tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86217436936019337082024-02-02T13:49:28.711-08:00Jules vs NutsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger607125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-52765638723282775802017-02-23T16:00:00.000-08:002017-02-23T16:29:06.436-08:00Maternity LeftSuddenly I only have a week and a half left of maternity leave.<br />
<br />
I know I'm very lucky that I got to take ANY maternity leave and get paid for some of it, given the experiences of so many. However, (1) my leave sucks when I compare it to Niall's sisters' over in Ireland and (2) I'm still sad that it's almost over. I've wanted this baby <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2008/09/year-late-for-my-quarterlife-crisis.html" target="_blank">FOR</a> <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2010/12/emo-post-fair-warning.html" target="_blank">FUCKING</a> <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2011/04/oh-baby.html" target="_blank">EVER</a> and it just seems unfair that I have send him to full time daycare before I'm ready.<br />
<br />
I know HE will be just fine. He's little enough that he won't remember, plus he's getting to an age where he probably could do with more stimulation and interesting things. The daycare we're sending him to is local and really nice. On his first day they had a little welcome sign up for him and I do love seeing his little cubby with his name on it and all the cute little things they have there. So far he has been to four days over the last 2 weeks. I go back to work on March 8, so we are easing in. That's all good and fine [weep].<br />
<br />
Now that it's mostly slipped away from me, I did not realize how much of maternity leave I would spend physically recovering from Baby Clover's birth. As someone who had never given birth before, I sort of thought that as long as I could avoid the major surgery option of baby removal, the recovery wouldn't be so bad. Ha. Ha ha.<br />
After 43 hours of labor, with two nights of painful contractions that went away by dawn tacked on before that, my body was wrecked by the time Baby Clover made his debut. And I didn't realize it.<br />
It felt SO GOOD to have the baby out and to be sitting up on the bed, holding my wee babe while Niall fed me my breakfast tray that I didn't so much notice the steady increase in pain and exhaustion until WHAM it hit me two days later. My whole body hurt. My arms and legs and back and business district. And I hadn't slept for a week before Clover was born, so I was already starting out sleep deprived.<br />
<br />
I just hadn't realized how hard that would all be, even though everybody warns you how sleep deprived and exhausted you will be. It also didn't help that certain family members of mine have repeatedly told me that I have an easy baby. Oh, great! So it's me, then. I'm just a failure because I feel like this is hard.<br />
<br />
I think I finally felt mostly physically back to normal after about three months. Clover is four months old now and seems to have started in on a sleep regression (?), but can it really be a sleep regression when his sleep has NEVER BEEN THIS SHITTY BEFORE? He has started waking up about every hour or so and I just want to cry. It's suckey but fine for NOW, but when I'm expected to function at work I don't honestly know how I'm going to do it. It's a good thing my job doesn't involve life or death situations! Oh, wait.<br />
<br />
I suspect that he also might be teething because he is drooling all over the place and gnawing on everything.<br />
He has also discovered his toes, which is just about the cutest thing ever.<br />
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And he babbles and laughs and holds his head up. He loves his bath and he hates his car seat to the point where he arches his back and scootches down to avoid being buckled. He's a tiny little PERSON with opinions and having him is everything I ever dreamed it could be and more. Going back to work full time is going to suuuuuuck.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-3423450274104134492017-01-25T13:00:00.000-08:002017-01-25T13:22:07.698-08:00Baby gadgetsOHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.<br />
Deep breaths. Wait, no. That's a lie. I'm taking shallow, panicked breaths over here.<br />
<br />
Shall we think about something other than the rapid dismantling of human rights that is happening before our eyes?<br />
<br />
Clover is 3 months old (and change). I am happy to report that I no longer have scary late night thoughts about dropping him or him getting hurt. I still go extra slowly and carefully when I'm carrying him down stairs, but that's just good sense.<br />
Also, today I realized that maybe the reason that I'm shedding SO MUCH HAIR is that I didn't shed any for many months and it's all coming out now. That's a thing, right?<br />
<br />
How about some baby related items! It seems like every time I'm around my parents or sisters they make some comment about how there are so many more gadgetty things these days than there used to be. It's hard not to take this as "you have it so easy with all of your THINGS," but I don't think they mean it that way (and that's a topic for another day).<br />
<br />
Anyhow, a few things I like (that you definitely don't NEED, eyeroll) for a baby are:<br />
<br />
The <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Puj-Tub-Foldable-Bathtub-Newborn/dp/B005OAF6RS/ref=pd_sbs_75_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B01GK8QI9W&pd_rd_r=PFSH8S4CZYKHR09FY9QB&pd_rd_w=KYi6L&pd_rd_wg=UrXow&refRID=PFSH8S4CZYKHR09FY9QB&th=1" target="_blank">Puj tub</a>. It's a little squishy, foldy uppy insert that goes into your bathroom sink. I love it. My actual bathtub is a shower/tub combo with a glass door so that means that the door and the runner thingies for the door are in the way. Plus, why would I kneel in front of the bathtub when I can stand at my sink? I dread the day my baby gets too big to bathe in the sink. But when that day does come, the Puj tub stores nice and flat!<br />
<br />
The <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Binxy-Baby-Shopping-Hammock-Quatrefoil/dp/B00VY9ERQY/ref=sr_1_1_a_it?ie=UTF8&qid=1485227838&sr=8-1&keywords=binxy&th=1" target="_blank">Binxy baby shopping cart hammock</a>. This thing is adorable. It's a little hammock that goes in your shopping cart. It's really nice when I am buying more things than can fit in the stroller and it is RIDICULOUSLY cute. People stop and exclaim how cute my baby is, which I definitely don't mind. I mean, look:<br />
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Oh, hey also, how about that <a href="http://www.target.com/p/baby-brown-bear-pram-just-one-you-made-by-carter-s/-/A-51266795" target="_blank">bear suit</a>? It's adorable and soft and it fits over Clover's clothes and is easier than a blankie to keep him warm. It seems to be on clearance at Target right now. I bought one in every size.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-21279060815353597732017-01-19T12:30:00.000-08:002017-01-19T12:58:05.115-08:00The Last Good DayAlternate title: I CANNOT FUCKING BELIVE WE ARE NOT CELEBRATING THE UPCOMING INAUGURATION OF MADAME PRESIDENT HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON.<br />
<br />
I guess the actual last good day was November 7th, when I set out my "I'm With Her" tee shirt and went to bed full of hope and excitement. On November 8th, I stuck an H sticker on the back of my newborn baby's onesie and we went out for our first solo outing to drop off my ballot. And then everything fell apart. And since then it seems like things are getting worse and more outlandish. I'm not surprised by the news anymore. I continue to be horrified.<br />
<br />
I wrote a letter to our CURRENT president, Barack Obama, a few days ago. I don't know if it will ever fall into his hands, but I'm glad I wrote it. I didn't mention <a href="http://www.vulture.com/2016/11/jon-stewart-remembers-his-twitter-war-with-trump.html" target="_blank">Fuckface von Clownstick</a> in it, but just tried to focus on thanking Obama, the man who campaigned for hope.<br />
<br />
I hope we survive the next four years.<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-1205227544442336212017-01-18T14:30:00.000-08:002017-01-18T21:06:50.733-08:00night owl, bookwormLet's see, it's about 2:30PM and I've just gotten up. I mean, I've sort of been up and down all morning-- feeding the baby, changing his diaper, pumping. But right now is when I can call myself FULLY up.<br />
Baby Clover was up nursing several times in the night. He sleeps in a little buzzy chair that's attached to the pack n play right next to my side of the bed, for easy access purposes. He wakes up, I'll nurse him, and put him back in the chair. But last night was one of those nights where he was nursing so much that I would just doze while holding him, which meant that the sleep I DID get was not exactly the most restful.<br />
So then Niall got up verrrry early to catch a verrry early plane for a business trip. And Clover and I stayed in bed, because he is currently still at an age where his favorite things are: nursing, kicking, his hands, and being held. At about 11:30 it was time for his morning nap (I *think* I can say this now- Baby Clover usually takes a morning nap for a couple hours at around 11:30ish. Now that I've said that it'll probably change, right?) so I swaddled him up in a nice cozy blankie, gave him his soother, and snuggled him up on Niall's side of the bed. We both fell asleep and woke up a couple hours later. It was heavenly. And now we're up up. Clover is on his play mat, cooing at his toys and sucking on his hand.<br />
Today is one of those days where I think we'll just be staying in our jammies all day. It's lashing rain (don't you love that expression- Irish people and their delightful sayings) and we've got nowhere we have to be.<br />
<br />
Clover is 3 months old, which is apparently the time when I feel it makes sense to start reading to him. He has some delightful board books (such as The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Jamberry) that we've been enjoying. He definitely likes it, but I'm sure he just likes the fact that I'm talking to him. Yesterday I took my car in to be serviced and they gave me a ride to the nearby mall. There was an actual real life bookstore in that mall, so we hung out in the children's section for awhile. We bought Llama Llama Red Pajama and The Runaway Bunny. And today I went on Amazon and ordered Is your Mama a Llama? (Apparently we're going with a llama theme here), The Carrot Seed, The Happy Egg, and I am a Bunny. I went on there to buy the Hillary Rodham Clinton: Some Girls are Just Born to Lead book, which led me to The Story of Martin Luther King Jr. board book and Of Thee I Sing: A Letter to my Daughters by Barack Obama (those should arrive on the 20th, so I suppose I'll read the book about Hillary Clinton and then Obama's book and then have a good long cry).<br />
I'm planning to buy some more classics like Ferdinand the Bull and Where the Wild Things Are. And I also want to somehow get my hands on that tiny book Juniper by Robert Kraus, which seems to be out of print. It was apparently previously in this <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bunnys-Nutshell-Library-Robert-Kraus/dp/0060232250" target="_blank">Bunny's Nutshell Library</a> collection, but I associate it with other tiny books like Chicken Soup with Rice. And I just figured out why- apparently THAT was part of another <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001JTVV0E/ref=ox_sc_act_title_1?ie=UTF8&psc=1&smid=A2MLK9JLT4EY4Q" target="_blank">Nutshell Library</a> collection, which I have now added to cart. A HA! Any other book recommendations?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-91507786551319227332017-01-09T22:30:00.000-08:002017-01-09T22:37:24.475-08:00Pregnancy purchasesWhile I was pregnant, I looked up various lists and asked for advice about what essential things I would need while pregnant/after giving birth. There are a few items that stand out to me as the VERY BEST ones, so I thought I'd write them down.<br />
<br />
1. Body Pillow- In July I was about 6 months pregnant and starting to feel rather large and unwieldily. It was at that point, in fact, that I got my first "You're about the pop!" comment. Haaaa. No, sir. I have 3 months of this left. Anyhow, in July Niall asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I said a body pillow. He got me <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B011U1LIK8?psc=1" target="_blank">this one</a>, which I LOVE. It's like a very long, very nice regular pillow (not one of those funky shaped specifically-for-pregnancy pillows). It's memory foam with some sort of cooling technology built in which was nice for always-boiling pregnant Jules (a stark contrast from always-freezing non-pregnant Jules). I really REALLY liked this body pillow. I would wrap my arms and legs around it and I found that it provided a good amount of frontal support, which I needed more than backal support. I don't like to cuddle with a <i>person</i> in bed, but BY GOD I will spoon the hell out of this pillow all night long and make it breakfast in the morning.<br />
<br />
2. Shower Chair- This was a late in the game purchase. Or, end of the game purchase. Last day of the... game... purchase, if you will. That is to say, we bought the shower chair the day I ended up going to the hospital (not the day Clover was BORN (thanks to my excessively long labor), but the last day I was home before I came home with a baby). So I was very VERY uncomfortable at that point. Anytime somebody asked me how I was feeling I always said "big and tired." I was so big and so tired. SO BIG AND TIRED. Everything at that point in pregnancy was uncomfortable and exhausting. I couldn't get comfortable lying down or sitting. I couldn't enjoy eating because everything gave me reflux. I couldn't enjoy a bath because I was too big for the tub to immerse the majority of my body in water, plus there was all the HOISTING in and out I had to do. The only things I really enjoyed were milkshakes and going to the gym. And, to be clear, by "going to the gym" I mean spending 15 mins on the cross trainer and then sitting in the hot tub. As a bonus I got to visually offend everyone around me by being an enormous angry pregnant woman in a bikini. I did get some sick pleasure out of the horrified glances I got for daring to be that pregnant and out in public. So I guess there were three things I enjoyed- milkshakes, going the gym, and scowling at everyone around me. Where was I? Right, the shower chair! I was so big and tired that taking a shower was exhausting, so I decided that I wanted a shower chair. There are fancier and nicer ones out there, but I got the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Drive-Medical-Bath-Bench-without/dp/B005JIMQL4/ref=pd_sbs_121_4?_encoding=UTF8&refRID=6N7S56X36NT0Z9NHEHJM&th=1" target="_blank">regular old utility one</a>. And it's GREAT. It's sturdy and it fits in my standard sized bathtub/shower combo. I liked it the one time I used it whilst I was pregnant, and it was ALSO good for those several weeks after giving birth when sitting down to shower was a good idea. And now it is very helpful for shaving my legs.<br />
<br />
