When you used to blog all the time and haven't really in, say, more than a year (with minor exceptions), starting off a post can be sort of weird and awkward. It's like running into someone you used to be super good friends with and then didn't talk to for awhile and then ran into at the market and you're like "oh....hi...." and then some weird conversation ensues about how nice the weather's been, and if you're like me you sort of sway awkwardly from side to side because what you really want to do is blurt out something like, "Did you ever break up with that one dude that was totally an asshole and screwing with your head? Also, it's weird you never called me back, right? Are we just pretending that didn't happen?" and you're talking, but mostly just resisting the socially unacceptable word vomit urge.
.......um, anyway.
So for awhile there I had tons of stuff to blog about, and everything seemed like a funny story, and the words would pop into my head faster than my little fingers could type (which is saying something if you've ever seen me type: my husband refers to it as "violent") and then OUT OF NOWHERE, the well ran dry. Thank god I make my living in flowers, not words, because it was just gone, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. And not only that, but I started putting all this weird pressure on myself to KEEP DOING IT, and BE FUNNY, because that's "what my thing is" and then one day it sort of occurred to me, hey, eff it. IT'S A BLOG, and on a good day, like three people read this.*
I mean, really. There was no drama, people! There was no strife! There was no complaining, no crazy house stories, no insane travels, no hilarious pratfalls! I was a happy newlywed living in my cute little house and working on my gardening and decorating projects in my spare time between puttering around my flower shop and cavorting with my hunky new husband and our adorable puppies. Had I any tendency towards pastels and soft, wavy haircuts I was an Estee Lauder "Beautiful" ad**.
That is, until I decided it would be a super bright idea to not only re-do all my website and print design pieces but also found myself looking for a new studio AND packing our old one AND renovating the new one AND moving during wedding season AND hiring a new employee AND doing all this when we aren't really working too much AND meeting with new clients AND, AND, AND....and for awhile there really nothing that didn't involve flowers or paint or moving boxes or figuring out cash flows was really first and foremost in my brain. If "Beautiful" had a sister perfume of "Tired, Stressed and Financially Insecure" I was wearing it this winter, at the shop. (Sidenote: wow. Many thanks to my husband for still loving THAT version of me all winter.)
Also, because this post is nothing if not about rambling thoughts, I turned 30 this winter, and with that came not the mounting dread of getting older, nor the mental berating of myself for not completing everything on my "bucket list," but an honest to goodness sense of "oh thank god." Rather than dreading it, 30 to me represented the ability to completely rock my own sense of person (which, I believe, if you're lucky you spend your 20s trying to figure out- or at least figure out enough that you claim to be able to own it at 30), embrace what I am and what I'm not, and say eff it to the rest.
HECK YEAH, my brain told me, you made it through that crazy-ass decade known as your 20s. Congrats, kid. You got a degree. Hell, you got two. And then you got a job, and then ANOTHER job, and then you decided to heck with it, and opened a business, and it WORKED! And you survived dating! And found THE ONE, and somehow managed to convince him to marry you, WOW. And you had a condo! And now you have a house! And rent another house to work in! You're like a FREAKING LAND BARON, and you have dogs to boot. AND you get to do stuff you like doing and you don't have to pretend to like stuff you don't like because it's the "cool" thing to do! WAY TO BE. You earned a decade of rocking it out.
It's sort of incredibly freeing, right?! Be yourself. Be TRUE TO yourself. Yay thirty.
Also, I pierced my nose to mark the occasion, or at least that's the excuse I used when I was in the situation where I could finally get it done and didn't have any major life event (i.e. my wedding) coming up in which I'd be forever scarred by my adolescent bad decisions in having random facial piercings in my eternal memory.
So far it hasn't been a bad decision. Even my mom, who answered my "Guess what I did!" photo text with a voicemail saying, "So.....you stuck a diamond in your face." thinks it's cute.
(where was I going with this? Oh yes) so all that happened and STILL NO WORDS.
Honestly, for awhile there I wasn't sure I was going to have the words, ever again (spoiler alert: you're reading this). I even went so far as to think about deleting this blog, because I just thought it was sort of sad that it just kind of tapered off....into....nothingness....
And then. AND THEN.
I was baking yesterday, because in my spare time I'm a housewife, and I was thinking to myself that I wanted it to be the last time I was baking these items using boxed mixes, because of course this whole "we are eating food that's been genetically modified and packed with riboflavin, and who the hell knows what that actually is" thing has been really hitting home for me lately, and I've been trying to figure out how to cook more, and it occurred to me, "I should totally blog about this," which seems completely normal except that it's a sentence that hasn't entered my brain in 8 months and HOLY COW, THERE WERE THE WORDS, and there were LOTS OF THEM, and there was a WHOLE POST before I knew what was happening and then my rational brain took over and was like, "Whoa. You haven't blogged in like ten months, you can't start out with life lessons in blueberry muffins, chill out."
And then I got my first CSA box today and, people, I have been so freakin' excited for this since we signed up, but also a little bit nervous, because I'm new to this cooking thing and I knew there would be things I didn't know how to use and MAN, did I jump the gun, because when I opened that box today there are things I don't even RECOGNIZE, and I'm in for it now, because I'm going to have to Google Image search my food.
And then HOLY COW, THERE WERE THE WORDS, and there were LOTS OF THEM, and there was a WHOLE POST before I knew what was happening and then my rational brain took over and was like, "Whoa. Ok. You might be on to something here, but you need to go warn these people first."
So, there you have it. I lost the words. I planned a wedding. I turned 30. I pierced my nose. I'm still happily married. I'm still happily self-employed. I'm learning to cook. I found the words.
And I'm not sure what this blog will be about going forward, to be honest. Maybe it's part of the whole thirty-thing but I don't feel the pressure to be always funny, or always have some major story, or always....anything. It will probably mostly be happy, because I think there's such a thing as oversharing, especially when it comes to problems and/or marriages and/or struggles, and that works for some people, but I really don't feel like I need to document that all for the internet (see: awkward blogs about marriage problems that turn into awkward blogs about divorces and DUDE, YOUR KID READS THAT). Everyone's life has unfunny parts from time to time, but to be perfectly honest, this blog is probably going to read more like the highlight reel of my person, lest my potential future children ever stumble upon it. I feel like I should warn you that a good portion may be about cooking, so if you're like "oh god, is she going to turn into one of those people raving about how Monsanto is ruining our lives or how awesome her bread pudding turned out," I mean, I don't know. Probably. They pretty much suck***, so you're not going to find any sympathy for them here, that's for sure. I may write about work. I may write about music. I may write about awesome things.
All I know is that the words have returned, and I'm hopping on board. Join me for the ride, won't you??
*I'm fairly certain more than three people read this. Maybe like 8.
**I can totally make fun of it 'cause I wear it. BAM.
***"They" being Monsanto, of course, because nothing about bread pudding sucks, except people who do it wrong.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Scene In Which My Summer Soundtrack Rocked
I'm slightly embarassed to report that one of the things I realized this year- and granted, I'd realized this before, but not realized that I'd still been doing it in certain aspects in my life- is that you should do or like what makes you happy, not what everyone thinks you *should* do or like.
Duh, right?
