The Last Sunday

Tonight was my last Sunday at my job. I have worked every Sunday for almost 6 years. (I took a brief hiatus while working at a different position.) In general, I hate working weekends because they limit my social/family life - to say the least. However, Sundays are a little different. The work load is light and the 4 of us just sit around talking. It is one of the ways that my co-workers became my friends.

But tonight was the last one. I tried to pretend like it wasn't a big deal, but truthfully, it's strange. No more discussions about movies, books, news. No more laughing hysterically at each other's personal stories. No more quickly wiped away tears at another's problems. I'm hopeful that I will have the same success with future co-workers, but I am still leaving all of it behind, and I know that those experiences will never be duplicated.

I cried a little, but only after I left the building.

Creativity In the Early Dawn

Okay. One of the blogs I love is having a contest to take a real-life book title and make it less than fabulous. The title that makes Ms. Wendy Molyneux (the contest controller) laugh the hardest wins 4 books that she has "deemed funny," including her own: "Everything is Wrong with You: The Modern Woman's Guide to Finding Self Confidence Through Self Loathing." See Wendy Molyneux's own list of faux titles (and the contest rules...if you feel like playing as well) here. Then, read the rest of her posts, as they are hilarious, and then bookmark her blog and add it to your daily reading. Tom and I had a grand time thinking up titles last night.

• Human Soup for the Chicken's Soul
• 30 Minute Meals: Cooking for Little People
• Mao and Other Animal Sounds
• Look Me in the Brown Eye: My Life with Ass Burgers
• Born Lying Down: A Passive Aggressive's Life

Wish me luck!

Summer Attire

Last week I went to my local American Eagle to buy a specific dress for last week's party, but they only had the dress in black, grey, and navy (barf, I know). See, these colors are nothing compared to the fabulosity of "the purple." Ahh, the purple. I saw it online before I went to the store, and after seeing it you will understand my disappointment in the in-store colors. The dress has a delicious ruffle to complement an adorable wide hem and matching belt. The v-neck is front and back and best of all, it is now on sale.

Oh, I love summer and the dresses that come with it.

@ Costco

Costco is a ginormous store with large quantities of food and weird odds and ends (like rugs or swimming suits). I go regularly for water, tomatoes, apples, and Diet Coke - which I buy en masse. Tom and I often go with my father-in-law and we've been with my sister-in-law. I have, however, never had the pleasure of going with the biggest Costco fan in our family: The Farkles.

Perhaps the most colofrul member of the Farkle family is Taegan. This summer, she's off her ADHD medication which makes her even more (if possible) exciting. The simple shopping cart was turned into a riding apparatus, a ground to be claimed, and a vestibule for organic animal crackers, peaches/mandarin oranges, organic soy milk ("Mom, I hate soy milk," cries Taegan), and various other large quantities of food are thrown in the cart. Nothing was as exciting, though, as the ketchup.

Taegan doesn't really like any condiment other than ketchup. When she was younger (as she is now 7 ... just ask her) she hated it if the ketchup on her plate came in contact with a fry/nugget before she did it herself. Ketchup pre-contact would send her into a tizzy and deem all of the food on her plate un-eatable. Apparently she's been out of ketchup for a while because when her mom bought a huge 3 pack of 32oz. bottles, she exclaimed: "It's a ketchup miracle!"

6 Word Memoir

Happy husband

Happy wife

Lovely life

Something Stuck in the Teeth

I hate it when I think I have something stuck in my teeth. Of course, this always happens when I don't have ready access to a mirror or a husband (whom I can simply turn to and ask).

The scenario usually goes as follows: I have just completed a food object. Then, someone needs to speak with me. Oh no. No time for a cleansing drink, not even gum. I am distracted through the entire conversation because of the fear that a particle is smiling at the other person. Having food in one's teeth is embarassing and gross. People wonder, "How long has that been there?" (Please see Emperor's New Groove if you didn't get this reference.) And they would be in the right. If you don't have the common sense to think about stuck food, you deserve the awkward you've-got-something-in-your-teeth talk and then the embarassing "here?" "here?" "did I get it?" All the while moving your tongue about in your mouth like a bovine. Eventually I just give up trying to tell people where it is because I don't want to keep watching.

