That Wasn't In The Script....

The Scene In Which I Think That Was The Holidays

2012-01-01T18:01:00.005-05:00

So, the holidays happened.

I mean, I'm pretty sure they did. There was mid-November, and now it's January 1st, and I'm 99% convinced that in the six weeks between those two points I logged a couple thousand miles on my car, went to Detroit, went to Chicago, went to Detroit again, went to Toronto, wrapped a bunch of gifts, sent a bunch of cards, cooked a bunch of food, ate a bunch of food, and generally was merry.

The week of Thanksgiving I drove around solo a lot, and I spent a lot of that driving time listening to NPR, except for the one time I crossed a state line and the channel change and I totally thought I was still listening to NPR but in fact I'd tuned into the Christian Family Values network, and let me tell you, NOT the same.

We spent Thanksgiving at my parents house in Chicago with Cute Boy and his family, which was good for a lot of laughs and some very yummy food. It was Princess's first Thanksgiving with us, since we got her just after it last year, and she was amazed by the idea that the whole day was dictated by the process of MAKING, BAKING, and EATING FOOD.

We actually had to lock her out of the basement, where the turkey roaster was, for fear she'd pull a sneaky move a la the dogs in "Christmas Story" and we'd wind up with Chinese for dinner.

This, of course, from our dog with the, shall we say, discriminating palate, whose antics lead me to have to send texts like this:
Me -> Cute Boy: Princess just ate one of your socks and then barfed it back up. It's in one piece but it's really gross so I'm just going to throw it out.

After I thankfully was able to visit her just before Thanksgiving, my grandma passed away the week after the holiday and my family went to Detroit in early December. While I'm sad that she's gone, I am grateful that she was spared long-term suffering, and it was really nice to see some of my dad's immediate and extended family. I can't honestly remember the last time we all got together, even with just his brother and sister, and I was especially glad to get to spend some time with my only cousin on his side and am really looking forward to that relationship developing.

I hosted an end-of-year party for the amazing girls who help me out at lilly lane, for whom I have to thank for an incredible year with a record-setting number of weddings! The party was also a surprise baby shower for one of our gals, who is expecting the first lilly lane baby in January. We decked out the kitchen and living room in pink and Cute Boy demonstrated extreme tolerance for having a whole lot of estrogen in the house.

I watched Christmas Vacation and am completely, entirely convinced that Chevy Chase's character in the scene where he goes off on his boss for enrolling him in the jelly club is based off of one of my Uncle Bob's rants.

I got jelly for Christmas from Uncle Bob's daughter. Even though it was totally not a reference to that movie at all (she just knows how much I freakin' love Traverse City Cherry Jam) it was funny, because, um, see above if you don't know why that was funny.

We went to a holiday concert at Butler, my alma mater. It was on the same night that IU, Cute Boy's alma mater, beat Kentucky. Pretty much every single IU alum was glued to the TV.

He watched the score auto-update on his phone while chatting with other alums during the pre-concert reception.

That's love, folks. I'ma marry that boy.

I surfed the Interwebs and Etsy and found approximately eight million adorable, easy holiday crafts that I wanted to make and I bookmarked them all and then I made exactly ZERO of them, which is fine. And then my aunt, who is awesomely crafty when it comes to knitting, actually made me one of the crafts that I had had the idea for last year except that it never left the idea stage for me whereas she actually DID IT, and I LOVE IT, IT'S SO AWESOME, and I am totally going to try to do more of my ideas this year, and by more I mean AT LEAST ONE.

I earned major awesome-future-wife points by buying Cute Boy skis for Christmas, and let me tell you, I am going to remember this for the future, because this is how THIS went down:
1) I told Cute Boy I would buy him skis and gave him a budget
2) He went out and did all the research
3) He went out and bought the skis
4) I paid for them
5) He put them out on display in his "man-room" and told everyone how awesome I was
6) He wore them around the house and told everyone how awesome I was
7) He booked a ski trip with a pal (code for: girls weekend for me at home!)
8) He put them by the tree and I stuck a bow on them.

Guaranteed love of the gift + no wrapping + no shopping +points for me = CHRISTMAS AMAZINGNESS.

I also got him a calendar. It's a tradition.

We spent Christmas in Indy with my parents (visiting from Chicago) and brother, Cute Boy's folks and sister, my aunt, uncle and cousin, and "Grandpa Ed," the neighbor we got Princess from when he went into a nursing home last year. Which, if you're keeping tally, means that yes, I hosted Christmas Day Dinner for 12 people in our house.

Unfortunately, I was apparently convinced that we had, in fact, already recieved the kitchen and cooking things we registered for recently, like, say pots and pans and baking pans? Which led me to do a whole lot of dishes and scrape together a whole lot of interesting cookware solutions and have to send a couple texts to my future sister in law that looked like this:
Me -> Sister: Can you bring some water glasses? Ours all say Coors Lite.

Me ->Sister: Also, can you bring some spoons?
Sister -> Me: Like, regular spoons? Or serving spoons?
Me -> Sister: Yeah.....both please.

I talked to my Grandpa on Christmas Day, which was sad because he was missing Grandma, but then just sort of odd because I'm pretty sure he thought I was actually my dad the whole time I was talking to him, so either he wasn't listening to me or my voice has hit a new low, no pun intended, in sexy huskiness. Either way, meh, it's cool.

My brother learned to cook and made an amazing roast and a couple side dishes, and my mom brought a ham, and I made the rest of the meal and breakfast and snacks and they actually all turned out OK and it miraculously ALL CAME TOGETHER at the right time and then at the end of the night after everyone left or was outside or was passed out I poured my mom and I shots of rum and made her drink one with me because I never realized how freaking hard it is to host a huge holiday party.

We went to Toronto for New Year's to visit Cute Boy's pals and family who live there (Cute Boy is Canadian, eh? Have I told you that yet?) and, as always, I discovered something new about the city, namely:

While out to dinner at Pangea, an amazing, amazing, amazing restaurant that Cute Boy's best friend (and best man) is chef at:
*rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble*
Me: What the eff is that? Is there some sort of freaking underground train here that I don't know about?
Cute Boy: Ummmm........you mean the subway?
Me: Get out, Toronto has a subway?
Cute Boy: *hysterical laughter*

Whatever dude, I didn't grow up here, the subway is effing UNDER THE GROUND and I just totally hadn't noticed it yet.

And then it was midnight on December 31st and 2011 came to a close and I got to kiss this really adorable blonde dude and I realized that HOLY HELL, we are getting married in less than four months, and if you think the HOLIDAYS went by fast- well, hang on, sister.

Happy New Year to you all!

Tips from the Calendar- December

2011-12-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

The final part in a 2011 series on recycling courtesy of my dayplanner. Because typing the word recycling so often is starting to make me do that thing where you type something so much you worry you're spelling it wrong.

Tip of the month: Start a compost pile. Use leaves, food scraps, and other biodegradeable items. Add the earthy mix to your yard and garden. (*If you do this, please research the actual things you need to do and build to start).

Week 48: Eat in. Check your cupboards for undiscovered culinary sensations. (*Plus: turkey leftovers!)

Week 49: Instead of using chemical-filled air fresheners, brew a strong pot of coffee or bake some homemade cinnamon rolls. (*Those must be those undiscovered culinary sensations lurking in your cupboards. I really wish MY cupboards had stuff like that!)

Week 50: Slow down. It's more fuel efficient to drive at slower speeds.

Week 51: Turn the heat down. The warm setting on your washing machine uses less energy than the hot setting.

Week 52: Think green. Buy products you can use again and again.

Tips from the Calendar- November

2011-11-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

Part 11 in a 2011 series of recycling tips from my dayplanner. Because I've almost assauged my guilt at still buying paper calendars in the digital age.

Tip of the Month: Stay grounded, and skip the airport. Teleconference in for long-distance business meetings. (*Please do not become a hermit.)

Week 44: Air dry your clothes.

Week 45: Save water. Keep a pitcher of tap water in your fridge. (*I have honestly no idea why this is a tip. How does keeping a pitcher around save water? Are you literally saving the water....from say, being drunk? Are you keeping it to drink? If so why wouldn't you just get a fresh drink of water from, say, the tap??)

Week 46: Wear hemp. It's stronger and longer lasting than cotton. (*You can wear it when delivering homegrown veggies to your neighbors and building your backyard compost pile. It works.)

Week 47: Make room for your feathered friends. Build a birdhouse.

Tips from the Calendar- October

2011-10-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Part 10 in a series of 2011 recycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because pumpkin spice lattes are back!

Tip of the Month: Pack it. Bring your lunch with you. Avoid eating out (*Whoops! I meant, "because pumpkin spice lattes are back.......in my kitchen!")

Week 40: Start a community-walking group

Week 41: Often overlooked, butter is one of the most important foods to consider when buying organic (*especially given how much we Hoosiers love butter.)

Week 42: Purchase an energy-efficient refridgerator.

Week 43: Grow indoor vegetables and herbs, and share them with your neighbors (*they already think you're a weird hippie anyway, you community-walk organizer!)

The Scene In Which I Did Stuff This Summer. When, You Know, I Totally Didn't Blog.

2011-09-28T14:40:00.015-04:00

Instead of ignoring the fact that I pretty much just neglected to do anything on this blog for, oh, four months out of the year, I decided I'd take you all on a little sneak peek into what I called "The Summer I Was Totally Busy, Yet Nothing New Happened," and by that I mean, we just sort of spent a few months doing the exact same things we'd been doing the months before.

Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful for the summer I had! Cute Boy and I got to move into our new house, spend some time doing repairs, I was thrilled/ amazed/ humbled by all the weddings we did at the studio, and of course, we've been planning the wedding....and I managed to do most of it without causing bodily harm or hilarious damage to myself. Hence, no blog.

So here's what we did:

Went to the 500. Bought a house. Took a picture of it before we ripped it up. Ripped up yarn. (Princess.)

Celebrated a fabulous friend on a fabulous fortieth!

Made a ton of flowers.

Rolled right through the big one- and kept on going! Totally unrelated I'm sure, the car spent at least two days of every month in the shop this summer for assorted issues.

Went to see Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Solsbury Hill live (with a transition to an orchestral Simple Gifts at the end. Gah. OMG). Nearly cried. Took zero pictures.

Tore out the weird pass-through, tube-TV, 1980s wannabe entertainment center. Ripped up the vaguely off-white-long-ago carpeting. Searched for new flooring. Bought new floors and had *help* transporting them home (Finnigan).

Made some flowers. Put some in bouquets. Put some around cupcakes. Put some on cakes.

Power washed the porch. Thanks Dad! Admired the cool stylized power-wash-sprayed name. Realized that the amount of dirt on our new porch was such that my dad could literally spray my name into it. Kind of shuddered.

Went to see Dispatch in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Elias, Carry You, The General, and pretty much every song they played live. Had a discussion with my fellow concert goers about how the youth of today have absolutey no pot-smoking-concealing skills. Debating blogging about that. Forgot. Took zero photos.

Made some more flowers. Some went in a tent. That was a long day.

Organized all my books into alphabetical order (Whatever, OCD.). Counted the number of each book (by author last name) to see which I had the most of. Debated writing a blog post about said counting. Forgot. Hung with some pals for 4th of July and checked out the new Tiger Forest at the Zoo on a quick break from a Zoo wedding setup.

More flowers.
Got new floors! Got a rug from Old Time Pottery. Got towed from Old Time Pottery. Got to experience Mom's first tow truck ride with her. Got the bill. That was fun. Debated writing a blog post about it. Forgot.

Made some brides happy! These four plus (in June, July, and August only) 31 more. Love happy brides!

Though I guess you'd be happy too if you got to eat cake. More flowers on cakes. Yum........

Got a fireplace! Got framing around a fireplace. Got walls around a fireplace. Took a nap.

Went to go see Indigo Girls in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Devotion live. Took zero photos.
Went to an EDM festival. Finally remembered to take some photos. Went backstage. Thanks future seeeeester!

Went to Atlanta with Brother for the second (hopefully annual) Cousins Trip. Got stalked by Earl Grey. Saw whale sharks at the Atlanta Aquarium. Crawled through the kid tubes. Went to a Twin Peaks themed bar that did not have pie. Heated discussion ensued.

More flowers for tables and bouquets. Tons of amazing flowers this summer.

Took naps on the bed. Took naps on the chair. Took naps on the floor. Went to the groomer's. Went swimming. (I want this life.)

Got paint. Put it on walls. Put it on clay pots. Stopped painting, had guests in town, and went to an Indians game. Caught the game winning ball- great shot I got of that, huh?!? Yeah.

..........that's all folks! Thanks for checking out the summer! :)

The Scene In Which I Hear Voices, Alternately Titled, My Computer Wants To Kill Me

2011-09-27T12:52:00.005-04:00

So, seriously. This technology stuff kills me sometimes. I cannot believe that in the time between my dad's first cell phone (Zach Morris, eat your heart out, this one had a snap-top case that you could store it in because there were times you weren't using it, and let me just tell you- a REMOVABLE ANTENNAE) and today, we now have the ability to check our email, plot our travel, order anything we need, listen to music, text, and what-have-you all from these tiny hand held devices.

Now, I'm not saying I'm not a little bit technology- savvy. I have an iPhone, if only because when I finally went to replace my third, beloved, well-used Razr phone this past winter.......well, you guessed it, they laughed at me when I asked if they still made them.

Hey, I LIKED MY RAZR, OK???

I also have- wait for it- a laptop computer, which I love dearly having finally figured out where all my buttons and emails and shortcuts and such are and which is now, of course, beginning to act in ways that it should not including a few random keys not working, and of course the absolute inability of the battery to function more than 30 seconds without being tethered to the wall by a power cord, which sort of defeats the purpose of having a laptop, but HEY, it works for me, unless someone is up for opening a PC store in my house and giving me a new nifty one like those commercials, someone, anyone??

But earlier this week, technology nearly did me in, and it was when this happened.

If you've been in my office lately, you'll know that I use a large, former schoolhouse mailbox system for an open-air filing system. Which means that everyday, when I sit down to work, I take out the files I need to work on that day from their neat (ok semi-neat...ok I need to organize them again) cubbyholes, stack 'em on my desk, and get to work.

Usually I open my email at the same time too.

This is where it started going badly.

Because unbeknownst to myself, the first email that I chose to click on was sent by a person who wanted me to do an event in November and had ALSO just left me a voicemail that pretty much said the exact same thing, in pretty much the same words, in pretty much the same order.

Also unbeknownst to me, the stack of folders I'd just set down had been set down directly on top of my work phone, and in a series of sheer impossibility I don't think I'll ever be able to recreate, I had managed to turn on both the speakerphone AND activate the voicemail, on a slide-top phone.

(Seriously. I don't know how this happened. The phone has a slide-open feature for gosh sakes. Half the time I can't even figure out how to get the voicemail when I'm TRYING to. )

The end result of both those items left me opening an email and starting to scan it at the exact same time my brain clicked in to something speaking to me from somewhere nearby, followed shortly by the realization that the email and the voice were saying the same thing and the simultaneous realization that OH DEAR JESUS, MY EMAIL IS TALKING TO ME followed by the only natural conclusion to be drawn which was GET THE EFF AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER, and left me catapulting myself backwards out of my chair and towards the door, just in case the computer decided to do something really tweaked for its next trick, like SPROUT LEGS AND KILL ME.

It's a damn good thing it has to stay plugged in all the time. Take that, technology.

One of these days, if they haven't already, they're going to invent a software program that reads your email to you and yes, it will seem like a cool invention, and you might even be tempted to try it, but let me tell you first- there IS such a thing as too much technology, and THIS IS IT, because talking computers? EFFING CREEPY.
>

Tips from the Calendar- September

2011-09-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Part 9 in a 2011 series of recycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because it's nearly time for sweaters!

Tip of the Month: Prevent 300 pounds of CO2 every year by buying fluorescent light bulbs. They use 60% less energy than regular bulbs.

Week 35: Brighten your living space. Add indoor houseplants to improve your air quality.

Week 36: Skip regular toothpaste. Use baking soda and water to brush your teeth. (*I don't think I'm going to implement this one.)

Week 37: Ditch your ride. Start walking or cycling.

Week 38: Always turn off lights an appliances when you leave a room (*because your houseplants won't care if it's dark).

Week 39: Eat more organic fruits and vegetables. They have fewer pesticides and more nutrients.

Tips from the Calendar- August

2011-08-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Part 8 in a 2011 series of recycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because trees deserve hugs too.

Tip of the Month: Buy locally grown produce and skip the frozen stuff. Frozen food uses 10 times more energy to produce.

Week 31: One rechargable battery can save the use of up to 1000 single-use alkaline batteries (*and recycle them properly please).

Week 32: Every ton of recycled office paper saves 380 gallons of oil. (*I once inherited an office with four filing cabinets. Upon examination I realized the person was skeptical of email and had printed, literally, THOUSANDS of emails. Don't be that guy.)

Week 33: Get a home energy audit. Find new ways to save money and CO2 emissions.

Week 34: Clean our your trunk. The less weight your car carries, the more efficient it is.

The Scene In Which You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

2011-07-24T13:31:00.003-04:00

Six years ago, I packed up my belongings and moved into the very first home I would ever own. A week or so after that, I naively attended my first neighborhood association meeting.

As those who have volunteered with neighborhood activities before read along and sagely nod their heads, let me tell you neighborhood newbies something.

THEY SUCK YOU IN!

It starts innocently enough with a committee that needs a hand. The next thing you know, there's a fun committee that needs a new leader. After that there's a couple shifts at a neighborhood event, followed by a teeny tiny leadership position that you totally have time for, of course, because it's just so little to ask, really, when you live in such a great neighborhood, and let's be honest, you're getting to know your neighbors and having a great time and then suddenly, SUDDENLY, you wake up and it's four years later and you're planning neighborhood clean-ups and figuring out the rules around picking up discarded hypodermid needles in your downtown park and attending IHPC meetings and fighting against historic buildings being torn down or fighting for historic buildings TO be torn down for new development and organizing Easter Egg hunts and Christmas Parties and YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE KIDS AND HOW THE HECK ARE YOU IN CHARGE OF THIS.

Ahem.

But as much as the neighborhood sucked me in, I loved it. I loved sitting on the Land Use committee and loved helping plan activities and loved going to the meetings and loved all my neighbors who would get all uppity and cute and dramatic and INFLAMED about things like- whoa- let's raise dues from $5 to $10.

And yet, despite my love for the neighborhood and how much I missed it, when Cute Boy and I decided to move to a neighborhood about 15 minutes north that wasn't historic, I knew I'd have the opportunity to get back some of the time I spent each month on neighborhood issues- because here, we didn't have any.

Frankly, the most "associating" I planned on doing with my new neighbors was the occasional hello over the fence, the kind wave as we drove by, the vegetables that appeared on our porch this week from our adorable next-door neighbors who have been there since 1967.

OR SO I THOUGHT.

Until this morning.

When, as he sorted the mail, Cute Boy discovered an innocent-looking baby-blue flier.

For our brand-new neighborhood association.

The first meeting is today.

Tips from the Calendar- July

2011-07-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Part 7 in a 2011 series of recycling tips from my dayplanner. Because summer is hot enough without global warming.

Tip of the Month: Recycling an aluminum can uses 95% less energy than making a can from new materials.

Week 27: Invest in natural pet-grooming products. (*It's called soap, and it comes in organic!)

Week 28: Only run the dishwasher if it's full (*Dang! I've been running it just for kicks this whole time. Seriously....how is this a "tip?")

Week 29: Use honey as a natural anti-bacterial and anti-fungal agent. It can be used to treat skin inflammations and yeast infections. (*Gross.)

Week 30: Inflate your car tires to your manufacturer's reccomended levels, and check them monthly.

Tips from the Calendar- June

2011-06-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

Part 6 in a 2011 series of reycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because it's finally warm out!

Tip of the Month: Rethink desktop technology and invest in an energy-efficient laptop. Laptops can save almost 50% more energy than their desktop counterparts.

Week 22: Replace single-glazed windows with double-glazed (*and check with your local historic preservation council first if applicable, to save yourself time and needless cost if you're not allowed or need to install a particular kind!)

Week 23: Ditch the meat. Cows produce an enormous amount of methane- the second most significant greenhouse gas. For a greener alternative, fill up on fruits and vegetables (*this is one of those health tips that annoys me, because if you're not going to eat cow, I'd hope you'd do it for ethical reasons. Not to mention that if you are going to skip cow for fruits and veggies, you're still killing the environment if you buy the grocery-store ones shipped from 3500 miles away. Bottom line? Go local as much as possible.)

Week 24: Go gas! A gas oven with an electric ignition is 50% more efficient than an electric oven. (*just don't put one of those methane-producing cows near it)

Week 25: Walk or bike to work two days every week. You'll save about 1,590 pounds of CO2 emissions a year.

Week 26 (Halfway through the year!): Experts estimate that by not eating a pound of beef, we save more water than by not showering for one year. (*Bizarre, but who knows? I'd love to see this study).

Tips from the Calendar- May

2011-05-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

Part 5 in a 2011 series of recycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because being friendly is good, and being eco-friendly is better.

Tip of the Month: Take shorter showers, and skip baths. A 5-minute shower uses approximately 15-25 gallons of water. Most baths require 40 gallons of water. (*Hard one for me as I love a good soak. My fix? Shorter showers to save the most water, then if I do indulge in a bath, using the "leftover" water to keep the houseplants happy. Doesn't work if you're a fan of bubble baths, oils, or so forth, but it works for me!)

Week 18: Try making your own purees and baby food. (*Unless you don't have a baby, in which case, no need.)

Week 19: Encourage your local schools to go green. Raise the issue at your next PTA meeting (*Ummm....not to knock green issues, but if I thought my local school HAD a PTA, I think they'd have just a few more pressing things first. But good tip for others?!)

Week 20: Install a low-flow showerhead (*and feel even less guilty about the occasional bath due to all the extra water you're not using otherwise)

Week 21: Skip bagged salad. Instead, buy whole lettuce from local farmers.

The Scene In Which We Make Super Easy Centerpieces

2011-04-20T11:43:00.000-04:00

.......now posted over at Becky Gets Crafty : Easy-Peasy Centerpieces!

The Scene In Which We Buy (Another) House, and Life Is (Still) Pretty Normal

2011-04-19T10:10:00.004-04:00

If I haven't posted much over the past few weeks, it's because things around here are starting to seem a little....repetitive.

The dogs are blowing their coats....still.

I'm cleaning out closest for Goodwill and trying to purge a bunch of crap before we move.....still.

I'm doing admin on Mondays, cleaning on Tuesdays, meetings on Wednesdays, creating on Thursdays and Fridays, and setting up weddings on Fridays and Saturdays. And while I love my job (I LOVE MY JOB!) this will pretty much continue from now until the end of October or the first week of November. So.....still.

We're working on planning the wedding....still. (Get back to me this time next year. We'll be three days out!)

We're buying a house! ..........again. Yep, we've made an offer that's been accepted on another house in an area we love! Now it's just time to wait for the inspection and cross our fingers that these people aren't murderers who have hidden the bones of their prey in the walls, since that's pretty much the only horror left to find during an inspection process for us. Or that they have mice.

Life is at a blissfully normal, still-going pace right now, and while it doesn't leave me much to blog about, I'm happy to take a break now because I know there are more blog-worthy tales coming up in my future.

Because one of these days we are going to GET a house, inspect a house, and actually CLOSE on a house.

And then, my friends, Cute Boy and I are going to pack up all our crap and move.

Into our house.

Together.

So if you'll excuse me...I'm going to go nap while I can :)

The Scene In Which If You Are What You Eat, I'm An Astronaut

2011-04-02T15:06:00.006-04:00

Sooooo.....among the disproportionately long list of completely unhealthy things I've been feeding myself lately as I've worked long days getting all the centerpieces done for tonight's event would be today's lunch: a hot dog from Dairy Queen.