Strange as it seems for someone who loves music as much as I do, but it wasn't until this year that I realized that all the "cultural stuff" I'd been trying to do and convince myself that I oh-my-gosh-super-loved was, in fact, something that I kindofsortof enjoyed doing....occasionally. On the other hand, experiencing live music was something I loved, but had never really thought of as being important, because it wasn't "cultural."
And then I realized, screw that.
Because really? you should do what makes me happy, and music makes me happy (happy slash a total geek), and seeing my favorite artists and singing along or dancing around any damned way I want without worrying how I look to others is pretty much amazing.
So there.
My completely unoffical concert season officially closed last night (whoa. timeout. can something unofficial officially close?) and if I do say so myself, it was a great season.
For nothing other than my own self-indulgence at getting to look for/watch videos, here's a compliation of all the artists I saw AND a favorite video/song of theirs, because if my summer had a perfect playlist, this just might be it. drumroll please.....
Dave Matthews Band - total toss up on a favorite song, but right now? 41.
Phish! No question. Farmhouse.
L.P.- song that you might actually know, Into the Wild. My current fave? Tokyo Sunrise. We totally got to meet her after her show (here's that story).
Bad Boy Bill- a favorite EDM DJ of Cute Husband's. I actually don't know anything by him, so, here's a completely unrelated EDM song that I like that we played at our wedding.
Mumford & Sons! Traveled down to Louisville overnight to see them with a couple pals and had an amazing time. Truly can't pick a favorite (especially with a new album coming out tomorrow!) so here's one that gave me absolute chills: Roll Away Your Stone. (the musical break leading into "Stars hide your fires"- omg. I still get chills THINKING about it). The entire show was amazing. So worth it.
Jane's Addiction for Cute Husband's birthday celebration! Jane Says, hands down.
(and just a couple days later) Bob Dylan! I'd been told it was hit-or-miss with him, but since I can't teleport back to the 1960s and see him when I would have really liked to, it was my only shot. Alas, he didn't play Shelter From The Storm but he did play a few other of his hits (apparently?).
NOFX on a whim. Didn't play it, but my fave has to be Creeping Out Sara, because three years ago T&S were one of the bands Cute Husband and I talked about the first night we met, and then he sent me this song to listen to, and then we went on a date and then, well, he became my husband. So there you have THAT.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros! Great night to end my summer concert series, especially getting to hear Om Nashi Me which I will confess I totally absolutely thought was a shortened version of a meditation I used to do, but apparently, is just completely made up, because it turns out shortening the phrase in fact basically renders it meaningless, SO HEY, something else I've been wrong about in my life. However, it's still an amazing song and one that I was so jazzed to hear live and bounce around in a crowd with others chanting along.
Duh, right?
Strange as it seems for someone who loves music as much as I do, but it wasn't until this year that I realized that all the "cultural stuff" I'd been trying to do and convince myself that I oh-my-gosh-super-loved was, in fact, something that I kindofsortof enjoyed doing....occasionally. On the other hand, experiencing live music was something I loved, but had never really thought of as being important, because it wasn't "cultural."
And then I realized, screw that.
Because really? you should do what makes me happy, and music makes me happy (happy slash a total geek), and seeing my favorite artists and singing along or dancing around any damned way I want without worrying how I look to others is pretty much amazing.
So there.
My completely unoffical concert season officially closed last night (whoa. timeout. can something unofficial officially close?) and if I do say so myself, it was a great season.
For nothing other than my own self-indulgence at getting to look for/watch videos, here's a compliation of all the artists I saw AND a favorite video/song of theirs, because if my summer had a perfect playlist, this just might be it. drumroll please.....
Dave Matthews Band - total toss up on a favorite song, but right now? 41.
Phish! No question. Farmhouse.
L.P.- song that you might actually know, Into the Wild. My current fave? Tokyo Sunrise. We totally got to meet her after her show (here's that story).
Bad Boy Bill- a favorite EDM DJ of Cute Husband's. I actually don't know anything by him, so, here's a completely unrelated EDM song that I like that we played at our wedding.
Mumford & Sons! Traveled down to Louisville overnight to see them with a couple pals and had an amazing time. Truly can't pick a favorite (especially with a new album coming out tomorrow!) so here's one that gave me absolute chills: Roll Away Your Stone. (the musical break leading into "Stars hide your fires"- omg. I still get chills THINKING about it). The entire show was amazing. So worth it.
Jane's Addiction for Cute Husband's birthday celebration! Jane Says, hands down.
(and just a couple days later) Bob Dylan! I'd been told it was hit-or-miss with him, but since I can't teleport back to the 1960s and see him when I would have really liked to, it was my only shot. Alas, he didn't play Shelter From The Storm but he did play a few other of his hits (apparently?).
NOFX on a whim. Didn't play it, but my fave has to be Creeping Out Sara, because three years ago T&S were one of the bands Cute Husband and I talked about the first night we met, and then he sent me this song to listen to, and then we went on a date and then, well, he became my husband. So there you have THAT.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros! Great night to end my summer concert series, especially getting to hear Om Nashi Me which I will confess I totally absolutely thought was a shortened version of a meditation I used to do, but apparently, is just completely made up, because it turns out shortening the phrase in fact basically renders it meaningless, SO HEY, something else I've been wrong about in my life. However, it's still an amazing song and one that I was so jazzed to hear live and bounce around in a crowd with others chanting along.
Friday, July 20, 2012
The Scene In Which I Meet LP!!!! And Yes, Geek Out.
I wrote this post two months ago and scheduled it to post a day later and then I sort of went on about life and never actually realized it didn't post until I went to reference it in another post and OH HEY.
Here you go.
Every so often I get really geekily excited about a piece of music that I hear somewhere that isn't the radio, like a TV show, commercial, etc, and then I spend a ridiculous amount of time and effort trying to find it.
Sometimes these end disappointingly, like the Canadian Pacific Rail holiday commercial last year where the one brother grows up playing with tractors and the other brother grows up playing with trains and you fast-forward ten years and one is a farmer and one is a train engineer and they get together for the holidays and it's all like "we're brothers but we can't show emotion" and so they give each other's kids presents instead and the train guy gives the farmer's kid a tractor and the farmer's kid give the train guy's kid a train like THEY USED TO PLAY WITH, and then they shake hands but then they really hug, and then everyone cries (specifically, I cry).
You don't believe me? Here. Grab a tissue.
Anyway, back to the point, TELL ME you don't want to know what that song is after. I do, because I want to listen to it like two thousand times more because (as you'll recall) I'm a geek like that. So I spend 40 minutes stalking it online, and discover that it's NOT A REAL SONG AND THEY JUST WROTE IT FOR THE COMMERCIAL AND WELL, SHIT.
So when I first saw the Citibank commercial where the girl is climbing the rock and it's a kind of kick ass song with an amazing female vocalist that I didn't recognize, I didn't get my hopes too high. What were the odds that Citibank just didn't have someone write them a little jingle?
But I still turned on my geek and searched around. And then I found songwriter- and now singer- LP. and "Into The Wild," the song.
Her album wasn't out yet, so I spent a good half -hour scrolling through various "OMG WHO SINGS THIS SONG" links until I found a download of it, which I promptly listened to 10,000 times until her iTunes album was released, which I then proceeded to begin listening to 10,000 time, and then last week, I was backing out of my driveway one morning when my favorite local radio station, WTTS, announced they were doing a free show that night with a promising emerging artist named LP and I about backed into my mailbox.