New Shoes

I need a new pair of shoes.

Yesterday I bought a fabulous new dress; a pretty coral color, super summery. However, I have no shoes to go with it. Picture my beautiful dress with my hated black flats which I am forced to wear to work (because of the stupid dress code) and then out to dinner with friends (because I don't have time to change). They just don't go. I have my adorable green sandals, but the green and coral clash. And I have 5 or so pairs of various black pumps, but they seem too harsh for the breezy look. So, the solution is:

The combination of pink and orange flowers will go with everything that my green sandals do not. They are perfect for cool whites, bright oranges, and perky pinks. Barring extreme discomfort at the initial try-on (although that rarely deters me) I think I'll buy them tomorrow.

Piles

Around our house, Tom does most of the household chores. He has, however, assigned me one job which is solely my responsibility. That job is the mail. Oh, the mail. How I loathe it and dread it and every week we bring in more to add to the piles. In general, we receive relatively little, but for some reason I am unable to maintain any type of organization/sorting of said mail. I hate doing it. Here's why:

• I must shred everything containing our names (per Tom and his paranoia...although I can't really argue with him anymore as we found a man going through our dumpsters)
• Our shredder is shit
• Our filing system is um, shit
• I secretly enjoy the piles of mail (especially the J. Crew catalogues)

You see, these piles of mail let people know that people live in a given area. If some visitor/burglar dropped in they would want to know that we are still in residence. This is what the mail tells them: "Hello. We have mail, so we obviously live here." Not that we want to TELL burglars that, but perhaps it would scare them into thinking we could, at any moment, return home. I think it's best to leave the piles - for protection.

Shopping List

I hate going to the grocery store. Here's what I bought:

bananas
spinach
romaine
green peppers
celery
beets
peas
salad spritzers
45 calorie bread
coffee creamer
clear nail polish

See - that is no fun. Nothing yummy, nothing interesting. I'm sorry you had to read that.

I'm Asleep

Our friend called today at 11:30 am. He asked if I was sleeping or if I had just woken up. I had. Last night I slept for almost 11 hours. Did I feel particularly tired? Not really. But as soon as I started sleeping, I felt myself getting very very sleepy. If you call Tom and me on any given day, chances are we either just woke up, were sleeping, or were about to take a nap. Sleep is a relaxing past time that we particpate in with regularity. Our current lifestyle (that is, the lifestyle of waiting) allows for naps and sleeping in and lying around in bed for no reason whatsoever. I love nothing more than to wake up, read a little, and then go back to sleep, all the while Tom is sleeping next to me. Perhaps our bed is extra comfortable, or perhaps we are just extra comfortable while sleeping, but it is a habit we won't soon abandon.

For a while, I was so busy I didn't have time for any of these sleeping habits. I woke up and then ran around like a crazy person all day long. Fortunately (and unfortunately) that time of school/work/no freetime is over. I'm not opposed to being busy; rather, I enjoy it immensely. But two years of it is too much for even me. And now my pace is more relaxed, so I'm more relaxed, and I'm sleeping more.

If you call and no one answers, we're probably asleep.

No Cavities

I have no cavities. Yay! Today we went to one of my most favorite places: the dentist's office. I love going to the dentist because

1. your teeth get super duper clean
2. the consistent care of your teeth pays off when you don't have any cavities
3. you are complimented on white teeth and beautiful gums

You also receive a new toothbrush, floss, and toothpaste. As well as peace of mind that your teeth are healthy and plaque free.

It is rumored that dentists have the highest suicide rate because of the long standing cultural discomfort of going to the dentist. For example, the dentist asks, "How are you doing today?" and the patient replies, "Well, I'm here, so not very good." Obviously that would make a person a little sad day after day. As much as I love the dentist (and my enthusiasm is perhaps as high as possible), I understand this sentiment; I hate flouride treatments, and getting cavities drilled out and then filled is very awkward/painful. However, dentists often go unappreciated for the excellent service they provide for society. Even though certain aspects of dentistry are undesirable, they are necessary for oral health. The next time you're at the dentist, don't forget to rinse, spit, and say "thank you."