Seriously, they are SNEAKY FOLKS, those DQ people. They KNOW you want to check out the drive thru line. They KNOW you won't committ if it's too long. So what do they do?!? PUT A BARRIER UP. I literally HAD to order food, after turning into the parking lot.

So I got a hot dog. On the scale of unhealthy things I could have eaten for lunch, this probably ranks about a 6.

Fortunately, here in the state of Indiana we still surprisingly allow some things to not be deep-fried, so I avoided that. But I couldn't avoid the little hot dog factoid on the DQ box, which informed me that "In a single year, Dairy Queen sells enough hot dogs that if placed end to end, would reach from the Earth to the International Space Station and back....six times."

Huh. Really. Cool.

-stops. thinks. -

Wait.

-stops. thinks. -

Gross.

-stops. thinks.

- I mean, really. That's a LOT of hot dogs.

-stops. thinks. -

And they're cheap, too.

-stops. thinks. -

WHAT AM I EATING?!?!

aaaaaaaand there you have it. Whatever the reason may be, whatever provokes you, it's time to start thinking about these things we're eating that we call food. And maybe stop eating some of them.

Tips from the Calendar- April

2011-04-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Part 4 in a 2011 series of recyling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. Because spring is in the air!

Tip of the Month: Drive smart. Hybrid cars can get up to 50 miles per gallon. That's twice as much fuel efficiency as the average car.

Week 14: If you consistently make small meals, get a toaster oven. It uses less energy than a conventional oven.

Week 15: Turn down your thermostat (*Because the weather should be getting nice soon!)

Week 16: Replace your cleaning products with baking soda and water. Baking soda is an all-purpose, natural way to clean your house (*Hey, back in January they said to use all-natural products. I'm sensing some repeat tips here!)

Week 17: Say "no" to plastic. Bring a canvas bag to the grocery store (*And "recycle" all your current bags with me for Finn and Princess to.....ummm.....use)

The Scene In Which We Did Not Buy A House

2011-03-28T21:15:00.004-04:00

You win some, you lose some. You love some.

But some have asbestos.

And roofs that weren't installed correctly.

With warranties that don't transfer.

And electrical hookups that could potentially light your house on fire.

Which you might be able to put out with water from the shower, but you can't use the shower, because it needs to be totally re-grouted.

Which probably means there's water in the walls.

Beyond the water you already found in the walls.

Which only adds to the moisture in the attic.

Which is there because all that moisture from the bathrooms hasn't been venting out correctly....and in fact is in your attic.

And to top it all off, the seller? Scares the crap out of you.

Because he's the kind of person who talks about how home inspectors scare buyers by "pointing out things that aren't really important."

Like asbestos.

And bad wiring.

And bad roofs.

So you decide that you love the house, but you don't love all the problems with the house, so you walk away. And you try again. To be continued.......

The Scene In Which We Get A Home Inspection

2011-03-10T19:38:00.003-05:00

I hesitated to post my "We Got A House!!" post yesterday, for the simple reason that nothing is ever certain until you actually close. However, I figured you guys are with me through the good and the bad, and I wanted to share my excitement about our new place!!

And then we did the inspection today.

And I realized I should have waited to blab.

And I know it's not a huge deal, in fact in the great scheme of things, it's not, at all. It's a house.

But it may not be mine, now, after all.

To be continued.....

The Scene In Which We Buy A House!!

2011-03-09T17:01:00.005-05:00

We bought a house!!!

After several weeks of searching for homes (and one unsuccessful, adrenaline-pumping 24-minute mad dash to submit a bid for a house we wanted that had gone up for auction that day) Cute Boy and I finally narrowed our search down to four, two smaller homes we liked in an area we loved and two larger homes we loved in an area we liked, about 10 minutes away from the first area.

The day before we were scheduled to look at them all, we learned that House #4 had sadly accepted another offer. Since we had loved that one, we asked Realtor Brad to find other houses in that area that might be on the market. Unfortunately, there isn't too much out there right now- apparently, folks tend to stay longer in those homes. (Green light!)

We did schedule one "mystery showing" for the end of the day, and took our parents and Justin's sister to see our top three choices. Each had their pros and cons, and let me tell you, they're easier to see through the eyes of others. (We didn't end up liking house #4, so I haven't included it.)

House #1:
My mom: This is cute!
Me: Yeah, I really like it.
My mom: The yard is nice, but are those businesses you can see over there?
Me: Yeah...that's the Mousetrap.
My mom: Whaaaaa?
Me: It's a bar.
My mom: Oh.
..........
.........
My mom: Well.......

House #2:
My dad: This is nice. I have a few ideas for easy ways you can make the rooms bigger, too.
Me: Yeah?
My dad: Yeah! See, I don't think this is a load bearing wall.....
Me: Uh huh.
My dad: So what you do is cut this wall out....
Me: Uh huh....
My dad: ......move it over here, move this door, move this window........
Me: Uh huuuuuuh....
My dad: .....then in THIS room, move THIS door here.......
Me: Um, I think we should go to the next house now.

House #3:
My dad: I like this house.
My mom: I like this house.
My future mother-in-law: I like this house.
My future seeeester: I like this house.
Cute Boy: We love this house.

So the next day?

We bought that house :)

Or I guess I should say, we put an offer on that house, it was accepted, and we are currently in the process of inspection/finalizing/insurance/preparing for closing in LESS THAN A MONTH!! Keep your fingers crossed for us that everything goes well!

from The Reader

2011-03-07T09:43:00.000-05:00

New book review:

"Cutting for Stone"

up over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

The Scene In Which We Are House-Hunting! (Advice, please!)

2011-03-03T23:15:00.003-05:00

It's official- Cute Boy and I are shackin' up!

We've been on the hunt for a few weeks now, checking out properties in and around Indy, and to be honest, I'm a little surprised at how well it's been going.

I think it's because Realtor Brad was due for some good house-hunting karma with me. A few years ago, Realtor Brad toured my brother and I around a couple places within our budget.

Including one with bullet holes.

We were due for some good houses, is all I'm sayin'.

But back to our search! Cute Boy and I are looking at a few different neighborhoods in town, and over the course of looking at about 15 or 16 different houses, have narrowed it down to two areas we like, with two houses in both areas.

And this is where, YOU GUYS, I am struggling.

I love them all.

There are things about them all that I don't love.

But there are lots more things I love.

In an ideal world, I want the adorable paint colors and awesome finished basement of the first....along with the neat 1930s features and neighborhood proximity of the second.....along with the backyard, deck, master bedroom bathroom & extra vanity of the third, with the open layout and split-level features and kitchen of the fourth......

.....but I can't have that.

Which is fine.

But I need some help, pals! When YOU were looking for the house you are in (especially if this involved purchasing/renting/obtaining said house with your significant other), how did YOU decide which one was the best for you? What features did you find you valued most highly? And, following the choice you made, what things did you realize later you didn't really care about?

Tips from the Calendar- March

2011-03-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

Part 3 in a 2011 Series of Recycling Tips from my dayplanner. Because green is the new black.

Tip of the Month: Every year we throw away 24 million tons of leaves and grass that could be composted. (*That's icky, and being a florist, I know it's true. One of my biggest goals for the year is to compost more!)

Week 9: If you don't already drink soy, rice or almond milk try switching to organic milk, which contains more nutriends and Omega 3 essential fatty acids. (*I feel like this is more of a health tip and less of a recycling tip. Regardless.)

Week 10: Cultivate plants all year long. Dedicate a spot in your home or backyard to a greenhouse.

Week 11: Go digital. Avoid wasted snapshots and buy a digital camera. (*And welcome yourself to the new milennium).

Week 12: Spend one day each week where you don't make any purchases (*And compliment yourself on your witty sense of humor if you spotted "the funny" in that sentence.)

Week 13: Use a manual or electric-powered mower

from The Reader

2011-02-28T09:42:00.000-05:00

New Book Review:

Best Friends

now up over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

from The Reader

2011-02-21T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review:

Light of Day

now up at Just Can't Stop Reading!

The Scene In Which I Am A Little Fired Up

2011-02-19T17:12:00.002-05:00

I'm warning you now, kiddos, I've taken out my biggest, tallest, soapiest soap box and I'm standing UP ON IT.

For Planned Parenthood.

Because there are women in this country who cannot afford healthcare.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not have access to OB/GYN services.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not have access to preventative screenings for cervical cancer, breast cancer, HIV/AIDS, and other diseases.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not be able to practice safe sex (if that is their choice.)

Who would not, without Planned Parenthood, be able to access care and avoid unwanted pregnancies.

So the fact that the U.S House of Representatives has voted to deny Planned Parenthood federal funding......

IS PISSING ME OFF.

As are the many comments all over articles, blogs, Facebook, and Twitter that applaud this measure because "here in America, we don't fund murder!"

ALSO PISSING ME OFF.

Because abortion? Here's the thing about THAT. If THAT were part of this federal funding, if THAT were up for discussion, if THAT was a viable argument, fine.

BUT THE FEDERAL FUNDS DON'T FUND ABORTIONS.

THE FEDERAL FUNDS, IN FACT, FUND ALL THE THINGS THAT KEEP WOMEN FROM GETTING PREGNANT.

NOT GETTING PREGNANT= NOT SEEKING AN ABORTION.

If you truly don't want women to have abortions, YOU JUST TOOK AWAY ALL THEIR SUPPORT IN KEEPING THEM FROM FACING THAT DECISION.

Hey, I told you I was fired up.

If you agree with the cut off in federal funds, that's totally your right as a citizen. If you agree with the cut off BECAUSE you don't want to fund abortion, that's stil your right to think that, however, you need to understand that your argument is incorrect.

And if you disagree? Please add your voice to Planned Parenhood's "I Stand With Planned Parenthood" campagin.

from The Reader...

2011-02-14T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review:

Fall of Giants

up at Just Can't Stop Reading!

Oh hey, 100th Post!!

2011-02-07T15:59:00.003-05:00

Apparently "Snowpocolypse" marked not only the craziest blizzard that's hit the Midwest in awhile, nor the first time I've ever ice skated down a public street, but MY 100th BLOG POST! Woot!!

....crickets.....

I suppose it's a little anti-climactic when you have to count down the number of posts still scheduled from the ones actually posted. Danged foresight at writing all of the "Recyling" posts in advance.

Well, anyway. It happened. Yay!

The Scene In Which I Am In A Book!

2011-02-07T15:29:00.003-05:00

Hey kids!

Just your average Monday morning...did a little laundry, checked email, caught up on a few blogs, and OH HEY, I'M IN A BOOK!! It's called Single.Women.Entreprenuers and it's available on Amazon!

I'll back up.

Several months ago, I met the amazing Erin Albert by chance via another Indianapolis entreprenuer, Tiffany Benedict Berkson- friend, neighbor, entrepreneur and history guru- as they grabbed a cup at Starbucks.

As Erin was in the process of speaking with Tiffany about the book she was currently working on (single women entreprenuers) Tiffany shared with Erin that I'd spent the past few years working on my own business and was now self-employed.

Erin and I exchanged info, and several days later she contacted me about sitting for an interview for her book!

Needless to say, I said yes.

The premise of the book, I learned, was to profile successful women entreprenuers who had all been unmarried (single, widowed, divorced) at the time they began their own business and print the interviews they gave.

Despite the fact that I started dating Cute Boy about, oh, thirty seconds after quitting my job to pursue my business full-time, I was single at the time I started lilly lane, and single at the time I left my full-time job, so I qualified.

And was interviewed.

And got really excited about the book.

And then realized that a LOT of women in the book are passionate female entreprenuers with years of experience who can speak eloquently, forcefully, and factually about statistics, trends, and a myriad of other topics on why women are better entreprenuers than men and why single women make better entreprenuers and why women need to be considered authorities and a LOT OF OTHER STUFF THAT I DID NOT TALK ABOUT, because what I DID talk about was how I really liked flowers and didn't like fundraising and my dad started his own business and I was like hey, this seems cool, I think I'll go do this now with NO experience and NO training and NO real foresight, but hey, it worked!

So I'm a little bit worried that next to these other women, I'm going to sound a little different.

Which I'm OK with.

Because if I'm being honest, I DIDN'T have a ton of experience when I started my business. I hadn't, and still haven't, read eight thousand books about the subject. If this book had existed prior to my starting, the odds that I would have stumbled across it, purchased it and read it are probably pretty slim. I'm just not that person. I didn't take a class, didn't write a 90-page business plan, didn't raise capital, and didn't do a whole lot of other things that maybe some other people do.

Which is actually pretty fantastic, because at the end of the day, I'm thinking this book exists to show women that you don't have to fit a mold to be a successful entreprenuer- you just need a good idea and decent work ethic.

You might learn a few other lessons, too.

But you'll have to get the book to find out!

from The Reader....

2011-02-07T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review:

The Rest of Her Life
While I'm Falling

over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

The Scene In Which Snowpocolypse Hits

2011-02-01T09:29:00.005-05:00

SNOWPOCOLYPSE DAY 2:

the crops have frozen over...

the wagons are frozen to the ground...

the rations are running low....

already, sacrifices have been made.

Tips from the Calendar- February

2011-02-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

Part 2 in a 2011 Series of recycling tips courtesy of my dayplanner. I'm easily amused.

Tip of the Month: Buy energy certificates, and support the renewable energy market comprised of water, wind, and solar power.

Week 5: Wear vintage. Visit your local thrift store for cool duds. (*I'm all about this one. Who wants to come with me to Broad Ripple Vintage, Goodwill and Harloh's??)

Week 6: Place a "No Junk Mail" sticker on your mailbox.

Week 7: Train your grass to grown more deeply and require less water by mowing your lawn at the highest setting. (*Again, a tip for later in the year....when Indiana isn't buried in snow and ice).

Week 8: Wrap it up. Use old newspapers, magazines, and gift-wrap for presents. (*And WHAT A COINCIDENCE! My birthday is this week! Please feel free to wrap ANY of my wonderful gifts in recycled paper!)

from The Reader....

2011-01-31T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review:

The Weight Of Silence

up over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

The Scene In Which I Have A Sparkly Ring On An Important Finger

2011-01-28T18:58:00.000-05:00

That's right kids, Cute Boy and I are ENGAGED!!

This may not be big news to most of you- in fact, anyone who actually knows me already has heard the news, given that it happened on January 6th - but for the lurkers out there, you're in the loop!

Side note: I actually don't know if I have blog-lurkers or not. I mean, I'd like to think I'm all cool and awesome and there's people out there that have never met me but like to read my blog, sort of like I kind of blog-~~stalk~~ follow people like the inspiring Angie over at Bring The Rain (please note, if you have never read her blog and decide you have an hour or two or four to read her story, I don't recommend you do it at work, because you will cry at your desk and have to go home early....just sayin'.) or Pioneer Woman, or people that are married to people that I knew in college but I've never met like Jessica, or of course the hilarious Ali at Cheaper Than Therapy, who, by the way, doesn't know it yet but is about to become my new best friend because we are both Midwestern girls marrying Canadians and she lives in Toronto and Cute Boy is FROM Toronto and we just got ENGAGED in Toronto and we walked around Yorkville where she talks about window-shopping at Anthropologie and WE saw Anthropologie and I was all like, OMG, any second now a woman in kick-ass cat-eye glasses is going to walk past me and I'm going to be like "OMG ALI!" and then we'll be best friends.

Which is probably why I didn't notice? as we were walking around Yorkville? that CUTE BOY WAS TRYING TO PROPOSE.

Oh yes.

Honestly, if you know me, you'll be shocked by the end of this post that I DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING.

To rewind a bit, we've been talking about getting engaged for awhile now, along with making all sorts of other fun plans about buying houses and keeping our foster dog forever (we hope) and eventually having some of those tiny humans that resemble us, and even picking out said sparkly ring things :)

Christmas passed with visits to both our families, and New Year's was spent with friends in Indy. Shortly after New Year's, we planned to make a trip to Toronto (our fourth in a year). With Younger Brother planning a short getaway at the same time as our vacation, the fabulous Princess and Finnigan needed a place to go for the week, and when my parents offered to take them, we said yes. Figuring out how we'd get them there (my folks live three hours away) Cute Boy volunteered to drop them off during a day trek to Chicago with a friend, ostensibly to buy skis for the friend.

Because GOODNESS KNOWS, there aren't skis to buy in Indy!!

And YES, I BOUGHT IT. Hook, line, and sinker. No questions asked about why they'd drive three hours to Chicago for skis, no inquiry when the trip only took about eight hours (not really that long to shop, by the time you include travel back-and-forth) and not even saying a word to the friend who was supposedly going with, because - get this- Cute Boy told me not to mention it in front of our other friends, and I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS WEIRD, AT ALL.

Looking back I think a tiny part of my brain registered that asking too many questions might ruin a surprise. Fortunately, this translated mentally into "Don't question it too much or YOU'LL be the one driving the dogs to Chicago!"

The part of my brain that told me not to question things? Is not typical. And did not come with us to Canada. But that's further along.

At any rate, we trek to Canada. We encounter our usual friendly welcome at the border (Canadians= thrilled to welcome you into their country. Americans= typically not thrilled to welcome you BACK into YOUR country. No joke.)

We drove through to Toronto, where Cute Boy dropped me off at the home of some of our friends, then left with three of his buddies to head to Buffalo for the World Junior Hockey Championship Game. And believe me when I say, this game is a BIG DEAL.

They didn't get back until after midnight and it was after 1 in the morning when we arrived at the condo of the friends we usually stay with in Toronto, so naturally, we slept in. Waking up on Thursday morning with everyone else at work for the day, Cute Boy proposed a lazy tourist day in Toronto- strolling through the streets up in Yorkville, walking down Yonge street, maybe heading over to Nathan Phillips Square to ice-skate at the public ice skating rink. Naturally, YES! was my answer to this.

And then we have a lovely day, folks. We window shopped, I kept an eagle-eye out for blogger Ali, we chatted, we held hands while wandering the streets, we stopped for snacks and drinks at a cute little pub, and Cute Boy even tolerated- nay encouraged! - a little browsing at a Yonge street boutique that I will absolutely need to revisit on a future trip, because seriously, the cuteness, and it was cheap. Like $8 sweater cheap.

So by the time we wound our way back to the city center and it was getting on towards 5 PM, we'd been walking for awhile and starting to think about heading home, and the amazing dinner we'd be having later at Pangea, a restaurant where one of Cute Boy's best friends works.

Or at least, I WAS STARTING TO THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS, and Cute Boy was still thinking about something else entirely.

As I'd discover later.

By the time we got to Nathan Phillips Square and the ice-skating I'd been excited about earlier in the day, I was a little over the idea. Skates were $10 or so per person to rent, and while it was absolutely adorable out there on the rink with the snow falling gently (I know, RIGHT?? ROMANTIC. RIDICULOUSLY ROMANTIC.) off to the side....well.....all the benches were snowy, and I'd just gotten new boots that day and I didn't want them to be full of snow, and there were no lockers, and we'd bought a couple things and I didn't want to leave the bags lying by the side of the rink and, well, I was trying to be nice to Cute Boy, who I know FOR A FACT based on previous attempts to go ice-skating does not actually like to attend these kinds of public-skate things, because he likes his hockey skates and he likes being on the ice during practice and he really doesn't care for public skate.

So I said we didn't have to skate.

And Cute Boy said it was fine.

But I said we really didn't and I didn't want to get my butt wet on the snow or have someone steal our packages.

And Cute Boy said he'd carry the packages.

And I said I didn't want him to do that because then he wouldn't be having any fun and I knew he wouldn't anyway and I didn't really want to skate for too long because I had to go home and shower for dinner.

And Cute Boy said fine.

And we left.

So ladies and gentlemen, let me state for the record: I AM A TOTAL SUCK, and ruined what might possibly have been the most adorable proposal in history, on the center of the ice in the lightly fallen snow in Toronto with my Canadian ice-skate loving fiancee.

BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO GET MY BUTT WET AND COLD.

Can I just tell you, readers, how much I really really really really really really wish I had never known "The Plan" was to propose on the ice?? Devastating. Still.

But things happen for a reason, and as we headed away from public skate sans diamond ring, bought hot chocolates and strolled towards home instead, I had no idea that I'd come thisclose to getting engaged just a second before.

Back at the condo I got ready for dinner while Cute Boy hung out with his friend. I packed a bag, because we were planning to drive over to Cute Boy's aunt's house that night and spend the night there (yes, on a Thursday night, and yes, we'd be arriving around 11, and YES, I did actually question the plausibility of this story, but was told to "just GO WITH IT!" so I did, thankfully.) and we headed out to find a place to have a drink before our dinner.

Only, as you might have guessed, we weren't spending the night at Cute Boy's aunt's. Instead, he pulled up at the lovely Sutton Place Hotel, said, "Surprise!" and got out of the car.

AND THAT'S WHEN MY BRAIN REALIZED THE WHOLE DAY WAS LEADING UP TO GETTING ENGAGED.

I frantically tried to shrug the thought back, because if I was wrong, I was going to be severely disappointed and not enjoy the lovely romantic evening he had planned with a hotel and a fantastic dinner. So I casually inquired if we should "bring our bags up to the room before we head out??" trying to suss if there was a surprise within.

"Oh, yeah, we can do that if you want," he said.

We got to the room.

"Nice," he commented. "What's the view like?"

"Looks nice!" I said. "There's a balcony!" (More sussing.)

"Cool. I'm going to the bathroom." he replied.

But the balcony wouldn't unlock, so instead I unpacked some things from my bag. When Cute Boy came out of the bathroom, he asked about the view and then- strangely- freaking attacked the balcony door until he wrenched it open.

It's entirely possible he broke the lock.

Regardless, we went out on the balcony to look at the city view in the night lights with the snow falling and it was INCREDIBLY lovely and, well....you can guess what happened next....the trip to the bathroom was actually to fish my ring out of its hiding place in his wallet, and my adorable man proposed right there on the balcony!

And then I starting giggling.

And then I started crying.

And then I started hugging him.

And then two minutes went by.

And then he inquired as to whether or not I wanted to give him a yes anytime soon.

Oh, yeah.

That "saying yes" thing.

I forgot to do that.

So I did.

And THAT, my dears, is the very long story of how Cute Boy and I got engaged, and a little snapshot of what the poor man is going to have to put up with from me, aka "The Woman Who Questions Everything," for the rest of his life.

I'm really lucky he loves that about me.

Most of the time, anyway.

from The Reader....

2011-01-24T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review:

The Bride Quartet:
Vision In White
Bed Of Roses

Savor The Moment

Happy Ever After

now up over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

from The Reader...

2011-01-17T10:00:00.000-05:00

New book review!

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
The Girl who Played with Fire
The Girl who Kicked The Hornet's Nest

over at Just Can't Stop Reading!

Tips From The Calendar- January

2011-01-02T12:34:00.005-05:00

Being somewhat *cough cough* of a type-A when it comes to my calendar, it should come as no surprise that I still use the paper version.

Specifically, the "Week At A Glance", full-sized, doesn't fit in your purse, sorted-into-15-minute-segments paper version.

It's my thing.

But in the age of uber-technology and eco-friendliness, I decided to make a bold step.

I bought the recycled paper version.

Ok fine. Maybe not so bold.

However! It makes me feel better about using paper, and in addition, gives me cute little helpful "Recycling Tips!" each week and each month. Because they make me giggle but are also easy and thoughful tips, I thought I'd publish them here. Enjoy, scoff, or just generally disregard.

January's tips are:
(Bonus tip: Week 52 of 2010): Don't staple it. Instead, use a paperclip! Paperclips are an excellent example of a reuseable office supply.
Tip of the Month: Program your temperature. Programmable thremostats can save up to 1800 lbs of CO2 emissions every year.
Week 1: Old school. Use non-electrical appliances and gadgets. (*Giggle. Dirty mind.)
Week 2: If you're purchasing a new refridgerator, consider upgrading to a smaller version. The smaller your icebox, the less energy you'll use.
Week 3: Use natural cleaning products. Avoid products that contain chlorine, which when mixed with ammonia or other acids can produce toxic gases. (*Avoid our upstairs bathroom after Taco Night with Younger Brother for the same reason.)
Week 4: Design and plant a community garden! (*This tip not meant for people living anywhere remotely cold during the 4th week of the year.)