In a fit of irresponsibility I cancelled a night meeting, put off some to-do items, and headed out for a night on the town with Cute Husband who agreed to come along to hear "some girl that sings some song in some commercial" with me, despite the outdoor location and less-than-pleasant temps.
She gave a freaking bad-ass performance (note: the description is actually Cute Husband's, and though I certainly concur, I say this to illustrate just how talented she is) and then HOLY SHIT, THIS HAPPENED:
which is that I GOT TO MEET HER, and I might have geeked out even more than the time I was the biggest Babysitters Club fan ever and got to go to an Ann M. Martin book signing and I had all these things I wanted to tell her about how much I liked the books and my favorite character and I waited in line for an hour and what I finally said to Ann M. Martin was, "Hi."
(Brilliant. Bet she'd never heard that one.)
So I decided to go all out and just be my geeky honest self, and what I told her was, "Hi. That was a great show. And I can't lie, I totally can't even be cool right now because I about crashed my car this morning when I found out you were playing here,"
AND THEN SHE SAID, "Ha. That's awesome. You actually seem cool,"
AND THEN WE TOOK A PICTURE AND SHE SIGNED A POSTED FOR ME AND IT WAS THE BEST MONDAY OF THE SUMMER.
All because some song in a commercial got under my skin.
So there you have it. Be a geek about whatever you're a geek about. Maybe if you're lucky you'll wind up meeting the very person who inspired it.
Here you go.
Every so often I get really geekily excited about a piece of music that I hear somewhere that isn't the radio, like a TV show, commercial, etc, and then I spend a ridiculous amount of time and effort trying to find it.
Sometimes these end disappointingly, like the Canadian Pacific Rail holiday commercial last year where the one brother grows up playing with tractors and the other brother grows up playing with trains and you fast-forward ten years and one is a farmer and one is a train engineer and they get together for the holidays and it's all like "we're brothers but we can't show emotion" and so they give each other's kids presents instead and the train guy gives the farmer's kid a tractor and the farmer's kid give the train guy's kid a train like THEY USED TO PLAY WITH, and then they shake hands but then they really hug, and then everyone cries (specifically, I cry).
You don't believe me? Here. Grab a tissue.
Anyway, back to the point, TELL ME you don't want to know what that song is after. I do, because I want to listen to it like two thousand times more because (as you'll recall) I'm a geek like that. So I spend 40 minutes stalking it online, and discover that it's NOT A REAL SONG AND THEY JUST WROTE IT FOR THE COMMERCIAL AND WELL, SHIT.
So when I first saw the Citibank commercial where the girl is climbing the rock and it's a kind of kick ass song with an amazing female vocalist that I didn't recognize, I didn't get my hopes too high. What were the odds that Citibank just didn't have someone write them a little jingle?
But I still turned on my geek and searched around. And then I found songwriter- and now singer- LP. and "Into The Wild," the song.
Her album wasn't out yet, so I spent a good half -hour scrolling through various "OMG WHO SINGS THIS SONG" links until I found a download of it, which I promptly listened to 10,000 times until her iTunes album was released, which I then proceeded to begin listening to 10,000 time, and then last week, I was backing out of my driveway one morning when my favorite local radio station, WTTS, announced they were doing a free show that night with a promising emerging artist named LP and I about backed into my mailbox.
In a fit of irresponsibility I cancelled a night meeting, put off some to-do items, and headed out for a night on the town with Cute Husband who agreed to come along to hear "some girl that sings some song in some commercial" with me, despite the outdoor location and less-than-pleasant temps.
She gave a freaking bad-ass performance (note: the description is actually Cute Husband's, and though I certainly concur, I say this to illustrate just how talented she is) and then HOLY SHIT, THIS HAPPENED:
which is that I GOT TO MEET HER, and I might have geeked out even more than the time I was the biggest Babysitters Club fan ever and got to go to an Ann M. Martin book signing and I had all these things I wanted to tell her about how much I liked the books and my favorite character and I waited in line for an hour and what I finally said to Ann M. Martin was, "Hi."
(Brilliant. Bet she'd never heard that one.)
So I decided to go all out and just be my geeky honest self, and what I told her was, "Hi. That was a great show. And I can't lie, I totally can't even be cool right now because I about crashed my car this morning when I found out you were playing here,"
AND THEN SHE SAID, "Ha. That's awesome. You actually seem cool,"
AND THEN WE TOOK A PICTURE AND SHE SIGNED A POSTED FOR ME AND IT WAS THE BEST MONDAY OF THE SUMMER.
All because some song in a commercial got under my skin.
So there you have it. Be a geek about whatever you're a geek about. Maybe if you're lucky you'll wind up meeting the very person who inspired it.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Scene In Which We Don't Drink The Water
Having worked in a restaurant for a few years in college, I'm well aware of how a restaurant kitchen looks.
If you currently live under a blissful cloud where every restaurant has stainless steel everything, employees with runny noses don't ever come to work, everyone wears gloves, and spotless glass bins sporting carefully lettered signs hold food supplies, well, then.....stop reading. You'll never eat out again if you do.
So, yes. I get it. Occasionally in my own kitchen a random fruit fly might alight on a syrupy drink and get stuck. The dishwasher doesn't always get every item perfectly clean and I don't always catch it before I put it away. 99% of restaurant mistakes are just simple things, multiplied in chance by the number of people served every day.
THAT BEING SAID.
There are things that, as a restaurant, you can do to ensure your dining guests have a great experience and maintain the mental image of your kitchen as a Martha Stewart-esque lair.
The following? Is not one of them.
I had been seated at a local restaurant waiting for a friend of mine to arrive to join me when the waiter came and asked if I'd like something to drink. Not knowing if my friend would want to join me in an adult beverage or not, and not knowing what I planned to order yet, I asked for a glass of water.
Sip of water.
A minute or so later, my waiter casually walked up to the open-window serving area about 10 feet away from my table. There were only 3 or so tables full in the restaurant, so it wasn't exceptionally loud, and as I wasn't currently talking with anyone around me the conversation floated my way.
Sip of water.
General joking about food service, and then
Waiter: "And you know why you NEVER order water at a restaurant? Because guaranteed, it's *lowers voice* mumble mumble mumble."
Kitchen Staff: "BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Me (mentally): ohmigod.
My friend chose that moment to walk in, and pleasantries for exchanged for about twenty seconds before he realized something was not entirely right with me, and that was because at that point, I still wasn't sure I wasn't going to puke because WHAT DID I JUST DRINK.
I explain.
And then I get mad. Because REALLY?!
And then we debate what I'm going to do about it because...I mean....I have to say something, right?! Right. But then again...this person is now responsible for my food for the whole night.
The waiter returns with a diet coke for my friend.
"Excuse me," I say. "I think I'd like something, um, other than water to drink."
"Um.....sure." says the waiter, looking mildly concerned by what is probably a green pallor on my face. "What can I get you?"
"A Coke would be fine," I reply, then sweetly add, "Unless there's a really good reason not to order one of THOSE at a restaurant, too."
I'm pretty sure if his eyes could have gotten wider, they'd have popped out.
So there you have it, folks. Don't drink the water. Dave Matthews knew it, and now you do too.