Fingernails

Men, in general, have very few "mandatory" grooming habits. The gist of what they MUST do is shave (and sometimes only half their face, depending on the style of their facial hair), brush their teeth, wash their hands, shower, cut their hair. All other things are just for fun - like coloring hair, growing fancy facial hair, shaving body hair and so on. Because of this short list of requirements, it ultra-disgusts me when men have the hated bad habit of not clipping their fingernails. It isn't difficult. You simply take out the fingernail clippers once a week and voila! you're finished. If this easy all-in-one step is skipped in a man's short grooming regiment, his hands will quickly turn into a hideous combination of feminine/creepy killer/cocaine addict. Surely all men want to avoid this look - as it doesn't look good.

Somehow most women manage to get their hair colored, shower, shave (in more than one area), paint their nails, get pedicures, whiten their teeth, do their hair in fancy styles, dress super cute, wear uncomfortable shoes and ... the list never ends. Sure some of these things are fun and we women do them because we love it. However, some of it is a pain in the ass (like plucking/waxing our eyebrows) and we still manage to get the shit done.

So please, men out there, cut your fucking fingernails.

Shampoo and Conditioner

I use several different shampoos and conditioners throughout the year. I use up one type so I can switch to another and so on. However, I absolutely love my newest "try-on." It's from Herbal Essences - titled "Long Term Relationship." Supposedly, it will keep my long hair healthier and stronger by preventing breakage as well as making it smell super fantastic. BUT the best part by far is the instructions on the back. Who knew that shampoo and conditioner could be so witty? Its wit is what makes me want to keep using it (perhaps even after the bottle is empty) just so I can keep giggling to myself in the shower. Following is the script written on the back of the conditioner bottle:

"I'll give you a Rapunzel complex. With a fusion of red raspberry and satin our love grows longer. I'll give your length the strength against breakage and split ends. You've got longer hair to love. And I've got more love to give. How long will you go without touching it?"

Run out immediately and purchase the correct product line for your hair type and/or hair desires. Or, simply go to the website http://www.herbalessences.com/us/default.jsp and get lost in the wit of hair products.

In and Out the Spider Door

Tom and I have been house sitting for my mom and dad while they're away. It's been okay - they have more cable channels than we do, and they have surround sound. We decided to do some laundry while we're just chilling at the house. This project required me to stop by the apartment after work to pick up said laundry. I get off work at 10:30 pm. It is always dark - even in the summertime - when I leave the office. I arrive at the apartment to what? A spider in my doorjamb. He had taken up residence in the crevice just to the left above the door handle. Almost perfectly adjacent to the lock. Oh. My. God. I hate spiders. Normally, when faced with a spider of any size, I a) avoid it until it gets too close for avoidance which causes me to b) get scared and wring my hands until I can c) ask Tom to make it disappear. I don't handle them well. And this one (fairly large, about 1/2 an inch long...eeewww) was in perfect "pounce" proximity to my poor little hand that had to open the door. I had to go in and out of the door 4 times. Each time, I opened the door super slow, to avoid upsetting him, and when I went out, I ran out the door and slammed it shut. Each time I shut the door he wiggled, as though indignant at the late hour. I was hoping to make him as uncomfortable as he was making me.

It worked. When I went back the next day, he was gone.

In a Rush

Traffic seems to have some sort of mental breakdown when I'm in a hurry. Today I was rushing to get to a Ladies Luncheon. I would not have been leaving late, if it hadn't been for a slight wardrobe malfunction. BUT, as I was leaving late, I was hurrying. A simple jump onto the freeway ended up throwing me into a slew of cars moving at 65 miles per hour. What the hell? The speed limit is 65. Why is the fast lane going the speed limit? And why are all the other lanes moving at the same rate? The freeway is transformed into a single moving body - traveling in unison.

It's a mystery. And this unfortunate phenomenon always seems to happen when I'm in a rush to get to my destination. There are few things I hate more than people driving slow. If you're too stupid and/or scared to drive fast in the fast lane - get out of the fast lane. If you're too stupid and/or scared to move out of the fast lane - don't get in it. If you're too stupid and/or scared to drive on the freeway - don't. Just don't do it. Stick to city streets and enjoy your leisurely pace to wherever it is you're going with plenty of time to spare. I, however, am in a pretty big fucking hurry. Please get out of my way.

