and birdy makes three

december, you sly dog

2012-01-01T23:39:00.000-08:00

In case you are wondering? It's January.

Of 2012. What kind of a number is that? It's like 4 a.m., the made up time that doesn't really exist. It also seems like such a big number, and makes me realize I'm turning 29 for the first time this October.

Five years ago, I had been married for nearly a year and a half and was in grad school. Also, getting progressively chubbier (still not really fat at that time).

Ten years ago, I was a high school senior getting ready for a civics competition and thinking I was fat (I wasn't).

Fifteen years ago, I was in seventh grade. It was predictably horrible, and I thought I was fat.

Where did that time go, and most importantly, what happened to time since the middle of November? Did Thanksgiving actually happen, or are my memories just me in a Peanuts special? I remember popcorn and jellybeans, but I'm sure turkey was in there somewhere.

I remember when we were living with my grandparents and I was 10 and the week between Christmas and New Year's was the longest week of my life to date. It took forever for something exciting to come, and New Year's wasn't even all that exciting for a 10 year-old. My brother and I did what we could to kill each other to help pass the time, but our plans were foiled every time by our mother and grandmother.

I'll take time off of blaming my mother for everything that happened to me then and blame her for poofing December away from me. What did you do to December, mom? WHAT DID YOU DO?

But really, it seems like time has flown by so quickly and I can't figure out where it went. We had a great Christmas, and a great Advent season as well. Having a child around who actually understands what is going to happen on December 25th puts joyful anticipation on whole new level. It's been one of the best seasons of Advent I've had, and I didn't even go to church at all.

I know, I know. I need to work on that.

There are many exciting things that are happening this year, and I hope that time doesn't go by so quickly I can't remember them or that I can't remember my mom stealing the time from me (I haven't forgotten your hoo-doo and the taking of this past December yet Beth). This year I want to try to live more intentionally and to focus more on what is happening right now. I miss so much by going through the days in a tired, hazy blur. 2012 will hopefully be full of good memories fueled by bracing cups of coffee that I'll be able to reminisce about far into 2013.

And my mom is a lovely women who isn't a time thief, in case she's reading this.

wish i had a river

2011-11-25T17:22:00.000-08:00

I want to preface this with saying that this post, like any other on here, isn't a ploy for sympathy or anything like that; it's just what I'm feeling right now as I sit down to write. I can be more candid here than in person because I can't see your face or hear your reaction. I try to be real here, because the impersonality of this blog is cathartic. So. Onward.

Christmas for the Hoosband is exciting, and it's the same with Birdy. They are both so excited to get the tree up and listen to music and read Christmas-y stories. Hoosband gets such a feeling of satisfaction choosing the perfect gift for each person. Birdy yells "Santa! SANTA!" when she sees anything in red and white that may or may not have a beard.

I am not that excited.

Christmas makes me sad. It has for a while.

I don't know why.

If I think about the Christmas story, it makes me heartsick. Joseph, taking Mary on a journey so late in her pregnancy. Mary, scared that the baby will come too soon or too far away from a safe resting place. The sorrow and dismay they must have felt when there was no room for them anywhere but for a small cave that housed animals. Joseph, who must have been terrified (even if he had to marry the girl he was betrothed to when it was found out she was in the family way from God himself--and who wouldn't believe THAT story?) when Mary started to go into labor in earnest next to a bored looking goat. Or Mary, who was 14 or so and was having her first baby away from everything familiar except for her new husband (and that donkey they borrowed to go to Bethlehem in the first place, but who can count a donkey as a sincere friend?).

It's just sad.

When I think of Christmas, I have a feeling of longing so acute it brings tears to my eyes many times, yet I can't tell you what I'm longing for. Family? Maybe, but I feel it even when we are spending Christmas with our parents in Washington. I just know it makes my throat ache and my eyes water. I'm a grinch sometimes because I have to be--I don't want to feel like this all the time--not because I want to dampen the spirits of others. I look forward to the time after the gifts, when we're spending time together Birdy is in her cute dress.

I just don't know what I'm sad about. I don't know why I don't get excited for Christmas morning, or giving people gifts, or singing songs. I just wish it was over.

Which is also sad.

stupid brain

2011-11-15T21:14:00.000-08:00

Today, my brain tryed to kill me, but its kung fu was no match for my karate. And my Aleve. And my bed, and napping. But it really did try to come out of my head, in the form of a migraine.

Listen brain, I get it. I don't use you the way I used to, what with not reading the newspaper and reading escapism books instead of scholarly journals full of peer-reviewed articles coupled with my chronic dependence on calculators. I get it. I'm a total dummy now, and you find it insulting.

But, let's face it, it doesn't give you the right to incapacitate me for the ENTIRE DAY. Luckily, the Hoosband was able to take the day off and watch Birdy, and I was able to make a date with my bed for the ENITRE DAY. I had the most cracked out dreams for the first five hours of intermittent dozing, and all had to do with how I couldn't call in to the sick line and say I couldn't come in. Some times, I couldn't find my phone. Others, I would dial the number, but be unable to talk. Or, I couldn't remember the phone number. So when I really did come out of my semi-coma, it was nearly one in the afternoon and I couldn't figure out if I DID call in or not.

I didn't.

So then I did.

And then I checked in on Birdy and Hoosband, and then realized that the migraine wasn't gone and high-tailed it back to the bed.

And that was my day. And now, all I want is ice cream, and I can't ask the Hoosband to go and get it because he's already been so nice all day.

Meh.

you too much tv

2011-11-14T23:42:00.000-08:00

photo from http://www.dealerrefresh.com/

Birdy has taken to running around the house yelling "karate-YAH!" while air kicking.

I have no idea where she gets this.

I don't think I would do karate, and I'm reluctant to enroll her in classes where she could, in theory, learn to beat me up for putting her in time-out. It seems...worrying. Because, despite what Miyagi says, fighting is not fighting. No same same.

Plus, with her being taller than a lot of other kids her age, I don't need to give her any unfair advantages in toy, art supply, or lunch money disputes.

Perhaps, if things keep going this way, I'll have to turn into a single parent and move to China. Or send him to his auntie and uncle in Bel Air.

three wishes

2011-11-13T23:52:00.000-08:00

I'm all out of good ideas, so I'm using one of the NaBloPoMo prompts: if you had three wishes, what would they be?

I'm going to guess that wishing for more wishes is out, as is bringing back people from the dead or making someone fall in love with you (our time will come, Daniel Craig); I think it boils down to the rules for wishing in Aladdin. So, here we go.

1. Health for my family. I would want the three of us to be healthy--especially Brandon. We're lucky so far, but if I could make his back better, I would.

2. Financial security. Enough said.

3. For all my friends who are trying to conceive to get pregnant and have tons of babies. Or, as many as they'd want.

My wishes are so grown up now, which is kind of sad in itself. I guess that's what happens when you turn awesome. Five years ago, they would be so different from the wishes I would have had 15 years ago. Remember we would have wanted candy? Or to be an adult so we could do what we wanted? Or a swingset?

What would your wishes be?

adventure time

2011-11-12T23:50:00.000-08:00

Today, Birdy and I went river rafting.

In our living room.

On the Xbox, the new sister-wife we welcomed into our family in an intimate ceremony involving our debit card and a rather crowded Microsoft Store.

Xbox is fitting in well, and has already helped facilitate family time today. She seems to be a real gem.

But the river rafting. Like I said, it was on the Xbox, and it's pretty simple. Like any river rafting experience, you're on a raft, and you have to get as many tokens as you can by leaning around the raft and jumping. Totally normal, done it a thousand times in real life. But doing it with a three year old is an etirely new experience. Those are times that I realize just how competitive I am. She was irritating the bejeezus out of me because she didn't understand the leaning and shuffling side-to-side. The fact that she is three and never had done it before escaped me as all the little tokens kept going by, unclaimed by us. I did manage to get a hold of myself and calmed down so I wouldn't be such a nut about it.

It does seem pretty fun, and the Hoosband is enjoying his Christmabirthday present quite a bit. I just need to get that other kid off my raft so I can get those precious tokens.

Photo from http://www.thedomesticscientist.com/2008/09/08/home-is-where-the-controller-is/

the black pearl

2011-11-11T17:57:00.000-08:00

There is a student here who looks EXACTLY like this photo. It's uncanny, really, and a little disconcerting, to be showing someone how to make coffee and BAM, there's Johnny. Or, checking menus or stocking cookies and BAM, Johnny. I see him nearly every night, and I'm still not used to it.

I'm serious: he has the facial hair, and the hats, and the glasses. I'm sure he has a French wife hidden somewhere on campus, and giant scissors under his bed, and is planning a lunch date with Tim Burton to discuss his latest project.

Photo courtesy of celebrityimage.info

harrassing

2011-11-10T23:34:00.000-08:00

Tonight I had the privilege of completing a company-wide mandatory three hour sexual harassment training. On the computer. And it was narrated, and you had to go at a set pace...no skipping ahead.

Within 30 seconds of the narration beginning, I imagined sitting down to this training and having my mom narrate it. It entertained me for literally three hours, imagining that it was my mom saying these things to me. One of the better parts was when they were talking about tone and inflection in compliments,as in "Nice haircut." Try and say that as skeezy as you can. Then imaging your mom saying it. That's the kind of humor you have to grasp at on your last work day of the week, you know?

The training was also full of photos of people looking vaguely accusatory. They seemed to be thinking "this is your fault, you and your sexist thoughts and having relations in the bank vault with me, your assistant (that really happened, it was a court case, and I learned all about it).

Did you know propositioning someone you work with is sexual harassment? I can't believe there would need to be clarification on that. I think propositioning ANYONE, ANYWHERE would be sexual harassment. That just seems like a no-brainer. In fact, so much of the information seemed like a no-brainer. The kinds of behavior that people think are acceptable, funny or whatever are mind-boggling.

However, I did decide to treat myself to chicken fingers and sweet potato fries for being such an awesome and responsible employee coupled with the fact that I'm about 100% positive I haven't sexually harassed someone in the workplace before.

I am also 100% sure that sweet potato fries are delicious.

Also, NICE HAIRCUT.

metamorphosis

2011-11-09T23:52:00.000-08:00

I have some hard news to share: Birdy may be a vampire.

On the day this photo was taken, she insisted on sleeping with all the curtains shut tight so it looked very close to twilight in the house. And then, when she got up, she wanted a snack. Like anyone would do, I put her in her chair and opened the blinds.

You would have thought the sun was burning her alive the way she screamed that it was too bright. Please note the lighting in the photo--it was cloudy outside. She wouldn't calm down until I found her sunglasses; she proceeded to wear them for the next hour. In the semi-darkness.

Does this mean we have to move to Washington now?

NaBloPoMo

2011-11-08T12:04:00.000-08:00

If you are either a writer, someone who wants a challenge, a challenging writer, or whatever, you may have heard of NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. It's in November of each year, and the challenge is to write a novel in one month. I actually know someone who has done this, and it's pretty impressive. I'd like to do it one day (year), but that is on hold for a while.