If you currently live under a blissful cloud where every restaurant has stainless steel everything, employees with runny noses don't ever come to work, everyone wears gloves, and spotless glass bins sporting carefully lettered signs hold food supplies, well, then.....stop reading. You'll never eat out again if you do.
So, yes. I get it. Occasionally in my own kitchen a random fruit fly might alight on a syrupy drink and get stuck. The dishwasher doesn't always get every item perfectly clean and I don't always catch it before I put it away. 99% of restaurant mistakes are just simple things, multiplied in chance by the number of people served every day.
THAT BEING SAID.
There are things that, as a restaurant, you can do to ensure your dining guests have a great experience and maintain the mental image of your kitchen as a Martha Stewart-esque lair.
The following? Is not one of them.
I had been seated at a local restaurant waiting for a friend of mine to arrive to join me when the waiter came and asked if I'd like something to drink. Not knowing if my friend would want to join me in an adult beverage or not, and not knowing what I planned to order yet, I asked for a glass of water.
Sip of water.
A minute or so later, my waiter casually walked up to the open-window serving area about 10 feet away from my table. There were only 3 or so tables full in the restaurant, so it wasn't exceptionally loud, and as I wasn't currently talking with anyone around me the conversation floated my way.
Sip of water.
General joking about food service, and then
Waiter: "And you know why you NEVER order water at a restaurant? Because guaranteed, it's *lowers voice* mumble mumble mumble."
Kitchen Staff: "BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Me (mentally): ohmigod.
My friend chose that moment to walk in, and pleasantries for exchanged for about twenty seconds before he realized something was not entirely right with me, and that was because at that point, I still wasn't sure I wasn't going to puke because WHAT DID I JUST DRINK.
I explain.
And then I get mad. Because REALLY?!
And then we debate what I'm going to do about it because...I mean....I have to say something, right?! Right. But then again...this person is now responsible for my food for the whole night.
The waiter returns with a diet coke for my friend.
"Excuse me," I say. "I think I'd like something, um, other than water to drink."
"Um.....sure." says the waiter, looking mildly concerned by what is probably a green pallor on my face. "What can I get you?"
"A Coke would be fine," I reply, then sweetly add, "Unless there's a really good reason not to order one of THOSE at a restaurant, too."
I'm pretty sure if his eyes could have gotten wider, they'd have popped out.
So there you have it, folks. Don't drink the water. Dave Matthews knew it, and now you do too.
Monday, June 25, 2012
The Scene In Which I Totally Change How I Do Business *Just For You!* (Alternately Titled: Dear Rude Person).
My favorite thing about my business, aside from the whole bringing-joy-to-your-event thing which is obviously well above all the other perks, is that it's MY business.
Becuase I'm the one who *gets to* arrive early, stay late, and assume all the worry, I take the trade-off as well: I get to make the rules, I get to make the decisions, and I get to be the boss. I get the right to run my business as I wish, and offer what I want, and not offer what I don't.
And sometimes, my decisions mean that I have to turn people down for things, and most of the time people are generally understanding when it comes to this.
"Are you free on my date?" "No, I'm sorry, we've already closed that date," is typically met with an "Oh, darn."
"Do you sell flowers by the stem?" "No, I'm sorry, we're an event planning and floral firm only," is typically answerd with "Oh, ok, thanks."
But then there's the 1% of people who just truly do not understand, or who don't bother to try to understand. They don't read the signs in the parking lot or on our window or on our door which say "Appointment Only!" and "Events Only!" or even stupidly specific signs such as the one in the window that literally says "We Do Not Offer Cash and Carry Services At This Time!"
(Seriously. We could not be more clear about this. NO.)
And sometimes, when faced with the harsh reality that the rules and decisions I have made in the way I run my business might actually apply to them, these people turn into what I like to call the "I QUESTION YOUR LIFE CHOICES, BIATCH" people.
Usually, these are callers, and usually, they've been told "No," for some crazy reason like we're already busy on their date or we are not available at the precise ONE window of time that they desire to meet with us, other clients or events be damned.
I can usually peg that they're going to be an IQYLCB caller when I can hear their hip popping out sassily and their pointer finger coming up in the silence between my "No" and their "Esssssxcuuuuuuuuuse ME?!"
"What do you MEAN you are closed that weekend? I mean *sound of abject disgust* how many events can you POSSIBLY be doing that day?" (Answer: If we're closed already? Probably 5. Maybe 3. Maybe 1 really awesome big one. There are about 13,000 weddings in our region PER YEAR. Do the math. Or maybe I'm just not working that weekend, not because I have a life or anything like that, but because my robot batteries need recharging and that guy who thinks I'm his wife wants to see me.)
"I mean, really, WHAT kind of place does not offer Saturday/weekend meetings *sound of abject disgust*?" (Answer: The kind that does Saturday/weekend events. Like the one you're calling to book.)
(and my absolute favorite): "*Sound of abject disgust* Well, you SHOULD be able to do mine, because MINE isn't that hard. I totally already met with someone and I know EXACTLY what I want and I just need you to do it." (Translation: Please steal another person's work and ideas and give it to me for less, and make it exactly what I want.)
But today was definitely a first. Today I had a IQYLCB walk into the shop, snark, leave, and then COME BACK FOR MORE.
There's a reason my door is now locked.
So this person walks into the shop -without a greeting- and starts explaining what they need for a luncheon. I question if the luncheon is today and when it is, explain that we don't do cash-and-carry pieces and are appointment only (like it says on three different signs located BEFORE you enter my shop) and unfortunately, we have no flowers in the store.
This is typically met with an "Oh, rats!" reaction.
Oh no.
Blank stare ensues. This person is literally in disbelief that I cannot help her. I give her recommentions of two other florists, both within a 5-10 minute drive, and say, "I'm sorry we can't help you today!" to which I literally get a "huffff.....Yeah, me too," as she storms out.
Pleasant. Nice to meet you too. Terribly sorry you don't approve of my business model- gosh, I will just get RIGHT on that.
Back to work, right??
Oh no.
5 minutes later.
This person comes back in, tells me they're just going to buy flowers at the grocery, and asks to take a free vase so they can just make a centerpiece on their own- they'll return it, naturally, so obviously I'll just give it to them for free. Because they aren't just any person- they are WITH A CATERING COMPANY, thankyouverymuch, and therefore I am obligated to help solve their problem.
In between the 10 or so seconds of incredulousness (wait-weren't you just in here questioning the way I choose to run my business and now you want something free?) they point to a cut-crystal display vase and say "You're a doll. I'll take this."
Awkward discussion (between my mentally berating myself for not locking the door earlier) ensues about how I'd prefer to give her something that is a little more of a typically stocked item (not, say, a CRYSTAL VASE) which is met with a less than pleased reaction.
I wind up offering a glass curved vase that is nicer than a "plain vase" but something I won't miss if it doesn't come back to me, which though she says it will, meh, may or may not be likely. And that's fine, mind you, it's a vase- but no, you're not taking one of my expensive ones, and certainly not when you're taking it for free, and certainly not when you've basically been rude this entire time.
I get an exasperated "yeah, fine, I guess." The key words not utilized during this transaction are "thank" and "you."
Bonus?! I had a client in my office the entire time, who thank god is also a close friend, but which this person had absolutely no way of knowing.....so this *professional* came in and did this TO someone she didn't know, IN FRONT OF someone she didn't know.