The Scene In Which, If I Tweeted, Today Would Look Something Like This

2010-12-29T22:42:00.002-05:00

When Twitter first became popular, I started and briefly tweeted under my corporate name.

Then I realized I liked making flowers much more than I liked tweeting about them.

Plus it wasn't easy to do, because I don't have a smartphone, because, ummmm........I break nice things.

But today, if I tweeted, would look like this (and yes, I know these are more than 140 characters. Deal. #perfectionist):

Dear makers of doggy "doody" meds: something about the medication to make the Fab Finn stop pooping is making him throw up. #thanks side effects

Dear moms of Indy: Just drove past a dad pulling his twin toddler daughters around in the snow with a rope attached to those "silly saucer" activity seats. #genius #parenting FTW #not recommended use

Dear driver of large van: yes, we are playing chicken due to the unplowed side streets, however, turning left directly in front of someone else is still not allowed #rules of the road #moments of douchery #snowplow fail

Dear week: you have missed the memo regarding vacation and general ability for laid-back-edness. Also, please add at least ten hours to yourself tomorrow. #back to work

Dear patrons of 4-way-stop-signs: here's how it works. The firstperson who stops is the first person who goes. I totally acknowledge that you've safely stopped and counted to one-onethousand two-onethousand three-onethousand, however, it is still the other person's turn first if they were there first. #rules of the road

Dear unnanamed Mass Ave restaurant: no matter how good they taste, brownies are not made from vanilla cake mix and I remain a teensy bit disappointed #dessert fail

Dear Cute Boy: I can't wait for our date tomorrow night to see Wicked. I <3 you! #oh the cuteness

Happy Holidays!!

2010-12-24T08:00:00.002-05:00

From my little bloggy family to yours, have a wonderful holiday season! I look forward to sharing more stories, book reviews, failed craft projects and what-have-yous in 2011.

- Becky, Cute Boy, Finnigan, Princess and the "That Wasn't..." gang.

PS: Enjoy a little something I've been driving everyone nuts playing and singing this holiday.

The Scene In Which I Think My Dog Is Actually A Small Child

2010-12-19T08:00:00.001-05:00

Our foster friend Princess has been with us for about three weeks now, and if the present situation is any indication, we're in for a lot of fun and snuggles with this one.

And a lot of patience.

I think she may actually be a small child, and by that I don't mean the "children of the four-legged sort," I mean there might actually be a small child going through her terrible two's while teething, crying and going through a destructive phase hiding inside my dog.

See, here's the thing. The last time I had a PUPPY was in the second grade when my family brought home Molly the Border Collie (yes, we'd actually refer to her as such on occasion). When I was in high school, we found Bennett, our first rescue golden, in a park. After Molly passed away Benson came to live with our family, another golden rescue. And when Bennett passed away, we took home Maggie, a -you guessed it- golden rescue.

Even Finnigan, despite his blindness and relatively young age at time of rescue (we think he was about two) came fairly housebroken and well-behaved. Sure, he peed in the house a few times, but he got over that pretty quickly, and he has been known to make some messes playing with a toy, but big deal.

So when we got Princess, I figured, "hey, whatever." She is at least 6 years old, so I figured the puppy-energy was gone, and as long as she was housetrained, we'd be fine.

Holy crow.

I was wrong.

In fact if there is any sort of good indication as to just HOW WRONG I WAS, it might be that I'm finding myself relating to my two favorite mommy-blogs as they write about all the weird things they've said outloud to their kids this week.

(Random sidenote? My favorite is "I don't believe you when you say you're afraid of corn." HILARIOUS!)

Because if she isn't actually a child, I'm pretty sure this dog, in fact, has been sent by the angels to teach me what it will be like to have toddlers one day.

Or she's a demon.

Either way.

Overheard at our house this week:

"Please don't bite him."

"No, that is Finnigan's food, not yours."

"My glove is not a chew toy."

"No, this is Finnigan's treat. You just ate yours."

"My hat is not a chew toy."

"NONONONONONONO!" (Peeing on the rug. AGAIN.)

"My hairbrush is not a chew toy."

"No, this is Finnigan's food. This is yours."

"What do you have? Put that down. Don't put it in your mouth."

"Hey! Drop that! Gimme that. Gimme that out of your mouth. Open your mouth."

"That's his food. I said THAT'S HIS FOOD! Hey, that's HER FOOD! Come on guys-that's not your food! Ok, if you want to eat out of each other's dishes that's fine. Whatever."

"My underwear is not a chew toy."

She's lucky she's stinkin' cute.

The Scene In Which It's (NOT) Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

2010-12-15T09:35:00.004-05:00

Towards the end of last week/over the weekend I was feeling like a Scrooge, big-time. Normally, I am ALL ABOUT CHRISTMAS.

Just not this year.

Ahem.

'Twas the ~~night~~ weeks before Christmas, when all through the house

~~Not a~~ Many a creature was stirring, ~~not even a mouse~~ thankfully except for our mouse

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care (oh fudge it, I STILL can't find mine. I found the dog's. I bought Cute Boy a hockey-skate one. But mine? Gone. Gone. Gone.)

In hopes that St. Nicholas ~~soon would be there~~ would stay the eff away until I have time to finish shopping.

The ~~children~~ dogs were ~~nestled all snug in their beds~~ running amok through the house

While ~~visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads~~ chewing every dog toy, sock, pair of underwear and the occasional pen, plastic bottle, and OH FUN, paycheck into a soggy heap.

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my (new adorable) cap, (now covered in dog slobber)

Had just settled down for a ~~long winter's nap~~ effin' glass of wine

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I ~~sprang from the bed to see what was the matter~~ didn't much notice amongst all the chatter.

THAT'S WHAT IT'S BEEN LIKE AROUND HERE, FOLKS.

Scrooge. Scrooge scrooge scrooge, that was me.

I wasn't done shopping, I hadn't started wrapping, my cards were not done, and I was NOT FEELIN' THE HOLIDAY LOVE, ok?

That was then.

Since then I've put up some more decorations in the house, wrapped some garland around the outside, managed to snatch all my underwear back from Princess' hiding places (SERIOUSLY DOG, you have gotten waaaaay too used to cushy indoor life waaaaaay too fast) and addressed, if not written, my cards.

And I've been reminded that the holidays are about love and joy and the opportunity to be with one another, and I'm filled with the shiny happy holiday spirit.

So if my house is more cluttered than usual (it is), if I am using a tupperware ornament container instead of a coffee table because we haven't brought the coffee table back out from storage after Thanksgiving yet (we are, and we haven't), if the combination of new dog and old dog is producing an unholy amount of hair despite vacuuming (they are), and even if I STILL can't find the freaking stockings, or a perfect gift for Cute Boy, or the opener for the wine cork........it's ok.

Wait. Not the opener for the wine cork.

I need that.

The Scene In Which We Do Not Pee On That. Please.

2010-12-09T08:00:00.001-05:00

I love talking on the phone to my friends that have kids, because they are possssssssibly the only people more distracted than I am at any given moment. In particular, I love talking to my friend L, who has two kids and absolutely none, zero, nada difference in vocal inflection when switching between phone conversation and kid conversation.

This would be a lot less hilarious if her kids, particularly her oldest, didn't do some really funny things.

For example.

L: Hello?

Me: Hey! Sorry I just missed your call.

-General pleasantries exchanged-

Me: So what's up?

L: Aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm going to drink this entire Wine Cube tonight?

Me: What's a Wine Cube?"

L: They're from Target. They're like four bottles of wine in one cube.

Me: Neat.

L: Yeah. Normally I try to wait until the kids go to bed but I'm not sure if I'm going to make it tonight.

Me: I may need to get one of those.

L: Well, I was actually calling to see if you had any good ideas. I'm trying to think of a good title for my new blog, which I'm thinking is going to be something about the kids, and me, and my job, and stuff like that.

Me: Ok.

L: I was thinking "My So Called Life," but that was kinda already taken.

Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's taken.

L: So then I was thinking something funny, and I thought I'd ask you because you're witty, and you can have more food if you want it but I'm not going to feed you, 'cause I've already fed you a plate and you can feed yourself 'cause you're a big boy.

Me: Whaaa?

-Kid Noises-

L: Ok, then are you done? If you're done you need to go get in the shower, because we're starting the movie at 7 and you need to be showered and in your pjs by then. So get naked!

-Kid Noises-

Me: Wh-

L: Get naked!

-Kid Noises-

Me: Is tha-

L: GET NAKED!

-Kid Noises-

Me: -laughing hysterically- I'm pretty sure you're the only person who calls me to yell Get Naked at me.

L: Thanks Beck.

Me: So you need a name for the blog. Maybe it should be something funny that you say.

L: Like what? I don't really know of anything. Please don't pee in the shower.

Me: Huh?

L: Oh my god. Seriously? He's PEEING IN THE SHOWER. And believe me, it's not anything classy like the water's already running or anything; it's just pee and a shower. It looks like a urinal in there.

Me: I definitely think you can name your blog something you yell at your kids.

L: Like what?

Me: I don't know. In the past five minutes I've heard you say "I'm not feeding you, get naked, and don't pee in the shower." I like the last one.

L: Yeah, I don't know...oooooh Rudolph, I gotta tape this shit.

Me: -LMAO- you have to tape this shit?

L: Haha, yeah, and oooh, the Grinch, gotta tape this one too.

Me: I think you should name it "Please Don't Pee In The Shower."

L: But he pees on other things too.

Me: Seriously?!

L: Well, you know, he's a boy. So he sort of pees at the park....and sometimes in the yard......and sometimes in the wastebasket.....and, well....

Me: I feel like "Please Don't Pee On That" might serve you better.

L: I'll think about it ohhhhh sweet Jesus.

Me: Oh no.

L: He's taking a bubble bath.

Me: ......

L: In the shower.

Me: Oh god.

L: With an entire bottle of Bath & Body Works stuff.

Me: OMG.

L: I gotta go.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in welcoming "Please Don't Pee On That" to my blogroll...and hopefully to yours!

The Scene In Which We Kind Of Have A New Dog

2010-12-07T22:46:00.004-05:00

In case you don't follow me on Facebook (which would mean I don't actually really know you)(which would be kind of strange)(which is fine), you may not be aware of the addition of a certain adorable blonde to our home.

A 60lb, shedding, kissing, barking, whining, cuddling, food-stealing, food-nomming, rug-pooping, toy-destroying, water-bowl-splashing, absolutely adorable little angel :)

SERIOUSLY, THIS FACE.

Did I mention she sleeps on the floor right next to our bed at night?

Sigh.

Did I also mention she's (justifiably, as she's spent the first five years of her life living outdoors) sort of just about, but maaaaaaybe not completely housebroken?

SIGH.

But it's still absolutely worth it. We are currently fostering her for an elderly neighbor. Though very, very loved by her owner, she has been an outdoor dog for her entire life. Despite this, she's rapidly become accustomed to two tasty meals a day out of her own brand-new ceramic bowl, a comfy bed to sleep on of her very own, and a bucketful of squeaky toys (Finnigan could care less about them, so they just sort of stockpile).

The squeaky toys are the best. This is a dog who (again, though very very loved) has probably not had many toys in her life. She loves them. ALL of them. ALL the toys belong to her.

She tosses them up in the air to herself.

She noses them around the floor.

She cuddles them.

And then she tires of them, rips their heads off, and disembowels them across the rug.

It's a little disturbing.

But seriously. THE FACE.

It gets me.

It gets Cute Boy too :)

The Scene In Which I Do Not Want To Fly

2010-11-23T22:18:00.003-05:00

I have to get on a plane, and it's freaking me out.

Before you ask, no, it's not for Thanksgiving (tomorrow). It's not even for Christmas (a month away).

It's in MARCH.

More specifically, at the END OF MARCH.

But in my family there's something to being prepared, and kids, let me tell you, I am prepared to be completely f-ing freaked out, especially since I am already f-ing freaked out.

I haven't always been this way.

There was a time, and not all that long ago, when the idea of flying didn't freak me out. Airline travel was something interesting, even fun.

Then I moved to Indiana and my allergies got bad, which made my ears react sort of the way a five-year-olds might and develop weird vertigo-ish tendencies during take offs and landings.

Sort of making me feel like the plane was crashing at any given second during both events.

Super.

Then I was in a couple flights in a row where there was really bad turbulence. Also not helpful.

I'm pretty sure that my solo flight home from San Diego following an AFP conference two years ago was the actual first panic attack. Descending into Denver during a thunderstorm? Not cool. Still owe huge gratitude to the grandfatherly gent who talked me down (literally: he talked to me during the entire 20-minute descent into Denver).

Followed closely by my horrendous, weather-delayed, turbulent voyage to Omaha during which the on-leave, 19-year-old cute little Marine had to distract me (read: poor freaked out old chick) during the entire turbulent flight with stories about how he was injured by an IED. Seriously.

And then this happened.

(From a Scene in 2009 describing our flight home from Paris): "during which we encountered the type of turbulence that makes the pilots yell for the flight attendants to sit, the aforementioned attendants to squinch their eyes closed, and for half of the passengers to actually scream as we nose-dive several hundred feet in, oh, about two seconds."

Oh yes, that's right. I was ON A PLANE THAT FELL OUT OF THE SKY.

So it shouldn't come as a total surprise that I'm not that excited about getting into a TIN CAN and being LAUNCHED THOUSANDS OF FEET INTO THE AIR in the hands of WHOEVER THE DUMBASS AT THE HELM IS and being at the total mercy of the elements.

NO THANKS.

Since the lovely flight to Paris I've only gotten on a plane once, to head to Florida. I seriously didn't know how I was going to go through with it. Thankfully, Cute Boy and xanax came to the rescue.

But I'd like to avoid this in the future, particularly as "taking xanax" for the purpose of air travel might aaaaaaaactually mean "taking one xanax the day before, taking one xanax the day of, having a couple glasses of wine before the flight takes off, staggering out of the airport three hours later, and puking out the side of the car on the way home."

Theoretically.

I need a solution, kids. And I need one now. So I don't have to spend the next four months freaking out.

The Scene In Which I Ramble. And Apologize. And Ramble Some More.

2010-10-19T23:00:00.002-04:00

Other than some trip updates lately, I haven't been blogging too much.

Sorry.

I think about writing a blog.

Sometimes I write down an idea for a blog.

Usually on my hand.

Usually its something about how I really shouldn't write important things on my hands because then I wash them and lose the idea.

Then I wash my hands.

It's kind of a vicious cycle.

I really need to work on my lawn.

But I've already blogged about that.

I really need to get caught up on Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice and omg, Sons of Anarchy, can we talk about how much I love Sons of Anarchy?

THIS MUCH.

I need to watch the first couple seasons.

I also need to get my house and the studio cleaned up.

They're kinda messy 'cause I've been kind of busy.

Which is also why I haven't blogged.

Sorry.

Busy is good, though. Lots of weddings this weekend.

Just not a lot to blog about, 'cause I didn't really do anything funny like fall down the stairs carrying a box of flowers or anything like that.

Oh wait.

I did do that.

I also fell up some stairs. That was kind of funny too.

I thankfully did not fall off the 25-ft ladder I climbed up and down about 35 times.

That would not have been funny.

Speaking of funny, how funny is it that we're actually having a fall season?

I'm from Chicago.

"Fall" is what happens on the day that starts off sunny and pleasant at 70 degrees and drops to 30 by nightfall. The leaves plunge suicidally. Two days later it frosts. That's fall.

So this whole "chilly morning, warming up in the afternoon, leaves gently turning color" thing is kind of weird.

I really like it.

Ideally it would never get any colder than this. I'd like to avoid winter this year.

Let's make that happen, mmmmk??

Thought I would like Thanksgiving to come.

I'm going to be hosting this year.

I think it's going to be fun.

And a lot of work.

And fun.

And work.

I think I'm going to head to bed.

You may have noticed that I'm a bit tired.

But I felt bad because I hadn't been blogging much.

Sorry.

The Scene In Which We Hit Beale Street

2010-10-13T08:00:00.000-04:00

After a more-than-adequate dose of Elvis, we checked out some other areas of Memphis and started our nightly entertainment of sampling the nightlife....aka, drinking!

The boys had chores at their hostel, so K and I hung out at the "Cafe Ole" having a drink and waiting for them. It was right at the Cooper/Young neighborhood- so cute!

Staying at the Peabody, we naturally had to see the famous "March of the Ducks," so headed there next to observe the 5 PM show. For those unfamiliar with the tale, twice a day the trained ducks who reside at the Peabody march down and into, or out of and up, to the lobby fountain from the hotel roof where they spend their evenings.

The music plays a march, the "duck wrangler" puts down a set of stairs, and the ducks hop out of the fountain, march down the stairs, march across a red carpet, and hop on the elevator to go to the roof.

It's as freakin' cute as it sounds, if not cuter.

Following our dose of cuteness (and yummy martinis!) we ventured back to Beale Street to sample a little more local cultural- in the form of bar hopping from 7 PM- 2 AM, eventually landing at five or so places.

Including one where we saw this guy.

Dr. Feelgood Potts.

If you ever get down to Memphis and have the opportunity to hear him, DO IT.

Then, go have more drinks, eat some fried green tomatos, go to the karaoke bar, and watch your cousin sing "Suspicious Minds" in a town that reveres Elvis (thankfully, doing it much justice), watch your other cousin sing "Son of a Preacher Man" and bring the house down, watch The Tall Brit sing Oasis, and watch an amazingly drunk biker babe wife join her buddy onstage for a theatrical rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody," complete with hand gestures and dancing, then head back to the Peabody at 2 AM and have this conversation with the bellman on the way to your room in an otherwise still hotel:

Cousin K: "Howdy!"

(Howdy?!)

Bellman: Hi.

K: Quiet in here, huh? So where's the staff party?

Bellman: Um, hah (nervous laughter) ah, have a good night....ah, hah.

Me: Seriously? What's your next line, 'I carried a watermelon?' "

And then you've done Memphis.

The Scene In Which I Go To GRACELAND!!

2010-10-12T08:00:00.000-04:00

I've never considered myself a huge fan of "The King," but when I said yes to a quick trip to Memphis, I knew Graceland would have to be on the agenda.

(Because really? It's AMERICANA at its absolute best. When am I ever going to see this again??)

And Graceland? Is awesome.

We arrived fairly early in the morning in an effort to beat the crowds, though Mondays appear to be the best time to go to Graceland to do so regardless.

Especially if you're over 70.

Just sayin'.

Graceland is amazing in that it's an entire museum and gift shop extraordinnare cobbled together on what once was a normal street. Despite the fact it stands a mere 100 yards or so away, you must board a short bus (having donned your self-touring headphone set) to be escorted across the street and up the driveway, where you are greeted by a Graceland employee who assures you that you'll be able to tour the house "at your leisure," while lining you up to enter and directing you to take your photos when you're done with the tour, NOT before, because they are UNLOADING THE BUSES HERE.

The house itself takes a relatively short time to go through, as you're not allowed to go upstairs, and definitely introduces you to the sense of reverence people in Memphis get when they talk about The King. This is NOT the Elvis of Vegas- this is their BOY.

Their boy with a 15-ft white leather couch in his peacock-themed front room.

With a fully carpeted kitchen, ohyesthankyou, all the rage in the 1970s.

With a pool room completely covered in pleated fabric on the walls and ceilings, otherwise known as "quite possibly the best place on the planet to do LSD."

And of course, the Jungle Room.

I have to confess, not what I expected. Along the way I'd sort of forgotten that Elvis' house was basically just abandoned and then preserved in the 1970s, and that what would have made something cool back then does not neccessarily mean cool....now.

Like green shag carpeting.

Carved fake wooden tree trunks as furniture.

It was awesome.

Elvis is actually buried outside the house, along with his parents and grandmother, and a marker (though not the remains) of his twin. Here's the part that amazed me: all the FLOWERS! Apparently, flowers still arrive daily from various fans and friends around the world. The week we were there, flowers arrived from his Italian fan club as well as several South American clubs.

Graceland goes on to showcase the grounds, the racquetball court-turned-trophy room, the museum in which all his gold records and other accolades hang (seeing the actual gold record for some of his songs?!? awesome), the car museum where the PINK CADILLAC is, along with about 10 other amazing cars, a showcase of his various costumes, and of course, his two private planes.

One of which features a sink with inlaid gold.

You know, just like mine.

We stayed at Graceland for a fairly serious amount of hours before deciding that we were Elvis-ed out, not in the least because Elvis tunes were being piped through our self-guiding-earbuds as well as the speakers around the place the entire time we were there. Little did we know that later that night, we'd see a performance channeling the King.....

The Scene In Which I Go To Memphis

2010-10-11T08:00:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago (and yes, just getting to blog about it now) I found myself driving to Memphis, as the direct result of one of those "seize the moment" conversations between myself and my cousin K a few weeks prior.

K: Hey, I'm going to be driving back to N Michigan from Texas in a few weeks. Can I stay with you in Indy on Tuesday night?

Me: Sure.

K: I'm gonna stay in Memphis Sunday and Monday and check it out.

Me: Cool!

K: Hey, you want to come?

Me: YES.

So I wrapped up a wedding on Saturday, packed my bags, picked up my rental car, and drove 7 hours to Memphis via southern Indiana, southern Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas.

Yes, Arkansas.

Because the most efficient route to get to a state located directly south of me is, in fact, to drive through five different states in one day.

(It actually is. Check it out.)

I arrived and got picked up by my cousin J, K's brother. He had also decided to seize the moment and drive up from Atlanta, so yes, you're correct, three cousins from three different states had all decided to converge together in Memphis, of all places, for two days. He'd also brought L, who for the sake of no-more-initials we're going to refer to as The Tall Brit.

Because he is, and is.

We got settled in at our respective hotels (K& I at the Peabody!!) and the boys came over to pick us up for dinner. Hilariously, both K and J chose to announce themselves at the Peabody by not merely knocking on the door, but announcing "Housekeeping!" in a loud falsetto. Siblings.

We hit Beale Street for an amazing big-band performance and tried to go to BB Kings for dessert, only to realize it was closed because BB King was PLAYING A CONCERT RIGHT THERE. We stood on the street and listened for awhile- awesome.

After long drives for all of us (or long nights in Nashville the previous day for the boys), we headed to bed early.....all the better to be up and at 'em for GRACELAND the next day! More to follow!

The Scene In Which Apparently Gardening Fails Me

2010-09-23T08:00:00.000-04:00

I have two very major confessions to make, friends. Be gentle.

First. (And this, if you know me and have, say, driven past my house in the recent weeks is not so much a confession as an acknowledgement.

MY YARD LOOKS HORRIBLE.

Seriously, summer has wreaked some HAVOC on the yard. Dead. Crunchy. Brown. The flowers have all gone to seed and past it. The bushes grew out of control and resemble sea urchins. The phlox is spiny and woody and brown (and half-dead thanks to some overzealous mowing by one of my neighbors, but it was on his side, so that's not even contributing to the awfulness).

And I just need to get out there and clean it up. I know I do. (And I don't want to hear that if I stopped writing this blog and just did it it would be done, because this blog only took me 7 minutes to write and my yard is going to take many, many more minutes than that thankyouverymuch.)

Confession #2 is not really a confession but a confirmation of what you already might know having seen my yard, and that is that I really like color palettes in the purple/pink/green range. Purple phlox. Butterfly bush. Lavender.

I like THINGS TO MATCH.

Naturally, the potted plants that dot my porch also contain pink and purple plants throughout the summer months. But as the summer dried those suckers up faster than you could've fried an egg on the sidewalk some days this August, last week I decided I was going to put my fall plants in.

I happened to be at Lowe's with time to kill and hit the gardening section, where I was promptly disappointed by the lack of creative fall offerings. There were mums. And....mums. And....wait, wait....mums.

For someone who was craving some ornamental cabbage, maybe a few fall grasses, and such, it was a letdown.