Thus, since novel writing is too daunting, I'm doing something a little more manageable: NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. They do it each month with a theme, but November is the general themed month where the object is to post every day. This, again, sounded manageable.

I've found, however, that getting into the groove of writing again is difficult. It doesn't matter that I can string words together and have them make sense; it's that writing something that I would actually want to read again every day is hard. If this was in a journal, that would be fine, because no one reads that but me and that sounds like a much better place for writing exercises to take place. When I'm doing it here, in front of people, it's different. Having people see you when you know you aren't your best is humbling, to say the least. And it's also funny to me that I'm self-conscious about this.

I suppose that is the goal of this exercise though, pushing me to be better at something every day that I wouldn't do otherwise. Perhaps next year will be the novel?

fashion nonsense

2011-11-07T12:14:00.000-08:00

Isn't this photo precious? Birdy, holding her puppy away from the other puppy, wearing a poufy skirt and no shirt? News flash: it's endearing when you are a toddler. After that, we wear clothes. Who failed to communicate that to Birdy?

This photo was taken a year and a half ago. Fast forward to now, and the not wearing clothes thing is wearing a little thin. Birdy has always enjoyed being in her underwear, but now that she's three and a half (gulp), I'm kind of sick of it. I didn't get to go to pilates today because SOMEONE didn't want to wear a skirt over her leggings. Now, as some of you may know, I hate it when people wear leggings as if they are pants. They aren't pants. They are underwear. However, all of the women at the college where we live failed to get that memo, and I live daily with women in leggings acting as if they are pants. So this issue? With the leggings and no skirt? It's the hill I decided to die on today. And die I did.

I gave her the option of a dress or a skirt, but none were "comfy" enough. And pants were an automatic no, as all pants are not comfy, unless they are one of the two pairs of Children's Place yoga pants we inherited from the Mak Attack . So after a 2 time outs and much weeping and gnashing of teeth, Birdy decided to compromise and put on bicycle shorts over the leggings. She better get this out of her system now, because no one wants to be friends with the 12 year-old wearing leggings and bicycle shorts.

Though, that would save me from carpooling her friends around...

sweat

2011-11-06T14:52:00.000-08:00

I want to share something with you, friends.

My name is Heather, and I hated gym class.

The cool feeling of buying the uniform we wore for P.E. in seventh grade (I'm a teenager! I have braces! I could be in a John Hughes movie!) quickly wore off when I realized after the second class that we wore different clothes in P.E. because we would sweat. And when you are a teenager, you smell like puberty. And for the sake of the adults who have to be at school with you, they make you wear different clothes when you are not sweating. However, being a teenager, you are inherently smelly. Especially if you are a boy.

But anyway, I hate sweating. A lot. That is why I liked swimming, because you knew you were working hard, but you didn't feel yourself sweating. Because it's a gross feeling. Just...gross.

So here's the thing they really try to teach you in gym class: you feel like an idiot when you work out. But so do most people. Thus, get over it and work out because it's good for you and no one really cares that you look like an idiot on the treadmill or whatever because WE ALL LOOK LIKE IDIOTS RUNNING IN PLACE.

I'm on strike from running for a while, until I'm convinced I'm not going to just fall down when my ankle decides to sprain itself for the third time this year. THE THIRD TIME. Ugh.

So it's swimming for me, because if you can fall down while swimming then you must be given some sort of award, right? And swimming is good, but realizing how good it is is rather difficult when the pool is outside and it's 45 degrees and dark. And also 7am. The benefit is that I'm not terrible compared to other people, but I am terrible compared to how good I used to be. I think that is the hardest part: coming to terms to how different things are now. I have a benchmark (several, really) of how I used to be able to swim, and having concrete information to compare myself to now is kind of a bummer.

In conclusion, being fat is lame on a variety of levels. Everything is harder, and nothing is easier until you've done a lot of changing. And sweating. Ugh.

it's always sunny on my couch

2011-11-05T23:52:00.000-07:00

So...there's this show. Well, if we're splitting hairs here, there's two shows...Family Guy and It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia. They are awesome, and they are shows my mother hates.

I started watching Family Guy in college, and it's the cause of my reoccuring sprained ankle injuries. It's a long story, but it involves the Shapoopie song from Music Man and myself dancing enthusiasticly with Peter Griffin. Also, it really, really, really hurt. I love all of Family Guy, because it's terrible. It's horrible. And it's wonderful, and hilarious. There are things on that show that keep me chuckling for days, and I'm at the point where when watching, the Hoosband just looks at me, knowing I'm going to start laughing like an idiot.

And I really am an idiot, because I also like It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia.

It's also terrible, and horrible, and much more so than Family Guy. But it's hilarious. Much like Family Guy, they start out doing one thing, and something totally different happens. But with the gang, it's most likely illegal, immoral, involving drugs, or people in green body suits. That show is guilty humor to the max. If you haven't seen it, it centers around these 5 people; a brother (Dennis), sister (Dee), their dad (Frank), and two friends (Charlie and Mac). Dee is probably my favorite character, but the triangle between Dennis, Charlie and Mac is my favorite dynamic. They're always competing and ganging up on each other, and, of course, shenanigans ensue. My favorite episodes cover topics like rum hams, crack, YouTube videos, bar advertisements, and North Korea. The gang takes care of business, okay?

So I encourage you to watch an episode, but please don't judge me.

April, you shouldn't watch any of them, because you will throw up all over Mark, the computer, or the sofa. Or all three.

running to the hills

2011-11-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

When I get interested in something, I really get interested. And the first thing I do, after Wikipedia-ing it to death, is go to the library and check out way too many books on the subject. Then, I proceed to think about it all the time and obsess about it in general. Recent topics have included Appalachia, Amsterdam and earthquake preparedness.

In the last month or so, I've been obsessing about survival. I mean, when the world ends and junk, we're going to have to go to the hills. And I'm totally going to be prepared. Justin, a friend down here who actually COULD survive in the hills if need be, assured me that when the time comes to go to the hills, I'll be ready. But I want to be the ready-est, if you know what I mean.

I remember reading My Side of the Mountain when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and being amazed that a kid could just run away and live in the mountains. I re-read this book in college and found it still interesting, but it was a bit of wake-up call. I know no practical skills that would help me stay alive. I can write papers. I can find information. I can't tell you what plants to eat, or how to grow my own food. Or build a house. Or anything along those lines.

Living in an area that is prone to earthquakes coupled with my worrywart tendencies have created a perfect storm of paranoia surrounding disasters and survival. Christine, Justin's wife, is more than ready to join me in the paranoia, and we've compiled large earthquake kits and worked out a plan to get us together at the university if something should happen. Not that it will. Hopefully. Anyway.

Luckily, my best good friend Brianna humors me, and even checked out books on survival as well; in my mind, it was so that we could compare trapping tactics and sod-house building, but I really know it's because she thinks I'm ridiculous (which I fully admit I am). She also, to further demonstrate her awesome-ness, got me this for my birthday. We're going in the spring in the Santa Cruz mountains, and it's going to be a great story to tell people later on. Plus I'll learn how to make a fire! And find things to eat! And stuff! Junk!

So, when the time comes to go to the hills, you can come with me. Unless you become a zombie, and then I'm going to ask you to forget that I mentioned going to the hills and stay in the abandoned cities, if you please.

the sound of silence

2011-11-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.

I don't really listen to music.

I'll listen to the radio, and there are artists I like, but I'm fairly indifferent to the whole thing. My Hoosband, on the other hand, loves music. I shudder to think about the number of albums he has. He loves going to concerts and watching documentaries on music or artists or whatever. He was even going to be a music teacher at one point in his life. My lack of appreciation of music is, I believe, quite a thorn in his side.

I know I'm in the minority. I see people walking around with their iPods or whatever in their ears at all times, and I'm constantly amazed by how much stimulation they can handle. How do they think? I barely think, and I don't listen to music.

Again, I do like music, I just don't listen to it much. It's like sweet potatoes; I like them, if other people are having them I will too, but I don't think I want to eat them every day, like cheese or anything. The music I do listen to (usually in the car or cleaning the house) falls into two categories: "how awesomely ridiculous is this song" or "how great are these lyrics?" The former deals with mostly pop songs, which are awesomely ridiculous in themselves for the most part. The latter has artists like James Taylor, and the Beatles, Johnny Cash and others; songs that meant something to the writer or the musician.

If I had the choice between music or books, it would be books all the time. Hands down. I even choose to listen to books on tape when I work out. I feel like that's on par with buying a sweet sound system for your car and then blasting NPR, with the bass turned up. Which, probably, is something I would do also.

absolutes

2011-11-02T14:54:00.000-07:00

I am, as my husband would assure you, a person of absolutes. Many of my statements begin with "can I just say how much I love ______?" The blank can be filled with anything from socks to money that grows on trees, but it always begins on with how much I either love or hate something. Hyperbole like this is common in my speech, but rarely so stridently defined in my actual thoughts. Now, if you had to pin me down on my favorite color, that would be easy. Favorite book? Psh, that depends on the day and the time. I don't want to commit myself to just one favorite, right? There are many favorites out there for many moods. Food is an excellent example.

I am a woman of simple tastes. Simply delicious tastes, really. There are many things that I think I could eat a lifetime of: cheese and saltines, cheese quesadillas, cheesecake, or brie en croute (fancy for cheese and dough). Cheese, my friends--good cheese especially--is why I don't think I could be a vegan. I'm pretty sure that I could give up all other animal products or by-products, but not cheese. Well, to be more specific, melted cheese. Or maybe just cheddar. Or melted cheddar? It's too hard.

For instance, let's say your next meal would be your last meal. What would that be? This is where it gets too hard, like cheddar versus melted cheddar. Becuase if I knew my next meal was my last meal, I'd have to consider some very important things. First, how do you know it's your last meal? How long after that meal would you be dying? 10 minutes? 10 hours? 10 days? How would that food sit on your nervous stomach? Would it make for some super funky nervous-burps? If, after the meal, would you be attempting a long trek though snowy wastelands? Would the eating of that food as your last meal then ruin that food? There are so many implications to such a simple problem. I don't know how people can decide something like that.

But seriously, can I just say how much I love nachos? Because I could eat that every meal every day for the rest of my life.

writing

2011-11-01T10:12:00.000-07:00

Writing is something I forget I love to do. In actuality, I should really sit down and make a list of things I persistently forget I like. This list would include, among other things, hot showers, eating whole apples, pilates, and talking to friends I haven't seen in forever on the phone. The latter always seems to be a chore until the other person picks up the phone. Looking at that short list, it becomes apparent that I forget I like things that are good for me, and writing definitely falls into that category.

When I go back and read old posts, or papers, or journals, I'm always amazed at how well it sounds. Not to brag or boast, but it continually surprises me that my jumbled mind can put together coherent and sometimes entertaining strings of words together. I forget that I can do that; there are days that it seems like the only thing I know how to do is make my daughter throw temper tantrums (I am stellar at that, and rarely forget it).