And people wonder why my door is locked.
Becuase I'm the one who *gets to* arrive early, stay late, and assume all the worry, I take the trade-off as well: I get to make the rules, I get to make the decisions, and I get to be the boss. I get the right to run my business as I wish, and offer what I want, and not offer what I don't.
And sometimes, my decisions mean that I have to turn people down for things, and most of the time people are generally understanding when it comes to this.
"Are you free on my date?" "No, I'm sorry, we've already closed that date," is typically met with an "Oh, darn."
"Do you sell flowers by the stem?" "No, I'm sorry, we're an event planning and floral firm only," is typically answerd with "Oh, ok, thanks."
But then there's the 1% of people who just truly do not understand, or who don't bother to try to understand. They don't read the signs in the parking lot or on our window or on our door which say "Appointment Only!" and "Events Only!" or even stupidly specific signs such as the one in the window that literally says "We Do Not Offer Cash and Carry Services At This Time!"
(Seriously. We could not be more clear about this. NO.)
And sometimes, when faced with the harsh reality that the rules and decisions I have made in the way I run my business might actually apply to them, these people turn into what I like to call the "I QUESTION YOUR LIFE CHOICES, BIATCH" people.
Usually, these are callers, and usually, they've been told "No," for some crazy reason like we're already busy on their date or we are not available at the precise ONE window of time that they desire to meet with us, other clients or events be damned.
I can usually peg that they're going to be an IQYLCB caller when I can hear their hip popping out sassily and their pointer finger coming up in the silence between my "No" and their "Esssssxcuuuuuuuuuse ME?!"
"What do you MEAN you are closed that weekend? I mean *sound of abject disgust* how many events can you POSSIBLY be doing that day?" (Answer: If we're closed already? Probably 5. Maybe 3. Maybe 1 really awesome big one. There are about 13,000 weddings in our region PER YEAR. Do the math. Or maybe I'm just not working that weekend, not because I have a life or anything like that, but because my robot batteries need recharging and that guy who thinks I'm his wife wants to see me.)
"I mean, really, WHAT kind of place does not offer Saturday/weekend meetings *sound of abject disgust*?" (Answer: The kind that does Saturday/weekend events. Like the one you're calling to book.)
(and my absolute favorite): "*Sound of abject disgust* Well, you SHOULD be able to do mine, because MINE isn't that hard. I totally already met with someone and I know EXACTLY what I want and I just need you to do it." (Translation: Please steal another person's work and ideas and give it to me for less, and make it exactly what I want.)
But today was definitely a first. Today I had a IQYLCB walk into the shop, snark, leave, and then COME BACK FOR MORE.
There's a reason my door is now locked.
So this person walks into the shop -without a greeting- and starts explaining what they need for a luncheon. I question if the luncheon is today and when it is, explain that we don't do cash-and-carry pieces and are appointment only (like it says on three different signs located BEFORE you enter my shop) and unfortunately, we have no flowers in the store.
This is typically met with an "Oh, rats!" reaction.
Oh no.
Blank stare ensues. This person is literally in disbelief that I cannot help her. I give her recommentions of two other florists, both within a 5-10 minute drive, and say, "I'm sorry we can't help you today!" to which I literally get a "huffff.....Yeah, me too," as she storms out.
Pleasant. Nice to meet you too. Terribly sorry you don't approve of my business model- gosh, I will just get RIGHT on that.
Back to work, right??
Oh no.
5 minutes later.
This person comes back in, tells me they're just going to buy flowers at the grocery, and asks to take a free vase so they can just make a centerpiece on their own- they'll return it, naturally, so obviously I'll just give it to them for free. Because they aren't just any person- they are WITH A CATERING COMPANY, thankyouverymuch, and therefore I am obligated to help solve their problem.
In between the 10 or so seconds of incredulousness (wait-weren't you just in here questioning the way I choose to run my business and now you want something free?) they point to a cut-crystal display vase and say "You're a doll. I'll take this."
Awkward discussion (between my mentally berating myself for not locking the door earlier) ensues about how I'd prefer to give her something that is a little more of a typically stocked item (not, say, a CRYSTAL VASE) which is met with a less than pleased reaction.
I wind up offering a glass curved vase that is nicer than a "plain vase" but something I won't miss if it doesn't come back to me, which though she says it will, meh, may or may not be likely. And that's fine, mind you, it's a vase- but no, you're not taking one of my expensive ones, and certainly not when you're taking it for free, and certainly not when you've basically been rude this entire time.
I get an exasperated "yeah, fine, I guess." The key words not utilized during this transaction are "thank" and "you."
Bonus?! I had a client in my office the entire time, who thank god is also a close friend, but which this person had absolutely no way of knowing.....so this *professional* came in and did this TO someone she didn't know, IN FRONT OF someone she didn't know.
And people wonder why my door is locked.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Scene In Which I Think I Smell Funny Today
To be honest, I'm not sure what happened.
I woke up this morning like any other morning and took a shower. I used the same body wash I always do, smoothed on the same lotion and deoderant, and splashed the same perfume.
But now? I'm pretty sure I smell funny.
Not bad, mind you, but not great. Not disgusting or dirty or anything but just.....weird. Off.
I thought it was my car, and granted, it still might be after the amount of water I spilled from flower pots over the weekend and how disgustingly hot and humid it's been.
But then I just went to walk out the door and the breeze blew past me and my nose went, "Huh. That's it again."
And now I'm paranoid. (DOES THIS HAPPEN TO OTHER PEOPLE?! For the love of God, please tell me it does. Lie if you have to.)
Not once, but twice, have I peeled off my cardigan (which is one I'm trying to wear to rescue it from the Goodwill bin, as it's in danger of the not-worn-in-6-months default donation) and waved it around to air it out.
And now I'm trying to remember WHY this was in the Goodwill bin to start with.
And NOW I'm pretty darn sure that it's because the last time I wore it, my skin started to smell funny.
And now I'm stuck in this potentially funny smelling sweater for the entire day.
And I'm even more paranoid. And starting to sweat as a result.
You might call this a catch-22. Or, in a more hipster-ish fashion, "an ironic moment."
I really wish I could say this was an odd occurance, and in fact it sort of is, but the act of having an odd occurance is, well, really not odd.
So it's just Wednesday. Hope you're having a good one. If you see me today, and I smell a little off to you, please don't tell me. It will only make it worse.
I woke up this morning like any other morning and took a shower. I used the same body wash I always do, smoothed on the same lotion and deoderant, and splashed the same perfume.
But now? I'm pretty sure I smell funny.
Not bad, mind you, but not great. Not disgusting or dirty or anything but just.....weird. Off.
I thought it was my car, and granted, it still might be after the amount of water I spilled from flower pots over the weekend and how disgustingly hot and humid it's been.
But then I just went to walk out the door and the breeze blew past me and my nose went, "Huh. That's it again."
And now I'm paranoid. (DOES THIS HAPPEN TO OTHER PEOPLE?! For the love of God, please tell me it does. Lie if you have to.)
Not once, but twice, have I peeled off my cardigan (which is one I'm trying to wear to rescue it from the Goodwill bin, as it's in danger of the not-worn-in-6-months default donation) and waved it around to air it out.
And now I'm trying to remember WHY this was in the Goodwill bin to start with.