3. Slippers- Another item I requested for my birthday was a nice pair of slippers. Specifically, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Luxehome-Womens-Fleece-House-Slippers/dp/B00QWRAKU0/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_10?_encoding=UTF8&refRID=HAQXC32XXD8N9ENJZ7Y9&th=1" target="_blank">these</a> (in purple). I actually saved those nice slippers for home use. I brought an old pair to the hospital and wore them while I walked the halls during my seemingly endless labor. They were hot pink with stars on them and actually attracted a lot of attention, so that was kind of fun. If I ever find myself in the position of planning for a hospitalization again, I will probably buy some cheapie, flamboyant slippers for this exact purpose. The pink starred ones ended up um. There was some blood dripped on them so I threw them out instead of bringing them home.<br />
<br />
4. Momwasher- Speaking of things that have to do with blood and general grossness after having a baby, let's talk about the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/FridaBaby-006-Fridababy-Fridet-MomWasher/dp/B00VO65XB0/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=AFM7NE2HEJD8QYYR85SY" target="_blank">Momwasher</a>! It was one of my impulse Amazon purchases that I spent gift card money on. Listen, I know it's not that much different from the squirt bottle thing they give you in the hospital, but I found the Momwasher's angle to be appreciably nicer. And when we're talking about raw, painful sensitive bits I think we can agree that even small improvements can make a significant difference.<br />
<br />
5. Exercise Bike- WAIT! Hear me out. My husband is someone who wants to work out just about every day and I love him in spite of this. Shortly after Clover was born, Niall came up with the idea that maybe we should buy an exercise bike to have at home so that he could get his work out in while not simultaneously abandoning me with our newborn. We ended up getting <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Exerpeutic-Folding-Magnetic-Upright-Pulse/dp/B007595TKU/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=G4H8637QTFVBZDSJ4NMA" target="_blank">this one</a>. It folds up and stores easily in the closet. And sometimes Niall rides it while holding Clover, which is just about the cutest thing. One of these days I'll probably use it too, but riding a bicycle is literally the last thing I wanted to do after having a baby.<br />
<br />
6. Recliner- Now this is more my speed. I decided that I wanted to get a nice, comfortable recliner for nursing the baby and probably sleeping in whilst he was very wee. I came up with a whole list of reasons and went to present them to Niall. "I think we should get a recliner," I started. "GREAT!" He said, evidently not needing to hear my very well thought out list of reasons. And that was that. We bought a recliner and it's everything I dreamed it could be.<br />
<br />
7. Yoga ball- Or exercise ball or birth ball or whatever you call it. This was given to me by my friend D and it made a nice addition to our assortment of places for Jules to sit while pregnant. Due to the aforementioned big and tiredness, trying a variety positions/activities was a necessity. The ball D got me has sand or something inside of it which prevents it from rolling the hell away when you go to sit down on it. The closest thing I can find on Amazon is <a href="https://www.amazon.com/SPRI-StediBall-Stability-Exercise-Balance/dp/B00LY9N8FK/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=MC2WMFRHD9CJ18SNXMND" target="_blank">this</a>. We still have the ball in our living room even though I'm not pregnant anymore. We like to use it for sitting or bouncing the baby or just generally cluttering up the floorspace.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-60253297069133256652017-01-03T15:00:00.000-08:002017-01-03T15:27:52.931-08:00Potpourri2017 is here. And that's good. Because I feel like 2016 was a series of various sized nightmares. With the exception of the birth of my darling baby boy, 2016 can pretty much die in a fire. I'm sure I'm exaggerating. I heard there was some good news about tigers and probably other stuff also, but the election and its aftermath have pretty much broken my spirit/heart/etc. As the results rolled in, I held my three week old baby and sobbed onto his tiny, fuzzy head. "Mama's sorry" I whispered over and over. Sorry for what? Not worrying enough? Not doing enough? Bringing him into THIS world instead of a better one? Yeah, all of that. Fuck. What is 2017 and all its trappings going to bring? I'm terrified.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I'm still mad at Google for taking away the Reader. I feel like it had a big effect on blogging, in terms of me reading them and writing in mine. And probably other people's too, I imagine. I wrote a sentence about my blogging community, but I hated that phrase so much I had to delete it. Anyhow, Niall asked me what my New Year's resolution was and I said I'd like to get back into blogging. Which, now I feel like I've set myself up for failure but whatever.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Our other resolution is to reconfigure our living room. We have a lot of open shelving storage and lately have been looking around the room and realizing that this little pip squeak is going to be mobile in a few months and... yikes. We don't have a huge amount of space, nor can we afford to move into a larger place, so we're going to have to get creative. Part of the problem is that we use our kitchen table as a desk, so we need to somehow get both functions out of the space. We went to Ikea yesterday and bought a smaller dining set. And we ordered a rolly stand thing for the computer. Once we get those things sorted, we'll be moving the couch where the table currently is so it blocks the big bookshelves. And we need a better filing system. Better, I mean, than "put the mail and important papers in a pile and set it aside until some internal alarm goes off and then panic and find the thing."<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Is Hawaiian Punch equally bad as soda (Coke, specifically) or slightly less bad? I know it's bad, but HOW bad?<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Today is rainy and I'm extra tired for some reason and Niall is at work, so I'm sleeping when the baby sleeps. He just conked out so excuse me, the couch is calling.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-73111937429959820382016-10-26T20:59:00.002-07:002016-10-26T20:59:32.616-07:00Baby CloverBaby Clover was born on October 14 at 9:36AM.<br />
He weighed 8lbs 6oz and was 20 and 3/4 inches tall.<br />
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Now that he's out in the world, his name is Tiernan. But I think he will always be my Baby Clover.<br />
I love him so much.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-89424426718083159382016-08-15T10:00:00.000-07:002016-08-15T10:00:09.831-07:00Potpourri<div class="MsoNormal">
A friend of mine is pregnant and her baby shower next weekend. I can’t make it to the shower. BUT I put
together a lovely package and mailed it to the shower hostess. So, my
friend will have a nice gift from me to open at her shower. Which
basically mean that I get, like, partial shower credit.
BAM.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe you’re already aware of this as an option but
I only recognized it as a thing when it happened at my bridal shower. I
had a friend who was unsure if she could make it to the shower, so she
sent a gift to the hostess. She ended up
not being able to make it, but I opened her gift at the shower and it
gave me an “aww, how thoughtful” feeling toward my friend. It’s the kind
of thing that has the EFFECT of seeming “above and beyond” in terms of
effort, when it in fact is way EASIER.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[I swear I WOULD go to my friend’s baby shower if I
could, but it is too far away and I have a prior commitment. This is
not a suggestion that in any way should imply that I am a person who
avoids baby/bridal showers on a regular basis,
disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer.]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I seem to have reached
the point in my pregnancy at which putting on work clothes is a
difficult task. Usually my work uniform consists of a dress, leggings,
and boots.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had to start wearing
compression socks to work because my legs were getting swollen and a
little painful. Putting them on is a bit of a pain but I think I’ve got a
system now. I sit on the bed sideways in my
underclothes and put one foot on the bed at a time and wrassle the
socks onto my feet. Then, I’m usually tired and a little sweaty, so I
don’t want to put on leggings. So I put on a pair of pants.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You should buy the
size you were before getting pregnant” said the lady at Motherhood
Maternity. Bullshit. These pants are XL and are starting to feel a
little tight. These pants are the pants I will be wearing
for the next two months at work.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also bought some <a href="https://www.skechers.com/en-us/style/14219/skechers-go-step-primary/bbk" target="_blank">new shoes</a>. They are slip-ons and very comfortable and very boring.<span style="color: black;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’re even more
boring than the ones from this link because the ones I bought don’t even
have the hot pink insoles, just plain black. But WHATEVER, I’m wearing
clothes at work, gold star for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been going to a
different gym than usual. The one closest by my house is like a big
warehouse. One huge room with a high ceiling containing all the
equipment (plus a couple of adjacent rooms for individual
classes and whatnot). The locker rooms are spacious and usually fairly
well kept. I’ve been going to a slightly farther away gym because this
one has a pool and a hot tub. Sitting in the hot tub after working out
is very nice and relaxing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, this new gym
is unfortunately more gross than the old one. The locker rooms are
teensy with weird small hallways between apparently added-on spaces.
The whole thing is just more stinky, possibly because of the smaller
more enclosed spaces. And the people there seem to be more prone to be
gross in this gross place. There are clumps of hair in the shower drains.
There’s always some woman using the (ONLY)
hand dryer to dry her whole body or someone else
exfoliating her feet or deeply Q-tipping her ears on one of the locker room benches. And more than
once I’ve run into this lady in the hot tub who drinks this POTION that
makes my stomach turn. It looks like maybe iced tea with, like, whole
baby carrots and garlic cloves in it? I honestly
have no idea what’s in it. There are little orange oblong bits and
round white bits and some of them sink to the bottom of her water bottle
and some of them float. She sits in the hot tub and takes big gulps of
it and drinks/CHEWS it noisily and I just cannot
even.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the design is
weird. To enter the gym, you walk up a flight of stairs. You sign in at
the front desk. Then you walk DOWN a flight of stairs to go to the
locker rooms. Then it’s back up the damn stairs again
if you’d like to use any of the workout equipment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite its grossness,
I’ve been going to this gym really solely because of the hot tub. I try
not to think about the (high) possibility that people are also gross IN
the hot tub when they’re gross everywhere
else.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--- </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I passed my glucose tolerance test. I had heard a lot about it being HORRIBLE, but it wasn't so bad. I downed the syrupy beverage and really the only issue was some icky burps during the hour I had to wait before the blood test. So that test was fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, unfortunately, I’m
mildly anemic so my doctor said I should start an iron supplement. I’m
going to start with changing my diet first, though, and see if that
makes a difference. I have definitely not been eating
iron rich foods.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was the week when
I could only eat Spaghetti-Os. Then there was the week when I could
only eat Cheerios. Buttered noodles have also been a staple in my diet. Since I’m not feeling as sick anymore, I’ve
definitely been able to eat more different types of things
but iron-rich foods haven’t so much been on my radar. I basically eat
unintentionally vegetarian during the week and then splash out a bit on
the weekends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyhow, I’ve been
snacking on crackers with goat cheese and spinach leaves at work. And
over the weekend Niall made tacos so I have leftover taco meat that I’ll be eating all week.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I have a cast iron
skillet that I’m going to cook in more, once I figure out how to
“season” it properly so food doesn’t just stick to it.</div>
And I also bought this <a href="http://www.luckyironfish.com/" target="_blank">Lucky Iron Fish</a>. I’m planning to make the <a href="http://www.luckyironfish.com/recipe/citrus-infused-drinking-water" target="_blank">iron-citrus water</a> and, y’know, drink it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-31437049912981701442016-08-14T17:30:00.000-07:002016-08-14T17:50:04.261-07:00Cat update<div class="MsoNormal">
Bowie’s behavior continues to mystify.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He hasn’t peed anywhere inappropriate recently
(*knocks furiously on desk and own head*), but he seems to still be more…
anxious? restless? annoying? Than usual.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like, in the evenings at our old place he used to
just hang out in the living room or wherever we were. He would lie down
on the back of the couch or curl up in a chair and take a snooze. Now
usually starting at about <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2139983955" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">8PM</span></span>
he just won’t
settle down. He’ll stalk around the room and go over to the bookshelves
and knock the contents to the floor. He’ll knock papers off the
desk and shred them into tiny pieces. He’ll stand at the front door and
meow. He’s 12 years old, so I sort of thought
he would get LESS active and crazy over the years, but it doesn’t seem
like it. And it seems like it coincides with all the big changes in his
life, but I don’t know how to fix it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About, oh, a year ago I want to say (?), the vet
(old vet, not new vet) told me that Bowie was too heavy at 26lbs and
needed to go on a diet or else he would get diabetes. The vet
recommended Fancy Feast Tender Beef because it’s high in
protein and doesn’t have fillers or grains. So now he gets one can of
Fancy Feast Tender Beef in the morning and one in the evening, plus a
tiny scoop of dry food when we put him in the garage at bedtime.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a semi-related side note, have I told you about
my former cat sitter who shamed me about Bowie’s food? He texted me
while I was out of town to tell me that Bowie had eaten HIS ENTIRE BOWL
OF FOOD from the previous day and maybe I should
consider an automatic cat feeder. I was like 1. Call me when the cat
DOESN’T eat his entire bowl of food. Then I’ll be worried. And 2. Are
you trying to talk yourself out of a job?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyhow, I digress, but it was just an interested incident of someone worrying about my 26 pound cat being UNDERfed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On his new diet, Bowie went from 26 pounds to 17
pounds. HE LOST NINE POUNDS. That’s like, a whole normal sized cat. His
bones started to stick out more. And now he's all jittery and anxious. So maybe he DOES need to eat more now?