Like few things in my life, I don't feel like I need to work at it to make it decent. The only other things I can think of in my life like that are going to sleep within 5 minutes of laying down and swimming. Not the most helpful of lists, unless I find myself in a situation that requires me to swim somewhere, write something, and then fall asleep...perhaps a shipwreck? Though, if shipwrecked, my skill set would diminish quickly after the sleeping part of the program.

Upon re-reading, it seems I am also fairly adept at making lists. I should remember to write that down.

math

2011-05-26T23:53:00.000-07:00

Did you know I'm kind of a big deal at work now?

And I mean the "kind of." I'm not a really big deal, and I don't want to be. That's a lot of responsibility, and the world (and me) just isn't ready for that. Also, I don't think that sentance is grammatically correct. But you know what? I count enough money each night that if that money were mine, I could pay someone to not only ghost-write for me, but ghost-speak.

I'm not sure what that would look like; a sheet with eye-holes standing in front of me? Do you actually have to pay a ghost-speaker in money, or endoplasm, or maybe kryptonite?

But anyway. I am no longer the queen in my small principality of a campus store. I'm more like the daughter of the empress of a much larger empire, and one that counts at least 10 cash register drawers a night now.

The summer is (FINALLLY) fast approaching, and those students are (FINALLY) about to leave to wherever they are going for the summer (FINALLY). I realize that students are the reason for my job. But they still drive me crazy, because for a fairly selective school, they can be astronomically dumb. I was going down the stairs last night at the student center, and I heard this conversation:

"I just really want to be naked right now, you know?" said a girl.
"Yeah? It's a good thing you aren't fat then." said her friend.
"I know. I just want to take my clothes off. Ugh."

This actually happened. I had to hear it. I couldn't not hear it, as I was needing to go downstairs, and they were 2 steps ahead of me, and I couldn't just turn around at that point since I was halfway down the second flight of stairs. Plus, I might miss some other pearls of wisdom falling from their lips.

It turns out I didn't miss anything.

oh hi

2011-04-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

Birdy is playing with Mr. and Mrs. Potato head. I was tempted to get her another Mrs. and have them be Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head with Extra Lesbian Lover. But I didn't, even though it would be culturally relevant since we are so close to San Francisco. But it made me chuckle anyway. She might show up regardless; if so, I'm sure photos will follow.

She insists on making potato versions of Brandon and myself. I usually have wings instead of ears, and wear high heels. Anyone who knows me knows I look like that all the time. Except for when I wear my flowered hat and 3 purses.

It's sunny and nice and California like here. Is it still winter where you are? That's too bad. Perhaps you should move down here. Stanford is hiring.

2011-01-26T00:20:00.001-08:00

I'm thinking about it, HM.

a bit of a loner

2010-08-15T00:13:00.000-07:00

Continuing with the theme of adolescent-humor movie themes, we're moving on to The Hangover.

Let's be clear: I'm not really a fan. I've seen it twice, and both times it was a little (lot) bit much for me. And the end credits? With the photos? And the "eeuuwww"? You know? Yeah, you know. My favorite part is about the first 30 minutes. Specifically, the scenes with Zach Galifianakis. Like the wolfpack thing.

So.

I had checked out several books on running from the library two weeks ago. Because you might not know this internets, but I have reached the tipping point with running. I'm going to do it. For the last year, when I've pictured myself happy, satisfied, and excited about life, I've pictured myself running. I'm out on a run, wearing something cute (because when you are imagining things, you can wear what you want. Ask Anne Shirley.), and its awesome. Its amazing. And I decided its time for me to get out of my dreams and get into my car, if you get me.

So. I checked out these books, loaded my little mp3 player up with the Outlander audio tape (yes, I exercise to a book on tape. I have become the most boring person you know.), and planned to head out to the Y. I did some thinking and realized that in my imagination, I was running outside, not on a treadmill. So I decided to run outside, which is something I've only done once since high school gym class. I was going to be a lone wolf, running free at night wherever the paths on campus took me. But then I realize that I have seen way too many Law & Orders to run by myself at night, regardless of the location.

So then I asked my friend Nicole to come with on my first run last Tuesday. And then she said yes. And then I asked Laura, and she said yes, and then Laura asked Lesley. And now my lone wolf pack has become four.

Four!

We can run outside of campus at night! Like some sort of slightly to very overweight fitness gang! I'm in a gang! In California!

This kind of exciting life has always seemed to allude me. But not now. I'm in a gang. And we run. And then walk. BUT THEN WE RUN AGAIN. If you are thinking of messing with us, you better be able to run/walk better than us. And that is a debatable skill.

The goal of the running gang/wolfpack is to be in the San Jose Rock 'N Roll Half Marathon next year. Next year, you ask? Yes. Next year. Its not a secret that I'm chubby. I don't want to get hurt, and I do want to run. So I'm doing a 13 week training plan to do a 10k and then I'm moving on to a 26 week half-marathon training plan. And then, in October, I'm going to do a half marathon. Which seems so ludicrous. Thirteen miles? Me? Not in car? I know, right? But it's going to happen.

So, watch out for the roving gang of moderately paced women. One of us wears a weight vest, and she's not afraid to use it.

2010-08-01T19:09:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about that movie Knocked Up.

I first saw Knocked Up when I was barely pregnant. I was still wondering who was going to be my doctor, as my current doctor was also pregnant and would not be around when I was to be delivering the current blob of cells residing in my uterus. So I went to see Knocked Up with my friend Anita, as something fun to do, as I realized my propensity of being able to do fun things planned just an hour before was slipping, like the days of our lives, through the hourglass of time. Depressing, no? But that is how it was in my mind.

So, I went to see Knocked Up with Anita and it was funny, and it didn't make think about things like plot, or denouement, or if some demon was going to be coming though the door to eat someone's soul. It was just a good time. And then we saw our professor sitting two rows ahead with some other guy. We talked about throwing popcorn at his head to get his attention, but for some reason decided against it. At the end of the movie, we went over and said hi and met the friend, who happened to be a doctor. A doctor I was thinking about having as my doctor. For the blob of cells. I realized immidiately I could not have this person who I met socially at a movie about people getting knocked up be my doctor for the time I was knocked up. It simply couldn't happen.

So anyway.

The main reason I was thinking about Kocked Up recently was because of the scene where Paul Rudd is talking to Seth Rogan, while Paul's kids are playing. Paul is talking about how he wishes he was excited for anything as much as his kids were excited about bubbles. And, how their enjoyment just pointed our your inability to enjoy anything. And wow, isn't that true?

What do I (or you) like as much as my daughter likes bubbles? Or the swing? Or slides? Or counting to four (technically, she says 1, 2, 3, 8) and running to me to get a hug?

I mean, I like a lot of things. I like sitting at the table when everyone is either asleep or gone and reading a book. I like baking. I like seeing friends. I like it when it's windy enough for the leaves to move in trees. I like airplanes. I like coffee. But none of those things will get me running around and laughing like a hyena like anything Birdy likes.

Where did she learn to enjoy things like that? And when did we forget?

these two

2010-07-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

These guys, let me tell you. They are thick as thieves When we were in Washington, Birdy would look forward to when Grampa would come home--seriously, it was the highlight of her day. When Grandpa was around, no one pushed the swing as well, no one had better shoulders for sitting on, no one made weird enough noises. It was great seeing the two of them become friends, and it's only a matter of time before they start ganging up on me like we did to my mom.

'smores

2010-07-22T14:11:00.000-07:00

Best summer treat ever.

Also, a giant burn pile that doesn't burn down the house is also a pretty good treat at any time of the year.

i really hate this toy

2010-07-14T15:28:00.000-07:00

This toy is sucking my will to live while simultaniously feeding Bridy's dance fever.

baby june

2010-06-05T11:27:00.000-07:00

I have the awesome privilege to be in Chambana with my best good friend Brianna and her husband to celebrate the newest addition to my extended family. June was born just a few days ago, and has been so much fun to watch, cuddle, and sniff. Oh, the sniffing! New babies smell so nice.

Birdy is off gallivanting with her cousin Brenna in Vancouver and having the time of her young life. The Hoosband is playing all the music he wants and eating Hot Pockets. I think it's a win-win for everyone.

birdy's bookshelf

2010-03-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

Birdy loves a good naptime or bedtime story. These are the current favorites...what were yours as a kid?

oh, have you been here all along?

2010-03-19T22:56:00.000-07:00

Um...hello?

Hello?

Anyone here?

No? I guess I understand. It's been, well, a while. Sorry for that. I go through periods where I'm totally in to writing and post a lot (or write a lot in Word or my journal) and then periods of silence for whatever reason. For the last month, I just haven't felt like I have had anything to say, which is sad, because a lot of fun stuff happened.

Here's a little list of interesting things that have developed since my last post:

I had wine in a theatre
Remember Me is a terrible movie. I recommend bringing wine with you when you see it.
I had brie in a toasted sandwich. Sorry cheddar, move on over.
We celebrated Birdy's birthday.
I made an 11 layer cake.
I've gotten in to geneology. I have a relative named Orris!
I haven't lost any weight.
But I have been more active.
But I haven't lost weight.
I'm planning on cooking dinner that involves tofu for my family tomorrow. Any and all well wishes appriciated.
The Hoosband's parents visited.
I've been to the Tech Museum.
I had to watch the Star Trek movie.
I bought an AWESOME rug at Ikea.
Many of you are jealous that there are 2 Ikeas within an hour of here.
I just think that might be a good reason for YOU to come and visit us!
My brother, my friend Anita, and my friend Jessica are going to visit in the next month.
I love my brother.
Birdy is a terrible two year old.
Birdy is also an incredibly sweet two year old.
We welcome any and all two year old parenting advice.
I've taken some great photos. Perhaps you will see them before the year 2050 ends.
Did I mention the sweet Ikea rug? It's sweet. It's also red.
MSN messenger now works on my computer. Let's chat, amigos!
I discovered an amazing curry sauce in, of all things, a Weight Watchers cookbook.
I haven't lost any weight. I blame the curry sauce. It turns out that just becuase it's a WW recipe doesn't mean you can't just drink glasses of it. Weird, I know.
Parenthood is an amazing show. Please to watch and enjoy.
Birdy got a guitar (ukelele) from my Best Good Friend Brianna. She now walks around strumming and singing the alphabet song from A-F.

So, here's to a month with more in-depth hard-hittting information about your favorite California girl. Unless you have another girl who is a bigger favorite. If that's the case, then I hope I'm your number 2 girl. At best your number 5.

If it's lower than number 5, I don't want to hear about it.

2010-02-26T20:41:00.001-08:00

I miss everyone. That is all.

paging carrie bradshaw

2010-02-06T20:41:00.000-08:00

The real question is, if I had these $695 shoes, what WOULDN'T I wear them with?

what is up with cake?

2010-02-05T22:35:00.000-08:00

Seriously.