And NOW I'm pretty darn sure that it's because the last time I wore it, my skin started to smell funny.
And now I'm stuck in this potentially funny smelling sweater for the entire day.
And I'm even more paranoid. And starting to sweat as a result.
You might call this a catch-22. Or, in a more hipster-ish fashion, "an ironic moment."
I really wish I could say this was an odd occurance, and in fact it sort of is, but the act of having an odd occurance is, well, really not odd.
So it's just Wednesday. Hope you're having a good one. If you see me today, and I smell a little off to you, please don't tell me. It will only make it worse.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
The Scene In Which We Get Married
We are married.
And let me tell you, it is amazing.
For starters, the thing about being married is that when you wake up the next day, that person next to you? the one that's your best friend? the one who knows all your silly stories and smart-ass sayings and serious secrets? the one who you want to raise a family with and grow old with? is your husband. Or your wife. Or your partner. Or whatever label you choose to ascribe them with. They are yours.
It's lovely.
Our wedding was a beautiful, amazing weekend of celebrating with friends and family in a truly gorgous place. Naturally there were also some hilarious moments.
In hindsight.
Among other things, we had a fantastic wedding party that included our closest friends and siblings. On Friday night we had an amazing rehearsal dinner night where Cute Husband and I had the pleasure of toasting each of them and sharing silly stories of how we met them all.
On Saturday, despite the threat of inclement weather our Golf with the Groom and Beach with the Bride events were both a hit, though Beach with the Bride did turn into "Poolside with the Bride under Tented Cabanas with Food and Indoor Entertainment" which doesn't roll off the tongue quite the same way but was fun nonetheless.
I'm told our welcome party on Saturday night was a fantastic evening with wonderful food and a fun time to mix and mingle. I, however, was....um....otherwise occupied during the party.
Brides. Heed my advice. If you should start to feel a little, ohhhhh, under the weather at your welcome party? Like you're about to star in your own version of "Bridesmaids," and not so much the scene where they all band together and sing Wilson Philips with coordinated dance moves but more like....the scene where they're trying on dresses?
Cut and run. Don't wait to see what happens. I've seen what happens. It's not pretty.
In a moment of BLINDING CLARITY it becomes apparent that something is really, really not right here, and that it's about to become really, really wrong, and that time is right. now. and let me tell you, when that moment of brillance happens, you lose all pride and sense of polite decency and you worry about one thing and one thing only and that is GET ME TO THE BATHROOM.
I don't think I actually shoved anyone out of my way, but I was definitely on a mission.
Awesomely, at this point, approximately, oh, everyone at the party has seen me heading to the bathroom at one point or another. I didn't so much mind that, or really care who in the public bathroom got to witness the amazingly glorious site that was me hurling my guts in said white minidress.
What I cared about? Was making sure everyone knew I WAS. NOT. PREGNANT.
I'm pretty sure I advised everyone who had the guts (no pun intended) to come near me that night of that fact. Classy. Let me tell you.
Spoiler alert: I lived. My mom actually came in my room at 2 AM after Round 3, when the meds started kicking in and it became apparent I would live through the night, and said "Don't worry. Nobody really even realized you were gone. And at least this will make a funny blog post!" to which I'm pretty sure I groaned and moaned "TOO SOON." Alas, she was right. Well played, Mom.
Sunday dawned gorgeously and thankfully barf-free. Despite high winds that forced us to move off our original beach site, our wedding day was sunny and beautiful.
Our ceremony was beautifully officiated by one of my bridesmaids (and former college roommate) who is now a wondeful minister. The dress fit like a glove thanks to the couple pounds I'd miraculously shed the night before (again, see Bridesmaids reference), Cute Husband looked amazing in his suit, the flowers were gorgeous, and dolphins literally danced in the surf just outside our ceremony site.
OH YES. Top that, wedding gods. Dolphins frolicking during our vows.
The reception was absolutely amazing thanks to the hard work of John, Monica, Elise, Ben and everyone who helped us with the design and decor aspects of the day. The food was fantastic, the lounge area was thoroughly enjoyed, and the live music during our ceremony and cocktail hour were amazing.
For the dancing portion of the evening, we hadn't provided a complete playlist for the DJ. We'd simply requested that he stick to pop, Top 40-ish songs, and work in a couple slow songs that I'd provided and a couple house songs that Justin had provided. No Katy Perry, no Beyonce. Nothing against those ladies but, eh, not my favorites.
We'd also requested he avoid such *amazing* wedding hits as the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Cha Cha Slide, and, well, basically anything with any type of universally accepted dance movement.
Easy, right? Great.
In retrospect the first Katy Perry song should have tipped us off.
Possibly also the beginning of a trio of 80s songs that no one recognized.
If not either of those things, I probably should have realized it when the strains of OH OH OH, OH OH OHHH OH OH ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! began ringing through the air, but I was in the bathroom at the time, and really, have YOU ever peed in a wedding dress? Let me tell you, that requires enough attention, thankyouverymuch.
Also hard to do in a wedding dress? The Cha Cha Slide. Oh but we did. Slide to the left! Slide to the right! Take it back now y'all! One hop this time! Two hops this time! Criss cross! Criss cross! Cha Cha now y'all!
Which was the first time - but oh, not the last - that Cute Husband caught my eye on the dance floor and mouthed "What the eff?"
However, the point of the evening during which it became blindingly apparent that we had completely lost control of the music? was me leading a conga line through the reception hall to "Jump In the Line."
I'm pretty sure the DJ just assumes that you are so ravingly drunk at this point (oh sad but true: copious upchucking the night prior leads one to spend most of their wedding night stone cold sober) that you don't actually really care what he plays, and besides, who wouldn't want to Shake! Shake! Shake! Senora! at their wedding?!?!?
Work your body line. Work it all the time.
The thing about the wedding music is, it's a party. It doesn't matter. In the end, you plan everything down to the very last detail and you know what? stuff goes wrong anyway. And nobody cares, least of all you, because what went RIGHT? is that you got married.
After a week of sunshine with family and friends, we came home and back to reality. Wife-dom has apparently triggered a new instinct in me and in the couple days we've been back, I've been cleaning up a storm, cooking homemade dinners (whatever. two dinners is a plural. Who cares how many days that's over??), and grinning like a madwoman every time I refer to Cute Husband as, well, Husband!
And THAT, right there, tells you that the best part of the whole thing? Is that now we are MARRIED.
(that, and the new Keurig.)
And let me tell you, it is amazing.
For starters, the thing about being married is that when you wake up the next day, that person next to you? the one that's your best friend? the one who knows all your silly stories and smart-ass sayings and serious secrets? the one who you want to raise a family with and grow old with? is your husband. Or your wife. Or your partner. Or whatever label you choose to ascribe them with. They are yours.
It's lovely.
Our wedding was a beautiful, amazing weekend of celebrating with friends and family in a truly gorgous place. Naturally there were also some hilarious moments.
In hindsight.
Among other things, we had a fantastic wedding party that included our closest friends and siblings. On Friday night we had an amazing rehearsal dinner night where Cute Husband and I had the pleasure of toasting each of them and sharing silly stories of how we met them all.
On Saturday, despite the threat of inclement weather our Golf with the Groom and Beach with the Bride events were both a hit, though Beach with the Bride did turn into "Poolside with the Bride under Tented Cabanas with Food and Indoor Entertainment" which doesn't roll off the tongue quite the same way but was fun nonetheless.