About a month ago I decided that if it would
make him HAPPIER, I would just give him more food. So I bought this
automatic cat feeder to give him little snackies while I was at work. I had it for a week and a half before Bowie
managed to break it so that the lids won’t close anymore. So then I
started leaving him a little extra food in the morning
before I left for work and he started puking on a daily basis. Because
apparently he will just EAT ALL THE FOOD if you just leave it out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve started trying to give him more attention when I first get home from work and later in the evenings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried distracting him with the laser pointer when he starts throwing papers on the floor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried squirting him with water when he does his annoying habits.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried opening the balcony door and letting him wander out there in the evenings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried sprinkling catnip on his scratch pad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried giving him an extra little snack in the evenings and a bigger one at bedtime.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing has changed.</div>
I think my next step will be one of those anti-anxiety cat collars or diffusers. Anyone have experience with that?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-56671057598891443092016-07-25T17:00:00.000-07:002016-07-25T17:41:28.723-07:00Catastrophe<div class="MsoNormal">
As you may recall, <a href="https://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2016/05/pour-one-out-for-jamboree.html" target="_blank">my car was stolen (and miraculously returned!)</a> and at that point Niall and I decided that it
was high time to skedaddle out of our current apartment and live
somewhere else. I happened to find our new place the very day
my car was stolen, in early November. We signed our new lease and gave
notice at our old place in mid-November and started frantically packing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We moved everything and were out of our old place by <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425317"><span class="aQJ">December 12</span></span>
and do not get me started on how crappy our former landlords turned out
to be. I can’t even revisit it because it made me RAGE CRY and I just
cannot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyhow, so we were fully moved into our new place on <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425318"><span class="aQJ">December 12</span></span> and then we left for Ireland on <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425319"><span class="aQJ">December 23</span></span> for two weeks. We returned in early January and then Niall had to go to Phoenix for work for a few days and things were hectic
with both of us going back to work after vacation. On <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425321"><span class="aQJ">January 30</span></span>
I got my first <a href="https://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2016/05/precious-cargo.html" target="_blank">shadow line on a pregnancy test</a>. So that week I was on
pins and needles, peeing on a stick least twice a day (since my period
wasn’t even due until <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425322"><span class="aQJ">February 5</span></span>). We had decided to have a Super Bowl party on Feb 7 (we had sort of halfheartedly done one the previous year and it was really fun, so we decided to make it an annual event), which meant that on Feb 6 and 7 there was frantic cleaning and prepping our house for guests.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also in the evening of <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_2052425324"><span class="aQJ">Feb 6</span></span>,
the cat, Bowie, started acting weird. The first thing I noticed was
that he peed NEXT TO his litter box. I was pretty annoyed by that, but
then I realized he was walking kind of gingerly. And then as I was
paying more attention to him that night I realized he was sitting kind
of funny and he kept getting up. He wouldn’t just settle down for a
snooze like he usually does. He was clearly uncomfortable, so I decided
that I would take him to the vet in the morning
(it didn’t occur to me to just take him to the emergency vet right
THEN, which I now realize I should have done).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We usually put Bowie in the garage when we go to bed, but we
let him stay in the house that night. The reason we put him in the
garage is that he’ll usually start being a pest in the wee hours-
walking around, jumping on things, meowing loudly, scritching
at doors, generally being a cathole. That night? Nothing. He didn’t
make a peep. But then in the morning I walked into the kitchen and he
was fine! Normal energy level, acting normal, didn’t seem to be in pain,
peeing in the litter box. So… okay then. I decided
not to take him to the vet, and I couldn’t get an appointment that day
anyhow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(We had the Super Bowl party, it was fun!)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day later Bowie peed in the closet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two days after that I caught him right before he
was about to pee in the closet AGAIN. I called the vet. They didn’t have
any appointments. I ended up taking him to the emergency vet. For $400
they took a urine sample, determined that he
might have a UTI, and gave me 2 weeks’ worth of antibiotics for him. He
seemed to do better. Then they called a few days later to say guess
what! The urine grew nothing, so he does NOT have a UTI. So, I’m a
nurse, you guys. And I did EXACTLY the thing I tell
my patients not to do. I kept giving Bowie the antibiotics for the rest
of the week. So he ended up taking a weeks’ worth. And I dunno, he
seemed better! He didn’t pee anywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then a couple weeks later I found a puddle of
pee in the closet again. So I finally made an appointment with a regular
vet. Since we had moved, I wanted to establish care at a local vet office.
So we went to the new vet. And I think he
either is or is related to Dr. Dolittle because wow. This guy. At first
I was like oh who is this weird hippie doctor with a ponytail? He
breezed into the room “Hi I’m Jerry. Don’t get up, I’m pretty casual.
The first thing to know here is that at every appointment
I’d like to start with a very open and honest conversation just to make
sure we are all on the same page and that we’re having good
communication.” WOAH. Okay then. I told him what had been going on with
Bowie. He enthusiastically explained that the peeing
in the closet could have been physical (UTI) or behavioral (cathole).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had explained to the vet that the emergency vets
said Bowie’s urine test had come back negative. And he explained that it
Bowie still MIGHT have had a UTI.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
See, as I mentioned, I’m a nurse. The way we get
urine samples from people is we either have them pee (most convenient!)
or if they cannot pee, we stick a tube up through the peehole and into
their bladder and collect the urine (least convenient!).
I was unaware that for a CAT, they do not stick the tub up through
their business, they use a needle through their belly and collect urine
directly from the bladder. SO, if Bowie did have a UTI that was
somewhere OTHER than the bladder, the test would not
detect it. So MAYBE that medicine did in fact help clear up a lower
down infection. Huh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vet asked if we could think of anything else
that could be affecting Bowie, emotionally or behaviorally speaking.
And, well, yeah: We moved rather quickly and frantically, and then Niall
and I went out of the country and left Bowie with
my parents for 2 weeks soon after moving, and then we were suddenly in the new house, and then Niall went away for awhile and came back, and then I got pregnant (COULD THE CAT
SENSE IT?). And then there was the frantic cleaning before our Super Bowl
party. Oh, and Niall and I also remembered that our new landlord saying
that she replaced all the floors in our house,
because the previous tenants had 2 large dogs. So perhaps there are
some lingering dog smells in the house?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vet was like. Uh. Yeah that’s a lot of stuff.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we came up with a plan: I would buy a blacklight
and search the WHOLE house for cat pee. I would also buy special
cat-pee removal cleaning product because other cleaning products don’t
actually break up the enzymes and cats can still
SMELL the pee, so they’ll still want to pee there. And then clean up
all the cat pee I found, to make sure there aren’t any traces anywhere
there shouldn’t be. And the vet would do a blood test to see if
something was wrong, some physical reason Bowie wasn’t
feeling good that was making him act out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We didn’t find any more cat pee in the house
(yay!), and the blood tests all came back fine (also yay!). The vet had
also mentioned that indoor cats sometimes tend to go a bit stir crazy
since normally cats roam about 5 miles per day and
indoor cats have that taken away from them. He asked if we have a cat
tree. Uh. No. I do not have a cat tree. I don’t have room in my life for
a cat tree. But then I realized that our house DOES have kind of an odd
nook. It’s like a miniature loft over the
stairs that you can’t access without precariously balancing a ladder on
the staircase. So I got the idea in my head that it could be Bowie’s
area. We went to out and bought some shelves and got a new cat bed and
scratcher thing and now Bowie has his own little
loft!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkMo3WHbI4KXsUOR95XWt_ai-l1mnGeWnGzYFfcMqz6TDVgGdPhao5Xt6RWGEPMSh_HP-h97ErxvPomxgLFNQVyED7zV7u0X8mFpWkXtEDBlcLV6CXSV8HK8Z4y6rnSIHzgBlECowzXGc/s1600/IMG_3127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkMo3WHbI4KXsUOR95XWt_ai-l1mnGeWnGzYFfcMqz6TDVgGdPhao5Xt6RWGEPMSh_HP-h97ErxvPomxgLFNQVyED7zV7u0X8mFpWkXtEDBlcLV6CXSV8HK8Z4y6rnSIHzgBlECowzXGc/s320/IMG_3127.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took a bit of convincing to get him to learn to jump up the shelves into the area. We used food.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7g41MtJ5NuOzcqxBEq57yfAaFvf0Jes6dHN2FM6yok4sbJbxcKYCneu8Ke2OcmYRaf_1txcgSFLrvcrubj9PpartzafE1Q3fH5Zj7QJja_h3M0KwgT8LUIopw83uL83U7rbqRmAXqOilu/s1600/IMG_3131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7g41MtJ5NuOzcqxBEq57yfAaFvf0Jes6dHN2FM6yok4sbJbxcKYCneu8Ke2OcmYRaf_1txcgSFLrvcrubj9PpartzafE1Q3fH5Zj7QJja_h3M0KwgT8LUIopw83uL83U7rbqRmAXqOilu/s320/IMG_3131.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once he got the hang of it he can bound up there in no time.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtKE95dJbqljPAIyuT_uuVSlxCwZJXsSs6lUDjNc4GfJ1MSn6BLXr_4nATd8FgfU5GjfVRxM1eWLlMhMis2RwCQf6kDNERKvzNmRAfsoywCV_w_luuWYxQBwL8uTuYfhCekZM6CUhu5co/s1600/IMG_3128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtKE95dJbqljPAIyuT_uuVSlxCwZJXsSs6lUDjNc4GfJ1MSn6BLXr_4nATd8FgfU5GjfVRxM1eWLlMhMis2RwCQf6kDNERKvzNmRAfsoywCV_w_luuWYxQBwL8uTuYfhCekZM6CUhu5co/s320/IMG_3128.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He seems to like it!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOQgZp9kPB0z6fjKHlPym6RfrNOKLnDO_sGV3Z3_n2Ls4n0xMWzSvtadb9VCEViDyAm2dHn1_omppadRSd8qGv2Lf-CDR-6dlaPIGFfweGSB9Hv7gHjjCiTk8Zeh2Vr7J6Q-h-wwkmyUX/s1600/IMG_3473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOQgZp9kPB0z6fjKHlPym6RfrNOKLnDO_sGV3Z3_n2Ls4n0xMWzSvtadb9VCEViDyAm2dHn1_omppadRSd8qGv2Lf-CDR-6dlaPIGFfweGSB9Hv7gHjjCiTk8Zeh2Vr7J6Q-h-wwkmyUX/s320/IMG_3473.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day Niall went to the gym. He was walking
to his car outside our house and exchanged a few pleasantries with our
nextdoor neighbor lady. Then he noticed a LARGE SNAKE on the ground in
the neighbor’s driveway. As Niall got into
his car, the neighbor PICKED UP THE SNAKE and took it into her garage.</div>
So… apparently our neighbors have a large pet snake? I’m thinking THAT might be causing Bowie (and now me) some anxiety.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-77275830622194966162016-06-08T08:30:00.000-07:002016-06-08T20:43:43.740-07:00Undignified<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">And now <span style="font-size: small;">I</span> shall
discuss some of the less dignified side effects of pregnancy. As a
sidenote, I hope this post doesn’t sound too complainey. I’m SO thrilled
to be pregnant and I haven’t forgotten how lucky I
am. Just want to make that clear before I dive in.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pretty much from the moment I got a positive
pregnancy test I started feeling a low-grade queasiness throughout the
day. It came and went, but was mostly there all the time. An
undercurrent of nausea peppered here and there with instances
of feeling okay and bouts of puking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I should have kept a better timeline of my
symptoms because when I describe them I find myself using a lot of wishy
washy language, but <span style="font-size: small;">alas</span>. From around week <span style="font-size: small;">6</span> to week<span style="font-size: small;"> 1<span style="font-size: small;">4</span> I was puking <span style="font-size: small;">nearly every day</span>.</span> Which, I didn’t think
was a huge amount since I’ve heard so many stories of pregnant ladies
puking, like, every HOUR or something. I would usually just feel kind of
mildly queasy all day and then have one big session of puking in the
evening after dinner. It was, on the whole,
a rather frustrating existence. I would battle against the nausea to
eat something and then either throw it back up or not, but either way I
would be hungry again in like an hour and a half. Second <span style="font-size: small;">verse<span style="font-size: small;">, same as the first.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once in awhile I would puke at work. Like this one
day I felt like I really wanted to eat a cucumber, so I walked to the fruits
& veggies stand down the road and bought one. Then I brought it
back, sliced it, and ate it at my desk with a side
of ranch. I was so smug and proud of myself like Look at me and my
healthy snack! Gold star for feeding my baby VEGETABLES! And then as
soon as I finished it I had to run to the bathroom (AT WORK) to throw it
all up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve found that puking at work is especially
miserable. Afterwards I usually do feel better, but I also kind of want
to lie down and feel sorry for myself for a little while, which is
difficult/impossible to do at work<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> Plus, it’s just
grosser to get sick in a public bathroom rather than in my own at home.
PLUS, sometimes I would be puking so hard that the toilet water would
SPLASH ME IN THE FACE.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">At w</span>eeks 14<span style="font-size: small;"> to </span></span>1<span style="font-size: small;">8</span> ish <span style="font-size: small;">t<span style="font-size: small;">he puking </span></span>dwindled down to maybe <span style="font-size: small;">two or three times</span> a week<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span>And at<span style="font-size: small;"> about that time</span> I also started having, erm, accidents
while I was puking. I would throw up and sometimes ALSO PEE MY PANTS, which just
feels like a new level of undignified. This is my first baby! I thought in<span style="font-size: small;">continence issues <span style="font-size: small;">weren't supposed to start until <span style="font-size: small;">one has already given birth!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I brought an extra pair of undies and leggings to keep in my desk drawer at work, just in case.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Plus, there was the exhaustion. The entire
first trimester I was JUST. SO. TIRED. So tired! How do women do this
with other children? I don’t understand. It was literally all I could do
to make it through the workday, get home, battle with
my stomach for dinner, and lie down for the rest of the evening. AND
the first trimester is traditionally the time of pregnancy when most
people try to keep things quiet for one reason or another. So I
</span>was miserable and tired and pukey at work and I <span style="font-size: small;">
didn’t even feel like I could tell my coworkers. Of course, knowing I was pregnant since week THREE made the first trimester go
</span>particularly<span style="font-size: small;"> slowly and I ended up
telling my coworkers I was pregnant when I was at week nine + change.
Some of them had already guessed after seeing me run to the bathroom
wearing my anti-nausea wristbands and looking all
ghostly white and sickly.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things that are especially wretched to throw up, an incomplete list:</div>
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Cucumbers<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Sushi (hold your fire! It was just and avocado/rice roll) & soy sauce<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Tuna sandwich<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Fries & ketchup<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Ramen noodles<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Tomato soup<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Potato soup<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Caprese salad<br />
</span></span><span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Popcorn<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things that actually aren’t so bad to throw up:</div>
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Waffles<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Ice cream sandwiches<br />
<span>-<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span>Chicken tikka masala (surprisingly!)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
At this point
(21 weeks) I’m feeling a bit better. Within the past few weeks I haven’t
puked nearly as much and I haven’t had that continuous undercurrent of
nausea [*knocks on wood*]. I hope I didn’t just jinx
that. I did recently vomit popcorn in the Target parking lot and the
chicken tikka masala episode was last night, but really it hasn’t been
so bad. I feel better overall. I am also starting to feel a big
squished. And in the afternoons I’ve started getting
heartburn pain in my stomach which later turns into feeling the hot
stomach acid in my THROAT.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Oh, and I’ve been
waking up for the past week all gross and soaking WET because apparently
pregnancy NIGHT SWEATS are a thing. I don’t feel ove<span style="font-size: small;">rheated</span>, I just
wake up in a puddle and it’s so gross and undignified.