If there is one thing that I want more than anything else right now or 89.4% of any given day, it's cake. Cake with good frosting, like the kind you make. The stuff in the can is good for graham crackers, but not cake. Not delicious, crumby cakey cake. Oh cake. The cake need comes once or twice a month, and usually I make a cake or brownies or something, but you should be proud. I've only make a cake-like item (chess bars, which should have been better than they were, but were still cakey enough that I ate more than I should have) this month, and I think that is much to be proud of considering the last 5 months had a birthday, Thanksgiving or Christmas in it, which is a whole lot worse than cake just once, you know? It's like I'm in the negative for cake eating. If I think about it long enough, I'll find some way to figure out that all the past pieces of cake are cancelled out because of this recent stand against cake making.

Writing about how much I like cake is surprisingly not helping the cake craving that I'm trying to ignore.

I begin to see a root of the continual chubbyness.

However, it should be noted that I have worked out three times this week, and tomorrow will be number four. And I've lost a few pounds since starting.

I will say that the prospect of losing weight is a little scary for me. I almost have to not think about the healthier choices I'm making because it stresses me out as much as it does. The reason for the stress is stupid too--if I lose the weight I want to lose, then I have to keep it off. And that seems incredibly intimidating, since I never set out to gain the weight that I did, you know? So what if I become wildly successful on this journey into sweating for the fun of it and then I fail all over again?

Ma would tell me to stop borrowing trouble. Ma would be right, but Ma also ate salt pork every day and her family almost starved to death in the Long Winter, so I think Ma would say that I'm worrying about the wrong things.

Sheesh. What a convoluted post. I blame it on the cake.

stuff and junk

2010-02-01T13:21:00.000-08:00

We've been out of the YMCA loop for a week, since Birdy got the sniffles and the runny noseles two Saturdays ago. Since then, I've worked out once. I felt that it made me sore enough for six workouts, so it all evens out in the end. :-)

But today, I am back in busniess.

I ran for five straight minutes. I feel pretty proud of myself, considering the last time I did that was about a year ago. What makes me laugh is how I kept myself motivated during the longest 5 minutes of 2010: "yes, this sucks, but isn't intense nausea even worse?"

If this is how I'm going to get through this whole business, I think "this is better than throwing up" is a good slogan.

Do you have a slogan for your weight loss?

jelly belly, the lamentable part deux

2010-01-21T10:40:00.000-08:00

Today, I went to the YMCA.

At 6:30am.

And weighed myself. With the trainer.

And then did a body fat composition test. With the trainer.

And then kept my face carefully neutral when I saw my percentage. In front of my trainer.

Has anyone ever done that? The body fat thing? Because holy melty cheese nachos, Batman, it's intense. I have a system when it comes to numbers and my body. When I weigh myself, I think of a number that is a few pounds heavier than I think I will be, kind of like a worst-case scenario situation. That way, when I do step on the scale, it's always with the attitude of "it could be worse." This makes me feel better about myself. It doesn't make me feel better about myself when the number is much, much, much higher than my mentally prepared already high number. And that is what the body fat composition test did for me. Yikes.

I mean, I know I'm overweight. I know that "medically" I'm "technically" "obese." But what do "doctors" know, really? Well. I guess more than me. Because the body fat test was a big wake up call for me. Peeps, I have some issues and I need to deal with them as soon as possible. I find the segment on the Biggest Loser where the doctor goes over their health risks and numbers related to their weight, and think to myself that I'm not that bad. I don't weigh 250 pounds, or 300, or 400, and I take comfort and feel smug with those thoughts. Even at my most fit, I was 150 pounds and not necessarily skinny. I don't have the build for that, I think. But today, I realized that I've been living in a fabricated dream world where I think I'm okay and that I don't really have a problem.

I have a problem.

Because many things haven't worked for me, I'm trying something new. Remember when I said this was a shame based Puritanical society I run at this here blog? I'm going to take advantage of that and start posting weekly updates on my progress. Or my backsliding. Or my stagnation. But the big thing is that I'm going to start being accountable for what I eat and how often I work out. But mostly, it’s about humiliation. I think that might be good for me. For more on another very funny guy who lost weight using humiliation and a whole lot of biking, check out Fat Cyclist, who isn't fat at all anymore.

So.

Without further ado, here we go (you can feel free to stop reading now, if you'd like):

Weight: 225
Body fat: 43.7% (Thank god I have big bones??)
Pants size: 20

Ugh. That was rough. But I feel better. I think.

Photo from Cathy Zielske

jelly belly

2010-01-18T21:50:00.000-08:00

This last weekend while my parents and brother visited, we made the pilgrimmage to the Jelly Belly factory. And internets, it was pretty cool. We went on the free tour, which allowed us to spend our money elsewhere in their factory store. Needless to say, many beans were purchased, and many beans were consumed. Yummy.

However.

I think I may have overdosed on the candy beans since last Friday. I have a headache that I believe is from the sugar, and is threatening to derail any progress the 30 Day Shred has made. Boo.

white all night!

2010-01-14T23:24:00.000-08:00

My fellow internets, can we talk? I'm rarely passionate about pop culture or celebrities in general. But I feel a need to stand up for Coco. I mean, seriously. SERIOUSLY.

I love Conan.

He's just so tall. And his hair. It's so floppy, it's surpassed silly and soared on to awesome. I mean, seriously. LOOK AT IT.

And also, we need to talk about how funny he is. 1864 Baseball? Classic. Conan goes to Ireland? Amazing. Conan goes to Finland? Even better.

But Jay. Oh Jay. You had a 6 year heads up to when you were leaving. And you can't bow out like a decent person, and instead you selfish choices and try to blame the netword execs. Also, you can't make those jokes about it because you are the guy causing the drama. I mean, you had a great career as the host of the Tonight Show. But you're time is over. It's time to pass the buck. I mean, seriously. PACK UP THE CHIN, MAN.

bloggy blog blog

2010-01-14T19:09:00.000-08:00

Many moons ago, I used to live in a small town. I love that small town. Also many moons ago, I was on a design team with some awesome and creative women...and one of them has had her layout just published in Creating Keepsakes! Way to go Angela!

These fabulous women are having a blog hop, and I encourage you to participate, especially if you like paper, free stuff, paper, great ideas, creative things, and free stuff. Start here for more information!

the weiner

2010-01-13T00:15:00.000-08:00

Oh peeps, thanks for entering! It was nice to read about what you had for breakfast (points to KP for calling it what it really is: breakie), how awesome I am, how cute Birdy is, and that my Hoosband likes Italian food.

That being said, the big weiner is Jill, comment number 6! Congratulations! Jill, email me with the color/size you would like, and I'll do my best to get it in the mail within 6 months. Just kidding. Kind of.

Can anyone tell me why the post office is the hardest thing to cross of the to-do list? I've had a package that I've been adding to for my best good friend Brianna since the beginning of November. It's shameful, is what it is.

Anyway.

And, it's interesting to note, I smell of bacon, beef, and onions. And it's 12:11 am. Why, you ask? Because I'm a big dumb dummy and started dinner for tomorrow (I guess it's really tonight, at this point), which is stew, which is time consuming, late at night. And the smell of bacon woke Birdy up (THAT'S MY GIRL!). So it's been an evening, to say the least. And I'm due to be up until 1 or 2. And isn't that so incredibly totally awesome in a horrible way?

If anyone wants to hang out with a lady who smells like something Htr or Ron would eat in a heartbeat, I'll be on Facebook.

giveaway funstravaganza!

2010-01-12T09:55:00.000-08:00

Hey! Wahoo! It only took me almost two years to get this far! And I haven't really posted anything in the last few months! But no matter!

As a thank you for continuing to click on my link even when (mostly when) I'm just blabbering along, you can win a piece of our current family history.

The big, super fabulous prize at stake here is one Yikes! Santa Clara University shirt, in any of the colors above. Sizes range from S-XXL. Sizes and colors are limited to what the bookstore has in stock, so if you win and the color/size you choose isn't here, we'll work though it and sub something out.

To enter, leave a comment. It can be anything, from your favorite color to what you had for breakfast to what you WISH you had for breakfast, to how awesome I am on a daily basis. Whatever you want. That being said, please enter only once. You'll need to enter your email address if you are commenting anonymously. Remember, this blog participates in a shame-based Puritan society, and we frown on big, fat, cheaty cheaters. I'll use random.org to choose a winner, so entering early doesn't mean you have a higher chance of winning.

The contest ends at 11:59 PM on Tuesday, January 12th, 2009.

Let the fun begin!

a year ago...

2010-01-11T08:09:00.000-08:00

...Birdy was still a baby. Luckily, she continues to love bath time.

a portrait of the artist with crayons

2010-01-10T08:56:00.000-08:00

Birdy got an awesome easel for Christmas from Brandon's parents. And by awesome, I mean something that I would have l-o-v-e-d as a kid, considering one of my most prized possessions was my 96 color Crayola crayon set. I did have some last minute doubts as Brandon's dad and I were assembling the easel the night before we had Christmas with them--what if she liked the wrapping paper more than this gift?

But my fears were unfounded, as the little lady spends about 30 minutes each day coloring, painting or chalking. Or rearranging her crayons. Or trying to use crayons on the white board. Or clap her eraser on me. Or sheepishly eat the paint. Or whatever it is that she does while I'm making dinner in the vacinity of the easel.

Either way, she loves it, and that warms my crayon-loving heart.

sometimes, we don't want to sleep alone

2010-01-09T08:50:00.000-08:00

And sometimes, we have so much company its hard to sleep anyway.

a dilemma

2010-01-08T08:39:00.000-08:00

I feel a quandry, dearest 4.3 readers.

It's time for my second round of Starbucks applications to go out. There are also several full-time positions open at Stanford and at SC. What do I do?

I want the hours and flexibility of Starbucks. Also, I love coffee.

I want the money of a full-time job.

I feel guilty not using my Masters.

I want to be with Birdy during the day and watch her grow.

I want to be able to pay down our debt and maybe save for a house.

I don't want to put Birdy in daycare.

I don't want to pay a lot to commute, if anything.

I always thought that I would stay at home until my kid(s) went to kindergarten. I want my kids to be raised by me, instead of a daycare employee. Nothing against daycare employees, but its important to me to be there for Birdy. Well, either me or Brandon. Conversely, its good for Birdy to be with other little kids and be able to socialize and play with other kiddos. I also like money. Money is good.

If anyone has any advice, please to share it with me so at least I feel like I'm making a somewhat rational decision whatever I choose.

cooooooooooooookie!

2010-01-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

We've been over at the student union building a few times this week, and thankfully I didn't have any cash on me. Why? Because a student group was selling cupcakes that looked like Sesame Street characters. And they were adorable. And Birdy loves Sesame Street. And I love cupcakes.

But I didn't, and it was just yesterday that Brandon brought home a Cookie Monster cupcake, which took him about 3 days longer than I thought it would. He has a way of spoiling her, you see, that can go from 0 to 492 in about .3 seconds.

The following is a public service announcment: cupcakes in the afternoon are not recommended by the surgeon general for those under 5. If you've done it, you'll know why.

some stuff

2010-01-06T09:18:00.000-08:00

It's a good sign your workout regimen is working well when it's your off day and you are so sore you are thankful that all you have to do during nap time is clean. And not try and kill yourself with Jillian.

JILLIAN, YOU ARE KILLING ME.