Nonetheless, I rebounded, and even did something that for me (the person who likes THINGS TO MATCH!) was way crazy.

I picked twenty small mum plants off a buy-one-get one shelf with absolutely NO color indication. The photos ranged from pinks to yellows to reds and oranges and purples. I even went so far as to deliberately pick plants off different shelves and from different pre-packaged flats. I was determined to have a colorful splash out front, if only to make up for the hideousness that is the rest of the yard.

So I eagerly went home, planted all my mums, watered dilligently, and waited for the first signs of color.

This weekend, they began to bloom.

They are ALL YELLOW.

Every. Single. One.

Friends, I swear, I couldn't make this up if I tried.

The Scene In Which The New AT&T Commercial Is Exactly What's Wrong With People.

2010-09-21T08:00:00.000-04:00

It's a bold assertment, to be sure. But really, how can this NOT be indicative of how our society is heading down a thorny path of bratty behavior, requiring instant gratification to be "happy?"

The commercial centers around a guy named Steve. Steve has gone out for a long bike ride on a beautiful day.

On his long bike ride Steve starts to get worried. What if someone is trying to reach him with better plans for the day? What if one of his friends gets concert tickets? What if he's missing out on something cooler to do?

Luckily Steve has AT&T! So he ducks into the nearest coffee shop and checks in via his laptop. He is relieved to find out he isn't missing out on anything and can now thankfully finish his ride in peace.

Steve? Sucks.

Seriously, folks! When did we come up with this theory that it is unacceptable to simply enjoy an activity that WE HAVE CHOSEN TO DO?

Why is it hard to imagine that, on a beautiful day, Steve has chosen to simply take a bike ride- choosing to forego other opportunities that may have come along? Besides, what if those opportunities don't come via social networking or mobile devices? Sure, Steve's friend could call his mobile phone, but what if he JUST STOPS BY THE HOUSE?? Can we ever leave the little bubbles we've created knowing that we might miss out on something if we do??

Secondly, WHY must we be tethered by these little beepy things constantly? Sure, I'm as bad as the next person about getting on Facebook while I'm at my computer or being sure to take my cell phone with me when I leave for the day, but really Steve? A LAPTOP ON A BIKE RIDE? If the whole point is to get out and enjoy the beautiful day, here's a radical thought- GET OUT and ENJOY the beautiful day!

And finally, the idea that only when he's been assured he's chosen the best option can he truly enjoy it? Really, Steve? Can you imagine the horror he must face every day having to constantly ask whether he can be happy with something when there is a possibility that there is SOMETHING! MORE! OUT THERE! Even choosing a muffin at that Starbucks he was forced to stop in so that he could check his precious messages becomes an issue. Maybe he wants blueberry. Maybe he wants raspberry. But maybe he even wants a pumpkin scone! And it's the last one! And if he orders it they are going to bring out a tray of something else and maybe he'll want THAT MORE!

I rant, yes.

But I rant because the first time I heard this commercial I was taken aback. And the second time I heard it I started to get alarmed. And the third time I heard it I started wanting to punch Steve and tell him to grow a pair.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm off to take a bike ride. And celebrate switching to Brighthouse.

Not Me! Monday

2010-09-20T08:00:00.000-04:00

Well readers, it's our fourth Not Me! Monday and I've got a bit of a dilemma. Because I took forever to get on the Not Me! train, the train has in fact left the station. As in, MckMama's moved on from the idea for awhile, and since it was kind of a group-blogging-thing to do, I feel weird stil doing it when, ummm, no one else is.

Not that that's ever stopped me from doing anything before.

See "perm," circa 1995.

See "bangs," circa 1986.

So I need some feedback. If you're reading, do you enjoy the Not Me! Mondays? Want to see them continue, albeit without the nifty logo? Don't care? Weigh in!

The Scene In Which My Dog Has Developed A Potty Mouth

2010-09-19T10:05:00.004-04:00

Has this happened to anyone else?!?!

Finnigan The Blind, my absolutely fantastic, lovable, sweet little rescue pup who has been with me for three years (count 'em, THREE YEARS. THIRTY SIX MONTHS) and has never, ever, ever, EVER done anything like this, has suddenly developed a potty mouth.

More specifically?

His new favorite water bowl is my downstairs toilet (NEVER before. EVER.) and, worse, he has developed an innate ability to ferret out and EAT! CAT! SHIT! from the feral cat who counts our house as one of her roaming sites.

So lately, the peaceful silence around my house has been broken with phrases like this, which I actually just said to the little beast a minute ago when he tried to kiss up to me on the couch after a feast of cat about 20 minutes ago: "Don't even think about kissing me with that cat-shit mouth, buster brown."

Help!

The Scene In Which I Have Possibly Found The Cure For Cancer. In My Fridge.

2010-09-17T08:00:00.002-04:00

With summer coming to an end, the last few weeks had been pretty busy at the condo. As a result, the refridgerator hadn't been getting its normal level of attention - the kind that comes when you are home regularly and eat the food you've purchased and consume the leftovers that are lurking inside and generally keep things clean.

But Younger Brother and I have been traveling a bit, and I've been slammed with end-of-summer weddings and have been eating via the grab-and-go method, and in general, the fridge just needed a little attention.

Especially because....(cue Jaws theme).....there were......FOIL WRAPPED ITEMS.

Lurking.

Any person who has ever cleaned a fridge out knows foil wrapped items are the worst. Tupperware is the best. With Tupperware, you can at least see what you're getting into when you discover the leftover taco meet from two weeks ago or the other half of a now dessicated can of chicken noodle soup. You can even make the enlightened decision, as I've been known to do a few times, of chucking the entire Tupperware container into the trash without the benefit of opening the lid and debating, via smell, whether the container is salvageable or not. But foil, now, well, foil's another story. And mysterious foil-wrapped packages are the worst. And here's the thing about them- at least for me - you Can't! Not! Open! Them!

It's just not possible!

I've GOT to know what it is I'm throwing away! After all, I could be mistakenly throwing away something that was wrapped in foil only yesterday. It could be a brownie or two! It could be CHEESE!

Or it could be something that perhaps once was meat that I'm pretty sure my brother cooked for dinner a week ago. Ew.

It might even be the cure for cancer.

Though unlikely. But I'll check.

The Scene In Which The Hair Dryer Dies

2010-09-15T18:40:00.004-04:00

This week marked a sad moment at my house as we laid a dear friend to rest.

My hair dryer.

Dramatic? Yes. But seriously, ladies, you know how it is, right? One minute you're happily humming along to whatever song's playing in your head as you point that piece of heated plastic at your scalp, and the next, the device that's given you confidence and style for the past two years starts starts making The Death Noise.

nnnnnnnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrrr (regular noise)nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrrr.............. (spark spark spark spark)NRNRNRkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk kkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppbbbt.

Guys? You with me? It's kind of like an Indy Car that gets a flat one lap from winning it all but still miiiiiiight pull it off and yet you're torn- because you're cheering like hell for the little guy to putter it over the finish line to glory BUT you're also keenly aware of the fact that sooner or later, homeboy's gonna burst into flames.

So yes. It was a sad day when we laid Ol' Dryer to rest. And composed this ditty in its honor.

sing it with me (to the tune of American Pie)

So bye bye, Turbo one-eight-seven-fiiive
Had a good run while it lasted but now my hair you don't dry
And when I turned you on and scary sparks they did fly
I knew today it'd be to Target I driiiiive.

Not Me! Monday

2010-09-13T08:00:00.002-04:00

It's another Not Me! Monday and boy, has it been a week for it...though I am super impressed by myself that I have my post ready to go at 8 AM! Woohoo for getting into the method of writing things down as they happen instead of trying to remember them all when I actually get a chance to sit down and compose a post.

This week, I definitely did NOT lock myself out of my house by breaking my key off in the door. Nope, not me!

After NOT doing that, I did NOT go to my hair appointment (with greasy hair) only to find I'd scheduled wrong. Upon learning that I definitely did NOT have to beg another stylist to wash my hair for me, since I was locked out of my house. Nope, not me!

On Friday night, my friend definitely did NOT open his door to find me standing on his porch, leaning forward, and frantically trying to shake/swipe a bug out of my, um, chest area. Nope! Because really, WHAT are the odds that at the exact second I'm carrying a heavy vase of flowers up the stairs to someone's house a bug is going to land on me, and really, WHAT are the odds that the same bug is going to fall down my shirt?

And what did YOU not do this week??

The Scene In Which I Do Not Have The Day I'd Planned

2010-09-08T18:32:00.007-04:00

Today, I had one of those days that just kind of turns out to be a clusterf***.

You know, the kind where you wake up late with greasy hair 'cause you didn't wash it yesterday 'cause you're getting it cut today.

Lock yourself out of your house 'cause your key breaks in the door as you're trying to pull it out (needless to say, this happens while in "locked" mode, not "unlocked," 'cause that would be easy.)

Get to your appointment and wind up not getting a haircut 'cause you wrote the wrong day on your calendar and your stylist is on vacation.

Beg a random stylist to wash your hair 'cause it's a greasy mop and now you're not sure how many meetings and things you're going to have to attend today in your shorts and t-shirt 'cause you're locked out of your house.

Blow dry and style your own hair even though you're at a salon 'cause if one thing goes right today, it's gonna be that you don't look like crap.

Realize you've got to call your afternoon meeting and reschedule 'cause your files are locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Realize you've got to call someone else to get the number of your afternoon meeting 'cause the number is locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Realize you've got to call a third person to get the number of someone else to get the number of your afternoon meeting 'cause the number is locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Make said calls.

Get excited about being able to run errands instead of having a meeting because you really need to return a few things which are, oh yeah, locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Get excited about having the time to shoot some photos for a meeting that you need to do and you just need to grab your camera which is, oh yeah, locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Get excited about getting some much needed work done except that you just need your laptop and it is, oh yeah, locked in your house which you are locked out of.

Go to Lowe's and buy a new lock 'cause you know you're going to need one 'cause you've needed one every other time this has happened and you're going to be all AHEAD OF THE GAME this time.

Get home and meet the lock guy who is able to fix the lock without using the new lock you've just purchased at Lowe's 'cause he's just better than all the other locksmiths that have been summoned in the past.

And this is why my blog is called "That Wasn't In The Script." Because sometimes, friends, IT JUST WASN'T.

But at least I have nice hair.

The Scene In Which I Have Spent $23. On Something.

2010-09-03T14:11:00.005-04:00

Earlier this week I got my credit card statement, and like most months, gave it a quick perusal to be sure nothing was out of the ordinary. Sure enough, it all seemed legit- a couple tanks of gas, a few (or four...or seven...or eleven) trips to Starbucks, some purchases at Lowe's, and of course, the $23 I'd spent at the "Family Name's Feed and Mercantile" in Some Town You've Never Heard Of, Indiana.

Whaaaaa?

I racked my brain.

I rifled my reciepts.

I tried to remember WHAT I could have POSSIBLY spent $23 on at a FEED STORE somewhere in East Jesus, Indiana.

And I couldn't.

So I called my credit card company and spent about five minutes on the phone explaining to the nice young man that, in fact, I had not spent $23 on something at a Feed Store.

And then I got on with my life quite nicely until today, when I went to grab a few things out of my purse so that I could put them in another purse.

And felt the crinkle of a shoved-down reciept.

For $23.

To the Feed and Mercantile.

Whaaaaaa?

I racked my brain.

I rifled my (now found) reciept.

I tried to remember WHAT I could have POSSIBLY spent $23 on at the FEED STORE somewhere in East Jesus, Indiana.

And I couldn't.

So I called my credit card company and spent about 5 minutes on the phone explaining to the nice young woman that, in fact, I had spent $23 on something at a Feed Store.

But, hand to God, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT.

The Scene In Which I Ruin The Cashier's Day

2010-09-02T17:14:00.003-04:00

Today I was out and about running several errands on the northside, and though I was still a bit far from home, stopped at a Kroger up there to pick up a few items.

(Side note: HOLY HELL, are northside groceries nice!)

I grabbed the couple items I needed and proceeded to the checkout, where I chose the "5 to 15 ITEMS" line because I had 6 items, thankyouverymuch, and didn't want to wait in the "UNDER 5 ITEMS" line or the "ALL OTHER ITEMS" line.

And met "A," the cashier. (Names have been shortened to protect the innocent.)

Who, I now feel, may have been strategically placed in the 5 to 15 item line. Because his pace reaaaaally wasn't fast enough to placate someone with only 1 or 2 items and, forced into the large-item-load line, might have spontaneously combusted with indignation. There was a liiiitle bit of an OCD thing going on.

At any rate, after uttering a string of phrases that I could only assume related to paper versus plastic bags (though possibly not, since unable to understand I just said "Paper!" to his inquiry, and wound up with plastic), he asked, "Kroger card?"

"No, actually, I don't have one." I replied.

Which is strange, because being that it's one of the larger grocery chains in the city (including one literally within walking distance of my house) so you'd think I'd be able to produce one from the depths of my purse.

However.

What you've got to take into effect here is that my closest Kroger hasn't earned the nickname Kroghetto on it's own. No, friends, it's taken YEARS of sad neglect to accomplish this mean feat. I'm not even kidding, there aren't words to describe the depression of shopping there. I literally get in my car, drive PAST it, and go to another grocery store 10 minutes away for groceries.

Lest you think I'm dramatic, I challenge you to come down here and shop here, holes in the floor and all. And deal with interactions like this one, circa 2007 or so:

Me to Employee: "Hi. Do you have citronella candles?"
Employee: "What are those?"
Me: "They're larger candles to burn outside....they keep bugs away?"
Employee: .......
Me: (Seriously??) "They're probably by the bugspray? If you have that?"
Employee: "Well, I don't KNOW if we have them, but if we do, then yeah, they'd probably be by the bugspray."
Me: (Wow. You don't say.) "And where's that?"
Employee: "By the seasonal stuff."
Me: (annnnnnd that would be where......?)"Ok....."
Employee: "You're welcome!"

Given this level of customer service it's rather unsurprising that I choose to shop elsewhere, and that I haven't been offered a card when I've stated that I didn't have one during checkout. IN FIVE YEARS.

So you can imagine my level of shock when A stopped what he was doing, secured me a card, scanned it,and handed it over.

I was elated!

Until he handed me the registration form to fill out.

Which I don't like to do.

Because, I mean, COME ON. I hate these things. You'd think it would be enough to know that I prefer to buy organic bananas over any others. That I am bizarrely fond of Asian Sensations General Tso's frozen chicken. That I buy milk nearly every time I'm at the store but rarely buy cereal (oh my god, what does she use it for? she never buys cereal!). That I have a fondness for mild cheddar cheese and that I have not purchased a caffienated drink since October BUT NO, THEY ALSO WANT TO KNOW WHERE I LIVE.

Well, tough.

So I filled out my first name and last initial, and my zip code. Because I'm not above giving the folks what they need for demographic research, I just don't want my mailbox filled with junk.

A took this as a personal affront to his kind gift of a card.

"Can you fill out your address please," he requested.

"No thanks. Not if it's not absolutely required for a card," I said, reasonably I thought- especially as I KNOW it's not required, it's just PREFERRED, so that the store and/or their "affiliates" can track my information and use it to back up studies of why we should increase the amount of cage-free eggs at my local store because many people in my age range that live there buy them. And then send me mail regarding the fact that they have them. And coupons. And mail about other unrelated products.

Unfortunately, this may have triggered the OCD a bit for A. Because, I'm sure, the employees are trained to do everything they can to GATHER! THAT! INFORMATION!

"Can you JUST FILL IT OUT?" he asked, growing agitated.

"Nope, I really don't like to. Is it required?"

"LOOK," he said, "WE DON'T SELL IT, OKAY? JUST WRITE IT DOWN."

"Thanks, but I'm fine with this the way it is."

"FINE," he relented. "BUT PLEASE PUT YOUR PHONE NUMBER."

"It really won't help anything," I said (because I do have a number that I give out that's not actually a number I use.) "It's not tied to an address, and I don't have a phone extension hooked up to it."

"WE DON'T SELL YOUR NUMBER!" he practially spewed. "JUST WRITE IT!"

"Yes, but I'm just not going to do that. You can have the card back."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" he said....though to what, I don't know.

Muttering what I can only assume were curses under his breath, he snatched the card out of my hand and made a dramatic show of crumpling it and tossing it into the trash at his feet.

And that's the story of how I'm pretty sure I ruined A's day.

But I did save $1.98.

Not Me! Monday

2010-08-30T21:51:00.002-04:00

Each week tons (well, tens) of people gather over at MckMama's blog to share what they have- or haven't-done that week. And because no one is perfect, least of all me, here's mine!

I definitely did NOT forget to write a Not Me! Monday post last week after being all hyped up to finally do one the week before. Nope, not me! I always follow through with everything I start.

And because I definitely did not forget that post, I also definitely did not spend five minutes in the shower this morning racking my brain for something funny I did not do last week.

After that I definitely did not realize that I had completely neglected to pick up vases from one of my weekend wedding venues on Sunday...

....only to get over to the venue today and discover that I definitely, absolutely, positively had not forgotten that the bride's family was going to take charge of that task. Nope, not me! I always remember little details like that and save myself from going an hour out of my way.

Finally, I did not make a list of at least three good blog posts over the past week, including FINALLY posting renovation photos, and then not get around to posting any of them.

And you? What did you not do this week?

Not Me! Monday

2010-08-16T18:34:00.007-04:00

One of the things I've always loved about the blogs I read is this little thing called "Not Me! Monday," started by the hilarious and insightful mother of 5 known as MckMama (how she manages to be this funny or write this often on top of having 5 kids I do NOT know, especially when I can't even muster a daily post.)

I always catch the "Not Me!" post on Tuesdays, upon which I always think "Darn! I'm going to catch that next week."

For A YEAR NOW.

So, with that in mind, when I realized I was on MckMama's blog and it was STILL MONDAY! I had to jump on the chance to write my own Not Me! post.

Here goes!

This past week, I definitely did not use the fact that the bathrooms are currently being remodeled as an excuse for not cleaning the house. Nope, not me! I definitely clean up every day, especially when the house is getting daily doses of sawdust.

On Friday, I definitely did not eat my weight in State Fair food and swear to burn the calories off the next day cleaning the house......and on Saturday, I definitely did not forego cleaning the house to have a casual day with Cute Boy playing scrabble and drinking Saturday afternoon wine coolers.

Finally, today, I definitely did not oversleep and not shower before the contractors showed up, and when I discovered that they had turned the water off to the house, definitely did not simply spray some perfume on and forego showering before heading out for a lunch meeting. Nope, not me, and certainly not in the midst of this lovely heat wave!

What about you? What did you NOT do this week? Link up over at MckMama's!

The Scene In Which The Shower Is Done! (aka Renovations Day 10)

2010-08-12T09:04:00.005-04:00

The shower is done! The shower is done!

Yesterday (Day 1o) Eric and Eric came to install the final touches- the shower and tub fixtures! (Aren't they pretty? Major kudos to Cute Boy on these! I had never liked this finish, but now I LOVE IT!)

So without further ado, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere it is!

For those of you who have never lived in a historic home, you may not notice the tiniest detail, but those who have will notice the placement of the shower head! Which you can now stand under! Without craning your neck at ungodly angles! OMG!

Oh the simple pleasures.

Detail of the tile pattern on the back wall:

After Eric and Eric finished, Jason and Avery loaned me the power drill (I think they were skeptical at first but then gracious once I told them mine was just at the store.....and I had actually successfully used one before!) and I put up my cool "curved bar" shower curtain rod (making the tub even wider when showering!) and two matching towel hooks on each side. Yes, the hooks are deliberately off-set so that one is about two inches lower on the wall than the other. Aesthetics. Definitely aesthetics. Definitely not the fact that I knew I'd never get those suckers evenly lined up.

The final result!

The Scene In Which This Is Starting To Get Complicated (aka Renovations Day 9)

2010-08-10T11:39:00.004-04:00

A shopping list.

Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath.

"Ok, here is the can light I bought for the downstairs bath above the toilet."
"Yeah, that's not going to work, it's too deep."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet.

"So, here are the lights I purchased for the upstairs bath and the kitchen."
"Yeah, these will work for the kitchen, but not for the upstairs bath."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Return upstairs bath light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet, light fixture for the upstairs bath.

"Then, what I was thinking we could do is use the light from the upstairs bath for the downstairs bath over the sink and use the faucet from the upstairs vanity for the downstairs vanity."
"That should work."
"That won't work."
"Why not?"
"The downstairs bath takes a single-hole faucet and this one's a double."
"Ok. Will the light work?"
"Yep."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Return upstairs bathroom light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet, light fixture for the upstairs bath, single-hole faucet for the downstairs bath.

"Here's the light I got for the kitchen."
"That works. We'll take this one down."
"Hey, would that one work in the bathroom over the toilet?"
"Yep."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Return upstairs bathroom light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, ~~new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet~~, light fixture for the upstairs bath, single-hole faucet for the downstairs bath.

"This new kitchen light looks really nice. Where are the bulbs?"
"I have some upstairs. It takes regular ones, right?"
"Um, no."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Return upstairs bathroom light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, ~~new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet~~, light fixture for the upstairs bath, single-hole faucet for the downstairs bath, fancy new lightbulbs for the kitchen.

"By the way, you're going to need to touch up the ceiling paint in the upstairs bath since we'll have to put some putty over a couple areas. Also there's going to be some touchups needed to this wall paint (unspoken: this 5-year-old, ugly somewhat yellowed-white wall paint)."
"So really I just need to paint in here."
"Well....yeah."

A shopping list.

Return can light. Return upstairs bathroom light. Kitchen sink, kitchen faucet, dishwasher, one more towel hook for the upstairs bath, ~~new light for the downstairs bath above the toilet~~ , light fixture for the upstairs bath, single-hole faucet for the downstairs bath, fancy new lightbulbs for the kitchen, paint.

A shopping list.

Lottery Ticket.

The Scene In Which I Interrupt These Renovation Updates To Make Fun Of Myself

2010-08-09T15:14:00.003-04:00

I realized a few moments ago that I hadn't given you all a fun, old-fashioned, let's-laugh-at-Becky-as-she-does-stupid-things story in awhile.

I may or may not have realized this as I was standing in my front yard watering my porch plants and getting soaked from head to toe in the water that was spraying every which way out of my (previously unrealized) somewhat non-correctly-secured garden hose.

Wearing a white shirt. You know, the kind you can see through when it's wet.

And linen khaki shorts. You know, the kind you can see through when it's wet.

And, ahem, certain undergarments that were perhaaaaaaaps not either of those colors.

I'm not sure what was funnier (and I mean this in a funny but yet slightly sadly pathetic way):

1) that I actually didn't care much because OH, MYLANTA it is hot out there

2) that I actually didn't care much because most of my neighbors could care less about seeing me in see-through garb

3)that I actually didn't care much because most of my neighbors are used to seeing me in see-though garb (thankfully, not true, though anyone around at 7 AM usually gets a peek at whatever I threw on to walk the dog in the morning....regardless of color, pattern, normal purpose of the clothing, or time of year.)

4)that I actually didn't care much because I couldn't wait to get inside and post the story for you all to laugh at.

The worst part? The only reason I was watering at this particular moment was so that all the little birds could get some water from the planters. What's up with me and the birds this summer?!?

The Scene In Which I Am Starting To Smell (aka Renovations Day 4, 5, 6 and 7)

2010-08-09T09:22:00.004-04:00

Hey renovation fans! Sorry to leave you hanging over the weekend as I ignored the massive mess in my house and drove off to Toronto for a wedding.

As for the title of the post, fear not: I AM, in fact, showering elsewhere for the duration of my own shower being ripped apart.

At any rate, Day 4, 5 and 6 brought a lot of slow, steady process as the flooring was laid in the upstairs bathroom, then partially grouted over the weekend, and the downstairs was grouted as well.