I just ordered a waterproof mattress pad from Amazon and I’m regretting
getting rid of all my flat sheets because having an extra sheet or two
would be useful right about now. I'm basically a hot mess. Well no, not a hot mess. Just a sweat<span style="font-size: small;">y one.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-82460297838452326622016-06-07T20:30:00.000-07:002016-06-07T20:53:42.544-07:00nesting and restingThe nesting instinct is strong right now. I want to get baby Clover's room ready for him! I want to start folding and putting away baby clothes and organizing all of our adorable baby things (which is like four things at this point, but STILL the need is strong).<br />
<br />
Here's the deal: Clover's room is our spare bedroom, which used to have a desk and some miscellaneous shelves and a bed in it. A friend was getting rid of her really nice gently used crib so we took it off her hands for practically a song. We got rid of the desk (and by that I mean we put it in the garage) so now the room has a bed, the crib, and some miscellaneous shelves.<br />
<br />
I went into Clover's room full of purpose today, armed with trash bags. I was going to donate, toss, and recycle as much stuff from those shelves as I could!<br />
But then I got in there and I sat down on the bed and I realized there really isn't that much stuff on those shelves. I have some little file boxes (not just regular cardboard boxes, the decorative looking ones) and those should go in my bedroom. And nearly everything else is office supplies, which need to be consolidated and also probably put in the bedroom, but right now there isn't room in the bedroom.<br />
<br />
So I went into our bedroom to clear some space for the file boxes. But then I realized that the tall skinny bookshelf next to my side of the bed is kind of the perfect size for this weird tall skinny closet we have in the hall that has no clothes bar (we've been awkwardly piling things in the closet but that doesn't really make the best use of the space). So really I should move the tall skinny bookshelf into the hall closet and move then one of the littler shelves from Clover's room into my room to hold the file boxes and whatnot. And Niall is out of town for a few days for work and I probably shouldn't be moving furniture by myself (because (a) my arm muscles are purely decorative, and (b) all of my innards seem to be getting rather squished and I think my lung capacity is suffering from it (I got out of breath just from hurrying around the grocery store the other day)). So, okay. When Niall gets back, we (he) will move the shelves around and THEN I'll really do some organizing and move things from Clover's room into our bedroom.<br />
<br />
But I really wanted to do SOMETHING, since I had been so full of purpose earlier. So I ended up cleaning out my nightstand. I cleared everything out of it, tossed a few things, moved a few things to other places, and put things away properly and neatly in the drawers. And after that I was exhausted and had to have a little lie down.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-13810846794241855662016-05-30T18:30:00.000-07:002016-05-30T18:38:10.778-07:00Precious Cargo
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="il"></span>One of the reasons that Niall and I decided that now was the time for me to get a new car was this:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPy1Iylswue1rkYs8qxjycjM6-jW3GIecMkEaBitaRk3QWJ2R7M8Dsbc8_yUmM2ZUfAM_ziXQH0HWXi71A58EVSYDda9UYiPVcK-4WnbDbFR89gIxhtusD0obdNLubalR_nn0NFmuoRk5/s1600/26576640553_eba230a7bb_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPy1Iylswue1rkYs8qxjycjM6-jW3GIecMkEaBitaRk3QWJ2R7M8Dsbc8_yUmM2ZUfAM_ziXQH0HWXi71A58EVSYDda9UYiPVcK-4WnbDbFR89gIxhtusD0obdNLubalR_nn0NFmuoRk5/s320/26576640553_eba230a7bb_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That right there is a BABY BUMP.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? ME NEITHER.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baby Clover (nickname) is due <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1969244902" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">October 16</span></span>. And if I know anything about babies and due dates, I’m sure that baby Clover will arrive PRECISELY on that date. Har har.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that makes me 20 weeks pregnant right now. This ish is getting real.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve known I was pregnant since the first moment it
was possible to know. I took a couple of those discount peestick tests
from Amazon a solid 6 days before my period was due and got the faintest
shadow line possible.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBeazDsmSdmxPX6u24ta1tGEw0VNPH8YHWKnYQHhudxLsRVk_R-I-Ux5C0GXq5y6mJRalSQiQmoSgXpAZYNwFaA3DseGUMgsVy73oStpVBVZLgzfQnKWz4aDfF2dLco6jdHpXnMJtiodU/s1600/24458529839_68c37026ab_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBeazDsmSdmxPX6u24ta1tGEw0VNPH8YHWKnYQHhudxLsRVk_R-I-Ux5C0GXq5y6mJRalSQiQmoSgXpAZYNwFaA3DseGUMgsVy73oStpVBVZLgzfQnKWz4aDfF2dLco6jdHpXnMJtiodU/s320/24458529839_68c37026ab_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you see it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So then I drove to Target and got an actual
pregnancy test with, like, a plastic holder part and everything and the
tiny line appeared. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzyKyRWmJzGvP6KxTwSsRGPUhuwDCKawhEnwJPUcqSCviG0x8utBjH1y7xhkzUwf4tT_t_hBR3m1mrsYJ-976F6Q_blH-BEBwPihfOe93N_Kr2B4VRniukUFa4DGYHeI3IkCUETLWrUt_/s1600/24732697671_9e1ea6cea0_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzyKyRWmJzGvP6KxTwSsRGPUhuwDCKawhEnwJPUcqSCviG0x8utBjH1y7xhkzUwf4tT_t_hBR3m1mrsYJ-976F6Q_blH-BEBwPihfOe93N_Kr2B4VRniukUFa4DGYHeI3IkCUETLWrUt_/s320/24732697671_9e1ea6cea0_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How about now? Do you see it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it kept appearing and getting darker all
week! Niall may have gotten a little weary of me
waving peesticks in his face LOOK AT THIS DO YOU SEE A LINE I THINK I
SEE A LINE.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6T0g3RBQ7-0zzNItD5ytZPKFSzsI4U_386mZpq0LA8pAJNbQP06mRn2tLStl9ZItQVZ_hJaN_Pw48Je9FvTacv0Bdlo0t_bxxW09XO5LycGvMD-I07-SyGmAxILLKot7yISIkqA5i2PFk/s1600/24197991454_77771e0a6e_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6T0g3RBQ7-0zzNItD5ytZPKFSzsI4U_386mZpq0LA8pAJNbQP06mRn2tLStl9ZItQVZ_hJaN_Pw48Je9FvTacv0Bdlo0t_bxxW09XO5LycGvMD-I07-SyGmAxILLKot7yISIkqA5i2PFk/s320/24197991454_77771e0a6e_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HOW ABOUT NOW?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anyway. We’ve been to the doctor, I’ve had blood tests and ultrasounds
and whatnot and it looks like there’s a real actual BABY in there.<br />
And we just found out last week that it's a baby BOY.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f6db2-IWKD_D6eMKvS06PtLoC_NPYbN5P1rCfgiOEGzJyq_XYoRPNv-qkKNjhQNZo-y5tXQdjeg2WyWW903tHH1FXG8nQ4EYgMBvgRdL-YZ41IP5PRbVHcSZvwCLBqlBDfrybfsyb39G/s1600/27330120666_a46201d87e_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f6db2-IWKD_D6eMKvS06PtLoC_NPYbN5P1rCfgiOEGzJyq_XYoRPNv-qkKNjhQNZo-y5tXQdjeg2WyWW903tHH1FXG8nQ4EYgMBvgRdL-YZ41IP5PRbVHcSZvwCLBqlBDfrybfsyb39G/s320/27330120666_a46201d87e_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Clover</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I get to have a baby.<br />
I get to have a baby with
somebody who loves me and wants a baby, too. I got married last year and
now I’m having a baby.<br />
How on EARTH did I get this lucky?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-35763093651567802192016-05-22T18:00:00.000-07:002016-05-22T18:18:32.297-07:00Pour one out for Jamboree<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
</span></span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I got a new car. But before we get too excited,
let’s take a minute to appreciate my old car. I feel like I need to pay
her the respect she deserves.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_Y16XrqHqLgnnr_PfK_9NkPYRGrEjpIxMOXDi7MSnFTZ-LRKJ1l-PMONRSf9OMUNzVHdtCme4VJ8WgBU40UDHQuWyWnvzmc83Y2wouX5v65OkJoCIXqgJk6cdZdh7t-zQlIrubVn6nbH/s1600/22996197619_95e72cf0f8_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_Y16XrqHqLgnnr_PfK_9NkPYRGrEjpIxMOXDi7MSnFTZ-LRKJ1l-PMONRSf9OMUNzVHdtCme4VJ8WgBU40UDHQuWyWnvzmc83Y2wouX5v65OkJoCIXqgJk6cdZdh7t-zQlIrubVn6nbH/s320/22996197619_95e72cf0f8_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here she is, fresh from the car wash.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The car I’ve had for the past 13+ years was a 1997
black Honda CR-V. We (*my parents) bought it gently used when I was a
senior in college.</div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I named <span style="font-size: small;">the car</span> <span class="il">Jamboree</span>.
She served me well all these years. I’ve driven up and down and up and
down and up and down and up the length of California. I’ve driven to
Tahoe and Big Bear and Mammoth in the snow. I’ve packed
it full of all my stuff on multiple occasions and moved.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_riUWX3fkfrtHRQMhaQBHQvhTI1zp2QYcqRK5SuBFQOnV5oPLDp60DZSl6XXD6uxuujU6dbihZvcZigB0MvwzS5wSwSohRASr1VkKox1y43w6DfmLkt8SJY3c8A62H-GVzwz4zX20vQ5/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_riUWX3fkfrtHRQMhaQBHQvhTI1zp2QYcqRK5SuBFQOnV5oPLDp60DZSl6XXD6uxuujU6dbihZvcZigB0MvwzS5wSwSohRASr1VkKox1y43w6DfmLkt8SJY3c8A62H-GVzwz4zX20vQ5/s400/IMG_0408.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">LA to SF move, 2008</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I taught one of my nieces to drive in
it. I’ve gotten into several
accidents (both at fault and non at fault) and walked away uninjured
each time. I could fit into tiny parking spaces but also fit large
pieces of furniture in the back.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And, as <span class="il">Jamboree</span> and
I both got older, I could park obnoxiously close to douchebags who felt
entitled to take up more than their fair share of the parking lot with
their douchebag fancy cars. I didn’t
care if my door got dinged or whatever, Oh? You’re going to park IN
THE MIDDLE OF two clearly marked parking spaces, here’s my shitty
old car RIGHT UP IN YOUR BIDNESS. YOU DON’T GET TO PARK LIKE AN ASSHOLE
ON MY WATCH.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over time, <span class="il">Jamboree</span> gained a
lot of, ah, shall we say, character. One by one, all of the “creature
comforts,” as my mother calls them, started failing. The clicker stopped
opening the back hatch and then it stopped locking or unlocking
the car. The passenger side mirror was shattered. The windshield was cracked. If it rained outside, it also rained on
the passenger side floor.
The air conditioner would only work if I was on the highway. The
CD player would get stuck and refuse to play either the CD or the radio
until I jammed an old hotel key card into it to jiggle things loose. I
decided to embrace the quirkiness and covered
<span class="il">Jamboree</span> with USC bumper stickers and got a vanity license plate.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2O-m0ShiIMXUaNOfnaCXiO-Jt9Vi4jXj1k9g2aaQhrk3XaFirjYLsdxN8DCNqzneTYUYanySswiGpBInMRJZ5z_6pvbSeXZlEnI3WOfXdn7gBXC3X2FfDeVD3CkRPYAn9XoRGWhWfNtQW/s1600/27181432275_9392f15c8e_o.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2O-m0ShiIMXUaNOfnaCXiO-Jt9Vi4jXj1k9g2aaQhrk3XaFirjYLsdxN8DCNqzneTYUYanySswiGpBInMRJZ5z_6pvbSeXZlEnI3WOfXdn7gBXC3X2FfDeVD3CkRPYAn9XoRGWhWfNtQW/s400/27181432275_9392f15c8e_o.png" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fight On!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When Niall and I moved in together, we moved into a
nice apartment in a nice area, or so we thought. We did not realize
that the “nice” area was actually right on the cusp of a not so nice
area. Which is fine, whatever. Except that we have
two cars. Both of us need cars for work (I could go on a long tangent
here about public transportation in SF and why the two of us
specifically need our cars, but can you just take my word for it?). Our
new apartment had a 1 car garage, which was GREAT. Niall
tried to pull his car into it and ended up scraping the passenger side
mirror and the driver’s side door because the garage is NARROW. So I
started parking my car in there.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then… Niall’s car got broken into 3
times over the course of 2 months. So we swapped.
Niall learned how to squeeze his wider-than-the-garage-door car into
the garage, presumably by some wizardry,
and I started parking my car on the street. I decided to just leave the
doors unlocked, but then I got to my car
one morning to find it full of garbage and reeking of cigarette smoke,
so okay fine I’ll lock it. And then it was broken into twice.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnBJH9gq2rnvZrSoEMWg-xolYIWS9Kuu1qUl966ropJJY7W1zN8ke-JRUgw_H8M1aDUyQbOIeht_FwgL1XCb-QTrvwb4V-ArDNFATC5jLdrOx10M7oM-lveaB055nxiRbyCvboGMyfEEZ/s1600/27148295146_b6090a81b0_o.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnBJH9gq2rnvZrSoEMWg-xolYIWS9Kuu1qUl966ropJJY7W1zN8ke-JRUgw_H8M1aDUyQbOIeht_FwgL1XCb-QTrvwb4V-ArDNFATC5jLdrOx10M7oM-lveaB055nxiRbyCvboGMyfEEZ/s400/27148295146_b6090a81b0_o.png" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And a good morning to you as well.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then
the battery was stolen once. And THEN, one fateful
November morning, I walked up to the spot where I had parked my car and it was just… gone.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Uhhh.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Huh.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dude, where’s my car?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I called Niall on the off chance that he had moved
my car in the middle of the night for some reason. Nope. I walked up and
down the little street to make sure I hadn’t left it in a different
spot and forgotten. Nope. I called the city
to make sure it hadn’t been towed. Nope. ALL SIGNS POINTED TO STOLEN.