I'm told our welcome party on Saturday night was a fantastic evening with wonderful food and a fun time to mix and mingle. I, however, was....um....otherwise occupied during the party.
Brides. Heed my advice. If you should start to feel a little, ohhhhh, under the weather at your welcome party? Like you're about to star in your own version of "Bridesmaids," and not so much the scene where they all band together and sing Wilson Philips with coordinated dance moves but more like....the scene where they're trying on dresses?
Cut and run. Don't wait to see what happens. I've seen what happens. It's not pretty.
In a moment of BLINDING CLARITY it becomes apparent that something is really, really not right here, and that it's about to become really, really wrong, and that time is right. now. and let me tell you, when that moment of brillance happens, you lose all pride and sense of polite decency and you worry about one thing and one thing only and that is GET ME TO THE BATHROOM.
I don't think I actually shoved anyone out of my way, but I was definitely on a mission.
Awesomely, at this point, approximately, oh, everyone at the party has seen me heading to the bathroom at one point or another. I didn't so much mind that, or really care who in the public bathroom got to witness the amazingly glorious site that was me hurling my guts in said white minidress.
What I cared about? Was making sure everyone knew I WAS. NOT. PREGNANT.
I'm pretty sure I advised everyone who had the guts (no pun intended) to come near me that night of that fact. Classy. Let me tell you.
Spoiler alert: I lived. My mom actually came in my room at 2 AM after Round 3, when the meds started kicking in and it became apparent I would live through the night, and said "Don't worry. Nobody really even realized you were gone. And at least this will make a funny blog post!" to which I'm pretty sure I groaned and moaned "TOO SOON." Alas, she was right. Well played, Mom.
Sunday dawned gorgeously and thankfully barf-free. Despite high winds that forced us to move off our original beach site, our wedding day was sunny and beautiful.
Our ceremony was beautifully officiated by one of my bridesmaids (and former college roommate) who is now a wondeful minister. The dress fit like a glove thanks to the couple pounds I'd miraculously shed the night before (again, see Bridesmaids reference), Cute Husband looked amazing in his suit, the flowers were gorgeous, and dolphins literally danced in the surf just outside our ceremony site.
OH YES. Top that, wedding gods. Dolphins frolicking during our vows.
The reception was absolutely amazing thanks to the hard work of John, Monica, Elise, Ben and everyone who helped us with the design and decor aspects of the day. The food was fantastic, the lounge area was thoroughly enjoyed, and the live music during our ceremony and cocktail hour were amazing.
For the dancing portion of the evening, we hadn't provided a complete playlist for the DJ. We'd simply requested that he stick to pop, Top 40-ish songs, and work in a couple slow songs that I'd provided and a couple house songs that Justin had provided. No Katy Perry, no Beyonce. Nothing against those ladies but, eh, not my favorites.
We'd also requested he avoid such *amazing* wedding hits as the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Cha Cha Slide, and, well, basically anything with any type of universally accepted dance movement.
Easy, right? Great.
In retrospect the first Katy Perry song should have tipped us off.
Possibly also the beginning of a trio of 80s songs that no one recognized.
If not either of those things, I probably should have realized it when the strains of OH OH OH, OH OH OHHH OH OH ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! began ringing through the air, but I was in the bathroom at the time, and really, have YOU ever peed in a wedding dress? Let me tell you, that requires enough attention, thankyouverymuch.
Also hard to do in a wedding dress? The Cha Cha Slide. Oh but we did. Slide to the left! Slide to the right! Take it back now y'all! One hop this time! Two hops this time! Criss cross! Criss cross! Cha Cha now y'all!
Which was the first time - but oh, not the last - that Cute Husband caught my eye on the dance floor and mouthed "What the eff?"
However, the point of the evening during which it became blindingly apparent that we had completely lost control of the music? was me leading a conga line through the reception hall to "Jump In the Line."
I'm pretty sure the DJ just assumes that you are so ravingly drunk at this point (oh sad but true: copious upchucking the night prior leads one to spend most of their wedding night stone cold sober) that you don't actually really care what he plays, and besides, who wouldn't want to Shake! Shake! Shake! Senora! at their wedding?!?!?
Work your body line. Work it all the time.
The thing about the wedding music is, it's a party. It doesn't matter. In the end, you plan everything down to the very last detail and you know what? stuff goes wrong anyway. And nobody cares, least of all you, because what went RIGHT? is that you got married.
After a week of sunshine with family and friends, we came home and back to reality. Wife-dom has apparently triggered a new instinct in me and in the couple days we've been back, I've been cleaning up a storm, cooking homemade dinners (whatever. two dinners is a plural. Who cares how many days that's over??), and grinning like a madwoman every time I refer to Cute Husband as, well, Husband!
And THAT, right there, tells you that the best part of the whole thing? Is that now we are MARRIED.
(that, and the new Keurig.)
Friday, May 4, 2012
The Scene In Which I Am Totally *That* Girl
If you don't know by now that I'm *that* girl, you probably haven't been reading this blog too long.
Or else I haven't been posting all that often.
Meh. Tomato tohmahto.
Seriously though, I'm absolutely *that* girl. The one that the thing that you think only actually happens in a slapstick movie, likely starring someone like Zooey Deschanel as her typical loveably-quirky-character, actually happens to in real life.
I fall up stairs.*
I'm the person who goes to pick up the heavy trash bag and makes it alllllllllll the way down the driveway and then (and THEN) the bottom falls out and the entire contents of the bag dump into a large pile at their feet.**
Awesomely, this particular trait occasionally involves realizing significantly after the fact that I have done something totally embarrassing.
So this morning.
I've tossed on a pair of jeans for the day that I haven't worn in awhile, and for the life of me, I can't remember why I haven't worn them recently. They are finally broken in, which means I've washed and worn them exactly enough times that I have finally gotten them to exactly the level of softness and comfort that I love.
It also means that they have inevitably acquired a small hole in the knee area. So they've become "work jeans" where knee holes are acceptable, because all I'm doing is making flowers.
Except for days like yesterday, when I wear those jeans to work not remembering to bring something else along for the latter part of the day, when I'll be actually going out in public and interacting with other humans.
Fast forward to the fun part, which is this morning, when I pull on the same pair of amazing jeans (because right? I'm in love with them now?) and head off to work.
And sit down on the floor to work on something.
And notice a slight....scratchy feeling.
Like I can feel the carpet through my jeans.
And that's when I remembered why I had retired this particular pair of jeans awhile back.
Possibly because there is a small rip in my jeans.
And by small, I mean, there is a LARGE rip in my jeans.
And by *in* my jeans, I mean, smack in the middle of the ass of my jeans.
The jeans that I spent the entire day walking around the Zoo in yesterday with three small children in tow and countless others who have now possibly*** seen my backside.
And, apparently, my hot pink underwear.
I can't help it. This stuff just happens.
*More frequently than I care to admit.
**I literally couldn't make this shit up if I tried. This happened WEDNESDAY.
***I say possibly because it makes me seem less totally weird and freaky. There's no way people didn't notice. How I didn't notice the BREEZE is another story.
Or else I haven't been posting all that often.
Meh. Tomato tohmahto.