Tomato,Tomata

I miss tomatoes. They are the best fruit/veggie out there. They make delicious salsa. They are a yummy snack. A sandwich is nothing without these red friends. Salad is just lettuce if tomatoes aren't adorning the top. When you are a vegetarian, tomatoes are 25% of your diet. With the recent salmonella tomato scare, I find my life tomatoless. What is a girl to do? Well, I cry about it and then rant about how much I hate salmonella.

According to the CDC, "Salmonella can enter tomato plants through roots or flowers and can enter the tomato fruit through small cracks in the skin, the stem scar, or the plant itself." Lovely. Salmonella can cause abdominal pain, nausea, diarrhea, and could possibly bring about typhoid fever and paratyphoid fever. So...obviously it should be avoided at all costs. But how do you avoid it when you don't eat meat, eggs, or, in general, many animal products (where salmonella is usually found) and yet it still pops up in vegetables! Which should be SAFE! I'm telling you, friends, this sucks.

Duckies

The pool is open - but unfortunately the weather doesn't know. It has been blustery and drippy every day this week, making swimming seem more like a painful experience vs. peaceful pasttime. Luckily, the duckies don't care. The momma duck proudly swam her babies all around and even let me snap a few pics. Every early March, Tom and I have seen a male duck and female duck swimming (flirting...in the fowl world) in the frigid waters of the then closed swimming pool. We always wonder what happens after the "honeymoon." This is the first summer we have had the pleasure of seeing the fruits of their love.

End of Day

I am so excited when the work week is done. Tuesday is my Friday, and while at times I hate it, I actually love it because the week flies by. At my job, summers are slow. Being one who is easily bored, I am constantly looking for work, conversation, projects, anything to break up the monotony of being required to stay on task for eight hours. Usually, we have a meeting at the end of our shift which usually runs over which usually makes me get home late. Well, tonight: no meeting! Hooray! I am going home to a warm lasagna, a new episode of "Hell's Kitchen," and a warm husband on the couch. I can't wait.

Mouth Breathers

Are you a mouth breather? This is a question that everyone should put in the back of their mind. Then, when the context of the question is somewhat forgotten, the question should be pulled out and applied to the self. Are you (that's YOU) a mouth breather? Because you shouldn't be...unless you're doing one of the following:

1. walking super fast
2. running
3. yelling a lot
4. having sex (perhaps this could be rolled into #3)
5. hiking

Please shut your damn mouth. No one wants to smell the odor of your breath. Everyone hates your breath. Whether it smells good OR bad, it is a private thing - similar to the smell of one's genitalia; only to be shared in the most intimate of situations. Breathe through your nose...and quietly. I work with a man who I can continuously hear breathing. Granted, he's not breathing through his mouth (thank God) but the sound of air whistling through his nose is so prominent I often think there is a draft.

If you find yourself needing to breathe through your mouth when you are not doing one of the approved activities, please get yourself to a gym so you can improve your lung capacity. Now.

Sunday Mornings

Sunday mornings should be reserved for specific things.

1. waking when one wants
2. writing and/or reading
3. watching the Sunday news shows
4. eating brunch

My last 8 Sundays have been awful. I have been doing this weight contest thing with my friends at work. I hate it. Originally meant to help inspire us all to lose a specific amount of weight (first 3 pounds and then 2 pounds each week) it has become a dreaded Sunday event. Sunday is weigh day. The day I get to show all my friends just how weak and pathetic I am. I have paid (oh yes, we pay if we don't make the weight) around 70 (that's SEVENTY) dollars - in cash. I am sick to death of not being able to enjoy a Sunday morning with Tom. Because the weigh-in is at work, I can't eat all day. It sounds as awful as it is. No more eggs, no more coffee, no more yummy muffins. Just air. I can't even drink a fucking Diet Coke. The whole situation is just pissing me off. Praise Jesus that today is the last one. Finito. I am done.

Saturday Plus One Week

I have one week until the garage sale. I'm starting to panic. See hated and mocking list of things not yet done:

1. packing of any kind
2. sorting of any kind
3. box buying
4. dis-as-sem-ble-ment of objects
5. moving of said un-disassembled objects

This list looks at me and tells me to get my ass in gear. The downside to List's yells and pleas is that Ass lacks ears or sound receptacles of any kind, so nothing gets done...or even started.