Somebody stole my 1997 Honda with 255,000 miles on it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took a Lyft to the police station and reported
the car as stolen. And then I went home and found us a new apartment on
Craigslist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reported the thievery to my insurance company and
picked up a rental car. And then I was stuck in limbo for some
unidentified amount of time until the insurance company would declare my
car a “Total Loss.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After three or four days I was CERTAIN my car was in pieces spread far and
wide, but I kept waiting. AND THEN. One morning I was on my way to
work when my friend <a href="https://twitter.com/ThePinakes" target="_blank">Daniel</a> called me. I figured it was a butt dial, but
no! HE FOUND MY CAR. He was cycling to work and
noticed a junky old Hondy CR-V plastered with USC stickers. HE FOUND MY
CAR.</div>
</span></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYfJkNOemEaQeXIxnYrTz0-PShLzwqu_5fEB6dZcebXp6Zu32hQiOar_NFG3pXqEd22m1nT18fZbXVvPuK_HvdpirNSUlBJuRW31ePPCY6172tzuXXdXRKATfi9IvJLmy1gsVNMmUBXkO/s1600/22996194439_55f4be86cb_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYfJkNOemEaQeXIxnYrTz0-PShLzwqu_5fEB6dZcebXp6Zu32hQiOar_NFG3pXqEd22m1nT18fZbXVvPuK_HvdpirNSUlBJuRW31ePPCY6172tzuXXdXRKATfi9IvJLmy1gsVNMmUBXkO/s400/22996194439_55f4be86cb_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JUST SITTING THERE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The car was
totally fine! It was still in San Francisco, parked in a neighborhood,
WITH A FULL TANK OF GAS. I looked like somebody was using my car like it
was THEIR car. I don’t know what they were using to
start the car, but apparently you can start an old Honda with, like, a
screwdriver. ANYWAY, I called the police
and told them I had found the car. They sent a cop over and released the car back into my
custody. I gotta say, I wasn’t too impressed with the SFPD. I had
reported my car as stolen and it turned up still
in San Francisco. They obviously weren’t looking very HARD for it. And
the cop basically glanced at my car and gave me a piece of paper. Call
me naïve, but I thought he might go knocking on some nearby doors or
dust the car for fingerprints or… ANYTHING AT
ALL.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(Here
is the part in my story where people like to point out that car theft
is SO common that the police just don’t even have the time or resources
to deal with it and I reject
this because, come on. I feel like doing NOTHING AT ALL to isn’t going
to stop many car thieves. But whatever [sarcastic jazz hands].)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyhow, I had my Jam<span style="font-size: small;">boree</span> back! It had a few new bumps and bruises, but nothing too serious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got a club. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDumMDgf5gT834u9DHUXdIK02OxSdsojVFXcWOf2JPqBfcTqjSa0SkkszMNtdclJfD8Mcsdi7GGoQmLt8Kj_OghBNZPDiCDjrgN6KFuFn4tymlgA4d6cqoPTYVoP4L2q63K9q8sogkAUUk/s1600/23364118005_8ec685cd46_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDumMDgf5gT834u9DHUXdIK02OxSdsojVFXcWOf2JPqBfcTqjSa0SkkszMNtdclJfD8Mcsdi7GGoQmLt8Kj_OghBNZPDiCDjrgN6KFuFn4tymlgA4d6cqoPTYVoP4L2q63K9q8sogkAUUk/s400/23364118005_8ec685cd46_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHAT NOW MOTHER FUCKERS.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a few months everything was great!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then <span style="font-size: small;">Jamboree</span> started
making a sound like an old fashioned automobile. Chugga chugga chugga
AWOOGA. I took it into my regular car place and they told me it was the
muffler, but that I should take it to a muffler
shop since they could only replace the whole [something] that would
cost a lot more than just replacing whatever part of the muffler was
malfunctioning. So I took <span class="il">Jamboree</span> to the
muffler shop where the mechanic seemed to take personal offen<span style="font-size: small;">s</span>e at the
suggestion
that it might be the muffler, “Who told you that? Did they actually
DRIVE the car and hear the noise? Did they just ASSUME it was the
muffler? Where’s the<span style="font-size: small;">ir</span> evidence.” After a few minutes of
deer-in-the-headlights stammering, I sweetly offered to give Mr.
Muffler the phone number for Mr. Auto Shop so they could hash things
out, but muffler man declined. After a thorough exam, he concluded that
he didn’t know where the sound was coming from but it was Definitely Not
the Muffler.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I just ignored it. And it went away!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Only to be replaced with
THIS noise:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="im">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dynmNlE8tcEZfLFpon566SMjcgun0VdXTMQ5VwiwTSsBzIuDNKHJWrgKSGh7JebIO3KJryzh3kvmCvNLRdF' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I promise you, I was not transporting a sea lion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So Niall and I discussed it and we decided that it was time for me to get a new car. While Niall would have been happy to see <span class="il">Jamboree</span> sold for parts, I was wringing my hands and having an emotional crisis. My
carrrrrr. My Jamboreeeeee. She had been such a good carrrrrrr. I loved that
car and nobody
would appreciate it like me, would they?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As you may or may not know, I have a slew
of nieces and nephews, several of whom are teenagers right now. I
decided to give <span class="il">Jamboree</span> to my next
niece in line who is turning 16. She is pretty thrilled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And fortunately,
my dad seems to have the same sentimental streak as I do (or is it the
other way around?). He took the car to his mechanic where
they fixed, wait for it, the BRAKES AND STEERING. When I asked what I
owed him, my dad said “Nothing! We have to keep <span class="il">Jamboree</span> in the family!” So, to recap, I have a new car, my niece has a new old car, and my dad is the most generous man in the world.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40a9yjg6TAgo3QZn7AXnH1aF4bO0RjC8nlxxYmMmfEZxTe-HQZ7xs8Vb-xvCyeJLNItblyG_CFP3qalEFmS2GLzH7L5R88f1sqW8RfKIE5xKl6NsAhxe5Qpurb3fNXwHCPE-jZ7YyI9pY/s1600/23255762972_8b192bb244_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40a9yjg6TAgo3QZn7AXnH1aF4bO0RjC8nlxxYmMmfEZxTe-HQZ7xs8Vb-xvCyeJLNItblyG_CFP3qalEFmS2GLzH7L5R88f1sqW8RfKIE5xKl6NsAhxe5Qpurb3fNXwHCPE-jZ7YyI9pY/s320/23255762972_8b192bb244_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Goodbye Jamboree, you've been an excellent car. Be good to my niece.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-61025330795004266572016-05-01T18:00:00.000-07:002016-05-01T19:41:54.696-07:0038. do a race of some kindNiall and I went to San Diego for Thanksgiving (Thanksgiving! This should give you a good idea of how behind on blogging I am) to visit my family. Being in Ireland, his family doesn't tend to do anything for Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
A few weeks before we went, Niall told me he thought he wanted to do the <a href="http://osideturkeytrot.com/" target="_blank">Turkey Trot</a>. And I briefly lost my mind enough to decide that I wanted to do it too! After all, I did start <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2015/08/gym-class-hero.html" target="_blank">going to the gym</a>. And I thought I could do a 5k. That's what metric people call like a mile or so, right? Pshh no problem! (NOPE.)<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving day rolled around and I rolled out of bed at the arse crack of dawn. We had to get there super early, you see, because in order to run a 5k with me, Niall had to FIRST run a 10k, because otherwise he would have been too antsy and left me in the dust. So he tired himself out with the 10k first and then ran the 5k with me. Just look at us go!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqZa6ysF4wbjSKzslrr9C59z-QxgdbY6LaubgC4SSaUVE0imxdfnCl9Wj0usR9QWrhrXPt8_DJij_uEtvYgzdEV7RE9EI0xQ1F0DN5odoHQOwNKEzUkd3Ji71to7mDK8E8_JlBJxYePRZ/s1600/132654-1536-010h%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqZa6ysF4wbjSKzslrr9C59z-QxgdbY6LaubgC4SSaUVE0imxdfnCl9Wj0usR9QWrhrXPt8_DJij_uEtvYgzdEV7RE9EI0xQ1F0DN5odoHQOwNKEzUkd3Ji71to7mDK8E8_JlBJxYePRZ/s320/132654-1536-010h%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full disclosure: I saw the camera guy and put on a nice big smile for him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I started off pretty strong. I ran the first mile at a decent clip, but then I faded pretty quickly. I had to alternate running and walking quite a bit of the second and probably into the third mile. The course went along the street and then down onto a beach path. Once we got to the beach path I could SEE the big inflatable archway thing that was the finish line and I started running my little heart out. I didn't realize how FAR away the archway actually was so by the time I reached it my lungs were burning and my legs were jelly.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMWw9HkAZsJ1Kc5Yx0ggGPDwmJ00mFCR9GC7nIYoWE2tA734jb0mBOFXwBMyFbW67UUZAiIcJf7wBul4SGz-8062CwsfuS1obt6jH2ssu6XRrrpki6o8w8gsggMc3S-f7xoIFicTzTO_R/s1600/132654-624-007h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMWw9HkAZsJ1Kc5Yx0ggGPDwmJ00mFCR9GC7nIYoWE2tA734jb0mBOFXwBMyFbW67UUZAiIcJf7wBul4SGz-8062CwsfuS1obt6jH2ssu6XRrrpki6o8w8gsggMc3S-f7xoIFicTzTO_R/s320/132654-624-007h.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woo hoo!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I think this photo is the most accurate representation of how I felt during and directly after the race:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpXGExJceqLx5ZryPBZdHPbZ7IZvO6HDIF20DmsrFhDuCcdP3W9beAN7E9-8dEIGlNiVyW2AWYqt2BJsV_GB6VcmL6GPTDbbE_clrNvjl3Ni_tGKz8_imBuSaXsjoPV7HByIzS64ZF3-s/s1600/132654-624-008h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpXGExJceqLx5ZryPBZdHPbZ7IZvO6HDIF20DmsrFhDuCcdP3W9beAN7E9-8dEIGlNiVyW2AWYqt2BJsV_GB6VcmL6GPTDbbE_clrNvjl3Ni_tGKz8_imBuSaXsjoPV7HByIzS64ZF3-s/s640/132654-624-008h.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm dying." (Niall wasn't even out of breath. JUST LOOK AT HIM.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But I did it! I ran (and walked) the 5k!<br />
<br />
And then we went out for burgers.<br />
And then we had Thanksgiving.<br />
And I felt like I earned every bite of my delicious meals because I RAN (and walked) A 5K THAT MORNING. <br />
In conclusion, Thanksgiving is an excellent day to run a 5k if that's something you're into. Maybe by the time Thanksgiving rolls around again I'll have forgotten how miserable I was and want to do it again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-39157222649571131262016-02-15T18:00:00.001-08:002016-02-15T18:01:55.961-08:00DishesNiall pretty much let me take the reins when it came to our wedding registry. Registries aren't common in Ireland, so he was pretty unfamiliar with the concept. I decided that our china pattern was Wedgwood Butterfly Bloom because it was pretty with just the right amount of whimsy. Niall shrugged and said that was fine.<br />
<br />
I ended up putting a lot of fancy dishes on the registry, because they were nice and also the kind of things we would not buy for ourselves but that other people seemed to enjoy buying for us. (I hate the way that sounds, like I'm deigning to LET people buy nice, expensive things for us. But I had initially put only <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wedgwood-Harlequin-Butterfly-Plates-8-25-Inch/dp/B007CL7AJE/ref=pd_sim_79_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=61BofXwtxGL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR160%2C160_&refRID=1AFWJCZCGEP37ME6DMME" target="_blank">this set of 4 plates</a> on the registry and at my bridal shower my mom's friend told me flat out that I needed to add more fancy things to the registry because I didn't have enough nice stuff on there. So I added a lot more of the fancy china pieces (i.e. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wedgwood-Butterfly-Bloom-Sandwich-Tray/dp/B00BU7Y4KE/ref=pd_bxgy_79_img_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=0M328NRNHDPAE39YP1FG" target="_blank">sandwich plate</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wedgwood-Butterfly-Bloom-Teacup-Saucer/dp/B00LOEBOG0/ref=pd_sim_79_7?ie=UTF8&dpID=41TeV1QlKnL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR160%2C160_&refRID=0M328NRNHDPAE39YP1FG" target="_blank">teacups</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wedgwood-Butterfly-Bloom-3-Piece-Story/dp/B00LOEBMR6/ref=pd_sim_201_8?ie=UTF8&dpID=51zQQIjZePL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR160%2C160_&refRID=0KS757XR6SGV9M1V1C5T" target="_blank">teapot</a>).) <br />
<br />
Anyhow, this is the pattern:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSG_pQnhd1aZR-zB2Bn_GjUrEejab0nY4ZrNhnWDSHdF0HqrBoolpxNWpXlW3cewP6YNQ_V6ITMESf_kRtdA7CEwdJz_MFzpi3EsYvSgg7vVc2A_8e_uuyMWc8zp_5hNbuvPm3HvltAPN/s1600/81afh7TvjpL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSG_pQnhd1aZR-zB2Bn_GjUrEejab0nY4ZrNhnWDSHdF0HqrBoolpxNWpXlW3cewP6YNQ_V6ITMESf_kRtdA7CEwdJz_MFzpi3EsYvSgg7vVc2A_8e_uuyMWc8zp_5hNbuvPm3HvltAPN/s320/81afh7TvjpL._SL1500_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from Amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Pretty, right?<br />
We received several of the above sets of plates and when we got the first one I opened the box and started loading the dishes into our kitchen cabinets.<br />
Niall, horrified, asked what the hell I was doing.<br />
"I'm... putting these in the cabinet? So we can use them?" My thinking was that we had the dishes and I liked looking at them, so we should use and enjoy them. Niall's thinking was that they were very expensive dishes and that's not what <strike>his mom</strike> one does with fancy dishes-- one is supposed to put them away and save them for a special occasion.<br />
So we compromised and put the dishes away for a special occasion, but also got a china hutch to display some of <strike>my</strike> our favorites.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvR_YsIESGYhFDcq5pvRBeRr5MffE7mgYnozMIE0oUXvaMARuMDKA2D1MXbBSDCMVk6tMwAy8JfSjCxzntCTkB4UTt35iF1sc71mwlhJE1S3tPeVush7xHmHF3WSiVHpkF5-7TThHXNIH/s1600/IMG_3010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvR_YsIESGYhFDcq5pvRBeRr5MffE7mgYnozMIE0oUXvaMARuMDKA2D1MXbBSDCMVk6tMwAy8JfSjCxzntCTkB4UTt35iF1sc71mwlhJE1S3tPeVush7xHmHF3WSiVHpkF5-7TThHXNIH/s400/IMG_3010.JPG" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You may also spy some Belleek items. It's possible that I... got a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Belleek-Group-1316-Shamrock-9-5-Inch/dp/B00JIVSIEW/ref=pd_sim_79_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=31F6tcFcIzL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR160%2C160_&refRID=11QSPDZTZZ9AZV8Z786W" target="_blank">little</a> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Belleek-Group-1320-Shamrock-6-5-Inch/dp/B00JIVSJNC/ref=pd_sim_79_15?ie=UTF8&dpID=41qV82A6jQL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR118%2C160_&refRID=0CANVPBGSWZMJX1W52MV" target="_blank">carried</a> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Belleek-1260-Kylemore-Pitcher-8-5-Inch/dp/B007XA8XV8/ref=pd_sim_sbs_79_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=41TlW8OfIoL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR121%2C160_&refRID=1MP8YCPF319YA6FMB86T" target="_blank">away</a> with the registry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We've been using my mismatched Goodwill dishes for everyday use, until I got the following BRILLIANT IDEA.<br />
I ordered <a href="http://www.makit.com/ProductDetail.aspx?ProductCode=K1100&PK=8253e113-969a-4285-bba6-7528e8f6fab4" target="_blank">this plate making kit</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crayola-Washable-Super-Tip-Markers/dp/B00000J0RJ/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_img_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=013PVJBC83TAJKMT7RXT" target="_blank">these markers</a> and brought them to Thanksgiving weekend with my family. The kit just consists of circles of paper that you color your design on and it turned out to be the perfect activity for kids aged 3 through 16. They all loved it! And it was a good activity for them while dinner wasn't ready yet. And they even liked the idea that the plates were for me.<br />
After the kids finished their designs, I sent the paper circles along with my payment and the order form back to the company. The finished plates arrived last week!<br />
<br />
Here are some of my faves: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aW1TlEFmk_XgGNEtujbcWUqIBo6ojp5zgmkkrVm2Sek6LgYjhB_RlHo9o6VhW2LJAcU9zUtpWEFMWApg1Enrq-OX0kTYvShsyj1FNjbi6U-n6vxpee6VH32zfQSS2LXcqu18J1MIIqSr/s1600/IMG_3009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aW1TlEFmk_XgGNEtujbcWUqIBo6ojp5zgmkkrVm2Sek6LgYjhB_RlHo9o6VhW2LJAcU9zUtpWEFMWApg1Enrq-OX0kTYvShsyj1FNjbi6U-n6vxpee6VH32zfQSS2LXcqu18J1MIIqSr/s640/IMG_3009.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. They're melamine, which means you can't put them in the microwave, but they go in the dishwasher just fine. And they're very sturdy. And I just. LOVE THEM SO MUCH.<br />
<br />
Oh, you don't want to use the fancy plates on a daily basis, Niall? Challenge accepted.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-17755383708602805182016-02-13T16:00:00.000-08:002016-02-15T18:02:44.676-08:00Mixed Feelings<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Severalmany years ago I wrote a <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2011/07/every-lady-needs-mixer.html" target="_blank">post</a> about a darling little mixer that I bought from a thrift store. It really was
adorable and quirky and fit right
into my retro kitchen that I was struggling to have, despite the modern,
new construction apartment I was inhabiting.</span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I tried to tell myself that I didn’t really
need one of those KitchenAid mixers. They’re so highfalutin and expensive and PROBABLY FULL OF NARGLES.