But we have a friend getting married this summer. In Hawaii. And, I have this dress from my friend Shelby's wedding that I would really like to wear. And it's a 14. And I last wore it three years ago. And I'd really like to wear it on the beach in Hawaii this summer, you know? Sigh.

I also made an appointment with a personal trainer at the Y this Friday. It was their next available time as of last night. The time? 6:30 am. For those playing along at home, it's still dark then. And a little chilly. And did I mention dark?

Sigh.

Also, has anyone seen my phone???

in which we make a 'wich

2010-01-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

My best good friend Brianna gave Birdy a sandwich making set from Melissa & Doug, which I very well many marry. We play sandwich shop everyday, and wanted to share it with you.

a milestone

2010-01-04T13:59:00.000-08:00

Fair Internets, we are reaching a moment here on And Birdy Makes Three. My 200th post!

Since people seem to commemorate such happenings with a giveaway, I'm doing the same. I'll be giving away a Santa Clara tshirt (you pick the size/color) on the 200th post, which should be coming soon. This is the 192nd post, and I plan on posting one thing each day. This means the 200th post will be next Tuesday, January 12th.

I'll use random.org to determine the winner. Please enter only once, or I'll have to scold you publicy. I try to run a shame-based Puritan society here, and we don't take kindly to big fat cheaters.

family portrait

2010-01-04T13:52:00.000-08:00

Look, it's us as Sesame Street characters. I find Cookie Monster's portrayal as myself is chillingly accurate.

like, woah

2010-01-02T13:58:00.000-08:00

We all have those moments in life where we feel like we're on a rollercoaster. One memorable roller coaster moment for me was when I started having hard contractions with Birdy. I wanted off the ride, and I wanted off as soon as possible.

The most recent roller coaster moment in my life happened a mere hour ago. I was at home, minding my own business, waiting for my Jillian Michaels DVD to start up. She was going through her chatter about the workout, and I was thinking I could really go for a cupcake. Then, through my cupcake-induced workout-hating haze, I hear these words: "ballistic," "explosive," and "dynamic." These are words I hear on the ubiquitus crime shows I watch, and they never describe anything good and almost always describe someone's death. I wanted off the DVD, but I couldn't legitimately turn the thing off, because then I would be a weenie and a quitter, and if there is one thing I don't like on the Biggest Loser it's the weenie quitters.

Now, I haven't worked out in a long time. Brandon got me two Jillian Michaels DVDs for Christmas, so I figured once Birdy was down today I'd pop one in. I chose poorly, as the metabolism one is 50 minutes of "you've got to be kidding me"s and "ow ow ow ow"s. And, gulp, jiggling. I hate jiggling. Even at my lowest weight, I didn't do anything that could create long periods of jiggling. I liked pilates and elliptical machines and swimming. Fluid movements. However, excessive amounts of jiggling have proved themselves responsible for lowering cupcake cravings, since things like cupcakes made me the victim of jiggling in the first place.

In short: I've had my butt kicked today, but I don't want a cupcake anytime soon.

birdy and ernie discover the flowers

2010-01-02T09:52:00.000-08:00

check out the baby!

2009-12-29T21:08:00.000-08:00

Please to enjoy Birdy, the cutest baby in the entire universe.

a smattering of newsiness

2009-12-14T16:25:00.000-08:00

First, I apologize for the infrequency of updates. I have no real excuse except that it doesn't feel like anything that is happening is worth writing about, and second I am so tired recently that I'm sleeping if I don't have to do anything pressing. I know, I know. Lame. I admit it. So here is a little about what we have been up to recentlyish.

I put a photo of Birdy rocking out to Guitar Hero when my parents were visiting in October, and my best good friend Brianna made an acutal poster of it, which is cool.

She's just so famous! And cute. Soooooo cute.

We have parents coming to visit soon--Brandon's this Saturday and mine next month. I'm looking forward to seeing them and spending time with them again.

I don't feel like I'm home yet here, and I don't know why. It seems to be taking a lot longer than I thought it would be. It's beautiful and the people are nice and Brandon and Birdy are here. But...but. But it still isn't what I think of when I think of home. Maybe it would be better if our extended family were here, and maybe it will be better in a few months. I just wish it felt that way now, especially because it's Christmas.

One of the perks of this university is that they have a cleaning crew come in twice a year to shampoo carpets and clean the bathrooms and kitchens. For that, I love them. And our carpet needs it. I fear waking up in the morning to bare floors due to carpet mutiny. I'm blaming their current state on Birdy. It's always Birdy's fault because she can't say otherwise yet. :-) The cleaning crew is coming in on Friday, right in time for Brandon's parents to come and visit.

Holiday baking and eating has made it's home here, and boy am I feeling it. Luckily, we're joining the local YMCA and I'll be able to work out again since they have child care, and there is a Masters swimming program, so I can swim too.

What about you all? What is happening in your lives? We miss you tons down here!

what i've been writing about

2009-11-24T21:26:00.000-08:00

I did a Wordle of my entire blog to see what I've really been writing about--the larger the word in the Wordle, the more that word has appeared in my writing here. I'm surprised, actually, to see what has been posted.

If you would like to do one of your blog (this is directed at the now blogful BFA, off of the Dashboard (the screen you see when you sign in) click the "Layout" link below the name of your blog. Then, click the "edit" button on the Blog Posts square. Then, select the number of posts you want to display on one page. I chose 187 because that's the number of posts I have. Then, I copied the link into Wordle's create page.

it's great to be here, santa clara!

2009-11-24T15:21:00.000-08:00

Birdy's first rock star poster. If you want, we can send you an autographed one so you can be rich in 17 years when she makes it big and becomes a millionaire and showers her mother with lavish gifts.

fall color

2009-11-24T13:21:00.000-08:00

Birdy and I went on a walk to the library last week (for a book they didn't have, but were supposed to have, but that's another story) and I busted out the ol' cell phone to take some photos of the local fall color. I'm continually shocked to see the flowers blooming still, and leaves on the trees just a week or so before Thanksgiving. It's how I still feel looking out my windows and seeing, of all things, palm trees. Palm trees?! It's like living in a huge mall, considering that's the only place I've seen any palm trees in the northwest. I'm also still getting used to the idea that I live somewhere people vacation. Like, a lot of people. They come here. The ocean is only 4o minutes away. That's the drive from Pullman to Lewiston...so weird.

So, after all that, I give you a sampling of the fall color. Please excuse the focus issues on some of the photos...they were taken on a cell phone, after all.

tired monkey

2009-11-24T12:59:00.000-08:00

This is Baby Monkey.

This is Birdy.

Baby Monkey is tired. Baby Monkey needs to go to bed. So, Birdy got a shoe box, and some towels, and a book. Then she put Baby Monkey in the bed.

Kiss kiss, Baby Monkey!

Phew! Putting Baby Monkey to bed makes Birdy tired. Now it's time for Birdy to go to bed too.

all the world's a page

2009-10-28T23:07:00.000-07:00

You have been warned: I am all over the place with the following post.

I usually live with two people--the darling Birdy and my husband.

However, I've had guests these last two months, and I don't mean the fruit flies. I've been living with two more people, named Jamie and Claire. Claire is good to have around if you are bleeding or have suffered a concussion or if you need some really gross tea to drink. Jamie is handy if you want someone nice to look at, or to kill those who are after you, or to fix your leaky roof. I really like the two of them, and am sad to see them leave. I've gotten to know them over the last two months and have loved nearly every minute of it. Their family is great too, and I love hearing about them and their adventures.

The visit has been nice. It's their imminent departure that's a little strange. The main reason is because Claire and Jamie don't actually exist. It's hard to say goodbye to something that doesn't really exist, you know.

For you see, dear reader(s), Claire and Jamie are characters in the Outlander series, and I finished the seventh and most recent book tonight.

I'm feeling lonely.

When I'm reading something that interests me and has compelling characters, I get lost in their world. I become emotionally attached. I wonder what so-and-so would do if they were me, or vice versa. I become a part of the story. Which is great, but is also not so great.

When I finish a good book, I am a little emotionally, and sometimes physically, wasted for a period of time. It's like having a kindred spirit with you all the time who suddenly vanishes. I am left alone to my thoughts. In a way--and this isn't to sound dramatic, but the most apt way to describe it--I die a little when I finish a good book. If there is an especially sad part (Matthew dying in Anne of Green Gables, Dumbledore dying in HP6, the fricking whole of White Oleander [which isn't even a book I would dream about reading again, but an example of a story with a compelling character]), I can't really function the rest of the day. I'm so close with that character or characters that it becomes something that happens to me, and I'm dealing with it the same way they do. The story becomes something that takes place in my mind. When I'm reading, I have little comprehension about time passing or pages turning.

I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way. I'm certainly one of the few people I know who read so much, but one of the only people in my acquaintance who view books as friends. I regard The Little Princess, the Little House Books, The Twenty-One Balloons and others as real people, people who have helped me through hard times and exposed me to new ideas. My friend Brianna is the only other person I've met who I think might feel the same way about books or stories, but I've never really asked her outright. If I'm feeling a little discouraged, Laura and her Ma sort me right out. If I'm feeling lonely, Sara Crewe puts me to rights with her tale of abandonment and optimism. If I miss the particular thrill of a first love, then it's Twilight for sure. Each book and each character bring me the comfort of a good, old friend.

The stories I read simply become a part of me. I live a hundred different lives every time I look at my book shelf. It can be, in a word, exhausting.

However, it's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can't imagine my life without books and stories. My mom in a way realizes this love of stories (she was named after Beth in Little Women). Every room I had since I was in kindergarten until I graduated high school had a specific reading corner--a nook in Pennsylvania and a window seat in Washington. She would also take us to the library any time we wanted, regardless of what she was in the middle doing, planning to do, or thinking about doing. I think that was one of the best things she ever did for me.

(Side note: I couldn't believe that I got to have a window seat in my room when I saw the plans for the house. It felt so...bookish. Like something a character in a book would have, which thrilled me to no end.)

Brandon loves reading too, though I just described to him how I feel about reading and he looked at me like I'm nuts. I don't really blame him. Maybe Birdy will understand.

I've just read all that I've written here. I think the following says what I mean in a more economical way:

I cannot live without books. -Thomas Jefferson

photo courtesy of loxosceles

le sigh

2009-10-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

I think it's finally happened. I can't say I'm surprised, given that anyone around me would agree that perhaps, just maybe, I read too much. Not that they would say it really, but I get smirks and glances when I settle down for a few stolen moments with a good book. And a few stolen hours in the evening. And during the day too, if Birdy is taking a nap. But anyway.

I think I may have reached the point in my life where I might have read too much. In particular, I might have reached critcial mass with historical fiction.

This is Birdy, eating her cheese and "bapples" for lunch, a la my Grandpa Bill.
See the nice plant in the right of the picture? It's a good plant. It's from Ikea. It also has had fruit flies in it for the last month, regardless of what I've threatened or done to them. But this time, at this lunch, I'd had enough.

So. I got out a toothpick (you know, like a pike).

And then I killed a fruit fly (which I thought about beheading, but realized that I didn't have the precision instruments to do so).