My front porch was also turned into a makeshift workbench, complete with wet saw for tile. Pretty sure my neighbors thought this was the coolest part :)

Today (Day 8) Eric from Jensen Tile is finishing up the grout upstairs and then the tile guys are DONE! New fixtures also go in today, as well as the upstairs toilet being hooked back up. With any luck, we'll have two functioning toilets, one functioning shower, and one functioning sink (kitchen) before the end of the day.

Tomorrow Jeff and Jason from M-Wood come to assess all the work and set a timeline over the next couple days for the odds and ends they are doing- changing out some of the vanity fixtures, installing the new downstairs vanity, changing out light fixtures, etc. I'm VERY excited to see the new wood trim for my bathroom, as it was the only place in my entire historic home where the trim had been painted over the original color. (Though I'm luckier than a lot of my neighbors in that regard!) They'll also be doing some work in my kitchen- namely, installing a new dishwasher and sink for me!

With that, I am off to purchase said kitchen updates.....and I'll be posting more photos of the FINISHED SHOWER later!!

The Scene In Which I Am Out Of Title Ideas (aka Renovations Day 3)

2010-08-04T15:58:00.003-04:00

Can you guess what THIS is?

If you guessed "my awesome new shower," you'd be right! But you'll have to wait for at least one more day to see the end result, 'cause it's not quiiiiiiiiite finished yet.

Since we're on the topic, though, have I mentioned how much I LOVE JENSEN TILE OMG?

Because I do.

I also LOVE M-WOOD CORPORATION OMG.

Because you asked.

And since you asked, here's the story of how I came to know and love both these companies.

Awhile back (like 5 years ago when I moved in) I knew I'd eventually renovate the 1.5 bathrooms in my condo. As the years passed I'd get around to a place where I had the time and cash to do so, and inevitably, something else would crop up on the priority list....big time.

Stuff like ceilings falling in.

Anyway.

I finally came to the point where I was ready to have the bathrooms done and called in Jeff Morgan from M-Wood Corporation. Being that he's the husband of a Butler pal, and has done amazing work for his own home and other clients, he was a natural choice. Over several drafts of design plans and estimates, we crafted a solution that combined total renovation with the ability to save some cost by doing the materials search-and-purchase myself.

Since Jeff's talents lie largely in the woodworking arena, he often brings in Eric Jensen with Jensen Tile to do that aspect of it. Several weeks ago, both of these guys as well as a couple members of the crew came over for a walk-through of the project and a brainstorming session- which I can't rave about enough. I had a fantastic time plotting out some of the ideas I'd had for the shower and bouncing ideas off the two professionals, who (as you'd expect) contributed some amazing thoughts as well. Given the materials I'd already purchased, they came up with a basic design.

Before Eric started this week, I laid the tile out on the floor of the living room and played around with the area that would be the mosaic center of the shower- and as soon as Eric walked in on the first day, he got right down on the floor and started checking out all the ideas! With his knowledge and expertise, we came up with a great design- and I loved that I was able to really see what I'd be getting on my wall. That especially allowed me to trust his judgement on other tile decisions.

AND I'M SO GLAD I DID.

Can't wait to share more photos with you tomorrow!

The Scene In Which They Are Making Progress (aka Renovations Day 2)

2010-08-04T09:12:00.003-04:00

Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, but by the time I got back from a 2 1/2 hour trip to Lowe's - and because of the stomachache induced by the mid-trip dinner at China Buffet - I lacked the energy to do an update.

However, energy is one thing Eric, Eric, Josh and Josh have NOT lacked over the last few days! Yesterday (Day 2) they created and installed a new subfloor in the upstairs bathroom and completely built the shower.

Photo!

Today (Day 3) I'm told exciting things are in the works- and because I haven't left for the day yet, I know it's true! Fingers crossed, today the entire downstairs bathroom will be ripped out (they're already half done) and re-tiled, with the toilet installed. Also today, tiling will commence (and possibly finish) in the upstairs shower, and well as getting started on the floor. Eric and I have been working with a couple shower layout designs that include some cool mosaic tile I found, and I think we've hit on a neat solution. No sneak peeks though- just the real thing, hopefully today or tomorrow!

The Scene In Which The Floors Are Sloped (Aka Renovations Day 1)

2010-08-02T11:10:00.004-04:00

Day 1 is complete as Eric, Eric, Josh and Josh (nope, not kidding) have finished the tear-out of the upstairs bath.

While I'm happy to report the tile came out easily (money-saver) I'm less thrilled to report that they discovered the floor actually has a gradual slope to it. And by "gradual slope" I mean there is a difference of nearly two inches between the door and the wall 6 feet away. So we'll have to fix that (money-sucker).

I've been waiting to purchase the "little things"- shower fixtures, lights, dishwasher, sink - until the biggest part of the tear-out was done and I knew how much it was going to cost (not knowing what was under the floor, we faced a range that spanned almost $1000 dollars!) With that in mind, I have an A-, B-, and C-list of the things I'd like, and it looks like we'll be going with the B-list items in order to make up some of the cost that will go into fixing the floor, now. Luckily, there are still some good deals to be had and I'm off to get them!

Photos!

The Scene In Which The 1930s Leave The Building (aka Renovations Day 1)

2010-08-02T09:18:00.003-04:00

Contrary to many home improvements that I've made over the years here at my historic condo (built in 1890, renovated in 1980, and worked on ever since), THIS week's projects have actually been in the works for several months.

Unlike the replacement of both furnaces, the time my kitchen ceiling fell in, the leaky skylight, the leaky roof, or the cat-attacked third floor carpeting, THIS project I actually WANTED to do, PLANNED to do, SAVED to do, and had a TIMELINE to do.

For this place? That's pretty unheard of.

Oh, you want to know what we're doing? Crazy!

(drumroll please)......this week, BOTH BATHROOMS are being completely torn out and re-done, as well as a couple other miscellaneous finishing tasks around the house!!

Our list includes:

1) Installation of a new kitchen sink that matches the appliances and decor better (changing from a silver sink in a white-and-wood kitchen to a raised-edge ceramic farm-sink-esque look)

2) Installation of a new dishwasher that (wait for it, waaaaaait for it...) WORKS.

3) Installation of a new piece of trim around the step-up kitchen, which has been 5 years in the making after the dudes from Lowe's just put the old, non-matching-but-already-cut-and-we-don't-care piece back up after redoing my kitchen before I moved in.

4)Installation of a new light in the kitchen- an item that was added this morning after the demo in the room above caused the bulbs to, um....fall and shatter. Which became the final straw for a fixture I didn't install and have never loved, whose bulbs cost me $10 to replace. Gone.

5) COMPLETE RENOVATION of the downstairs bath, including:
- Ripping out the ugly built-in fiberboard vanity
- Ripping out the cute, but dated and nonmatching to the rest of the house, 1930s blue tile
- Ripping out the 1980s built-in fluorescent tube lighting. No, I am not kidding.
- Repairing the rotted subflooring (the impetus, in fact, for this room getting redone)
- Laying down new ceramic tile
- Installing new light fixtures
- Installing a new freestanding wooden sink unit with awesome ceramic bowl
- Painting over the paint job I did when I moved in back in 2005 (this is my DIY for the space)

6) COMPLETE RENOVATION of the upstairs bath, including:
- Ripping out the cute but dated 1930s tile
- Ripping out the ugly AND dated 1980s shower, which was conveniently tiled OVER the 1930s tile for extra work. Rock on, 1980s contractors.
- Removing the trim in the bathroom, which was/is the ONLY location in the house where the previous owners painted the historic trim white (Thankfully). This trim will be stripped and re-done to match the wooden trim in the rest of the house.
- Completely re-tiling my floor with two sizes of ceramic tile in a pinwheel pattern
- Adding four posts to the shower's corners
- Completely re-tiling the shower, including the addition of three built-in shelves, and some awesome mosaic work.

I am so excited to see this all come together!! More updates to follow!!

The Scene In Which I Am Cool FAIL.

2010-07-28T16:33:00.003-04:00

For some reason totally unbeknownst to me, the word FAIL has crept into my vocabulary over the past week. And not fail as in the "not achieving something" definition, but as in FAIL, "the ironic use of the word to indicate a situation in which you did not WIN."

You know, FAIL. That thing that was like, totally popular to say.....five months ago.

I caught myself using it to describe "not taking a photo with ratface FAIL" and "using the flash properly FAIL" when captioning photos on Facebook this weekend.

I also just used it in a status update, but to be honest, when the topic of your FAIL is a five-gallon bucket of paint cracking open in your car, it's ok to use no matter how long ago it was popular.

I may or may not have used it in an actual, human conversation yesterday. FAIL.

I'm totally behind the times. FAIL.

I just thought you'd like to know. In case, you know, you were under the impression I was like, totally rad or something. ('90s Valley Girl reference? No? Still uncool?)

The Scene In Which I Review Things (Pillsbury Brownie Minis Edition)

2010-07-28T15:09:00.004-04:00

Occasionally I have the opportunity to try new things, and as you'd expect, more often than not I have an opinion about those things. This would be one of those times.

I've been trying to be a little more cost-conscious lately, so when I saw a coupon for Pillsbury's new "Brownie Minis" I thought, well heck. Why not.

I finally got around to making them today, since I am (ahem, ahem) actually cooking dinner tonight and figured they'd be yummy to have for dessert.

With that, here's the Pros and Cons of Brownie Minis.

PRO: Two recyclable trays are included to make the brownies in.
CON: Two unreuseable, plastic, wasteful trays are included to make the brownies in.

PRO: Recyclable trays lessen clean up time.
CON: They recommend you put a tray underneath to catch drips, which you still have to wash.

PRO: You don't need to add eggs, just water.
CON: That means there's some kind of synthetic egg crap in them. Gross.

PRO: You can lick the bowl since there aren't any fresh eggs in them.
CON: You can't lick the bowl...unless you're willing to forfeit 1/12 of the mix.

PRO: You can make only half a batch at once.
CON: WHO THE HELL makes only half a batch at once?

PRO: They're neatly divided into 12 individual servings, and if you only eat 2, it's only 150 calories!
CON: WHO THE HELL only eats two??

PRO: With a coupon, they cost less than regular brownie mix.
CON: With or without a coupon, they produce less than regular brownie mix.

PRO: They cook in half the time of regular brownies.
CON: There's really no con to that. But seriously, who cares about the extra 10 minutes? Are you THAT desperate for brownies?

My verdict? Skip the minis, buy a regular mix, and use a reuseable mini-cupcake pan to bake them if you want the individual sizes. Better overall for your wallet and your world. Plus, FTW, the clean-up time you'll have burns calories, which means you can eat more brownies!

This review was unsolicited and uncompensated. Pillsbury definitely did not request that I try or talk about this product. KThanksBye.

The Scene In Which I -Heart- Canada.

2010-07-10T00:21:00.004-04:00

We're back! (And by back I mean REALLY back....because I forgot to post this last week after saving it!)

Thanks to the falling of 4th of July over a weekend this year (read: no weddings for Becky, extra vacation days for Cute Boy) we were able to take off for a vacation to Canada, where Cute Boy hails from.

And I -heart- Canada.

We stopped in Detroit for an evening to see my cousin, her husband, and her two cuties B & E. Speaking of things I heart? Those kids.

In preparation for our trip, I'd gone to Nuture to pick out baby gifts for her two kiddos, as well as two little girls we'd be visiting in Canada.

Because I don't have kids, I kind of forgot that clothes aren't the most exciting gifts to recieve when you're 3....especially when you're a boy.

After recovering from the nearly-tearful letdown, we managed to scarf some yummy pancakes together before Cute Boy and I headed out to drive the rest of the way to Toronto.

Apparently in Canada they celebrate this wacky thing called Canada Day. It's three days before our Independence Day and basically celebrates the same thing with the lighting of lots of fireworks.

Which, since you asked, we got to watch from the 23rd floor patio of Cute Boy's good friends who dwell in downtown Toronto. Heart their condo. Heart their friendship.

Speaking of things I heart, small-towns-that-you-can-nearly-miss rank right up there in fondness for vacation places, so I was pretty happy the next day when we hit the St. Lawrence Market for some excellent provisions, loaded up the car, and headed up to Apsley, a blink-and-ya-missed-it town northeast of Toronto.

Anyplace with driving directions that include "when you get off the highway, keep going until you turn at the Coffee Time" is pretty much awesome with me.

We spent a yummy weekend basking in the sun and lake at Cute Boy's aunt's cottage, hanging out with several of his uncles and five of his teen-ish aged boy cousins. Heart. Heart them tons. Had a blast getting to be surrounded by all that energy all weekend. (Seriously? These kids have endless energy.Possibly fueled by their ability to ingest entire refridgerators worth of food in single gulps.)

Beyond boating, breaking tubes (ahem...ask Cute Boy about that), and grilling lots of yummy things to eat, we also achieved such milestones as 1)learning how to turn on water 2)learning how to start a boat 3)learning how to lock and unlock doors.

It was a big weekend.

Heading back on Monday, we chilled in Toronto another night before heading out to the 'burbs to "Nine & Dine" (golf & eat) with friends there and stay with Cute Boy's uncle and aunt for the night. Because we're awesome like that, it was the hottest day of the year in Toronto. Great day to golf :)

All in all, an awesome vacation!! Thanks everyone who hosted us!!

The Scene In Which We Have One Year, Interns, Cute Puppies and Other Shiny Things

2010-07-02T13:21:00.003-04:00

I meant to write a witty introductory motif this morning, but I'm too distracted by the cuteness of Cute Boy, who is stomping around on an air matress "deflating" it.

So far it's not working.

It is, however, amusing our friends' 3-month old Goldendoodle puppy Marty, or, as I prefer to call him, "the cutiest squishiest smooshiest teddy bear puppy baby EVER!"

He's yipping and play-bowing to a sweatshirt right now. Be still my heart.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to need to have a Goldendoodle at some point.

At any rate, I've been feeling a bit neglectful of the poor blog lately, but for good reason- business has been busy!! Last weekend brought three weddings for the flower biz, and thankfully my mom came in to help me and my intern out.

What's that? Did I say intern? OH YES I DID.

Because I have one.

And she rocks. She's super creative, a fast learner, and absolutely the best first employee I've ever hired. I'm going to cry when she leaves me to go back to high school in the fall but I'm really hoping I'll get to keep her on some Saturdays since she lives nearby. If you want to check out a project aside from flowers she recently helped with, check out Becky Gets Crafty! (It'll be the aprons, when I get around to posting them.)

Speaking of the biz, big milestones there! In June we hit our official "Becky has been self-employed for ONE WHOLE YEAR" mark- woohoo! The studio is nearly finished and we've got a grand opening coming up in about two weeks.

Also celebrating a year last week was.....drumroll please.....me and Cute Boy! It's hard to believe that it has been a year since that cute guy who lived in the condo behind me informed me (not asked, informed) that I was going to a concert with him and some friends....and that the rest would turn out to be history. Speaking of things cutesy and smooshy, we had an awesome one-year dinner at Dunaways, where minus a few cocktail drinkers at one point, we had the entire rooftop to ourselves. Score one for Wednesday anniversaries and impending thunderstorms!

And now we're hanging with some friends, celebrating Canada Day today and getting ready to celebrate the 4th of July this weekend...more blogs to follow later about our trip!

The Scene In Which Jane Has An (Everlasting) Heart Condition

2010-06-23T12:17:00.000-04:00

Meet Jane.

Jane's got a dream. She's got ambition. She's got "that thing" you can't help falling in love with.

Which brings us to another thing Jane's got.

A heart condition...one that many of you are probably familiar with.

Love.

And Jane? She fell hard.

She wrote about the experience and let me take a sneak peek into one of her diaries. This entry, from 2009, was written shortly after Jane moved to the Big City of Chicago.

-------------------------------

October 15th, 2009

OKAY! So I have officially living away from everything I've ever known and loved for exactly 2 months 5 days and 4 hours...something like that! I am finding myself to be someone that I don't recognize anymore, sort of. Does that make sense?

My roommates Becky* and Les are great, well I don't see Becky that much but Les is one of the best friends I've got here. He is amazing! The other day he was making me breakfast, which was awesome by the way, he was saying something and I just remember getting lost in what he was saying all I could see was (prepare yourself for some awesome cheesiness) his giant smile! Seriously he just.....just...he brings me to a loss! He is one of those people that walks into a room and makes that room just a little more enjoyable to be in. When he's not home all I wonder if or when he's gonna get home....and who he might bring home(which is a whole other thing). I am sure I am just feeling this way because of the recent break up with Noel and moving to a new city blah blah blah. I mean just because I think he's amazing doesn't mean we have to "be" together ya know? Plus he is one of those guys/people that breaks your heart over and over again!

So my two goals this month are 1. Put Les in the friend zone 2. Find publisher in Chicago 3. Word of the Month: feckless.

-Jane

PS: Noel won't stop calling me!
PSS: Noel has made feckless attempts at getting me back....(I think that's right...hmmmm...)

*Becky who writes this blog is not Jane's roommate.

--------------------------

Now, if you're anything like me, you want to know what happens to Jane. Does she get back with Noel? Does she fall for Les? Is Les the guy who breaks her heart? Does she use "feckless" correctly?

I know I want to find out what happens to Jane, but if you want to know, here's what you have to do:

Fund the ending of her story.

You see, while Jane is a love-loving loveable gal, she's also the brainchild of writer Stephanie Wyatt, director Drew Pientka, and producer Kelli Weber.

And without YOUR help, Jane may never find her love....or finish her film.

So what can YOU do? Log on to Kickstarter.com and pledge to donate $10, $50, $100, $1000, or whatever you can afford towards Jane's condition. The film needs to raise $15,000 between now and July 18th.

If they do, you'll get to find out how Jane's story ends.....and if they don't, you'll be left wondering forever (though, as a cool Kickstarter feature, if they don't reach their goal you won't be charged what you pledged).

You can watch an unedited teaser of the film, plus an interview with Stephanie Wyatt and "Les" (Matt Devine) on the site, plus learn more about what they need- namely, as Matt says, for everyone to "pony up some dough!"

Please join me in backing Jane in her crusade for love!!

The Scene In Which My Sacrifice Has Not Pleased The Gods (aka...Baby Birds Part 2)

2010-06-19T16:14:00.005-04:00

Here's the thing.

I'm really starting to worry that the birds are out to get me.

It started last year, when devoted readers might recall I survived a vicious seagull attack while vacationing in Italy.

I'm still mocked for this.

Then, as you may recall, back in April I had an unfortunate run-in with several baby birds (if you haven't read the story, it's about halfway through the post) resulting tears, guilt, and the worst trip ever to Lowe's.

In an attempt at karmic retribution, I slaved over making this for the birds who call my yard home, and modestly thought that my offering, though humble, would appease the wrath called down upon me.

IT HAS NOT.

Because now, an adorable robin has decided that the wooden planter on my porch would be an excellent spot to build a nest.

And lay eggs.

And NOW, I have more baby birds on my conscience. Because every time we leave the house, we scare Mom off the nest. Every time we come home, we scare Mom off the nest. Every time I let Finn out, I scare Mom off the nest.

And from what I hear, when Mom's eggs hatch she's going to become a protective sort. The sort who, rather than just flocking to the nearest tree for a moment, is going to start dive-bombing me as I try to enter the house.

So I'm going to scream and wave my arms around like a crazy person. And then I'm going to scare her away with my smell and Finnigan is going to scare her and the cute little eggs that have hatched into cute little babies might die and I'm going to be responsible and I'm going to cry.

So you see, I need to appease the birds. And quickly.

Suggestions are welcome.

The Scene In Which Apparently Asian Porn Stars Are Reading My Blog

2010-06-13T15:54:00.004-04:00

If you've made a comment lately, you've noticed that I've taken away the "unmoderated" comment ability and replaced it with the "Becky will have to approve this comment" notification.

This is because Asian porn stars have been reading my blog.

Or, rather, Asian porn star website bots have been automatically commenting on my blog.

Because, you know, I don't really think Asian porn stars are reading my blog.

And while I do enjoy that they take the time to write witty little mots ("Forgive others, but not yourself!" was a favorite- awesome for the self-esteem) I'd rather they just left my little bloggy alone so that the rest of you non-porn-star promoting peeps could comment without the hassle.

Do you have a blog? If so, how do you get rid of this while still allowing for the "conversation" that comes with blogging?

The Scene In Which The Insects Are Taking Over

2010-06-09T15:35:00.003-04:00

Has anyone else noticed that, regardless of where you hang your hat these days, it's been a really buggy spring and summer?

(Ok, maybe not totally regardless of where you hang your hat, because I'm betting that in, say, Antarctica the mosquitoes aren't stinging too badly yet- but who knows!)

In our house, it started in early April with the minor appearance of about ten ants on our windowsill in the kitchen. We put out a trap, sprayed some Raid, and voila- problem solved.

Yeah right.

Pretty soon the ants were taking over where the mice left off this winter (thankfully) turning the kitchen into their new playspace.

A call to Circle City Pest Control remedied this mess with a natural solution safe for pets (awesome).

But it's not just the ants. Ohhhhhhh no.

(Cue the dark, ominous music.)

We've had two large spiders (and by large I mean, put your thumb and forefinger together in a circle type large) one of which I'm pretty sure was a wolf spider and, according to Cute Boy, virtually exploded when he whapped it with a magazine.

We've had a ton of moths, about ten times as many as we usually do, congregating around the outdoor lights and trying to find their way in.

And speaking of things flying around, OHMYGOD are there FLYING ANTS?!?! Because I'm pretty sure that's what those things look like and EW! Killed a good thirty or so of those in the last few days around the door.

(Cue scene of me crouching down to unlock my door and rushing inside frantically shaking out my hair after slamming the door shut.)

Can we talk creepy-crawlies? While I -thankfully- haven't killed any earwigs in the house this season, they HAVE take up residence in my new cedar birdfeeder. I'm not sure what to do about them and, as a result, haven't fed the birds in about a week.

(Side story: as I write this, my skin is LITERALLY crawling. I've stopped a good three or four times to shimmy around and scratch my arms. Eeeeeuuuuugggh!!!)

Luckily I have the Internet at my disposal (that is, until the rabid mutant bugs chew through the lines outside....) and have found this great list and these good tips for ridding yourself of common household pets.

However, I'd really love to know if everyone else is experiencing a buggy season right now, or if I'm due for another application of pest control to the outside of the house. How are the bugs at YOUR place this year?

The Scene In Which We Have A Perfect Day (And Then Lose Some Brain Cells) And Other Random Things.

2010-06-06T21:36:00.010-04:00

Today was a lovely day!

Following some ~~drunken debauchery~~ fun times at a wedding last night, Cute Boy was feeling a bit rough this morning. Having enjoyed myself as well - on top of delivering two events and setting up a wedding that morning - I was a little slow on the upstart too.

(Random side story? I did NOT have sore feet, because at the wedding last night, they had awesome baskets full of flip-flops for all the girls to change into! BEST IDEA EVER!)

Back to the morning.

First off, I slept in.

Which means "later than 7AM."

It was awesome.

Then I made amazing french toast with the world's best cinnamon bread and we crashed on the sofa, tuning into and then (wait for it) actually watching the entire "Amy Fisher: My Story."

I blame french toast coma.

At any rate, around hour 3 of laying on the couch I started to feel like I was in danger of my ass becoming permanently glued to the seat, so I dragged Cute Boy up and we headed to Holiday Park for a walk with Finn, who, ohmygodLOVED running in and out of the river.

(This exists!! In INDIANAPOLIS!! Doesn't it make you think of strolling around in European parks?? Love.)

(On the pillars at Holliday Park - my new favorite quote!)

(Finnigan is so stinkin' cute!!)

We met up with Cute Boy's sister and her pup Olly and then had a looooong late lunch at Plump's in Broad Ripple, which BTW? two thumbs up on the wraps.

And then we came home and turned on - wait for it - The MTV movie awards.

And for the past hour have been watching and listening to such brainiacs as Nicole "Snooki" from Jersey Shores (who, when outside on the red carpet, presented an award prior to the show and then looked behind her for the celebs to appear to collect it ROTFLMAO) and Kristin Stewart, who is really excited about winning her award "I guess."