"Hoggle" Zoo

Two months ago I received a short email from my mother. It read:

"Friday June 6 Hoggle Zoo night, 6-9. It would be so fun if you are still here. Love ya" no period.

It was fun. We strolled around at a leisurely pace; the umbrella seconding as a makeshift cane for my mom. Dad bought a silly hat. Austin rode the train two times, rode the carousel on a buffalo (or is it bison?), and danced around in general merriment. Mid-zoo I was struck with the fact that this is it - my entire family. We are completely invested in each other because there is nothing else. This emotional banking is simultaneously beautiful and frightening. The unusualness of my home life can be difficult but in its very randomness is the wonderful design of a family of our own making.

Birthday Cake

While we were at the Baird Reunion in Idaho, my Uncle Alan wanted to get a birthday cake. "Is it your birthday today?" I asked. He told me that it wasn't until the 5th of June (it was only the 24th of May) but repeated that he wanted to buy a birthday cake. In store, I suggest he get a single piece of cake - just for him - and then we'll get him a cake for his actual birthday. Back at the trailer, I proceed to tell my mother about this strange event. She then informs me that Grandma (Alan's mother) used to make a birthday cake for him every year at the reunion.

Alan is a rare individual. He is single and devout - almost like a monk. He participates faithfully in his church and works hard. He has never been married - never even had a girlfriend from everything I can gather. He is quiet and sort of un-ordinary. He lived with his parents all his life, except for a brief time he lived with us. And of course, now, because Grandma and Grandpa are deceased, he finds himself alone in his already lonely life. I think he was closer to them than any of the rest of us because he knew them the most intimately, making their deaths difficult, to say the least.

Today is Alan's birthday. And I made sure the family (all 5 of us) were able to gather for singing, gift giving, and partaking of cake. I hope he enjoyed himself, because even though our relationship is an awkward one, I love him. And I want him to be happy.

It's Smart

I love the Smart Car. I don't care what anyone else says about the gas mileage or size. They are cool because they are adorable! Did you know that you can actually purchase (for the low price of $500) a set of interchangeable panels to make color swaps a breeze? I, of course, would like white (for regularness) and pink (for fun). See absolutely fabulous Hello Kitty Smart Car below...

There is a question, however. Would I actually drive a Smart Car? Probably not in America. Vehicles here are big - we acutally allow Hummers to parade around on public roads as if we are in a constant state of perpetual seige. A Smart Car would be no match against said Hummer. I would, literally, be smashed flat and unlikely to survive any head to head match up. And what about all those crazy semis? They speed around in the fast lane at 85 miles per hour - how would they see a teeny tiny (albeit super cute) Smart Car? No matter how smart the Smart Car is, when it comes to the road, brawns wins over brains.

But they are still the cutest car to date. I give it a +5. Hooray!

The Strangest Thing

Today when I was waiting at the car emissions/inspection place, I noticed that the man in the corner had an oxygen tank. He was thin and older - and I could hear his shallow breathing over the intermittent whhhrrr of his tank. His hands looked incredibly capable, as if he should be doing the inspections rather than paying someone else. It's not often you see people on portable oxygen tanks. He had a cute backpack to carry it in. After noting oxygen man, I continue reading my book. Lo and behold, what do I see at the counter? Another oxygen man. Carrying tank in cute backpack. Same slightly thin/burly build. Same capable hands. Are they related? Brothers? Lovers, perhaps, who also shared a love of smoking so that now they have matching portables?

No. They are completely separate. Secondary oxygen man pays and leaves. Original oxygen man then goes up to the counter to pay as well. As he turns to leave, he forgets his backpack. But remembers when he remembers that it is attached to his nose via hose.

Do You Have the Time?

My life is crawling to a halt. Time has stopped progressing in the normal fashion, and is instead, creating a special continuum where the proper things don't arrive in the mail, the days extend for longer than 24 hours. Yet simultaneously, the calendar flies and there aren't enough minutes to get anything done. It is incredibly odd. I hate it.