And then I put his body on the toothpick. As a warning to his friends and comrades that their time is numbered.

I'll just be over here, thinking about the things I've done. Don't mind me.

fun at natural bridges state beach

2009-10-26T11:03:00.000-07:00

burning bright in the forests of the night

2009-10-19T00:11:00.001-07:00

You know what's weird?

My grandpa died Sunday night.

It seems very surreal. I go back and forth between sad and glad that he's no longer a prisoner of his body, constantly limited by what he can't do.

We didn't expect him to go so soon. He fell on Thursday night (some time after 8, when they go around and check on the residents where he lived), and was found Friday morning on the floor. They took him to the hospital that morning, and luckily my mom doesn't work Fridays and was able to be with him during the admitting process. He seemed very confused by the whole affair, and couldn't remember how he fell or how many people were around him when he woke up. On Saturday, he couldn't remember who was at the hospital with him the day before, though my mom and my aunt were both there all day. Sunday was the same. They also found out on Sunday that he had pneumonia, which when compounded by the small heart attack they think caused the fall as well as some breathing and swallowing problems led to bigger issues. The doctors didn't think that even with treating the pneumonia that he would be the same as he was before he fell, and would most likely need to be in a nursing home. My mom, aunt, and uncle had to make the tough call to decide that they wouldn't put him on antibiotics and to make him comfortable for his last few days.

We didn't expect him to go so soon.

My mom called me while she was waiting to pick up dinner for my her and my aunt when my grandpa passed away. I'm glad my aunt was there with him; I'm sure it meant a lot to her to be with him when he passed.

I'm also sad because Birdy will never be able to know the vibrant people that her Grandma Lorraine and Grandpa Bill were. She never got to have my grandma's Christmas pears, or her amazing pie, or see her paint. She'll never get to have my grandpa teach her how to walk on stilts, or to see him tie a fly, or smell cigar smoke on him when she would give him a hug. She'll never get to have dessert and coffee while playing rummy tile on their big dining room table, which was my first rite of passage into the cosmopolitan world of adults when I was ten.

That is what I'm going to miss--the fact that she'll never have those things; the things that mean a lot to me.

In honor of my grandparents, we had a friend over tonight and had dessert and coffee and played a card game. I have to say that while it was nice, it wasn't the same.

I miss my grandparents. I miss them a lot. I miss who they used to be. I always thought they would outlive us all by sheer will. Then, my grandma fell down the stairs and broke her collarbone, and it all began to move downhill. My grandma wasn't the same afterwords, and from the moment she fell they began to change. They both became old. They became frail. They began to loose the part of themselves that made them who they were to me. My grandma decided she had enough of it--she couldn't take care of her apartment, my grandpa, or herself very well. She decided (with that sheer force of will that she had) that she was done, and decided to stop eating and drinking. When my mom called and told me her decision, I wasn't surprised. The quality of life she had wasn't all that great and she was becoming increasingly frail. I admire that she had the ability and mental strength to decide that enough was enough and that she wanted to leave on her own terms. Would I do the same thing? I'm not sure.

After she passed away (her memorial service was on the same weekend we found out a family member miscarried her baby...it was a shitty weekend, to say the least), my grandpa became more distant and began showing more overt signs of dementia. My mom and her siblings got together and talked to him about not driving anymore, and about moving to an assisted care facility. Without my grandma to boss around (and her not there to boss him around too :-) ), there wasn't a lot for him to do. He would sit and watch TV for most of the day. His daily calls to my mom and aunt grew erratic, and all the siblings (and the sibling's spouses and grandchildren) noticed that things were getting worse. And then he fell on Thursday. And here were are.

I can't imagine what it must be like to loose both of your parents. I think about losing my dad and mom, and it fills me with such a feeling of loneliness. The people who have known you the longest and loved you all the time you've been on this planet suddenly not being there is so profoundly sad to me.

I went in tonight to Birdy's room and picked her up from her crib and hugged her for a long time. Someday, she's going to be old. Someday, she's going to pass away. And I hope, I really really hope, that she has people who love her nearby. I hope they are there to comfort her in her last minutes, even if she isn't aware of it. I want her to die a women who was well loved. I want her to be at peace in the end, even if her body is broken.

I want a lot for Birdy, but most of all?

Most of all, I want a lot of time on Earth with her, and I hope that she loves me as much as my mom and her siblings loved their parents.

2009-10-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.

I want to learn how to sew. Badly. I want to be able to make things. Things like this:

And this:

Also, if I could think like the person (or persons) who get all the stuff for Pottery Barn and Pottery Barn Kids, that would be great too. And while I'm at it, I'd like to lose 60 pounds, sing opera, and go running every day.

But first, with the sewing, I'd need a sewing machine. And then I would need patience. And then I would need either Diana Brandon or Helen Louise Thompson living next door to me (or in my sewing closet) to give me constant guidance and validation. And then I would need a nanny because mommy would be too busy not sewing her hands to her latest project to make lunch or change diapers or play with blocks for the millionth time today. And somewhere in there, I'd need to get some fabric.

But then, if all those conditions are met, I could be a sewing master! The world would be a better and prettier place if I sewed. I promise.

I leave you with this, dear reader, do you have something you wish you had the time and money to do? And "taking a nap" doesn't count because everyone would do that, duh.

photos from grace violet, pottery barn kids, and heather bailey

super mega awesome sunday morning spectacular

2009-10-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

GREETINGS!

It's been a good Sunday so far. Let me break it down for you, including the bad parts so that the good parts seem even better.

1. Birdy woke up at 7. Boo!
2. It's cloudy today. Woo!
3. I had Cinnamon Life today for breakfast. Woo!
4. Birdy had a good bath. Woo!
5. She cried a lot because Brandon kept coming and going. Today she's a daddy's girl. This is a boo and a woo.
6. I vacuumed already! Woo!
7. I ironed Brandon's shirt! I'm a wifey! Woo!
8. Birdy is asleep. Woo!
9. I have a nice, steaming hot cup of coffee. Woo!
10. Brandon has to work today because of preview tours. Boo!
11. Brandon bought doughnuts for the people helping with the tours, but they didn't eat them and now they are in our apartment. Woo!
12. I have coffee, a doughnut with Halloween sprinkles, and am watching Scrubs. Also, I don't have to drive anywhere like church because Birdy is asleep. I hate driving around here, by the by. Only going places like Target and Costco make driving tolerable. So, in conclusion of bullet #12, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, boo, woo woo.

Also, I'm making this and this for dinner tonight. Anyone who reads this is more than welcome to join us. And no, I'm not kidding.

Also, I ordered this last night. Get it? Brackets? It will only say "Brandon & Heather" since it already has 2 brackets on the side! Ha! You know you want mail from me so you can see the sweet stamp. It's okay. I'll send you something.

Also, and this is the last also, but I just went to Etsy's homepage and saw this. I think I'm in love.

walkabouts

2009-10-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

To begin, on the news right now, a man named Raccoon is being interviewed. He is very clearly homosexual. He has a coon skin cap, a festive scarf, and large glasses. Toto, I'm not in Eastern Washington anymore.

Secondly, I've become a bit of a walker.

It all started a few weeks ago when Nicole (who is my first peep here) and I took an innocent walk to the park near by. Then we walked to the rose garden. Then we walked to the library. Then we walked to an awesome bakery. The bakery trip was today, and it was awesome. It's called Greenlee's, and seems to be a landmark here in San Jose. I had a chorizo breakfast burrito, and it was so good I nearly saw Jesus and/or a majestic unicorn. It was faint vision due to my eyes rolling back into my head, so it was hard to be sure. But be sure that if you come and visit, I'm taking you.

Nicole also has a daughter, who is just the bee's knees. She's just a bitty baby--5 months old. Birdy is becoming a big fan of her too, which has proven to be adorable. Yesterday, Birdy gave Nicole's baby a hug and a kiss. Adorable.

I do have some new photos to put up, I just have to get them off the camera. As many of us know, that camera might as well be on the moon with the frequency with which photos are transferred to my computer, so be patient grasshoppers.

don't forget ___________.

2009-09-29T11:03:00.000-07:00

I am bad at remembering. Really bad.

I try, I really do. But I end up forgetting things, like birthdays, anniversaries, brushing my teeth at night, what I was doing two years ago, what life was like in college, and what exactly it was I did yesterday.The thing is, I didn't always used to be so bad at remembering. There was a time when you could count on me to remember even the most mundane stuff. Stuff that happened years ago that no one else remembered. But then, for some reason I still don't understand, I stopped.

I can, however, tell you the exact time when I realized that I do have a problem with it, though. In college, my roommate and best friend was having some weird health stuff going on. We weren't sure what was happening, and neither were her doctors. They gave her a list of potential problems, and one of them was cancer. It was scary.

But you know what? I forgot about it. I forgot until she mentioned something about a year or so ago, like "blah blah blah when we thought I might have cancer blah blah blah." I did a double take on the phone, thinking, what? Cancer? When did we think you might have had cancer? And she patiently (though she was understandably a little annoyed) reminded me of the time during my sophomore year. You know, when we were living together? In a small space? And we knew pretty much everything about each other? That time? Remember?

And I didn't.

And that seemed very, very wrong to me.

And since then, I've been trying to make a conscious effort to stamp things in my brain. This blog, for one, was created to help me remember things that were happening in my life in a time when I could feel my brain slowing slipping out of my body. I think the weight I gained during pregnancy (which is still here, by the by) was pushing it out my ears. Just a theory. Anyway.

There are things that I remember about Birdy, and somethings that I think of each day so that they stay fresh in my mind. I remember sitting up with her when she was a few weeks old at four in the morning. It was quiet. The novelty of a sweet baby had worn off a bit, as they tend to wake up numerous times in the night wanting food, so I had stopped simply staring at her in amazement a few days before this. I was reading Anne of Green Gables in the lamplight, holding Birdy snugly to my side as she slowly nursed. It was peaceful. It was awesome. It made me feel like an honest-to-God mom. It is something that I hope to remember when she's a snotty teenager (as I'm sure she will be), when she's having her first baby, when she turns 40, 50, and 60. And I hope that I feel the same way about that memory then as I do now.

In the meantime, I plan on trying to remember her like that when she is throwing her snack on to the floor, flinging herself on the the floor, and grinding Cheerios into the floor (and sometimes doing all three at the same time).

And what about you? What do you try to remember?

home again, home again

2009-09-23T21:01:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone!

(awesome side note: I am watching the best show I've seen in a long time...Modern Family. Watch it. Love it.)

I am back in the land of sun, sand, and people who's tuition is higher than any salary I'm going to making any time soon. But I digress--The point of this post to share about the fund times we had on vacation! In typical Heather fashion, however, I neglected to take any photos. No fear though, loyal readers--I've got Paint and some free time. Trust me, it will be just like you were there.

The first weekend, Birdy and I went to Pullman. Our first stop was Casa de Cory, to help celebrate Anita's last weekend being a certain age and to celebrate her becoming a slightly different age. We went to pick flowers for the par-tay, and no one got stung, bit, or maimed in any other way.