I’m too cool for that thing everybody else likes because I’m a unique human person snowflake.</span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But, uh. Then I was getting married and I made a gift registry (because *<b>I</b>*
always appreciate when someone has a registry. Let’s not get dragged
down that tangent, she says,
deleting three paragraphs about registries). Anyhow, I made a gift
registry and I included a KitchenAid mixer because, well, it wouldn’t be
something I would want to buy for myself and a wedding is an excellent
excuse to get the sorts of things one wouldn’t
buy for oneself (see also: fancy china, nice towels, expensive waffle
iron).</span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So we got the new
KitchenAid mixer as a wedding present from some of my relatives and,
yep, I’m totally that person who needs a KitchenAid mixer.</span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Look at this beauty. LOOK RIGHT AT HER.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1782oN1g5TIlRc05Uk36s_27qgNoOLAM-6uc_BwGKNdd3NWK-mW5X3juyMabFwD33nFtVP73zsALsgM-FZU_iwWHW_RXr8j-DRIqxu9jGzfFPP5E8tL3k9E7JgcMREUOgRPsxkngzxIMD/s1600/21495420659_1844c76a62_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1782oN1g5TIlRc05Uk36s_27qgNoOLAM-6uc_BwGKNdd3NWK-mW5X3juyMabFwD33nFtVP73zsALsgM-FZU_iwWHW_RXr8j-DRIqxu9jGzfFPP5E8tL3k9E7JgcMREUOgRPsxkngzxIMD/s640/21495420659_1844c76a62_o.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sweet little retro mixer has gone off to a new owner, hopefully one that will love it as much as I did.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And a few weeks ago the fancy new mixer and I made Irish brown bread, like some kind of MAGICIAN.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzepRzcb4ZFfa4oSE6oOn-32s5E8lSCZ7aijJEDS0U3J2o-lS00W23b5sHTDlG-qudluHmcPWkb2lerMOAScamAG5g0eR8oJfX8N-5HkCMRCaGyz8xcqIUR2pI0A71-j8sbHn59eIl2SA/s1600/23678745144_925c735ed0_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzepRzcb4ZFfa4oSE6oOn-32s5E8lSCZ7aijJEDS0U3J2o-lS00W23b5sHTDlG-qudluHmcPWkb2lerMOAScamAG5g0eR8oJfX8N-5HkCMRCaGyz8xcqIUR2pI0A71-j8sbHn59eIl2SA/s320/23678745144_925c735ed0_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-57936593071389510982015-10-18T17:30:00.000-07:002015-10-18T17:31:25.951-07:00contact high<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When I was a kid, I
was lucky enough to go skiing pretty much every winter with my family. I
had a child’s fearlessness and boundless energy, so it was pretty much
the most fun evarrrr. Whooshing down the mountain
at breakneck speed (no helmet, of course), only stopping for a lunch of
chicken tenders and fries? Yes please. Skiing was amazing!</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In high school I got a
snowboard, so I learned how to snowboard. At first I scoffed at the
idea of taking a lesson. I was a SURFER, so obviously I could snowboard
no problem. But then it turned out that (for
me at least) the skill(s) did not transfer from one board sport to the
other, so I spent a day careening down the hills and falling violently
ass-over-teakettle many MANY times. It’s a miracle that I didn’t break
anything. It’s possible that I did sustain an untreated
concussion.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Anyhow, the next time I went I took a
lesson! And it was easier. And from then on I’ve been a snowboarder. I
mean “a snowboarder” in the most literal way possible—a person who
snowboards. Not, like a person EXCELS at snowboarding
in any way. I’ve never felt completely comfortable on a snowboard.
There’s always the possibility that I very well could break every bone
in my body. I mean, it’s fun, but interspersed with moments of panic:
getting off the ski lift, getting on the ski lift,
looking down while on the ski lift (though this is not limited to
snowboarding- can we agree that ski lifts are terrifying?), going too
fast, going on too steep a hill, too much ice, too many trees and/or
rocks, that moment when you catch your edge and you’re
about to fall, falling, trying to get up after falling with people
careening around you.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last year, Niall and I
went to Tahoe for his birthday weekend. We stayed in a little hotel by the lake
and went out to fancy dinners like real adult humans. On his actual
birthday we planned to go up to Heavenly for
some fun on the slopes. Niall had said he was going to rent a pair of
skis from the local sports shop, and I got the brilliant idea to also
rent a pair of skis. Skiing!
Hey, I
used to be REALLY good at skiing! I probably still am! It’s one of
those skills that you retain forever, I’m sure! I totally should rent a
pair of skis and show Niall just how awesome
I am at skiing!</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As I learned in Tahoe, if there is one thing that can make me feel like an ace on a snowboard it is SKIING.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Holey shirts and
pants, you guys. It was so awful. I hyperventilated every time my skis
were pointed down the mountain and parallel. Also, I couldn’t keep them
parallel. Also, I didn’t know how to balance
facing forward. I didn’t know how to be on my edges or to lift up a
ski to make turns. I spent the entire time with my skis in “pizza”
position, body hunched over,
and ski poles dragging on the ground, using them like sad little brakes.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On top of all of
this, I also couldn’t wear my prescription sunglasses because they were made more for looks than for sportiness. They wouldn’t have stayed on my face, so I just wore regular, non-prescription sunglasses. Not
being able to see very well added a nice extra layer
of difficulty, so the whole endeavor was frustrating, to say the least.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I managed to take out
my frustrations pretty singularly on Niall (on his birthday!). He would
shoot off ahead of me and then stop and wait, but the problem with that
was that I got mad at him if he waited for
me and also if he didn’t. And then he kept POINTING at stuff with his
SKI POLE, even though I kept helpfully REMINDING him that the ski pole
was the SAME COLOR AS THE TREES AND I CAN’T SEE WHICH WAY YOU ARE
POINTING AND ALSO YOUR JACKET IS TOO WHY DID YOU
WEAR THAT COLOR JACKET THAT MATCHES THE BACKGROUND I CAN'T SEE YOU WHERE ARE HAPPY BIRTHDAY BY THE WAY.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Eventually I just
took the gondola back down to the lodge, hiked out to the parking lot,
and switched over to my snowboard. It took me about an hour to
accomplish that task (and it was probably the best hour
of skiing for Niall).</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As you may recall, I recently got married
(Hurrah!). Because I’m vain, I decided that I didn’t want to wear
glasses on my wedding day.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sidebar: I still don’t fully consider myself as somebody
“who wears glasses,” even though I wear glasses pretty consistently.
Maybe that’s because it came upon me gradually. At first I just needed
my glasses once in awhile, if I were sitting particularly far back in a
college
lecture hall. Then I started needing them in all of my lectures. And
then all of my classes and at the movies. And then while driving at
night. And then a few years ago I went in to get my license renewed and
the lady told me to take off my
glasses and read the eye chart, so I took off my glasses and the eye
chart disappeared. So. Now I wear glasses.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Anyhow, I didn’t want to wear my glasses on my
wedding day which mean my choices were either (a) get contacts or (b)
possibly not recognize my betrothed as I walked down the aisle. Niall, apparently traumatized
by our skiing incident, encouraged me to get contacts.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I got contacts! I went to the eye doctor and
he had me put my head in an assortment of odd devices while he…. I
dunno… took some measurements and assessments of my eyes or whatever.
And then he gave me a starter set of contact lenses
and showed me how to put them in. I spent THIRTY DUCKING MINUTES
(literally ducking) trying to put in the first one before I finally got
it. And the doctor, while very patient, had to wrap up our appointment. I
went home and FINALLY got the damn things both
in. They felt like tiny pieces of sandpaper.</span></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">People told me I would get used to them and I smiled and nodded, slightly teary-eyed and headachedy. Despite the initial hiccups, I have indeed gotten more used to them over time and have been able to enjoy a whole new world of non-prescription sunglasses, including this baller pair that I wore on my wedding day:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDoZ1U7SE6v7dprpDc0MCPdsPdX60m36DosGgfsPyQVgId1DJ9KFoE8o5rs7-lKqfsfz26iQm7rhHpBiM1GUx7Ptm4cHHLDA4nt7SlBSrXXvqA_pknOzHfsY_vy8bXszGDI-vd3VysiI1X/s1600/Julia+Niall-0807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDoZ1U7SE6v7dprpDc0MCPdsPdX60m36DosGgfsPyQVgId1DJ9KFoE8o5rs7-lKqfsfz26iQm7rhHpBiM1GUx7Ptm4cHHLDA4nt7SlBSrXXvqA_pknOzHfsY_vy8bXszGDI-vd3VysiI1X/s320/Julia+Niall-0807.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="x_MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Niall still hasn’t said
whether or not he’ll ever go skiing with me again,
however.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-67226014780787485682015-08-20T19:00:00.000-07:002015-08-20T19:56:28.605-07:00proposed break room rules
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>No fish. This includes, but is not limited to: no bringing
cooked fish for lunch. No bringing
cooked fish and leaving it in the break room refrigerator. No bringing
cooked fish to work and warming it up
in the microwave. No bringing
cooked fish to work, warming it up in the microwave, and leaving it out on the break room table all afternoon. No
buying fresh fish at the market on
your lunch break and leaving it in the break room refrigerator for the
rest of the work day. No
bringing in fresh fish to share amongst your coworkers. No bringing in fresh shrimp to share amongst your coworkers. No bringing in a large bag of fresh squid
parts in to share amongst your coworkers.
No dividing up said bag of squid parts into small biohazard bags over
the break room sink. No getting squid ink all over the break room sink
and
counter. No storing biohazard bags of squid parts in the break room
refrigerator for the rest of the work day. No
squid in the office full stop. I can’t believe we have to have this
conversation.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>That’s it. That’s all I care about.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Oh wait, also:
throw out your old food. Maybe do a sweep of the fridge once a week or
so and see if there’s anything in there that’s yours that you forgot
about? Please don’t leave your pasta alfredo
with broccoli in there for two months. We live in a society.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">4.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Label your
stuff. If it’s something that will be in there for a while that you
don’t mind sharing, like a bottle of ranch dressing, maybe include your
name, the date it was opened, and something like
“help yourself.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">5.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>If something is rotten, throw it out. Even if it wasn’t yours to begin with! Nobody will miss that shriveled plum, I promise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">6.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Seriously, you brought fish again? NO FISH. Just. No.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-33974484371582663072015-08-14T00:00:00.000-07:002015-08-14T00:00:06.965-07:00gym class hero<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I joined a gym. Wait! Where are you going? Come back!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let me start over. I’ve never been one of those people who is, like, addicted to working out. One might even say that I hate it, or at least
strongly dislike it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I remember when a
friend of mine came into town and asked if I wanted to get together. I
was all ready to suggest lunch and then pedicures, but she said that she
was going to a barre class and did I want to meet
her? No thanks, I said. I’d catch her afterward at the sandwich place
nextdoor. If we’re spending quality friend time together I’d like to ENJOY it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I never want to go on a hike, so don’t bother asking. I’ll go on a WALK. Even an outdoor walk, through nature. But call it a hike and no.