Seriously though, I'm absolutely *that* girl. The one that the thing that you think only actually happens in a slapstick movie, likely starring someone like Zooey Deschanel as her typical loveably-quirky-character, actually happens to in real life.
I fall up stairs.*
I'm the person who goes to pick up the heavy trash bag and makes it alllllllllll the way down the driveway and then (and THEN) the bottom falls out and the entire contents of the bag dump into a large pile at their feet.**
Awesomely, this particular trait occasionally involves realizing significantly after the fact that I have done something totally embarrassing.
So this morning.
I've tossed on a pair of jeans for the day that I haven't worn in awhile, and for the life of me, I can't remember why I haven't worn them recently. They are finally broken in, which means I've washed and worn them exactly enough times that I have finally gotten them to exactly the level of softness and comfort that I love.
It also means that they have inevitably acquired a small hole in the knee area. So they've become "work jeans" where knee holes are acceptable, because all I'm doing is making flowers.
Except for days like yesterday, when I wear those jeans to work not remembering to bring something else along for the latter part of the day, when I'll be actually going out in public and interacting with other humans.
Fast forward to the fun part, which is this morning, when I pull on the same pair of amazing jeans (because right? I'm in love with them now?) and head off to work.
And sit down on the floor to work on something.
And notice a slight....scratchy feeling.
Like I can feel the carpet through my jeans.
And that's when I remembered why I had retired this particular pair of jeans awhile back.
Possibly because there is a small rip in my jeans.
And by small, I mean, there is a LARGE rip in my jeans.
And by *in* my jeans, I mean, smack in the middle of the ass of my jeans.
The jeans that I spent the entire day walking around the Zoo in yesterday with three small children in tow and countless others who have now possibly*** seen my backside.
And, apparently, my hot pink underwear.
I can't help it. This stuff just happens.
*More frequently than I care to admit.
**I literally couldn't make this shit up if I tried. This happened WEDNESDAY.
***I say possibly because it makes me seem less totally weird and freaky. There's no way people didn't notice. How I didn't notice the BREEZE is another story.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Scene In Which It's All In A Name
I've been thinking a lot about names lately, namely (har har) because I'm about to add one to mine- I'm taking Cute Boy's last name in just a few short months!
After much consideration, and given the fact that his last name manages to pack two W's, to O's, a J, and a CZ-sounds like-CH combo over three syllables whereas mine now is FOUR LETTERS, pronounced EXACTLY LIKE THEY LOOK, and given that it makes my entire name a total of four syllables.....well, let's just say I'll be retaining my maiden name for business purposes. I'm planning to hyphenate my last name legally.
But I really wanted to take on Cute Boy's last name, because I personally think it's important for a family to have a family name, and because one day I want to have the same name as my children.
Another reason I'm planning to hyphenate is that here in the great state of Indiana, you can't have two last names without one, and you can't have more than three names, and I didn't want to give up my middle name, which is Laine.
Which is apparently, as I learned today, A COMPLETELY CRAZY NAME. Unlike one, say, with multiple W's and O's, and J's and T's and Z's. Say that threetimesfast.
Now, I've had a lot of people tell me my middle name is unusual, but I've never really had anyone insist that it was wrong and then try to PROVE that to me...until today. I had to give the Victoria's Secret checkout girl my license so that I could return a bra (purchased as a possible wedding-day need but my awesome tailor didn't require it), and apparently, you also need an Act of God to return something to there, because this girl critiqued my entire license. Which led to.......
cashier: Oh look, they like, spelled Lane wrong on your license.
me: Nope, haha, that's how I spell my name.
cashier: No, no, like the street part, that's ok, but like, here in your name? That's wrong.
me: Nope, that's really how I spell my name.
cashier: oh. With an I? Like, not the street?
me: Yep!
me in my head: um, it's getting weird. It's my name. Just return this thing and sell me this other overpriced bra, mmmmk?
.........
cashier: Really?
me: Yes, I promise, really.
other salesgirl starts to stare at this point. Either she thinks I'm a crazy name misspeller (hah- funny- spellcheck dings that word) and possibly a psychotic killer as a result or she's mentally trying to tell her coworker: LET IT GO .
.........
cashier: apparently receives mental message Oh.
It's days like these, along with the times I watch/listen to my fiance spell his name for people after saying it and watch their brows furrow as they try to reconcile the letters they are hearing with the word they just heard that I'm really, really grateful that the first 29 years of my life were spent with such an easy name.
But I'm still really looking forward to having the hard one to add :)
After much consideration, and given the fact that his last name manages to pack two W's, to O's, a J, and a CZ-sounds like-CH combo over three syllables whereas mine now is FOUR LETTERS, pronounced EXACTLY LIKE THEY LOOK, and given that it makes my entire name a total of four syllables.....well, let's just say I'll be retaining my maiden name for business purposes. I'm planning to hyphenate my last name legally.
But I really wanted to take on Cute Boy's last name, because I personally think it's important for a family to have a family name, and because one day I want to have the same name as my children.
Another reason I'm planning to hyphenate is that here in the great state of Indiana, you can't have two last names without one, and you can't have more than three names, and I didn't want to give up my middle name, which is Laine.
Which is apparently, as I learned today, A COMPLETELY CRAZY NAME. Unlike one, say, with multiple W's and O's, and J's and T's and Z's. Say that threetimesfast.
Now, I've had a lot of people tell me my middle name is unusual, but I've never really had anyone insist that it was wrong and then try to PROVE that to me...until today. I had to give the Victoria's Secret checkout girl my license so that I could return a bra (purchased as a possible wedding-day need but my awesome tailor didn't require it), and apparently, you also need an Act of God to return something to there, because this girl critiqued my entire license. Which led to.......
cashier: Oh look, they like, spelled Lane wrong on your license.
me: Nope, haha, that's how I spell my name.
cashier: No, no, like the street part, that's ok, but like, here in your name? That's wrong.
me: Nope, that's really how I spell my name.
cashier: oh. With an I? Like, not the street?
me: Yep!
me in my head: um, it's getting weird. It's my name. Just return this thing and sell me this other overpriced bra, mmmmk?
.........
cashier: Really?
me: Yes, I promise, really.
other salesgirl starts to stare at this point. Either she thinks I'm a crazy name misspeller (hah- funny- spellcheck dings that word) and possibly a psychotic killer as a result or she's mentally trying to tell her coworker: LET IT GO .
.........
cashier: apparently receives mental message Oh.
It's days like these, along with the times I watch/listen to my fiance spell his name for people after saying it and watch their brows furrow as they try to reconcile the letters they are hearing with the word they just heard that I'm really, really grateful that the first 29 years of my life were spent with such an easy name.
But I'm still really looking forward to having the hard one to add :)
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Scene In Which I Think That Was The Holidays
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!
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!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- December
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- November
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.
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.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- October
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!)
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!)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The Scene In Which I Did Stuff This Summer. When, You Know, I Totally Didn't Blog.
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:
Celebrated a fabulous friend on a fabulous fortieth!
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.
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.
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! :)
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! :)
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Scene In Which I Hear Voices, Alternately Titled, My Computer Wants To Kill Me
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.
>
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.
>
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- September
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.
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.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- August
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.
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.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
The Scene In Which You Can Run, But You Can't Hide
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.
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.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- July
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tips from the Calendar- June
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).
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).
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