We also stopped by financial aid to visit the old comrades and enjoy a potluck. We ended up staying longer than we planned, but there were too many people to catch up with. We had great cornbread, chili, and of course Kathy's little smokies. A potluck isn't a potluck without some smokies.

Birdy and I also spent a few nights with Randi and Jason, the most chill peeps I know. They also hosted a get together. There was beer and awesome Costco hotdogs. We spent a lot of time on the porch smoking a cigar and having Jason call us silly girls. It was just like old times!

April and Anita and Birdy and I also watched I Love You, Man. This photo is of April and and I shredding some air guitar to Rush. Believe me, it was as awesome as it looked.

so hot in herrrrrrrr

2009-08-29T21:42:00.000-07:00

Hello, this blog comes straight to you from Satan's Armpit, population me. It's super freaking hot here, and the fact that the apartment is 76 degrees at 9:45 at night and it feels super cool and comfy should tell you how hot it was today. Ugh. My productivity gets shockingly low when it's hot. The house is a mess. Am I trying to fix it?

No. Most definitely not. It was hot today, remember? Everyone knows that really hot days are a free pass for any and all domestic activities. It's like a snow day for adults. Thus, in the spirit of Adult Snow Day, I am sitting on the couch drinking a cold beverage of choice and watching Hayden Panettiere in her magnum opus, Bring It On: All or Nothing. It's just so inspiring, you know? And, it's one of E!'s "Movies We Love," and we all know that E! knows movies. Or. knows movies with low syndication rates. Either one.

Birdy and I head out into the wild blue yonder on Tuesday, and I'm already preparing myself mentally. The idea of Birdy sitting on my lap happily for three minutes is something that happens regularly. The reality of Birdy sitting on my lap for two hours is yet unproven. I've purchased several items for the trip in hopes of entertaining her: 1,000 stickers, tiny cans of Play-Doh, a new coloring book, a crazy amount of snacks, and one or two books. I've figured I have 120 1-minute segments I need to fill.

In a perfect world, some of them will be filled with her sleeping. Or maybe the plane won't be full and I'll be able to put her in her own seat with her own car seat. And then maybe, it'll be a frosty day in Hell.

Hey, pop question for parents: when you check a car seat, do they give you one of those bags to put it in? If not, where do they sell such things? And can you think of anything else I can bring to fill my 120 1-minute segments?

today, i'm motivated

2009-08-18T16:02:00.000-07:00

I've started something that is embarrassing to admit. I've started Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. Now, to be fair, there are people out there who will look like Jillian after the 30 days. There are people who will not be sweating themselves silly after 10 minutes. There are people who will be able to do the jump rope cardio segment for the whole 30 seconds.

I hate to shatter your illusions, but I am none of those people. Before Saturday when I started this 20 minute daily journey to hell, I didn't know jumping jacks were something I couldn't do for a prolonged amount of time. And by "prolonged," I mean 1 minute.

Today, though, was a breakthrough: I noticed that it has gotten a smidgen easier. Which means it's working! And I've lost a pound and a half. That pound and a half is perhaps the reason that I'm able to do more jumping jacks! Amazing! Also, because I was feeling so good, I did pilates too. Just because. Because there was no jumping, there were modified exercises, and most of it is lying down. BUT STILL.

The thing is, jumping jacks used to be easy. I used to be able to do the pilates workout without a problem. And the thing was, I didn't realize that I would never be able to NOT do those things. What an eye-opener. All the more reason to keep doing these thigns so that once again I can jump jacks and ab crunch with the best of them.

The other good thing about today is that I'm finally the proud owner of the clear Starbucks tumbler mug. And by "finally" I mean after three months of searching. They are sold out everywhere! I got the 16 ounce one. I plan on drinking stupid amounts of water in my trendy little beverage cup.

Photos courtesy of Run Girl Run and Nic Nak Patti Wack

time keeps slippin'

2009-08-13T23:07:00.000-07:00

First: look at that sweet girl. We were at the beach here for the first time. She's wearing the dress Ben got her from Hawaii, which we felt was only appropriate for an ocean adventure.

Second: You might have heard that I made Brandon read The Host. So far, he says it "isn't bad." Now, in his world, that could mean the greatest thing he has read, or it could mean "it's better than a swift kick in the nuts." For an example of his highest praise that I have received, please read this.

Also note that I have made lesser men faint dead away when eating my chicken tacos.

In The Host, our heroine Wanderer (and why is it so close to heroin? Am I ignorant on it's etymology? Are we women heroes so addicting [like my chicken tacos, but I digress from digressing] that we make men die? Really?), makes comments on not knowing how much time you have left to live your life. And frankly, the thought both scares the dickens out of me and also calms me. It scares me because I've never felt that I will be able to love Birdy as long and as well as I hope. Ever since I fell in love with her (which is different from when she was conceived or when she was born, but that is a different story for a different time), I've never had the sense that I would be with her for very long. Objectively I know she'll grow up, go to college or whatever, have a family, and live her life well. That being said, I don't see myself sharing that with her. I feel like something is going to happen to me so that I can't be a part of those experiences with her.

Let's be clear: I don't see me taking myself out of the picture, if you get my drift. I'm simply not there. I don't know where I am, but I'm not with Birdy, which makes me sad.

Is that weird? It makes everyday things so desperate for me. I just walked through her bedroom and picked her up, wondering to myself "how many more chances will I have to hug her?" And when I was hugging her, I almost cried.

Ugh. How morbid.

So I pose this question to you, whether you are a mother or a father, or a lover of another thing that will die: do you feel this way about things? This odd sense of urgency and protectiveness?

Or, does this just mean that for once in my life I have found something that I would gladly give my life for?

Or, is it just 11:30 and the fact that I've been up for 16 and half hours going at full speed?

Personally, I'm caught between the two, but leaning more toward the latter.

hey! hey everybody!

2009-08-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I just got featured on Ikea Hacker, a site where people share what they do with random Ikea items. It has 33,000 RSS readers. No joke. For real.

Please go here and leave some nice comments for me. The first two...not so nice.

GOOD NEWS

2009-08-11T22:17:00.000-07:00

I just purchased tickets to Washington! YES!

I'll be here from the 1st-21st. Brandon's training is pretty intense, so I'll be up in Washington during that time. I'm super excited to see you all!

hey hey

2009-08-11T12:41:00.000-07:00

Just so we're on the same page, I'm being a bad mother right now. I'm watching Deadliest Catch and blogging while my daughter is left to entertain herself (currently with her dirty clothes and a puppy). I just don't want you to have any grad illusions of what I'm doing right now. Or not doing, more specifically.

I'm not:
cleaning the kitchen
vacuuming
going on a walk
out of my pajamas
eating lunch
going to bed before 1am

Why?

WHY?

I'll tell you why. To get Brandon to read The Host, by Stephanie Meyer, I had to agree to read a book he likes. This book is called A Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin. I didn't like the first few chapters. I had no idea what was going on, who the people were, or what the point was. However, I wanted Brandon to keep reading, so I kept reading. And then I got hooked.

I'm nearing the end of the second book (THE SECOND ONE. I just started the first one a few days ago), and am going crazy while Birdy is awake. I keep counting the minutes until she's unconscious so I can run, not walk, over to my book and finish the story.

It's driving me crazy.

FYI

2009-08-05T22:54:00.000-07:00

I miss you all. For reals.

(and thank you Jaclyn for the great new fridge photos)

tales from the dmv

2009-08-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

Last night, for the first time in a long time, I set my alarm. Today was a big day: I was going to get my license.

I'd been studying the driver's guide and stressing about the test. It was like have a full on teenage experience and that I was 17 and getting ready to get my license (yes, I said 17. Get off my back.)...I felt like I was going to start getting zits and being super self concious all over again. Boo.

Luckily, my buddy Ben came with. We were both nervous. We left bright and early at 7:30 and went to the Santa Clara DMV, which opened at 8. We pulled in to the parking lot at 7:50.

And.

There was a line around the building--about 50-60 people were in line already. Ben looked at me and said, "do over?" I agreed, and we planned on getting the license stuff taken care of tomorrow...and showing up much, much, much eariler. On a whim, we went over the the San Jose DMV, which wasn't too far away. Surprisingly, it didn't seem all the busy. We went in and were sitting in these hard plastic chairs, super nervous and worrying we would have to come back anyway because were were dorks and failed the test.

For the written test here, you can only miss 5 if you are getting your first California license. If you are getting it RENEWED, you have to take it again, and you can only miss THREE. I'm not looking forward to that AT ALL. I took the test (which is actually on paper. Which really was surprising. Which made me miss Washington.), and was stumped on few of the questions. Others, however, were like "please don't be a douche while you drive. This includes: road rage, tailgating, passing, driving with your high beams on, wearing your seatbelts, and so much more."

We both passed the test (thank goodness). Ben's car checked out fine, and we didn't have to pay a ton of money for late fees, which I was worried about. I had been here for more than 10 days, and Ben had been here...for a while.

Now, I get to sit and wait for my brand spankin' new license to come in the mail. I am bummed I'm no longer a resident of Washington, though. Don't forget me Washington! I still love you best!

a good day

2009-08-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day. Today, I conquered pizza. Pizza now stands before me, shivering and alone. I own pizza.

It didn't start out that way. I used the recipe for dough and sauce from my favorite cookbook, which hasn't let me down yet. I made the dough in my food processor (the one that was my grandma's...so it's up in years), which would have been great, except for the fact that the dough was threatening to kill my beloved little appliance. I thought "hey, it looks like it's done. I'll take this opportunity to take it out of the food processor and start kneading. Brandon and Birdy will be so impressed with my mad yeast dough kneading skillz when they come back from their walk."

However. The dough was, um, a little wet. A little sticky. And I was a prisoner to sticky dough hands, which rival freezing cold meatball-rolling hands (if you've ever rolled a six month supply of meatballs, let me know. We'll form a club). I couldn't really touch anything without it getting horribly sticky and doughy. And that stuff doesn't clean well. I promise you that.

Long story short, Brandon and Birdy make it home in time to plug in my mixer (you never fail me, Old Red) and start this kneading thing for real. I kneaded by hand forever after the mixer, and thought I had ruined the dough.

BUT I HAD NOT!

The pizza and homemade sauce were great. This photo is before it went into the oven.

This is after a raging hot 500 degree oven.

This is after Birdy, Ben, Brandon and me attacked it.

Birdy was so kind as to provide us with a show after dinner. She got down and busy to Beyonce's Put a Ring on It. Hilarious. I highly recommend checking out the clip of her wicked dance moves.

you paid what for that?

2009-08-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

Who was the marketing exec who okayed these horrible Palm Pre ads? Every time I see them, I get weirded out. She goes between being calm and zen, and then turns around super fast to dink around the phone. Ick. Weirded out.

orientation, part one

2009-07-28T11:15:00.000-07:00

This is where we live.

This is the sidewalk across the street from where we live. Those are olives.

This is the olive tree across the street from where we live.

This is Birdy, wondering what we are doing when it's nap time and clearly time to go inside and find a bed.