No thank you. I’ll sit here and read while YOU hike and we can hang out once you’ve gotten that nonsense out of your system.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Running (jogging) seems to be the only thing I can stand to do consistently-ish.
When I lived in LA I would go running (jogging) around my
neighborhood. Then, when I moved to San Francisco, my building had a
little workout room so I would run (jog) on the treadmill. The machines in
that workout room all had TVs with cable and DVD players attached. <span style="font-size: small;">My apartment</span> never had
cable while I lived there, so it was a good way
to get my Teen Mom fix.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When Niall and I moved
in together, we moved into a building without a workout room. Niall seems to
actually be one of those people who truly enjoys exercising, so he has
been dutifully going to the gym the entire
time I’ve known him (not to mention running, cycling, playing assorted
sports, and generally making me feel like a sloth by comparison).</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I
tried a few things here and there.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I took an adult
beginner ballet class. Not to brag or anything but I did ballet for
several years in middle school and college, so I felt like it would only
be a matter of time before the other adult beginners
would be eyeing me and whispering “Shouldn’t she be in the ADVANCED
class?” Instead, what happened was that everybody expected me to be
really good since my shoes were so worn (see also: from college (see
also: never get rid of anything!)), but I pranced around
like one of the hippos from Fantasia. I quit after a few months because
It was TOO HARD and not fun and I was not nearly as fairy-like as I had
expected.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I thought about getting a fitbit, but
they’re really expensive, so instead I
bought the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005G4FFG4/ref=s9_simh_gw_p74_d2_i5?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=desktop-1&pf_rd_r=0B01XZ41YBWGVTT7EHSX&pf_rd_t=36701&pf_rd_p=2079475242&pf_rd_i=desktop" target="_blank">Jane Fonda workout</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Richard-Simmons-Sweatin-Oldies/dp/B00BINMBVO/ref=pd_bxgy_74_img_y" target="_blank">Richard Simmons Sweatin to the Oldies</a> <span style="font-size: small;">video<span style="font-size: small;">s</span></span>. I had fun doing these a few times. They’re not terribly intense
workouts and they are also somewhat hilarious (<span style="font-size: small;">see also: Richard Simmons<span style="font-size: small;">'s shorts)</span></span>.
But for some reason there are too many steps for working out at home. I
have to change into something I don’t mind getting sweaty and then
switch the TV to the right mode and then scoot the coffee table over and
ugh, maybe I’ll just sit down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A couple weeks before the wedding I decided I wanted to work out a little. Not to lose weight
or tone up, but just to help my endurance a little and ensure I wouldn’t
collapse and die from dancing the night away
at our wedding reception.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I asked Niall if I
could go with him to his gym to check it out, super casual like. We
went, and they were having some ‘friends and family’ dealie so I signed
up for a (basic, totally chill, I-can-quit-anytime-I-wanna) membership<span style="font-size: small;">.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The gym guidelines, as I explained to Niall* are<span style="font-size: small;">:</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">- </span>He can’t ever shame me for not going or not wanting to go to the gy<span style="font-size: small;">m</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">- I</span>f I ever bring up that I’m thinking about going to the gym, he should enthusiastically encourage me</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">-<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>He can invite me to go to the gym with me, but he can’t ever suggest that I should go to the gym</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">- He can’t criticize what I do at the gym</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now it’s August, and
that means I’ve been a gym member for a little over 2 months. For some
reason I have been able to go to the gym, despite the fact that, yes, I
do understand that this involves FAR more steps
than working out at home does. But I guess I don’t mind the steps as
much? Maybe it’s easier because it’s more of a routine. My living room
is where I hang out, eat, relax, but the gym is only where I do gym
things. There’s no possibility I’m going to go all
the way to the gym and then sit down on the floor of the locker room
and read a book instead.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So far I have spent my
time at the gym running (jogging) on the treadmill, with very occasional
uses of the cross trainer peppered in here and there. HOWEVER, I
reserve the right to go to the gym, do a couple
stretches, and then sit in the hot tub if that’s what I’m up for on
that particular day. And that will still COUNT as going to the gym. I
need motivation and a reward system that is beyond “staying healthy”
because clearly that’s not enough or else I would
be joining Niall as he bounds out of bed every morning for his run like
a goddamn kangaroo. The other good thing about the gym is that it is
located in a little plaza that also has a Ross and sandwich place and a
grocery store. So sometimes after a run (jog),
I’ll take a little stroll through ross or treat myself to something
yummy for lunch. Running: not its own reward.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I had to add a new one over the weekend which is:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">- He can’t make fun of my gym outfits/accessories.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’ve said this <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2015/02/wedding-accessories.html" target="_blank">before</a>,
but I’m a person who likes to have all the accessories that go along
with a thing. I like having my little gym bag and a purple lock for
using the lockers at the gym. I have my sunglasses
and my headphones that are specifically gym-only. I also have my gym
clothes. Niall was chuckling the other day because I was trying on
various new gym clothes and preening in front of the mirror, while he is
perfectly happy to work out in old crappy shorts and tee
shirts. I explained to him that I know I COULD wear regular old clothes
at the gym, but having my cute little shoes</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_AB40igD_AB10Mr0KJkSeVA5Q7sSvkm8P-A-y8azaT3nrplLyprXMxiIScaVYpFTFnyqR56CCyMY6hPx067BEfA1ietmCaWPb-VjsD_wl9Wh7MsB49DO0f72F7v0lebBDb3RCwkN5W7F/s1600/IMG_1302.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_AB40igD_AB10Mr0KJkSeVA5Q7sSvkm8P-A-y8azaT3nrplLyprXMxiIScaVYpFTFnyqR56CCyMY6hPx067BEfA1ietmCaWPb-VjsD_wl9Wh7MsB49DO0f72F7v0lebBDb3RCwkN5W7F/s320/IMG_1302.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and outfits</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF2SVaC7tU_v-fEDT9LnWmaXGUaFBWjR7odamy7Id3wCt5Xl5AwL7TbA8z9r72hFFFYIL3Va7rfQYNUpWwTw9l5z6j-lsuny_gzUd59CTPKs4DgFRJsQew7cu-guHg1N2UiguTy_dgl3T/s1600/IMG_1305.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF2SVaC7tU_v-fEDT9LnWmaXGUaFBWjR7odamy7Id3wCt5Xl5AwL7TbA8z9r72hFFFYIL3Va7rfQYNUpWwTw9l5z6j-lsuny_gzUd59CTPKs4DgFRJsQew7cu-guHg1N2UiguTy_dgl3T/s320/IMG_1305.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">are
much more enjoyable and THEREFORE make me much more likely to actually
GO. This is my Gym Outfit that I wear to
the gym, GOLD STAR FOR ME.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Really, the whole point of this <span style="font-size: small;">post was to show you my <span style="font-size: small;">new purple gym outfit.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Niall hasn't ever body shamed me<span style="font-size: x-small;"> and <span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm not worried that he would,</span></span> I just wanted to be explicit with my gym-interaction-expectations.</span> </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-84018518589377137742015-08-13T19:30:00.000-07:002015-08-13T19:39:23.840-07:00alarming<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last weekend Niall decided to make meatloaf. The
concept had previously not appealed to him, which makes sense given its
name. Meat<span style="font-size: small;">...<span style="font-size: small;"> l</span></span>oaf. However, he realized that he like<span style="font-size: small;">s</span> all the
ingredients that typically go into a meatloaf, so he thought
he’d give it a go. I found him the Pioneer Woman’s recipe online and he
modified it in an apparent effort to include as many animals as
possible (ground beef, ground lamb, bacon strips over the top).</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The baconey drippings from the meatloaf got a bit scorched in<span style="font-size: small;"> the oven</span> whi<span style="font-size: small;">le it was baking, wh<span style="font-size: small;">ich meant that</span></span></span> our fire
alarm went off and we subsequently learned that our fire alarm is the
least alarmed sounding alarm in the world. It makes a pitiful little
meep noise and also says the words “Fire. Fire.”
I don’t feel like our fire alarm takes its job very seriously. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a fire <i>alarm</i>. It’s more of a fire calmly announce.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">By contrast, my old building’s fire alarm system
was absolutely MILITANT about its job. Whenever I cooked pretty much
anything it would start shrieking at me and I’d have to open the window
and fan the alarm unit with a towel until it shut
the hell up. If there was fire detected or an alarm pulled in any of
the common areas of the building, there was a speaker inside every
apartment that would make siren noises and ALSO shout at you:</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">AN ALARM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">WE ARE INVESTIGATING THE CAUSE.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND STANDBY NEAR THE SPEAKER FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">[short pause]</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE…. Etc.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This would repeat on a loop over and over until
whatever happened was figured out, at which point we would usually get
an announcement like “Thank you for your attention, this has been a
false alarm” or whatever. The longest it ever went
on while I lived there was probably only about 15 minutes, but that
FEELS LIKE ETERNITY when, say, you’re woken up from a sound sleep in the
middle of the night.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last night I made brownies and I went to bed right
after I took them out of the oven. I woke up this morning feeling
unusually warm. The whole apartment felt unusually warm. And then I
found out that I had accidentally LEFT THE OVEN ON
ALL NIGHT.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I think I may have mentioned this <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2008/06/depths-of-my-insanity.html" target="_blank">previously</a>,
my cousin once used her blow dryer and then put it away under the sink
in her bathroom and then left for work. When she came home that
afternoon she found that HER HOUSE HAD BURNED DOWN.
(She’s fine, her family is all fine, but house = gone.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Burning the house down</span> is one of my nightmares. And I left the oven on! All night!
