’d really like to read it now, so, you know.  Bye.