I really, really, really do not want to watch Jersey Shores in Miami this summer, but I have a sinking feeling I'm going to wind up hooked.....if only so I can see it if that crazy short girl gets punched again. Who's with me???

The Scene In Which I Laugh Every Time I Read This

2010-06-01T11:57:00.002-04:00

For those of you who have never lived in Chicago, John Kass is a fairly hilarious columnist. This column was one that someone forwarded to me several years ago. I've recieved it a couple times since then. This morning, as I was cleaning out old emails I found a draft of it that I apparently meant to forward to someone (several years ago, truth be told!) and thought you'd appreciate the chuckle. I believe this first printed in 2002.

"MEMORY STUDY FORGETS THE MALE 'UH-HUH' FACTOR"
-John Kass

American universities are once again aggravating the heck out of me with another foolish study.

It belongs in the Women Remember Everything and Are Smarter than Men Department, as if men didn't know this already.

Neverthless, researchers at Stanford University were determined to rub it in.

The showed groups of women and men a series of photographs designed to evoke emotional responses, and the shrinks then used scientific gadgets to measure blood flow in the brain.

Pictures included fire hydrants, landscapes and a corpse- even a horrific bathroom scene. "A picture of a dirty toilet prompted a strong emotional response, especially from the women subjects," said a professor.

Men didn't get too worked up. I'm absolutely amazed.

Here are some of the findings:
1) Women have better memories than do men when it comes to emotional issues.
2) Women's brains allow them to recall these emotional issues with a finer degree of precision than do men, who really don't care.
3)Ergo, women remember spats with their husbands from 15 years ago and what their husbands failed to say, like "I'm sorry," and so it's always the guys' fault.

Which prompts me to offer my own conclusion: When it comes to remembering spats, men can't because we have tiny brains. And as we're being pelted by rememberances of things past, men's brains switch off involuntarily.

This prevents us from remembering what women told us. And women know when mens' brains have switched off because men say, "Uh huh, OK, yeah, uh huh," which infuriates them.

Clearly, the Stanford study is flawed. Though men dislike dirty tolets, women unfortunatley get stuck cleaning more of them because men are, well, selfish and evil.

And there are other flaws. For example, fire hydrants simply don't excite men.

Instead, they should have shown photos of a slice of Freddy's pizza in Cicero, the Chicago Bears logo, and a tasteful picture of Penelope Cruz.

The study "advances our understanding of the link between cognition and the underlying brain structure," researcher Diane Halprin said in a recent Associated PRess report.

Once she finished spewing shrink jargon, she got down to the fundamental issue: Women have infinitely finer memories for arguments than do their husbands.

"One reason for that is that a marital spat has more meaning for women, and they process it a bit more, "says Halprin.

They process it a bit more? Thats like saying China has a lot of Chinese people living there. As men sleep and snore, women lie awake at night, processing. They spring it on you when you're vunerable.

I've been with my lovely Sicilian bride for almost 20 years. And she teams up with my mom to remind me of what I can't remember.

Me: Hey! Let's go to the Sox game.

Lovely Sicilian: But we're all going to your cousin Nick's house for dinner.

Me: You didn't tell me. What cousin?

LS: Nick. We talked about it every morning this week. You kept saying, "Uh huh, OK, yeah uh huh."

Me: I don't have a cousin named Nick.

LS: Yes you do. Not the two Nicks from different restaurants, not the Nick the lawyer, not the Nick the bartender. The other Nick.

Me: Aw, can't we just go to the game?

LS: He married your cousin Angie. Not the Angie who's the artist. Not the Angie at the health club. The other Angie. We were at their wedding, remember?

Me: Of course not.

LS: We had an argument that morning. You wanted to go fishing instead, even though we RSVP'd. And you never apologized.

Me: When was that??

LS: Ten years ago this coming Saturday.

Me: You're making this up!

My Mom: No, she's not! I heard it. You agreed to go, and you said, "Uh huh, OK, yeah uh huh."

Me: I never said any such thing!

Mom: And in a fit of rage you demanded to go fishing, and you hurled a piece of toast with raspberry jam to the floor, scattering crumbs all about.

Me: Aieee!

LS: So there.

Mom: So there.

A few minutes ago, my wife called to warn me about today's column. She hates it when male columnists write about their wives, particularly when I do it.

"You're so unfair," sh said. "In these columns, you always play the child and I'm the mean adult and that's so untrue. And you always do it on slow news days."

Me: Really? I don't remember.

Ls: Yeah, there was the time when you were terrified of mice and the time that....

Me: Uh huh, OK, yeah uh huh.

The Scene In Which I Review Books

2010-05-25T20:55:00.004-04:00

A little over a year ago I started my first blog, "Just Can't Stop Reading," with the big, shiny idea that I was going to review books. And eventually find fame and (possibly) fortune as an online book reviewer. In my dreams, that fortune came in the form of free newly released hardbacks, a thought that still makes me shimmy a little.

I lasted approximately three months and about four book reviews.

Ahem.

As many of you know, it's been a crazy year doing this whole "be my own boss" thing. But I feel like that's finally getting under control. So last night, I finally got back on the book review track.

And if I last long enough to write another review, I hope you'll join me over there in reading them, commenting on them, and otherwise participating in the cool online world of blogging.

Happy Reading!

The Scene In Which I Can See The Future, And It's Covered In Vomit

2010-05-25T20:42:00.004-04:00

When I was a kid, my mom was the one who took care of us when we were sick. My dad might help out, but when the chips were down (or, er, coming up) in the middle of the night, it was Mom who got out of bed and dealt with the puker.

Family lore tells the story of the time my brother got ridiculously ill - and failed to "aim" correctly. For several hours Mom changed sheets, cleaned the bathroom, and otherwise dealt with the contents of Younger Brother's stomach. When my dad woke up at 6:30 AM to get ready for work, he surveyed the cleaning supplies, sniffed the air, and inquired casually, "One of the kids get sick last night?"

Today, I got a glimpse of the puke-future.

I was putting on makeup and getting ready for a morning meeting when Cute Boy came into the bathroom.

"I think the dog threw up," he announced.

I paused.

"You think he threw up, or he threw up?"

"Well, I mean he threw up kind of."

Finnigan does this thing where he gets coughing attacks and kind of spits up, so I inquired, "Was it spit, or actual puke?"

"It was mostly actual puke. I think."

...........

"Ohhhhhkay......thanks?"

"Yep. I'm going to go now," he said. "Bye!"

"Ok, I'm going to clean it up. Where is it?"

"At the end of the bed."

"ON THE BED?"

"No, on the floor."

"Ok, thanks babe."

I have seen -and cleaned- the future. And while there are no babies imminent for Cute Boy and I (we're kind of enjoying that thing called "dating" right now, thanks)I do plan on having them someday, and I do assume that at some point they will puke.

And now I know whose job that will be.

The Scene In Which Customer Service Isn't Dead

2010-05-23T20:25:00.004-04:00

I'm so tickled by what just occured that I had to blog about it!

Several years ago, when I bought my historic condo (I know, sounds weird, but trust me on this - it's a condo, and it was built in 1890), I knew it was going to need a little upgrading.

What I didn't expect was that in the first six months of ownership, I was going to get this phone call:

*ring ring*
Me: Hello?
BHS: Ma'am, this is Brinks Home Security, your motion detector is going off.
Me: Crap. I'm at work.
BHS: The police are on their way.

And that when I got to my house this would happen:

*unlocks door*
First IMPD: Stay here, ma'am......OH SHIT.
Second IMPD: What?....OH MAN.
First IMPD: Well, you can see what caused the alarm....
Me: (in a style reminiscent of Ralphie's "A Christmas Story" moment): Oh FUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDGGEEEE....... except I didn't say fudge

To make a long story short, my second floor combo AC/Furnace unit had given out and leaked. And the water had run through the wall and collected in the ceiling. And the ceiling had fallen down.

I'm not kidding. THE CEILING HAD FALLEN IN.

After we got that cleaned up, dried out, and otherwise fixed up I had the good fortune to make an amazing decision. I called King of Comfort Heating & AC (http://www.kingofcomfort.com/) to give me a quote on a new unit.

As it happened, they gave me the best price, and Mark (the owner) became my new furnace/AC guy. Since then, his company has faithfully called me every 6 months for the service that is part of the purchase package. Mark comes out and checks all the appliances and changes all my filters for me and generally keeps things running - and not just the AC. I'm singlehandedly crediting Mark and his suggestion to run a vinegar wash through the very, very old dishwasher once a month as having kept it running as long as it has- otherwise it would have been dead two years ago.

This winter, my furnace made an ugly sound when we first turned it on. Mark was there that day to change out a part. When the part wasn't enough to combat 20+ years of running (my downstairs furnace was installed in 1987!) he came out and installed a new one - in an unfinished, uninsulated basement on one of the coldest nights of the fall (YES NIGHTS, he had a full day of other appointments and installed mine at 8 PM) just so I didn't have to go a night without heat downstairs.

This spring, Mark's been calling me, and I haven't had a chance to call him back in the last week or two. See, now that the ground is thawed, he's got to run a line from my new furnace to the old AC unit so I can have AC downstairs. Since the house is pretty cool, I haven't been too on top of this.

Until tonight. When my doorbell rang at 8 PM. And Mark was standing on my porch.

See, he'd been working late at someone else's house nearby and thought of me as he was driving home past the condo. He remembered that he hadn't heard from me about hooking up the AC, and he was worried about me- not just for getting the AC hooked up, but because he knew it was really unlike me not to return a call. So he pulled over, came up, and rang the doorbell just to say hello, and see if he couldn't set up a time for me this week to come out and allow him to finish fixing up my AC? And by the way, how was the flower business going and did I find a space yet and how was that new furnace working out for me, did I notice the reduction in my heating bills this winter?

And THAT is why I still have faith in people, and faith in small business.

Because that? That is a rare story, my friends. And it should be recognized and celebrated.

Now, because I'm a cynic enough to be skeptical about other people who write "OMG AMAZING PRODUCT" blogs, I'm going to add this: Mark has no idea I'm writing this. And he definitely isn't giving me anything free in return (though a new filter would be nice.) This is just me, simply awed by the kindness and sincere service of another human being. And thinking that we should all try to be a little bit more like Mark.

The Scene In Which I Am NOT Going To Be A Retail Florist

2010-05-20T09:24:00.007-04:00

Recently, I had the opportunity to shine up my selling skills and host a small "shop" for my florist business during the Decorators' Show House. For two weeks and three weekends, I had the opportunity to interact with the people who came to the house.

For those who do not, and have not, worked in retail- may this post serve to educate.

For those who already operate successful retail businesses, this was my christening of sorts into that world. And yes, I can hear you laughing already.

Let me first start by saying that there were many nice people that I met, handed out business cards to, and who purchased merchandise from my area. And for that, I am grateful beyond words that my handmade products are considered worthy and valuable to people other than my mom and grandma.

And then there were these folks. In each interaction I will refer to them as PB (Potential Buyer).

To give you a slight bit of background on my booth - I am a wedding/special event florist. I relaxed my normal "no cash and carry" offerings to provide silk wreaths and decor, kalanchoe and azalea plants in potted ceramic planters, and a "Fresh Flower Bar" where people could pick out and take fresh flowers home in an arrangement I would make for them on the spot. That's it. That's what you've got to choose from in my area.

Customer 1:
PB (reaching out to touch, then squeeze, head of $2 rose right over the "DO NOT TOUCH" sign): Are these real?
Me: Yes, they are.
PB: Oh. I thought they looked too good to be fakes.
Me: Would you like me to make you a little bouquet to take home?
PB: Nope! (touching roses. touching daisies. touching all the flowers)(because darn it, if she's not taking them home, no one is!!) (seriously these crazies killed about two dozen roses this way).

That interaction happened about eighteen times a day, no exaggeration. I had SEVEN "DO NOT TOUCH" signs posted within a 3' x 3' area. Apparently FOR NO REASON.

Customer 2:
I look over (from about five feet away) to see this woman yanking flowers out of the Flower Bar (yep, the one with the DO NOT TOUCH signs all over it). Petals of other flowers she is destroying in the process are literally raining down on the floor.
Me: Can I help you make a bouquet?
PB: I want these flowers.
Me: Yes, that is great. Can you allow me to help make them for you? (aka STEP DOWN, CRAZY, you're killing everything in your path!)
PB: Well (yank) I just can't (yank) get these couple (yank) ones out without (yank) touching them, so I saw the do not touch sign (yank) but how am I supposed to get them otherwise?
Me: Ok, please stop. Please. Please let me help you not to damage any more flowers while we take those out for you.
PB: (Notices floral carnage) Oh. (Mercifully stops).
Me: Thank you. Now, what can I make for you?
PB: Well, I really just wanted this $1 worth of wax flower.
Me: ......................................(buries head in hands at sight of $20 worth of destroyed flowers).

Customer 3, 4, and 5 (through 8 million)
There was a lovely, if I do say so myself, silk wreath hanging in my booth. I'd used several high-priced silks to make it, and it was completely covered in large blooms, so the cost was $80. Not terribly unreasonable, given what it cost to create it. I also marked it down to $70 during the show. Approximately EIGHT MILLION PEOPLE touched, squeezed, shook, pulled on, and literally groped this wreath during the duration of the show. Here are just a few of them.

PB: This is lovely! How much? (I'd like to point out, the price tag was bright red and affixed to the wreath in a very obvious place.)
Me: Thank you. It's $80.
PB: $80! (Turns to her friend but continues to look at me, speaks in stage whisper) It's AMAZING how much they upcharge these!

PB: (Touch. Squeeze. Grope.) This is really cute. Is it really $10 marked down from $80???
Me: No, sorry, it's $70 marked down from $80.
PB: Oh.
-Pause-
PB: Well, I'd give you $10 for it.
Me: No. (Seriously? No.)

PB: (Touch. Squeeze. Grope.) I like this. Would you take less for it?
Me: Nope, sorry. 15% is a donation to the cause and the silks are high quality and cost quite a bit to produce.
PB: Ok. (Literally starts yanking at the blooms trying to pull them OFF the wreath).
Me: (Staring) Can you please not damage the wreath?
PB: (LOUD, IMPATIENT EXHALE) I'm just TRYING to figure out where you GOT these so I can go MAKE my own!!!
Me: Riiiiiiight....still, please stop damaging it.

The potted plants were also a high source of consternation. Apparently, once upon a time at another Show House, a landscaper offered large potted plants for your deck/steps and large potted hanging baskets for the home. I don't do that. Apparently I should.

PB: Where are you selling hanging baskets?
Me: I'm sorry, I'm not. That vendor is not here this year and I do not offer that service.
PB: (Staring me down)....Why NOT???
Me: I just don't. I'm a special event florist, it's not my specialty, I don't carry the supplies.
PB: Well, why NOT???
Me: Yeeeeeah. It's really just a "no."

PB: Are these potted plants?
Me: Yep.
PB: (To her friend, in another "stage whisper"). Remember when they used to have the NICE potted plants?
Me: Um, I can hear you.

PB: (Currently manhandling azalea plants with big "SOLD" signs around them)
Me: Can I help you?
PB: I'd like one of these azaleas.
Me: Those are sold, but I have two more of the same plants over here.
PB: (Sighing as if COMPLETELY weary of having to deal with SUCH incompetence): I KNOW. But I don't WANT those, I WANT these.
Me: Well, those are sold, but I have these two.
PB: I don't WANT those two. I want the ones that are SOLD.
Me: Yeeeeeeah, I'm not going to sell you those, they are sold.
PB: (SIIIIIIIIIIIIGH). Fine. (Flounces off).

Then there were the ladies who, inexplicably, treated all other shops as shops and my shop as a rest area/lunch spot/waiting room.

Me: (to a woman standing in my booth, staring at the fresh flowers, standing about an inch from me) Hi! Can I make you a bouquet today?
PB: (LOOK OF DEATH bears down on me) UM, I'm all-ER-GIC.
Me: Oh, sorry! We do have some silks if you're interested.
Her: (LOOK OF DEATH gets worse) Silks? Ugh. Silks are SO awful.
Me: Ohhhhkay, well, I don't know that there is anything here for you, then.
Her: (Condescending doesn't even begin to describe it) Well, NO, of COURSE there isn't. But I am WAITING on my FRIEND."
Me: "Riiiiiiight."

Me: (to a woman who has not only entered my booth, but has SAT DOWN in my chair and is leafing through her booklet): Hi, can I make a bouquet for you?
PB: (looking at me like I've just crawled out of the garbage heap): No? I'm just FILLING OUT MY BALLOT.
Me: Riiiiight, ok. (Continue to stand near her in her personal space so maybe she gets the hint).
PB: (Clues in to where she's sitting and what I've asked her. Looks at the flowers next to her and inquires scathingly) Did you mean with THESE??
Me: Guess not.

The discount ladies were another story altogether. Seriously, folks, it cost $20 to get into this event. It wasn't like it was some freebie off the street. These ladies treated the shops like they were a personal yard sale.

PB: I like that wreath. It's $60, right?
Me: Yep.
PB: Would you take less for it?
Me: Nope, sorry. 15% is a donation to the cause.
PB: Well, you know, it's the last day and all. I'm sure you'd rather sell it than take it home....?
Me: Nope. I'd rather sell it for $60. It's ok if it doesn't sell today, it's silk.

PB: Those flowers are nice. How much are the roses?
Me: Thanks! They are $2 each.
PB: Oh. Would you take $2 for two?
Me: No, sorry.
PB: What would you bargain on?
Me: Ummmmm.....prices are as marked.

PB: I think I'd like one of these $15 bouquets. How much are they?
Me: $15
PB: Oh. You're not selling them for less because it's the last day?
Me: No, sorry, that actually IS a discount from what they're worth.
PB: So what do they cost?
Me: $15
PB: Ok, but I'm a *insert membership in various organization here*. What does it cost for ME?
Me: $15
-blank stare-
PB: Um.....ok.

And that settles it, folks. If I had any aspirations of ever wanting to subject myself to this on a daily basis, I'd become a retail florist. My hat goes off to anyone with the ability to do this and NOT murder someone, 'cause I came close around the same time the nine thousandth person fingered that damn $70 wreath.

In closing, I want to thank the girls around me who shared in the incredulousness that was our PB's, and urge you to patronize their cool businesses!

Twisted Sisters
The Blue Door (65th & College)
Sew Divine
Periwinkle Paper and Home (on Guilford in Broad Ripple)
Ruth's Gifts (At Shows Only)
Friends (Hazel Dell Crossing in Noblesville)

I'd love to hear YOUR stories of retail craziness. Leave a comment and we'll publish some of our favorites!!

The Scene In Which I Restore My Karma, Lose My Voice, Eat Some Chocolate, and Open A Store (In No Particular Order).

2010-04-23T20:06:00.008-04:00

OH HEY THERE, blog world.

It seems like the last few weeks have really been flying by. I was talking to a good friend of mine today, E, who I haven't talked to in awhile (and who passed the bar exam! woot!) and she asked how my trip to Florida was. "Gosh," I thought/said, "it was so long ago, I have to think about it!"

It was THREE WEEKS AGO.

(I miss Florida).

Apparently this is what happens when you decide that it is a really good idea to try to move everything from your house to a new store, whilst trying to get ready for a two 1/2 week off-site show, whilst trying to meet with five new clients, whilst trying to spring-clean your entire house since of course, you've just moved all your small-business stuff out of it.

I'm pretty thankful for the leftover Easter candy I have to get me through this- that and the fact that some genius finally made Junior Mints in a box that is actually one serving size, as opposed to the typical 3 or 4 servings found in a box or in a candy bar.

Seriously, WHAT good is that to me?

If I'm in a place where I'm actually buying a whole candy bar, I think it is safe to assume that I want to EAT. THE. ENTIRE. BAR. RIGHT NOW. Regardless of calories. And I'd like the makers of candy bars to investigate why they think it is a good idea to list how many calories would be in, say, 1/3 of the bar at any given time. It just makes us feel bad, dudes!

I digress. But yes, you read correctly, I HAVE A STORE!! Pleased to announce that the flower biz has vacated the condo's kitchen and is now in the process of being organized into "something resembling a workspace and storefront" in the Butler Tarkington neighborhood. More info to follow.

In addition to the craziness that you might expect that to bring, I've managed to lose my voice due to ~~being a dumbass and playing Sing Star while already hoarse from allergies~~ allergy-inflicted laryngitis, which I am assured has nothing to do with anything I may or may not have done, said or sung but rather the massive amount of pollen wreaking havoc on the sinuses of Indianapolis this spring.

(Ignoring the fact that it gave me laryngitis, can I get a big THANKS UNIVERSE for the awesome spring weather this year? As in, we've actually had a spring? Not just a day where I turned off the heat and then later in the day turned on the AC * thank you, I grew up in Chicago * but a real, live, rainy, warm, plants-growing, people working outside, gardens blooming, SPRING? Love.) (Finnigan loves spring too. And eating my plants).

Back to the fact that for the better part of this week I've sounded like a teenage boy who hasn't, ummm.......well you know what he hasn't had happen yet.

I suspect that some of the laryngitis may have been universal retribution, which I have also attempted to amend this week after losing some major karma during an altercation involving a dead baby bird (DBB) last week.

I debated sharing this story, because it is AWFUL and will MAKE YOU CRY and will possibly make you want to punch me while crying out "WHY? WHYYYYY?"

In other words, Mom, stop reading now. Also any small children that might be reading this. (Sidenote- WHY would you be reading this blog if you are a small child?? Get off the Internet and go play outside! Sheesh!)

Here's the thing.

'Tis the season for baby birds and, hence, the season for baby birds to fall from nests. Because they haven't clued into the fact that Finnigan is blind, birds tend to avoid my porch as a nest-making option. Therefore, I am less clued-into watching out for the helpless fledglings and DBB's as others might be.

But last week I went to deliver flowers to someone's house and that's where THE AWFUL THING HAPPENED.

Unbeknownst to me as I traipsed up the front walk with a vase of flowers blocking my view, the homeowner had just removed a nest that she didn't know had eggs. The eggs had fallen to the porch floor, where as you might assume, they had broken and the occupants had died.

I can't stress this enough. THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD.

At any rate, I couldn't see them, and (I can't do anything to make this sound better) I stepped on one. And then, of course, I looked down to see what strange object I had squished with my flip flop.

AND NEARLY THREW UP/SCREAMED/CRIED.

My first instinct was to run for the car and sob for about 25 minutes, but as I'd already rung the doorbell, I had to remain calm and deliver the flowers. After they were safely inside and the door had shut, I (already starting to cry) examined the other fallen ones to determine that they were, in fact, already deceased and my careless stepping hadn't caused additional suffering and pain.

Despite that, I still went back to my car and cried about the DBB as I drove to the post office. I also nearly threw up about 8 times that day thinking about it and, frankly, have been choking it back as I write about it.

(I also can't stress THIS enough. If the person whose house I visited reads this, please know I absolutely, positively, in NO WAY hold any grudge against you for this unfortunate incident!!)

I got my taxes safely sent (hopefully the clerks assumed my teary face was the result of having to write those checks!) and headed out to do some other errands.

One of those included stopping at Lowe's for supplies for a weekend workshop in our neighborhood, involving- of all things- painting birdhouses and birdfeeders. In an attempt at karmic retribution, I purchased THE NICEST multiple-perch, 2' high cedar birdfeeder I could find to paint and hang in the yard. And then I spent bits and pieces of four days painting it green and orange with flower accents and pink polka dots. It made its debut this morning. They like it.

I also spent most of the day tearing up with every step I took, because (unbeknownst to me) I had actually stepped in a large wad of gum somewhere shortly after the birdie incident. Therefore every step I took I stuck to the floor a little bit. Therefore every step I took I assumed there was little bits of DBB gunk sticking to my shoe in a mad, "OUT, DAMNNED SPOT!"-esque mindset. Therefore I was in tears or in gag-mode most of the day and actually considered throwing the shoes away.