What if something had caught fire? What if the house had burned
down? If I left the oven on, <span style="font-size: small;">what if </span>this means I might leave OTHER things on
and forget about them also? OHMYGOD I’m going to burn our house down,
or not put the emergency brake on my car when I park it on a hill and
have it roll down and hit someone, or turn on the garbage disposal when
somebody is fishing out a spoon, or leave a vulnerable person or animal
in a hot car, or SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS OBVIOUSLY
GOING TO HAPPEN AND IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULLLLLLLLLT.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My fire calmly announce may not be very alarmed, but I certainly am.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-37537834925387910142015-08-07T00:00:00.000-07:002015-08-07T06:34:53.805-07:00get well soon giftiesMy nephew has <a href="http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=a00070" target="_blank">Perthes disease</a>, which basically means the ball and socket joint of his hip grew all wonky causing the blood supply of the joint to get strangled off and the bone to start dying. It was caught pretty early in his life, thanks to his <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2011/09/el-salvador-part-1.html" target="_blank">grandpa</a>, so he's doing well.<br />
<br />
<br />
A couple years ago I was driving to the hospital to visit him after one of his surgeries (he's had several major hip surgeries, poor kid). I had bought him some nice headphones, but I decided to stop at Target because I felt like I needed something else. I ended up picking out a stuffed frog.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71wAmJiw9eo1AbMfkbXI-CBfQ0FiinG4vB7ABeDwmgne9Gi8DK9JahRqmTy-yiw_nHcfbeX913yI6Yc-2M8B-rjFOTuPyRZTM-i1m57VKHIQyt0J2jPeYqD9lDEEGeAFCBxARzEubu928/s1600/91pZyMDEVpL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71wAmJiw9eo1AbMfkbXI-CBfQ0FiinG4vB7ABeDwmgne9Gi8DK9JahRqmTy-yiw_nHcfbeX913yI6Yc-2M8B-rjFOTuPyRZTM-i1m57VKHIQyt0J2jPeYqD9lDEEGeAFCBxARzEubu928/s320/91pZyMDEVpL._SL1500_.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo from Amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He liked
the headphones, but he LOVED the frog. He slept with it tucked under his
arm and watched TV with it sitting next to him in bed. It reminded me
that he’s a big strong kid, but even big strong
kids can be comforted by a stuffed animal. I haven’t conducted
extensive research on this, but I feel like a stuffed animal is kind of a
universally pleasing item, especially when you’re not feeling good and/or stuck in a hospital
bed.<br />
<br />
When I stopped at
Target on the way to the hospital, I also bought <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Apples-to-Dice-Game/dp/B0063D7UHE/ref=pd_sim_21_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=1WQC3XD0XFG034NV5XYR" target="_blank">this game</a>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxeJPrdDVAyG1vn5bjQpvIROhCjKaLA9rd9wvJHiuX8JP5Ms3KkTjpk9iRl8n-xXAQSFvdQR5kPAtbJ-ojN8Casj_DWe0mQkVxh-wilovoDQPDdUxEoFq3pO0AcPeiAS-mJMl6fyP3QzO6/s1600/81FPB4ayg3L._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxeJPrdDVAyG1vn5bjQpvIROhCjKaLA9rd9wvJHiuX8JP5Ms3KkTjpk9iRl8n-xXAQSFvdQR5kPAtbJ-ojN8Casj_DWe0mQkVxh-wilovoDQPDdUxEoFq3pO0AcPeiAS-mJMl6fyP3QzO6/s320/81FPB4ayg3L._SL1500_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo from Amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My nephew
was too tired and out of it to ACTUALLY play even that game, so we
modified it. He would roll the dice and it would land
on a letter. Then the rest of us would have to come up with a word that
started with that letter and my nephew would pick his favorite word out
of all of them and the person who picked the word he liked best was the
winner of that round. It was a fun for everybody and my nephew could doze in between rounds.<br />
<br />
Something else that was a big hit with my nephew? Silly putty and a newspaper. Proving that even 10 year old boys get tired of video games eventually.<br />
<br />
Can't go wrong with a classic blankie. Bonus points if you happen to know that VIPs at the hospital are given a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=red+blanket" target="_blank">specific color blanket</a>. (Which is actually a thing, I swear.)<br />
<br />
Another winner? A coloring book and some crayons/markers/colored pencils. I'm particularly fond of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unicorns-Are-Jerks-coloring-exposing/dp/1477468528/ref=pd_sim_sbs_14_13?ie=UTF8&refRID=0M3XSRGQFGRGHDHE0EPX" target="_blank">this one</a>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYF_eM3fEmVj35chI3l8_BT9DPa48-zufwWmQ-6H2Ha8_D_BjXemcT6V269Ri-0trQD3nBRqH_kWxAMG3Rzt9uVBl_duOaPDUYUoEPoeYNXNrM_YWp9DpJnzSdxLkGJXNSP-8bDaIorBh/s1600/unicorns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYF_eM3fEmVj35chI3l8_BT9DPa48-zufwWmQ-6H2Ha8_D_BjXemcT6V269Ri-0trQD3nBRqH_kWxAMG3Rzt9uVBl_duOaPDUYUoEPoeYNXNrM_YWp9DpJnzSdxLkGJXNSP-8bDaIorBh/s320/unicorns.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo from Amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I use these <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vandor-18114-Acrylic-Travel-Multicolor/dp/B00IM9PU8S/ref=pd_sim_79_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0F7GNAKG032TSF72M04T" target="_blank">acrylic drinking cups</a> ALL THE TIME.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis67RFnqOtz-jpy0kh35d2LlZ9cAFhvIquj7T35ku2cKUolNMAVlj4tD1_CI6GJvQxFRWvZjpRRKfSuD3KeRfMSyduvDKLHi3SGJOP4C__fK_xIdUgW5fYD7h-r2cniD3XbKhDAqP-OpUa/s1600/41VFZ2vtEjL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis67RFnqOtz-jpy0kh35d2LlZ9cAFhvIquj7T35ku2cKUolNMAVlj4tD1_CI6GJvQxFRWvZjpRRKfSuD3KeRfMSyduvDKLHi3SGJOP4C__fK_xIdUgW5fYD7h-r2cniD3XbKhDAqP-OpUa/s320/41VFZ2vtEjL.jpg" width="169" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo from Amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
They are excellent for holding icy cold water (or your beverage of
choice). Also, they are good if you are perhaps not operating with all
of your mental faculties and more prone to spillage.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-17228501537732088842015-08-06T00:00:00.000-07:002015-08-06T00:00:04.396-07:00Potpourri<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've started getting up a little earlier so I can stop at <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2013/10/target-practice.html" target="_blank">Target</a> on my way to work. It's the BEST. I get my coffee, because <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2015/01/full-of-beans.html" target="_blank">apparently</a> that's part of my life now. And then I take a little stroll around the empty, pristine Target which is Ah May Zing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">---</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I love Sharpies. I wanted to write a whole post about how much I love Sharpies, but that's basically all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">---</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I went to the doctor for a checkup the other day. She asked me how many times in the last 3 months that I had more than 3 drinks. I say "Maybe three times?" And I got a lecture about cutting back, AND a follow-up email with tips for slowing down and trying to drink less. "Set your glass down in between sips!" Okay, but. Really?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">---</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My sister: "Hey! Where did you get those chips?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My 3 year old niece: "It's celery."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was not celery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">---</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I spend a certain percentage of my job on the
phone, and I sometimes have to spell out medication names. And sometimes
I’m spelling those medications to people with bad phone connections or
hearing problems. I really should just bookmark
<a href="https://www.phl.org/passengerinfo/KidsCorner/Pages/kids_alphabet.aspx" target="_blank">this page</a> because if I’m in the middle of spelling something I panic and say things like “Okay it’s
simvastatin. S as in syrup, i as in impossible, m as in muppet, v as in voluptuous, a as in Appalachian…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And because my brain is my brain, I ALSO start thinking of even worse ones “P as in phlebotomist” or "t as in tsunami.”</span></div>
<br /><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">---</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On a more positive note, I have successfully
transitioned to saying “my pleasure” at work instead of “no problem”
when somebody thanks me. I always felt a little odd when I said no
problem because I feel like it still sounds like “Well
this is kind of a problem, but don’t worry, I’ll do it anyhow as a
favor.” My pleasure, however, THAT’s customer service.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">--- </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I cut my own bangs last night. And now I remember two things: why I don't usually do that, AND where my original avatar pic came from.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMMGyUZvhbZkmNXB4r3wqbdRW3mf_qhhgR378yDYdh4Fto7oFct3G35Mvy-uMnSR8UoVwrPIOhvA4jDmix5ZZiJnV37t-hpmykqHXaYMU8LzXqnUoMcvSrlDwT_6RzYyonFWJ2VtNeOfy/s1600/IMG_1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMMGyUZvhbZkmNXB4r3wqbdRW3mf_qhhgR378yDYdh4Fto7oFct3G35Mvy-uMnSR8UoVwrPIOhvA4jDmix5ZZiJnV37t-hpmykqHXaYMU8LzXqnUoMcvSrlDwT_6RzYyonFWJ2VtNeOfy/s320/IMG_1276.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-34620627565157800832015-08-05T20:30:00.000-07:002015-08-05T20:58:57.338-07:00inappropriate feelingsiversary<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Timehop reminds me that three years ago I flew home from NYC the day after being sexually assaulted.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtObRDr0i9mdVCz53dxY_rgK3TNyreCY79m6sEETseyYhdkC9umF4vxVrLWkhKpC5reDgdLIXlwQmtlmgfbo0KjIyViAGIFoJCLsJJeCQKISsGPqWxYudCr9J5D2P0g5OS0vhWgmV84Boi/s1600/IMG_1274.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtObRDr0i9mdVCz53dxY_rgK3TNyreCY79m6sEETseyYhdkC9umF4vxVrLWkhKpC5reDgdLIXlwQmtlmgfbo0KjIyViAGIFoJCLsJJeCQKISsGPqWxYudCr9J5D2P0g5OS0vhWgmV84Boi/s320/IMG_1274.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Which, in turn, reminds me that last year I wrote a <a href="http://julesvsnuts.blogspot.com/2014/08/traumaversary.html" target="_blank">post</a> that I’d rather not
talk about. I’d prefer to take it down and pretend it didn’t happen. But
instead of that, Imma try and woman up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last year I had some inappropriate feelings and I expressed those feelings in an inappropriate way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Rather than talking to people, I was passive
aggressive and selfish. I won’t go into details, but, well... that blog post is a pretty
good example. “HEY I’M MAD THAT MY FRIENDS WENT TO BLOGHER BECAUSE I SHOULD BE MORE IMPORTANT TO THEM” she
shouted to everyone and no one. I’m not proud of this
behavior.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since then, and within the past few months I think I’ve figured some things out:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1. It is not up to other people to emotionally take
care of me. That’s my job. I shouldn’t expect other people to do that
and I should DEFINITELY not get mad at them when they don’t.*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2. I need to manage my inappropriate feelings in an
appropriate way. It reminds me of the following touchy analogy: If
you’re sad and upset that you’re struggling with infertility and your
friend is having a baby shower, you can tell your
friend that you’re having a hard time and you can decide to not go to
her baby shower, but you can’t get MAD at her for having a baby shower or
tell your mutual friends that you’ll be upset with them if they go.
That’s inappropriate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span>3. So instead of throwing a fit last year, I really
should have just done what I did this year: pull back from my social
networks a little, lower my expectations, reign in my feelings, take
medicine, and give myself little treats.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">4. I’m putting this here to remind Future Jules.** </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">*I think part of the reason I had a lot of trouble
with this was the very nature of the sexual assault trauma. I’ve felt
dependent on external validation—people telling me it wasn’t my fault,
that it was real, that I’m doing okay, etc.
I’ve ALSO been trying to change that perception, but it’s not easy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">** <span style="font-size: x-small;">It<span style="font-size: x-small;">'s gonna be okay, <span style="font-size: x-small;">Future Jules. Traumaversar<span style="font-size: x-small;">ies are no fun, but <span style="font-size: x-small;">you can <span style="font-size: x-small;">handle it.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Now <span style="font-size: x-small;">g</span>o get y<span style="font-size: x-small;">ourself a little treat.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8621743693601933708.post-71237048164654997122015-08-04T20:00:00.000-07:002015-08-04T20:19:18.471-07:00missushappenings<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I was going to call this post “mishaps” but then I decided the things that happened weren’t ACTUAL mishaps, they were
just little stories of some things that went differently than I had expected-- nothing I wish I could go back in time and change.
Mis-happenings, if you will. And THEN since they are wedding related items, I decided to call them MISSUShappenings. Get it? Get it? See what I did there?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Moving on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1. This wasn’t a mishap or a happening at all but it
keeps annoying me so I’ll mention it here: When the hell did it become
customary to EXPECT there to be a flash mob or a choreographed dance in
every wedding? I had several people ask me
if we were “doing something fun” like a flash mob or choreographed
dance at the wedding. So the options therefore are either yes there
will be one of those things or no there will be nothing fun at my
wedding at all. No fun. A non-fun wedding.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Flash mobs can be shocking and fun and
choreographed dances can be entertaining, but neither of those things
are Niall’s and my style or things we wanted at our wedding. And also,
if EVERYBODY has a flash mob, doesn’t that kind of defeat
the purpose of a flash mob? Okay I can be done ranting about this now.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2. The wedding started at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_526967294" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">2PM</span></span>. The church coordinator lady wanted me to arrive by <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_526967295" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">1:45PM</span></span>
and my mom was in firm agreement. Evidently I was supposed to get there
early and hang out in a hidey room so there would be time for me to
take some
deep breaths and fluff out my dress. Which, fine. Except for the fact
that at this particular church the door to the offices and hidey room
and so forth was RIGHT NEXT TO the main entrance of the church. There
wasn’t some back entrance that we could sneak
me into, I would have to go in through the front, presumably with
people milling around before the wedding. Niall and his sisters told me
that in Ireland, the bride is typically 5-15 minutes late. This made
sense to me—they can’t very well start the ceremony
WITHOUT me, right? So I decided that I would be the last to arrive. I’d
leave the hotel in the last trip the limo made and just wait IN the
limo outside the church until the last possible moment, then exit it at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_526967296" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">1:58</span></span>
and meet my dad in front of the church.
Boom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This idea threw my mom into such a panic that I ended up caving
and left the hotel in the first limo trip and arrived at the church at
about <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_526967297" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">1:20PM</span></span>.
Of course Niall and his groomsmen had just arrived also. Because of
course. So my 4 niecemaids hopped
out of the limo and ran into the church and to tell Niall to get the
hell (sorry, HECK (we are in church, after all)) away because the bride
is here and she needs to get to the hidey room! Shoo! Meanwhile, I’m in
the limo outside and our priest opens the door,
leans in and asks if the limo is going to make a trip back to the hotel
because he forgot a book. Next to the priest, Niall’s uncle leans in
and starts taking photos of me in the limo. I threw my hands over my
face because I was so overwhelmed and annoyed
and GAAAH GET AWAY FROM ME, NO NOT YOU, FATHER.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Finally, the coast was
clear and I could make my way into the church. I stomped into the hidey
room all aggravated because I KNEW IT I KNEW THAT WOULD HAPPEN, so it
turned out to be a good thing that I had time
to take some deep breaths and fluff out my dress. Plus, the hidey room
ended up being a lot of fun. I told my niecemaids that THEY didn’t have
to stay in there with me since I was really the only person who couldn’t
be seen, but they were all "We want to be with you!" and were so enthusiastic and excited about unbustling my dress
and helping me with my veil that it was just adorable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3. During the rehearsal, the church coordinator lady
had told my dad that once we got to the altar, he would shake hands with
Niall and then kiss my hand and place it (my hand, not the kiss) in
Niall’s hand. I nixed this because it felt
waaaay too much like some sort of barter. “Here is my daughter, you own
her now. And also this fatted hog and a small piece of land to till.” No thanks. So Niall and I practiced
him shaking hands with my dad and then me giving my dad a kiss and
taking Niall’s hand, but we forgot to consider
the gigantic bouquet that I would have in my hand, so there was a
moment of confusion and fumbling. It’s not noticeable in the video,
however. We look totally smooth. This may be the single moment of my life where I feel like "Hey! I might actually BE less awkward than I FEEL!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span>4. Just before our vows, the priest accidentally called Niall "Patrick."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">5. At the reception, the venue forgot to put out our late-night snacks! This was the one thing I had made clear from the very beginning because I specifically remember being starving at several weddings in the past. I wanted there to be PLENTY of food (and alcohol, but that was already covered with the open bar). At the time I didn't realize that the snack trays never got served because I was having too much fun to notice, but if anybody went hungry during my wedding I reserve the right to be annoyed, because I had PLANNED for there to be snacks. Although, the upswing of this was the several hundred dollars that we (my parents) got refunded.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">6. Also at the reception,
Niall and I didn’t know how to cut our cake because… well we just
didn’t. We ended up cutting the piece too small (my fault, I didn't want a huge piece of cake), so when we tried to use
the server to pull out the piece, instead the
piece went tumbling down the cake and landed on the table. It was fine,
still delicious. But the photos of me during the cake cutting are
particularly excellent since I look absolutely terrified.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_M6cTc6ObZfG0mAP0WqPQ9LhpCQ21-nsTDmcfMDUzoMd2A-o3saH5RZj4ocSQsp77-58mXwBs_iovEigBx3_J3kYrwqRMsBC40W_7pP20NLMIv1y6xggFXEds3KM-4pa5iI82KC7FIHT/s1600/IMG_1268.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_M6cTc6ObZfG0mAP0WqPQ9LhpCQ21-nsTDmcfMDUzoMd2A-o3saH5RZj4ocSQsp77-58mXwBs_iovEigBx3_J3kYrwqRMsBC40W_7pP20NLMIv1y6xggFXEds3KM-4pa5iI82KC7FIHT/s320/IMG_1268.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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