That would be when I discovered the gum.

In a really sick sort of way, that's actually kind of funny when you think about it.

But the feeder looks really nice. If you want to learn more about how easy it was to make (I can't resist!) check out BeckyGetsCrafty.blogspot.com!

(My house is not for sale, my neighbor's is. Photo angles rock.)

The Scene In Which I Cake-Fail....

2010-04-07T11:29:00.003-04:00

.....is now up at Becky Gets Crafty!

(Because it's too good of a laugh to miss - even if it IS about baking!)

The Scene In Which My Mom Does Not Like Pina Coladas

2010-03-28T08:34:00.005-04:00

I've been vacationing in Florida for the past, oh, week or so (I know, rough life) and this Friday, my parents arrived from Chicago for their vacation week. We overlap for a few days, so we're staying in the same apartment room at the lovely small island resort we love so much.

To welcome them to their first day in the sun on Saturday, I whipped up a batch of my now-famous strawberry pina coladas, and, as you'd naturally expect, treated them to a loud, somewhat off-key rendition of "IF you LIKE Pina Coladas....."

To which my mother announced, in a fit of years-held-back disdain, that she "HATES that song."

"Seriously?" I asked (since I'd been singing it all week.)

"Oh my GOD, yes," she replied. "That guy is such a douchenozzle!"

Let's pause momentarily in appreciation of the fact that my mom not only knows, but uses, phrases like "douchenozzle." Because it pertains to later usage, here are Mom's definitions of the phases of "douchiness."
A douche is just kind of like your average idiot.
A douchebag is somebody that actually causes me some problems, like somebody in traffic who cuts me off.
And a douchenozzle is just a breath away from being a dickhead, or possibly an immediate elevation to major dickhead.

You heard it here first.

Back to the story.

I couldn't get the song out of my head, so I kept on singing and that's when we started coming up with all the douchiest lyrics in the song and rating them on levels of doucheness. My helpful dad looked up, and then began to read aloud, the lyrics. My mom inserted helpful appropriate remarks.

I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long. (DICK, she muttered under her breath.)
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.(OH, yeah, NICE, she's laying right next to you, you jerk.)
And in the personals columns, there was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain. (I mean, come on! She's looking for someone with half a brain and then later, he doesn't realize that it means SHE THINKS HE DOESN'T HAVE ONE?!)
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.(Yeah. Douche. )
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine. (Asshole. Anyone who calls their girlfriend their "old lady" is automatically a douchenozzle.)
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad. (Right.)

"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's where we'll plan our escape." (See? SEE?? Already planning to ditch her. What an douche.

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew". (See, this relationship is already doomed. How do you NOT know these things? BAD COMMUNICATION.And they're both willing to be adulterers.)

"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape.
Then you're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, come with me, and escape."

At this point my dad offered up a philosophical question. The narrating man may have been willing to cheat on his "old lady," but was she the bigger douchnozzle for having been the first one to place a personal ad??

My mom pondered this for a moment.

"No, I guess just deserve each other."

The Scene In Which Something Big Descends From Heaven

2010-03-25T19:10:00.003-04:00

Something amazing has descended from heaven just in time for the upcoming Christian holiday of Easter, and it's not Jesus.

It's better than Jesus.

(Folks, it's called creative license. Go with me here.)

Recently I was having a discussion about Cadbury creme eggs with someone (for the life of me I can't remember who) and the conversation turned from their chocolatey, soft-fondant filled supreme gooey yummines to, well, their not-so-awesome packaging and size.

Practially guaranteed to melt and drip all over your fingers, these little eggs also come wrapped in a pathetically small amount of oft-ripped foil, making you cringe as you realize that you've mistakenly grabbed one in the store that has been exposed to not just your grimy mitts, but those of everyone who reached into the container before you.

Sidenote- I remember who it was that I was talking to. It was the checkout guy at CVS, because I was getting one of them as a splurge when I went in to pick up some things for my trip. It was the one that always chats to everyone about what they're buying, and the reason he lit on the Cadbury eggs was because, um, the other items in my basket were a bottle of shampoo, my no-baby pills and Tampax. (Which, as we all know, you Do. Not. Make. Conversation. About. with the checkout folks. Seriously, it's bad enough that people who graduated from my university work at the pharmacy and I have to go in there and be all like oh hey, I used to have astronomy with you! Um, yeah, I need a refill of my no-baby pills. Thanks.)

Anyway.

Back to the important stuff.

Because today, I made one of the most important Eastertime discoveries since the tomb door rolled back and old Jesus wasn't inside.

Mini. Cadbury. Creme. Eggs.

By the dozen.

In a mini plastic egg container.

Love.

And not the ones we've all seen and THOUGHT were the mini-creme eggs but then turned out to be just plain milk chocolate Cadbury eggs or, worse, Cadbury knock-offs filled with peanut butter or crunchiness.No, folks, these were honest-to-goodness, bite-sized, no-mess, no-grimy-mitts-touching, Cadbury creme eggs.

It was like one of those moments where the clouds break, the beam of light shines down, and the chorus sings, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

It's good stuff.

Now if you'll excuse me.....

PS: Despite the blatant product placement, I was not in any way endorsed by Cadbury for the publishing of this post. But if anyone from Cadbury happens to read this, I'm open to the opportunity. Just send 3 samples of each item in your catalogue and I'll get right on those reviews!

The Scene In Which Starbucks Goes Suicidal

2010-03-08T15:11:00.003-05:00

Recently I was lamenting that I hadn't had a blog-worthy Starbucks visit in awhile- which seemed strange, as I've been frequenting them on a basis that many would, and do, deem as insanity (last week the record was three meetings at different Starbucks in one day?).

"Hah!" the universe said to my lament. "Fear not, for I will throw weird new Starbucks music and a cast of blog-worthy characters your way, posthaste!"

And it was so.

Following the tragedy that was Valentine's Day music at Starbucks, it seems the stores have introduced a new genre to their stores: "Let's Go Kill Ourselves."

I first noticed this two weeks ago, as I sat with Mother, Younger Brother, and Friend S at a Starbucks.

During a lull in the conversation, the sad strains of the overly dramatic violins cast a pallor over our table.

"Um, does this song make anyone else want to go kill themselves?" I questioned.

"No kidding!" Mother said.

"It sounds like one of those songs in the black-and-white movies," said Friend S.

"Yeah, one of those movies where the woman kills herself at the end!" Younger Brother chimed in.

"By jumping from a balcony!"

"Yes! She's standing there...."

"Gazing out over a rolling sea...."

"In a long white dress with a scarf wrapped around her neck, blowing in the wind..."

"And then the camera cuts back to the apartment and the cat sitting on the couch....."

"And the wind blows the curtains in from the open door...."

"And then it goes back to the outside, and there's nothing on the balcony but the scarf, caught in the metal rail...."

"And then over the horizon on the rolling sea, the fisherman boat she thought was lost forever carrying her lover appears!"

(music swells to hideous crescendo)

"And then the credits roll."

The Scene In Which I Am A Twit.

2010-02-22T11:56:00.002-05:00

This morning, as I was cleaning out various email inboxes and working on my project of getting them all organized into one space, I came across a realization that made me giggle.

Frequently, I tag emails or stories for future blog posts, and today I finally got around to creating a folder in my inbox for them. Not wanting to write out "that wasn't in the script," I, naturally, abbreviated it.

And realized that spelled TWITS.

And had to share that with you.

Happy Monday!

The Scene In Which I Start Another Blog.

2010-02-17T22:40:00.003-05:00

I know.

Trust me, I can't believe it myself.

But, (and Cute Boy laughs every time I say this because he knows it means I've been putting a lot of thought into whatever I'm about to pronounce): HERE'S THE THING: I had to do it.

I had to do it because the other blog I've started is, in fact, a craft blog. And while I know that my audience here might enjoy the occasional craft story (especially when they go awry- like the time when I was 11 and my friend Lisa and I decided to have an "ocean-themed art show" in my basement and decided mood lighting in the form of putting a blue plastic bag over the lightbulb was a good idea....) I can't imagine starting a blog post here with "Today I was creating these supercute felt flower/button pins!"

I had to do it because once I had the idea to do it, I was off and running with more ideas for more posts and, had I put them all on here, this would have turned into a craft blog anyway.

And finally, I had to do it because - if we're being honest - if I'm going to go ahead and share cake recipes, flower-making tips, and knitting know-how, I think it's best if those things are separated from posts about trying to learn to ski, or vacations in Toronto with Cute Boy.

Thus, a Blog Was Born, and it can be found at www.beckygetscrafty.blogspot.com should you be inclined to pull out your yarn anytime soon.

But trust me, should hilarity, embarassment or utter failure occur during the creation of any crafting - you'll be the first to know, right here.

The Scene In Which It's Just A Snowy Saturday

2010-02-06T10:40:00.007-05:00

There's probably a more clever way to start a post about snow than "It snowed in Indy last night," but despite waiting for one to come to me, it hasn't happened. Yet.

So.

It snowed in Indy last night.

As far as Midwestern snow storms go, it wasn't a bad one. We got about 9,000 feet or approximately 8 inches, depending on who you hear it from. A couple cars probably slid off the road somewhere (but those were undoubtedly manned by out-of-state drivers, 'cause Hoosiers are accustomed to driving in snow given that it happens every year here).

I am fortunate enough to live on a street used as a main thoroughfare for people who live in Carmel, Fishers, Geist, and other NE Indy neighborhoods to get home from downtown, so -dictated largely by the fact that if any of those cute commuters had to find an alternate way home through big, bad downtown Indy they'd freak - my street is often one of the first plowed in the city. True, the plows coming through often mean that I then have to scrape four layers of gunk off my car, but hey, it's also the one time each year that the drivers on Delaware actually observe and, even (gasp!) OBEY the 35mph speed limit, so my odds of "death by driveby" as I try to scrape out my car are lessened. WIN!

So driving, and street plowing, are not my major beefs with this particular snowstorm, you see.

Shoveling, however, is.

There's a perfect storm of things happening here, you see.

First and foremost, I pre-emptively shoveled a path last night. Frickin' guaranteeing that I'd be laughed at by Mother Nature.

Secondly, I really, really, REALLY wanted to get snowed in today. I wanted to be stuck at home with my pjs, my dog, my seven channels of HBO, the awesome purple yarn I am making someone (myself, maybe) a funky criss-cross scarf out of and the awesome multicolored yard from Mom that I am making someone (someone else, but I don't know who yet) a skinny pompom scarf out of, and have everything else in my life be cancelled.

Third, both Younger Brother and Cute Boy are out of town this weekend, leaving me to handle the transferring of 8 inches of slush-and-snow off the walkways by myself (not that it would be different if they were here, because Cute Boy has his own house to worry about and Younger Brother tends to be oblivious to these kinds of homeownership chores, but dang it, you KNEW we'd get more snow when I was alone to handle it!)

So you see, it wasn't a massive surprise to wake up this morning and find that of the 7 inches dumped on and around my house, about an inch had felt compelled to stick to the pathetic brown blades of grass sticking up out of my lawn, and the rest had drifted sideways to coat my steps and walkway in anywhere from 4- 24 inches of snow.

Super.

There's really not much more to the story other than I'd like some credit for hauling my butt out there and shoveling a decent path through the mess, especially knowing that Cute Boy is out of town and unable to give me a backrub for the next few days because HOLY HECK, shoveling snow makes me feel like I'm 85 years old.

Seeing Finnigan play in the snow makes it better though, because seriously, that dog is adorable. You would think that a blind dog would hate the snow for covering up all his scent markers, but HE. LOVES. IT. He loves it SO. MUCH. I wish I had a video to show you all how he runs back and forth and play-bows to the snow like it's going to move and play with him. Adorable.

In other news, I dreamt about baking last night, which I think is a sign I'll have to stop later and pick up some cupcake mix and icing - that is, if the frantic "Run On The Grocery Stores" last night hasn't thoroughly depleted the supply in Indianapolis....because you just know that everyone and their mother ran out to stock up their cabinets last night on the extremely unlikely odds that Indianapolis (say it with me: a city that gets snow EVERY year) would be blanketed in such an inexplicable amount that it would render us incapable of functioning.

(I almost went into a "years later, the discoverers would find the lost city of Indianapolis under the tundra" Pompeii-esque narrative here, but decided not to as that was really the only funny line I could come up with besides "sadly, the lack of hand-held can openers would spell the demise of the residents and their supply of canned goods after the power went out.")

I think I need to call an end to this post while I still can- after all, I've got to head back out in this snow soon! Hope you are having a wonderful Saturday.

The Scene In Which I Go Skiing and Other Winter Tales

2010-01-28T17:45:00.006-05:00

Last week, Cute Boy had MLK, Jr. day off from work and decided it was time to do something fun.

Now, remember, Cute Boy is Canadian, so naturally his idea of fun is to throw on a significant amount of clothing and go do something weird in freezing cold conditions, like run around on ice with blades attached to your boots while you attempt to maim your fellow man with large blocks of rubber propelled by sticks and the occasional punch to the groin, nose or head- i.e.; hockey.

My idea of fun usually involves less cold and/or violence, but because I've been working on this "trying new things" thing, we decided to go skiing.

Or rather, we decided that Cute Boy would go skiing, and I would attempt to learn how to go skiing.

Cute Boy's sister decided to come along for the ride, namely because she was at risk of her Canadian citizenship being revoked as she hadn't been skiing in a number of years.

We donned (or, you know, stopped to purchase and THEN donned) our respective layers of ski clothes. In my case, I was looking to fill two objectives: 1)Insulation; 2)Padding. Therefore my clothing of choice included knee-high socks, padded hiking winter socks, hot pink long underwear leggings, sweatpants, waterproof ski pants, a patagonia level-3 shirt, a thin-cotton turtleneck, a thick-cotton turtleneck, my down coat, a hat, and fingerless mittens to wear under ski gloves borrowed from Cute Boy.

Remember that scene from "A Christmas Story" where the kid gets all bundled up by his mom and then starts freaking out and she unwraps the muffler and he goes, "I can't put my arms down!" and she tells him to put his arms down when he gets to school and wraps him back up?

Yeah.

We arrived at Perfect North, rented our equipment, and suited up in a reasonable amount of time, considering it was difficult for me to tell the difference between a right boot and a left boot, not to mention requiring a lesson in both putting on skis and putting on your other ski glove when you've already got one on.

Then we hit the slopes.

Or rather, the bunny slope.

Despite the sign warning "Friends don't let friends teach them how to ski," I was fairly confident in Cute Boy's ability to teach me the basics- my only concern was how quickly he'd become frustrated with my frequently anticipated falls.

I'll spare you the story of my three successful runs down the ~~ridiculously steep sheet of ice they called a run~~ gently sloping bunny hill, except to say that there were waaaay too many people on it for the fact that most people there don't know how to ski yet and seriously? I do not like being passed by 5-year olds.

Following the bunny hills we ventured to a higher start point on the bunny hill, and after one run of that, Cute Boy and Cute Boy Sister decided I was ready to go up on a lift.

Ummmmm, I'm not sure about this......

We went up the lift.

To everyone's surprise, especially mine, I was halfway decent at skiing! The hill we chose was fairly gentle and sloping, and my first "real run" was a success, despite one or two falls. Basically, I was having trouble turning on my left side, and would panic when I couldn't turn as fast as I wanted to. With the option of slowing down via tree or slowing down via snow skid, I was opting for the snow skids and sort of "control falling" as I worked on learning to stop.

Whatever, they're MY falls and I'll justify them any way I want.

After a couple runs down the nice hill, CB and CBS decided I was ready for my next challenge- another hill that was "just a liiiiittle bit steeper." What the heck! I was ready!

I was not ready.

I SOOOO was not ready.

To give you an idea of how not ready I was, the hill consisted of two parts: first, a steeper hill that ran about 50 yards or so before depositing you on a plateau, after which you went down the larger, slightly less steep hill.

Number of falls on the first part? At least three.

I should have learned my lesson from that much but noooooo, I tackled the run.

It wasn't pretty.

I was laughing/crying/trying not to die too much to remember all the details, but I'm pretty sure I fell at least twice in less than 5 feet, I think several other skiiers nearly ran me down, I know that on several occasions Cute Boy had to stand in front of me to help me get up, and I think my finest moment was somewhere around halfway down when I sat down in the snow after a fall, threw my poles about a foot in either direction, and announced to everyone within 50 yards that I was NOT. HAVING. FUN. ANYMORE.

I'm not sure how we finally made it down, but it was at this point that I wanted/needed/demanded a break, so while CB and CBS went on a few more runs, I headed into the lodge for a simultaneous cool-down and warm-up.

I'm pleased to say that after regrouping, I did put my skis back on and head back out for a few more runs (though no more down the Hill O'Death.) Sadly, I missed accomplishing my goal of skiing an entire run without falling by the narrowest of margins and by the misfortune of winding up skiing next to some shithead 16-year old kid who wouldn't get off my butt and let me do my "swishy S's" across the run and sent me plunging into my last fall of the day (punk).

At least I left with my pride....if not a bruise on my butt that would stay with me for a week or so afterwards. But despite the number of falls I took, I'm actually looking forward to going again!!

Little did we know that skiing day would lead to a most pleasant run of January weather, during which even I (aka the coldest person on the face of Earth) ventured outdoors in just a sweater and scarf. Sadly, this weather came to a screeching halt two days ago, and despite the fact that I enjoyed the gorgeous sun today, HOLY MOTHER it is cold out there. Poor Finnigan froze his paws three times on our requisite "walk" around the block- which today was more like a sprint, given that it was one of those days where your snot kinda freezes in your nose when you breathe.

Have I mentioned we booked our tickets for Florida in March yet? We did. I can't freaking wait.

Have I mentioned that we went to Toronto over New Year's? We did. It was awesome. I had the best time seeing the sites, drinking Tim Horton's, and hanging out with some of Cute Boy's friends and I am really really looking forward to going back in the summer when it isn't 4 degrees out.

We also spent a hilarious night with some friends last weekend where I continued the "trying things that I don't think I'll be good at and thereby don't try so I won't be embarrassed" trend, by playing both Sing Star and Wii Bowling and OH MY GOODNESS, I love me some Sing Star and some Wii Bowling. I am already pumped for a rematch of Sing Star with some of the girls and can't wait until Cute Boy wants to play Wii Bowling with me.

In other winter tales, I have been asked to participate in the "Super Knits for Super Bowl" project, in which myself and other Indianapolis-based knitters will be making nearly 8,000 blue-and-white scarves for 2010 Super Bowl Volunteers to wear while they help out with the big event! I'll keep you posted on my scarves and how they turn out......that is, of course, if the NFL doesn't wind up with a lockout season. Apparently we're in danger of that (though this could have been resolved since Cute Boy told me about it last week- since let's be honest, I would be clueless if he hadn't explained it.)

And in final winter news, I've spent several of these cold dark days looking at studio spaces for my home business to be, well, not a home business in anymore! Yes, fans, the dream has come true and we are officially calling the experiment of quitting my job to do "this flower thing" a success. Keep checking back for more info when I find a space- I'm sure there will be lots of fun opportunities for me to battle inanimate objects as I work to paint, build, move and otherwise set up a new studio!

Hope Old Man Winter is treating you well, and let's all hope the groundhog does whatever he's supposed to next week so that we don't wind up with more winter!

The Scene In Which We Give To Haiti....And Everywhere Else Too.

2010-01-14T20:12:00.003-05:00

In the wake of the Haiti earthquake, a friend of mine posted an interesting question about why people give to emergency needs, but fail to give locally.

Simply put? It may just be easier.

Even though our generation is only in its 20s and 30s now, it is never too early (or too late!) to start giving to charitable organizations. However, many people often feel overwhelmed with multiple requests for funds- these days, it seems like EVERYONE needs money. And when we face emergency situations, such as the situation in Haiti, people give because the opportunities to do so are prevalent and easy.

So though absolutely no one asked for my opinion, I decided to share it anyway.

Here's my Plan for Successful Philanthropy:

First of all, get out all your donation receipts from last year. Didn't make any donations? Think of some places you'd like to donate to- based on causes that you care about.

Step 2: Make a list of all the places you gave to and the reason why. Then, separate these into categories of organizations.

For example, here's mine:

EDUCATION
My College- Because I attended it.
A Scholarship at My College- Because it is in honor of a friend of mine who died, and I want to give to support his memory.

ARTS & COMMUNITY
Dance Kaleidoscope- A great company I enjoy
The AIDS Fund- A cause I care about and volunteer for
Historic Landmarks Foundation- Another cause I care about with my house being historic
Planned Parenthood of Indiana- I support their education mission

LEGACY AND HONOR GIVING
Paralyzed Veterans of America- I give to this because members of my family have served, and because several of us give to this org (This is what "Legacy Giving" is- giving b/c your family does).
Heifer Project- I give to this on behalf of my family at the holidays (this is Honor Giving)

ANIMAL WELFARE ORGANIZATIONS
Indianapolis Zoo- Conservation work
Indianapolis Humane Society- Local work to rescue animals
Humane Society of the United States- National work to rescue animals

MISCELLANEOUS REQUESTS.
This is the category that things like "Haiti Earthquake" falls under. Did I expect to give to this fund this year? Nope. Will I give to it next year? Hopefully their won't be a need. However, putting funds under this header allows me to respond in an emergency.

Step 3: Write the amount you gave last year and add it up. (If you didn't give, skip).

Step 4: Choose a percentage of your income to give, or decide on a set amount based on past giving. If you're new to giving or don't make much money, try starting with figuring out just 2% of your annual income. You'd be surprised how much that is- and how far organizations can stretch that donation! Or, consider what skipping a night out could do- save that $60 you'd spend on dinner and a movie once per month, and you can give $720 this year.

Step 5: Prioritize your list and assign an approximate gift amount to each. Write that amount down. Then, when you actually make the gift, write down the real amount as well. Sometimes things happen and you can't give what you thought you might. Keep a ledger year-to-year of where your giving is going.

Step 6: Give!!

Step 7: Keep those donation letters for tax write-offs.

Above all, DON'T FEEL BAD about giving to some organizations and not others- the important thing is to give to causes that are important to you. Just make sure you GIVE! :)

The Scene In Which I Resolve Not To Resolve.

2010-01-11T10:56:00.004-05:00

Every year, it seems, Americans go a little nuts when Dick Clark drops the big ball and we start writing (or at least trying to remember to write) a new year on all of our checks. Because after the confetti hits the ground, we start thinking of all the little things we want to resolve to do in the new year.

We resolve to diet more.

We resolve to exercise more.

We resolve to clean our houses.

We resolve to clean our closets.

We resolve to stop smoking. To stop eating crappy food. To get out more. To stay in more. To do more. To do less. To say more. To say less. To do this or that or not to do this or that. TO CHANGE.

I hate resolutions, and here's why: when you've got to resolve to DO something you haven't already been doing, the reason for that is probably because whatever it is you want to be doing SUCKS.

And it probably sucks because, like so many, we don't really understand the what, how or why in actually reinforcing those behaviors.

So I'm not making a resolution this year.

Instead, I'm creating a belief statement, based on things I feel I can improve, maintain, or decrease in my current life. A belief statement, because unlike a resolution to change, I BELIEVE I can do these things.

For example, I BELIEVE I will continue to live a caffeine-free lifestyle in 2010. I BELIEVE in the health benefits and the better quality of life I have experienced since ditching the soda and coffee in 2009. I BELIEVE that I will continue to exercise on a regular basis and I BELIEVE that I am capable of exercising at least three times per week. I BELIEVE I will continue to make reasonably healthy food choices and I BELIEVE that I am capable of cooking more, and eating out less.I BELIEVE I am capable of sustaining my relationships with friends and family by spending quality (not quantity) time with the people I love. I BELIEVE I will continue to give of my time, energy and funds to causes that I feel better the planet. I BELIEVE I will keep my house organized and I BELIEVE that a big part of that will be when I open a studio outside the house for my biz, which I BELIEVE I will be doing in the early part of the year, and I BELIEVE that that business will have a successful year and bill over a certain amount in product and services (but I'm keepin' that number to myself, thanks!).

I'm not saying it's a foolproof system, but I have to think that when you can wake up in the morning and believe that you are capable of living the life you want, you've got a better chance for success than waking up and thinking of all the things you've resolved to change.

Or maybe I'm just a wellness-seeking, flower-making, knitting-loving, crazy hippie :) Regardless, I wish you much success in making 2010 whatever you want it to be!

The Scene In Which We Wish You A Merry Christmas....

2009-12-24T11:03:00.002-05:00

....and hope that wherever you are or whoever you are with this holiday season, you are surrounded by love.

....that when those same people surrounding you in love start surrounding you in burnt appetizers, dogs pooping in the corner and snotty-nosed kids screaming in your face, you'll remember where you stashed the vodka after last year.

....that you will remember those who aren't so lucky to be surrounded by love, and spend some of your time/money/energy to helping them have a better holiday. (You've still got 6 days to make a 2009 financial contribution to your favorite nonprofits!)

....and that, like Ebenezer Scrooge, you'll find the joy in the spirit of the holidays and pledge "I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all year long!

.....and a Haaaaaappy New Yeeeeeeeear!

The Scene In Which.... It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

2009-12-18T13:08:00.014-05:00

For those of you who don't know me well, the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas ranks right up there as one of my favorite times of year. (My other favorites involving anytime I'm not wearing 19 articles of clothing to stay moderately warm, but I digress).

This year in particular, Christmas has entered our house in full-force, possibly because for the first time I have a job that allows me to make pretty Christmas arrangements! So while Younger Brother might describe it as "If Christmas were a person, it just threw up glitter in our living room," I prefer to think of myself as one of Santa's little florist elves.

An elf who really, really, really needs a housecleaner right now.

Because in order to make all these....

and these......

........and a whole bunch more like these........

my house started to look like this:

Things really started to get fun around here this holiday season when one of the elements on the furnace went out. Luckily, we were able to get it replaced. I have no idea what it was, but it is smaller than my hand and costs $59.

Which they very kindly credited back to me when the entire furnace went south a week later and had to be replaced. To the tune of $I-can't-even-say-it dollars.

At this point the only thing keeping me moderately sane are these babies:

which are the perfect holiday treat. If you've been following my blog for awhile now, you already know that I kind of *heart* me some Oreos, and these babies are some of the tastiest. Not to mention that ringing in at $3.50 for the pack of 12, you ~~don't want to~~, ~~don't need to~~, ~~can't~~ won't eat more than one at a time.

Back to the story.

One of my favorite parts of the holiday season is getting to spend time with friends and family, like my good friend A. Last Saturday, we decided to venture out into the holiday spirit and wound up having a fantastic day. We started with yummy warm soups and sandwiches at Panera, then window-shopped in Broad Ripple and even crashed the Broad Ripple Village Holiday Parade and Tree Lighting Ceremony, which may become one of my favorite adorable holiday things to do. Seriously? Hanging out on the Ave with furry puppies wearing antlers and cute children all bundled up, watching Santa come down the street while you sip Starbucks hot chocolate? It. Does. Not. Get. Better.

After our holiday window shopping-and-parading, we headed to Butler University for their annual Rejoice! concert and enjoyed two hours of gorgeous music, then headed over to a local bar/restaurant for some post-concert cocktails and snacks.

At first the restaurant seemed promising. The host staff was attentive and found us a nice corner table in the bar area. The wait staff poured waters and brought menus. Our waiter greeted us and offered suggestions on drinks. As we were celebrating the end of a lovely holiday day, we decided on champagne and- because we are responsible adults- ordered some food to munch on while we sipped and chatted.

We ordered the Potato Gnocci, which promised we'd have our gnocci topped with oyster mushrooms, roasted tomato, sage, and balsamic with greens and a pumpkin puree.

This sounded like the perfect yummy food.

But somewhere along the line, we missed something.

Because when the sweet waiter brought us our plate, it had FIVE. LITTLE. GNOCCI. BITES.

Topped with two or three mushrooms.

Something that I think was our single roasted tomato.

On a bed of lettuce roughly the diameter of a water glass.

Adorned with a tablespoon of pumpkin puree.

Seriously.

I am not making this up.

We finished our gnocci rather quickly (imagine that!) and pondered our next move. Should we order something else? Would it be bite-sized as well? What about a dessert? Should we just pay and leave?

Our poor waiter got to advise us.

Waiter: "Take your plates?"

A: "Sure, thanks."

Waiter: "Another drink?"

Becky: "Well, actually, we need some advice."

Waiter: "......OK....."

Becky: "See, we've just had a lovely holiday day and been to a concert and we were really hoping to cap the night off with some cocktails and food and sit and munch and sip for awhile."

Waiter: "Um, I don't really understand that."

Becky: "What? Seriously?"

A: "Nevermind, that part's not important."

Becky: "Right. The point is - and I'm not being an asshole here, I promise- while we really, really, really liked all five of the gnocci we just ate, that little thing's just not going to cut it for us."

Waiter: *Befuddled Stare.*

Becky: "So what we're saying is- we either need to get your reccomendation on something a little more carb-laden so that we can continue to sit here in your lovely restaurant and sip champagne and celebrate, or we need to cut our losses, pay our bill and hit the McDonald's drive through."

Waiter: "Um....I'll go get you a menu. I'd reccomend some protein."

A: *calling after him* "Will we get more than two bites of it?!?!"

-A Few Minutes Later With Menus-

Waiter: "So, did you guys find something that looks good to you?"

A: "Well, we are thinking maybe the Mini-Donuts and Coffee Dessert."

Becky: "But we have some disclaimer questions. When you say mini donuts, what does that mean?"

Waiter: "Uh....about like this?" *makes circle with thumb and forefinger.* "Kind of like a donut hole."

Becky: "Right. And when it says there are donutssssss plural, how many is that?"

Waiter: "Five."

Becky: "Excellent. We'll do that. And she'll have the coffee since I don't drink caffiene."

Waiter: "Well, actually, it's like a coffee sauce."

A: "Oh, like you can dip your donuts in them?"

Waiter: "Right. Or you can, you know, like drizzle it over the donut holes."

I seriously do not know why we didn't get kicked out for laughing at this as hard as we did, or for the numerous times we cracked up after our donuts arrived.

But I know two things to be true now: first, friends that can laugh for hours with you about gnocci and donut balls are friends that you need to hold onto forever; and second, beware of gnocci appetizers!

Oh the holidays- the most wonderful time of the year!!

The Scene In Which The Birth of Baby Jesus Gets A Reality Check

2009-12-18T10:51:00.002-05:00

One of the funniest things about being freinds with a pastor is that you get to have these really interesting conversations about how religion (specifically the Bible) can be (and is often) wildly misinterpreted.

And often times you get to have these conversations in public, which is even funnier. Take Wednesday, for example.

Pastor Jill had come to Indy for a luncheon she had to attend, and afterwards we planned an afternoon of Christmas shopping and baking. Pastor Jill, for all her many good qualities, isn't especially trustworthy in the kitchen, so baking together was a good way to ensure her friends at the church would get edible holiday treats- and let's face it, shopping is just fun.

We were talking about Christmas cards on our way into the mall when Pastor Jill hit me with her latest religious hilarity.

"Did you know," she asked, "that when you get a traditional Christmas card featuring Mary in a stable with the animals and the baby Jesus and the wise men and shepards all looking on, that's actually not biblically correct?"

"Um...what?" I said.

She then proceeded to explain how only two stories from the Bible actually describe the birth of Christ, and their explanations tend to differ.

Dramatically.

It's very interesting and of course not being a pastor I immediately started confusing the details in my head (a likely reason that we've ended up on the happy-go-lucky manger birth story in the first place) so before you proceed with my tale, read Pastor Jill's info on the topic here at her blog.

"So, wait a sec," I asked after she had finished telling me this (in Von Maur). "Do you mean to tell me that the real story is that after Mary was knocked up by the Holy Spirit, either she or Joseph was informed of this by an angel appearing to one or possibly both of them, after which they discussed it with the other? And after the angel appeared to one or the other of them, during a time in which they may or may not have already been living in Bethlehem, Mary gave birth to Jesus in a room that may or may not have been in a house, group dwelling of some sort, or former stable that may or may not have housed animals at some point, and laid him in something lined with straw that may or may not have been used to feed said animals at some point?"

"Pretty much," said Pastor Jill.

"And following said birth in said place," I continued, "The Baby Jesus was visited fairly soon thereafter by shepards who may or may not have been there because of the animals or because of the miraculous birth? But who, regardless, certainly did not overlap in visiting hours with an indeterminate amount of wise pagan astronomer priests who visited him in his house up to, but not later than, two years after his birth and who possibly bore gifts? And then left, but did not speak of it, because pretty soon after King Herod started offing all the male infants in the land?"

"Yep." said Pastor Jill.

"Wow," I said. "I'll never look at a manger scene the same way again!"

The Scene In Which Puff the Kitty Gets A Home

2009-12-09T22:49:00.003-05:00

He showed up sometime in the late part of summer/early fall, when the days were still nice and long and sunny. He liked to skulk around the backyard of our condo and hide in the tall landscaping (where, I might add, he scared the CRAP out of me the first time I ever saw him!).
By day you could find him lounging around the backyard, occasionally napping on one of the lawn chairs and using our wooden deck as a scratching post.

And then the inevitable happened.

My well-intentioned neighbor began to put food out for him. As you can imagine, this was met with great gusto, appreciation, meowing, and..... hissing.

Yep. Our little backyard-crasher loved us....so long as we kept our distance.

Time wore on. Well-intentioned neighbor christened the cat Creampuff (at the time, we kind of thought he was a she). The weather got chillier. The feeding schedule got more and more regular. The hissing continued.

And then the inevitable happened. Again.

I got attached.

Because though he still hissed at us, as Creampuff grew more and more used to seeing us around, he grew bolder, and after three weeks of coaxing and making sweet baby voices at him, he finally rewarded me with a rub against my legs.

Followed, quickly, by a swat.

Thanks.

As the days got even shorter and colder the third inevitable thing happened. My well-intentioned neighbor, who travels often for work, was planning to be gone...and I volunteered to take over the Creampuff-care.

(Ahem. You know where this was going to wind up.)

The next thing I knew, I was as close to a cat owner as my ridiculously allergic sinuses were ever going to let me be. I fretted over whether he was warm enough and procured an outdoor igloo from a friend for him to live in. I fed him twice a day and switched him from wet food to dry for better health. I grew sad when he'd show up on my porch and I'd have to close the door on him. We nicknamed him Puff, Puffy, the Puffster, Fluff, and so on.

In return, Creampuff adopted me. He faithfully came to my porch two, three, four times a day- napping on the rug in front of the door until well into the evening. If I came around the back of the house and found him there, he'd leap from his perch and follow me to the front of the house. And even though he still hissed occasionally, he meowed his appreciation every chance he got and rubbed my legs with reckless abandon.

And then he disappeared.

One Wednesday morning, I woke up and he never came by for his breakfast. His little brown bowl of food went untouched that day, that night, and straight on through Thanksgiving the next day. By Friday, when we left for Chicago for the weekend, I was despairing whether Creampuff had decided to move on, and realizing that I'd gotten waaaay too attached to the little guy over the past months. Despite abundant food and water, Creampuff stayed away Friday....Saturday.....Sunday.....

......and then, late on Sunday night, Creampuff came hobbling back shortly after we returned. His cute little face was a little matted up, and he was limping with a front paw held in the air pathetically.

I kind of cry just remembering it.

Cute Boy, who is even more ridiculously allergic than I am, pleaded on my behalf with his roommate to let us use their mudroom area to house the Puffster. Once we opened that door for him he rushed right in and never looked back- he wanted to be in the house with us so badly!

Puff stayed in the mudroom for two nights, showing his appreciation for the hospitality by coming down with a bout of ickykittypoopies and stinking up the place when he wasn't meowing to be let ALL THE WAY in to the house so that he could, presumeably, cuddle with us or hiss at us til his heart's content.

On Tuesday morning I loaded him into the kitty carrier (through the strategic use of yummy canned food placed inside, heavy boots and a swift knee!) and took him to our vet, where the Week O'Fun for Creampuff began.

Since all our housing options had been exhausted, Creampuff stayed with the vet for a week. He received antibiotics for his injured leg, a bath, flea treatment, neuter surgery, vaccines, and another bath.

And then, thanks to the kindness and generosity of two great people (ok they are Cute Boy's parents but I am totally not sucking up at all by calling them great because really? they are, and furthermore, they are probably not reading my blog!) CREAMPUFF FOUND A HOME!!

On Monday I went to the vet's office to take him to his new digs, and let me tell you, if this heartwarming little story has got you thinking that you want to go out and adopt like five cats, I will give you a whole bunch of reasons why you should think about it really hard.

Like several hundred reasons.

Like six hundred reasons.

Yeah.

In the end, though, it was all worth it. Because, as it turns out, Puff was just waiting for someone to take him in and love him. During his week at the vet's office, he mellowed to the point where the staff members were able to pick him up without being swatted or hissed at, and he even was able to be petted. When I arrived to pick him up, I went to see him in his kennel before they loaded him into the carrier and he LET ME PET HIM!! At that moment, I knew that every penny I'd spent on this little sweetie was all worth it, and I wanted to cry and take him home with me and spend all night cuddling with him and Finn.

But Puff, despite his new goodnaturedness, is still a fan of keeping it real.

So in thanks for all we had done for him over the past months, he allowed me to stroke his little head and back for exactly 30 seconds while he purred cutely, then turned his head around and bit me on the hand.

That's how I know he appreciated it.

The Scene In Which I Am My Mother's Daughter

2009-11-16T22:12:00.003-05:00

Last weekend, my parents made the trip down to Indianapolis to visit the kiddos. Since Little Brother and I have been living together for about three months now, they wanted to check that we'd gotten everything moved in, unpacked, organized, and so forth. And, you know, not killed each other in the process.

Which was fantastic, as we....well, hadn't quite accomplished all that yet. Mom and I quickly set to tackling the last of the organizing while Dad and Little Brother installed a new deadbolt lock, a new draft guard on the door, and replaced a broken toilet seat (oh yes I said a broken toilet seat. Two guesses whose fault that was. Hint: NOT MINE.)

My mom wound up staying until Tuesday, and it was great to hang out with her and have her help me get my house back under control (a very, very, very rare occurrence in which I gave up control!) Because, you see, my mom and I are very alike in our love of all things organizing.

All of my life, I have physically resembled my dad and my dad's side of the family. And by "resembled," I mean that I am the female equivalent of his clone. Sometimes people who haven't met my dad will try to find a resemblance between my mom and I. Usually after about 30 seconds of squinting they offer something like "Your eyes are really similar!" which, I suppose, is true if you count that we both have two of them.

But on the way home Tuesday, my mom and I had a great conversation that reminded me that while we don't physically resemble each other, much of my personality comes from my mom- my volunteering, my need to be busy, my emotions, my desire to take care of everybody around me, my love of animals, my work with nonprofits....and, of course, the most important trait we have in common.

Total, absolute, chocoholics.

Actual conversation.

Mom: I'm craving something.

Me: Me too.

Mom: Something chocolate.

Me: I was just thinking that!

Mom: Like....a brownie.

Me: Ohmygod, me too!

Mom: With ice cream.

Me: Nah, with real icing. Wedding-cake icing.

Mom: Nope, I want ice cream. Oooh, maybe with a little Sander's Hot Fudge.

Me: Yeah, that's good and all, but I kind of want a brownie with frosting. And like, chocolate chips or something.

Mom: I guess. I still want the ice cream though.

Me: That's kind of weird for you.

Mom: I know?? I've really been into ice cream lately.

Me: Yeah, that's not like you at all.

Mom: No kidding! Do you know what I did last week?

Me: No, what?

Mom: Went to DAIRY QUEEN.

Me: WHOA! That IS weird.

Mom: I was reaaaaally craving one of those dipped cones- you know, the soft serve with the hard chocolate?

Me: Yeah, those are good.

Mom: What do you get when you go?

Me: I usually get a Blizzard.

Mom: Mmm. Those are good too.

Me: I get the ones with the Brownie pieces.

Mom: Yum. Maybe I'll make brownies when I get home.

Me: Yeah....or maybe I'll get a Hostess at the gas station when we stop. I think a Suzy Q could do it for me right now.

Mom: Mmm....I don't know. Maybe.

Me: Or a cupcake.

Mom: Yeah, maybe a cupcake.

We may not look like each other, but she's definitely all my momma!

The Scene In Which I (Don't) Got?

2009-10-20T23:38:00.005-04:00

As someone who has worked in the marketing industry, not to mention someone who dates a Cute Boy currently working in that industry, I'm a sucker for a good slogan.

Here's where I would share an example of a good slogan with you, if I could think of one at the moment. But I can't. Because all I really want to do is talk about how freaking sick I am of the "Got Milk?" rip-off campaigns that are constantly invading the advertising world, with little regard to the fact that this slogan was new, exciting, and innovative MORE THAN TEN YEARS AGO.

Back then "Got Milk?" was cute and quirky and short and sweet and witty and original and now it is none of those things, NONE, people, and I would like the universe to cease and desist on any new "Got?" campaigns, immediately.

Got milk? Got teeth? Got faith? Got hope? Got college? Got love? Got veggies? Got vegan? Got beer? Got pot? Got money?

I've been noticing the overuse of this phrase for awhile now, as I'm sure many of you have. The sudden need to blog in a rant-like state about it now maaaaaay or may not have something to do with the fact that I was cut off on the highway today by an a-hole with a "Got Hope?" sticker plastered to the back of his car.

That did it.

"I do NOT have hope!" I snarled at the offensive driver. "I do NOT have hope that you are going to learn to drive ANYTIME soon, I do NOT have hope that I'm going to make it home without being rear-ended or sideswiped by some other a-hole on this freaking highway, and above all, I do NOT HAVE HOPE THAT ONE DAY SOON, SOMEONE IS GOING TO INVENT AN ADVERTISING SLOGAN THAT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH WHAT I DON'T "GOT"!!!!!!"

Deep breaths.

The sad part is, the "Got?" campaigns, because they are quirky and short, inherently leave the door open for products and personas as far apart as beer and President Obama to adapt them. Not so much the case with popular longstanding campaigns "It's What's For Dinner," or "The Other White Meat," which manage to be both quirky yet relevant to only a small series of products (or so it would seem, anyhow).

More deep breaths.

Thus endeth my rant on why you'll never see me parading around in a "Got Milk?" t-shirt or, heaven forbid, adapting the slogan for business use and handing out "Got Flowers?" cards at events.

After all, I do......Got Creativity.

The Scene In Which I Confess To Being An Eating-Eavesdropper

2009-10-18T19:34:00.007-04:00

One of the things that my friends come to realize about me is that, as I put it to Cute Boy today, "I have a nasty habit of being altogether too concerned with the conversations of dining pedestrians."

I think I meant dining peers.

Regardless.

Confession time: I am an eating-eavesdropper.

I can't help it.

It just happens.

Because no matter how interesting your own eating companion is, there always comes a point in the meal when you aren't talking because you are, well, eating. Or, if you are me, you spend a ridiculous amount of time working in various Starbucks and lamenting the fact that you have given up caffeine (which is a story for another day) and occasionally your mind wanders away from your work.

And you hear the MOST INTERESTING THINGS.

For example.

Right now I am sitting across the table from two college-age gals who are studying for an upcoming nursing exam.

Girl 1: "Ok, let's look at scenario 2."

Girl 2: "Ok. The patient is in his 50s and suffers from hallucinations that occur after seizures. He also frequently faints."

Girl 1: "So........would that be a medical diagnosis or a psychological diagnosis?"

Girl 2: "Ummmmmmmmmmmmm..........I think medical?"

Can I just say, I worry a bit for the future of the medical profession.

I kind of love these little moments in time when I get to glimpse someone else's day to day life. Today Cute Boy and I were having lunch at Panera and we overheard the table next to us talking about how life would be less stressful for "them," after "the baby comes before Christmas." They were an older couple, and I found myself wondering more about the story. Were they adopting a baby? Were they about to be grandparents? What on earth could be so bad that it would make a pregnancy more stressful than having a NEWBORN WAILING CHILD?? (This is where our own table conversation went to.)

But alas, I am destined to never know the answers to the questions I overhear. Did stay-at-home-mom's husband decide to take that job? Did gym-bunny pick a new Pilates mat? Is Costco really cheaper than Wal-Mart for toilet paper? Because, you see, as interesting as these conversations are and despite the fact that they are occurring in public places, there's an unspoken rule among eating-eavesdroppers that you do. not. acknowledge. them.

THAT would just be weird.

The Scene In Which Cute Boy (L)Earns His Name

2009-10-04T20:08:00.004-04:00

Many of my faithful followers (all SIX of you now......woooo!) know that I've been spending a lot of time back and forth from Indy to Chicago this past month, and will be continuing to do so for the next couple weeks.

This weekend, instead of making the trek back to Indy, I stayed in Chicago to dog- and house-sit for my parents while they were away. Now, don't get me wrong, spending a weekend with their two pups and my little guy is a pretty pleasant thing to do, but because Cute Boy decided to make the drive up here to visit, I was pumped.

It was a great, fun, relaxing, awesome weekend. We ate deep-dish pizza, took the pups for a long walk on a gorgeous fall day, hung around downtown on Saturday, went to Field Museum and saw the "Real Pirates" exhibit, ate at a fun restaurant, saw Jersey Boys, slept in and made yummy Sunday breakfast, and even caught some of the game before Cute Boy had to head home. I even introduced him to a childhood staple that he'd never seen before: The MOLD O' RAMA.

Segue to: A Random Side Note.

Mold-O-Rama's, if you haven't been so lucky as to have seen one, are amazingly awesome toy-making machines that make you a cheap monochromatic hollow plastic toy RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. You simply insert your $2 (and don't even get me started on how it used to be $.50!) and the machine, in all of it's 1950's glory, revs to life, pumps liquid plastic through tubes into a mold that pushes together, then releases to show off YOUR NEW TOY as a nifty pusher-thing deposits it into a vending-like bottom, where you gingerly pick it up whilst trying to burn the least amount of skin off of your fingers and hands.

And because Cute Boy is cute, and therefore understands and enjoys my nostalgic desires, we made 2.

Which turned out to be a good thing, really, because we left one in the cab on the way home. If anyone finds an orange stegosaurus plastic molded toy in the back of a Chicago cab, please let us know.....we miss Stegi.

But other than that devastating loss, it was a great weekend, and Cute Boy left this afternoon to return to Indy.

And apparently decided to catch up on reading my blog.

And apparently hadn't read the August post in which I first named him Cute Boy. Because.....

5:42PM Cute Boy Cell: "I'm anonymously and I think affectionately known as CUTE BOY to your followers??!!"

So, to Cute Boy: Yes, yes that is your moniker, yes it is an affectionate term, and I'm glad that you like it.

And to all else: Yes, Cute Boy is indeed cute, for many of the reasons you might already guess and for many more you may not already know, and very probably for many that I don't already know. So even though it might embarrass him a little, here's just a couple of the reasons for the name.

Because in addition to being well, cute (c'mon girls, he's blond, blue-eyed and athletic..... fellow glasses-sporting brunette bookworms of the world, can I get some applause??) Cute Boy also makes me laugh. And he likes to hold my hand (ok, sometimes). And he is just the right amount of a sarcastic a** sometimes, and a totally nice guy the rest of the time. And he likes my dog. And he drives to Chicago to visit me. And he thinks that I'm adorable and endearing even when I'm doing things that are totally not adorable or endearing like ~~tripping over my own two feet AGAIN and headbutting the nearest inanimate object~~ being a little clumsy. And because he thinks it is great that I want to do things like make Mold-O-Ramas to commemorate a fun day together, and because he really understands that that's what I'm doing when I want to do silly little things like that.

And that, folks, makes him Cute Boy.