These are the figs that live in the fig tree across the street from where we live.

This is one of the three domes on the old observatory (now an archeology lab) across the street from where we live next to the fig and olive trees.

farmer's market

2009-07-28T11:01:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, Ben, Birdy and myself went to the farmer's market a few streets over from the University. It was fairly small, but there was a lot of good stuff there. I got some spinach (for free!), potatoes, these apricot hybrid things that are delish, green onions, three samosas, and these tiny, incredibly tasty grapes (see photo for proof of tiny-ness--my hands are small, so keep that in mind too). AND, it was all for less than $10. Booyah.

With this, we've:

dad chicken caesar salad

grilled potatoes with our bbq

apricot thingies and grapes for snacks for several days

eaten the samosas

dreamt about next Saturday and eating more samosas

To be honest, the samosas didn't last more than an hour after they were purchased. There was a tiny Indian woman at the market selling naan, curries, samosas and other tasty things. She kept giving Ben samples of everything she was selling...he nearly got a full meal out of it. We both bought the samosas, which are fried dumplings filled with potatoes, peas, spices, and deliciousness. Birdy also loved them, which meant less for me.

I saved one for when we got home, and proceeded to eat it and watch Bend it Like Beckham, a movie about an Indian girl from England who plays soccer and ends up at Santa Clara. It was only fitting.

ready or not

2009-07-24T12:01:00.001-07:00

The bells are ringing at the mission church calling people to Mass right now.

Mass begins at 12:05 each day, and I'm thinking of attending. I'm not Catholic. My mother once was, and my best good friend Brianna now is. I don't have plans for becoming Catholic. However, the idea of being with a group of people coming together for the same purpose really appeals to me right now.

Anyway.

My parents just left for the 13 hour drive home, Birdy is asleep and The Hoosband is at work. Or getting the car smog checked. Or something. Anyway, I'm alone in the apartment. I am really proud of myself--instead of wallowing in sadness and crying in bed, I began cleaning and putting our stuff away and getting our house closer towards being our home. As I was silently crying and wiping the table off, I realized that with that action--recognizing my sadness but deciding to do something productive instead of something indulgent--I fully became an adult. And now, more than any other time, I'm ready for that. I don't have family near by, or friends here. I have me. I have my little family. I'm going to be Ma (who never seemed to cry in the Little House books, but I'm sure that she did from time to time. Being a pioneer is hard). I'm going to take care of me and my little family. And I'm actually looking forward to that.

This last week has been a lot of fun and a lot of work. We've been to Ikea (YESSSSSS!!) and bought two items of furniture from the as-is section (oh sweet sweet as-is section--your small imperfections and hardware issues are no match for my father) along with some plants, some storage items, a pan of cinnamon rolls, a pot holder (the pot lids go on the wall now!) and a picture frame. When I say "we've bought," I mean my parents did. Those two are my favorites. :-)

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary, and my parents, Hoosband, and Birdy and I went to the Monteray Bay Aquarium, Cannery Row (STEINBECK HEAVEN), and had a very nice and quite fancy dinner on the way home.

The Monteray Bay Aquarium is amazing--if you have the chance to go, it's worth it, even with adult prices being $30. The funny story about that is that we thought the prices were about $17 according to our guidebook. The book was, upon further inspection, published in 2003. We discovered this after we had driven an hour to oogle at the fishies, so we were kind of locked in to our choice. The price was made totally worth it when Birdy walked into the Outer Bay exhibit. You come in to a circular room, with a giant round aquarium above you. There is a school of herring swimming around the ceiling. Birdy, who doesn't have a lot of words yet, walked in and said, quite clearly, "oh, wow!" It was wicked sweet. The picture here doesn't do the room justice, but gives you an idea of what it looked like. The other nice thing about the aquarium was that many of the tanks went all the way down to the floor, so little kids like Birdy could still see the fish.

Back to the making the house a home thing--I was working on our kitchen and noticed that the only people we have pictures of on the fridge are the Cory family on our wedding day, The Hoosband's grandma and her husband, and wee Harrison. We love us some Cory family, but we have other friends we'd like to see every time we go in to the kitchen. Thus, I have a boon to ask of you, dear reader. Would you be able to mail us a photo of you and yours? We are far away from home and your smiling faces would make us feel closer. If you are interested, sent me an email at heather[underscore]brackett[at]hotmail[dot]com and I'll send you our address. Please replace the items in the brackets with the actual punctuation.

More to come, complete with pictures, in the following week.

brianna gets married

2009-07-14T10:24:00.000-07:00

My best good friend Brianna got married on July 3rd. My mom, dad, Birdy and I went up to Canada (my first trip!) to witness the nupitals. Birdy and my mom were outside for the ceremony because someone was hot and grumpy. I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I think you can guess who. Also, if someone could please explain why I feel a need to make stupid faces when ever someone is taking a picture of Brianna and me, please let me know.

birdy finds the pond

2009-07-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

I went home to visit over Father's Day weekend, and Birdy, my mom and I went to explore their upper pond. It ended with Birdy dirty all over and wet most every place else, which I think

marks the experience as a success.

wedding fun

2009-07-13T10:55:00.001-07:00

First, let me state for the record: my friend Jill's wedding was awesome. I loved the people, the good times, running errands, sleeping in a residence hall, and making new friends. I even learned how to walk down stairs in heels!

Second: I have never been so hot in my life.

Third: I repeat everything I said in the first statement.

Because technology rocks my socks off, I stole some of the photos that my friend Katie took of Saturday's events to repost here.

nothing like a long walk

2009-07-08T09:35:00.000-07:00

Back in the day, when the Israelites esca-pated from the pesky Egyptians with Moses (and aren't those Egyptians always pesky in the Old Testament? They're like the mean older brother of the Israelites), God let the Israelites on the desert road. There was a shorter way to get where they were going, but God knew that if the people went the shorter way, they might encounter something they weren't ready for. And, in encountering it, they might change their minds and go back to Egypt.

So, in the interest of, um, their best interest, God did what was best for them: took them on a long walk on the desert road.

I get the feeling that I'm on the desert road most of the time. And that, I feel, doesn't speak well for me. If I'm not getting the things I want or doing the things I want to do...that means that I'm probably not ready for it. Moreover, it might also mean that it's what I want and what I want to do, not not what God wants or what God wants me to do. What I think it comes back to is that I'm more focused on what I want, not what's best for me. Sigh. That kinda sucks.

Are you on a desert road, waiting for what you really want?

Wondering why God isn't giving you the things you want, or why the road is so much harder than you thought?

Check out Jon's post on the desert road and let me know.

the good, the bad, and the annotated list

2009-07-07T10:14:00.000-07:00

Awesome things that have happened since Friday:

1. My best good friend Brianna got married.

2. I went to Canada for the first time ever. To celebrate, my parents bought 3 giant things of booze at the Duty Free (okay, it was just a good deal, not necessarily a celebration).

3. We've been in the hot tub nearly every day.

4. I've got my Birdy Cuddle Index maxed out.

5. We had italian sausage sandwiches last night and everyone really liked the sauce I made.

6. My parents got a brand new washer and dryer. They are about as quiet as you'd imagine a whispering unicorn to be, if you had ever imagined a whispering unicorn.

7. I found out our new apartment has not only a new washer and dryer, but a dishwasher too. It's okay. You can be jealous. I don't mind.

Not so awesome things that have happened since Friday:

1. My parent's washer broke big time at 7:30 on Sunday night. A mad scramble ensued, and a new washer and dryer were in by 11pm that night. The previous washer and dryer were older than my brother, so they've earned a rest.

2. Birdy keeps dunking herself in the hot tub. That girl has no fear.

3. I haven't been able to drink coffee with Randi. Boo.

4. Chloe, the Super Bitchy Family Dog, has growled and lunged at Birdy already. No one feels that bad for her being on the other side of the baby gate.

5. Brandon left on Saturday. :-( (this one counts as two entries on the list)

6. Birdy has forgotten the joy of an early bed time and sleeping through the night.

on death and grace

2009-07-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

I've been having a debate with myself today since 10am. I've been wondering if it's easier to be brave while living or to be brave while dying. Yes, we are all dying, and yes, we are (especially if you are reading this) all living. But are we living with every good intention? Are we living with honor, and humility, and thankfulness?

If we are dying, and we know we are dying, doing things with kindness, honor, humility and thankfulness might be easier. We are blessed with the knowledge we are dying, and so making those conscience choices to be a better person are put into perspective. We know that helping someone out is worth the effort, even if it means we being generous with our time or our money. It's easier to overlook the snarky comments and glares because we know that we can't waste a moment on not giving grace.

However.

Life is hard.

Living a good life is even harder.

Living while knowing you are dying...that is probably the hardest of all.

This internal debate was brought on by a phone message left by a friend this morning. Her mother passed away this past Friday.

Her mother had been diagnosed with a debilitating and degenerative disease in 2006. Her whole family knew this diagnoses was, for lack of a better word, a death sentence. You can't come back from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS. Like being diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, you know your days are numbered.

And my friend's mother has been living her life with kindness, honor, humility and thankfulness. That is bravery. Getting up every morning and feeling a little worse than the day before? I can't imagine what that is like. Getting up every morning feeling a little worse than the day before and looking at that day as a blessing? Gosh. I can only hope to live out my days like that.

And so, dear friend: we love you, and admire your mother. I am inspired by the life your mother led, and believe that many other people are as well.

"the time has come," the walrus said

2009-07-02T07:11:00.003-07:00

This is it. My last day in Pullman.

Please imagine a high five and a "see ya later" coming your way.

heather in real life

2009-06-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

Have you seen Dan in Real Life? I saw it this morning. I think it's also why I'm trying not to cry listening to Landslide on the radio right now.

I bet you didn't see that coming, huh? Neither did I.

I'm starting to realize that this time next week, I'm going to be at my parent's house with my Birdy in my lap and my husband 832.7 miles away (but who's counting? Not me. I can't count at all.). And you know what? I'm starting to think that's going to suck.

Techinically, from where I am staying now I could drive and see them every weekend at my parents. It's only five hours away from where I am now. That is strangely comforting. But. And my friends, with me, there is always a "but."

Because this time next week, I'll be thinking that this time two weeks from now I'm going to be in sunny California 832.7 miles away from my parents, and my brother, and my in-laws, and Jessica, and even more miles away from dear Pullman and my friends here. I've never been so far away from all but two of the people I love, and I know that's going to suck.

That, for sure, I'm counting on.

sigh

2009-06-25T16:32:00.000-07:00

People. Can we talk? Michael Jackson is dead? Really? REALLY? Ugh. How crappy.

In memoriam, please leave a comment with your favorite MJ song. And don't feed me some line about "oh, I don't like Michael Jackson because I'm an intellectual and listen only to fusion jazz and read Moby Dick each weekend." Because we all know you aren't that kind of person, right? Right.

I'll go first.

Black or White. That song rocks my socks off.

i wish i knew this guy

2009-06-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things that I wish I had done/are now doing/will do. I know myself enough to know that many of them (participate in a triathlon, finally swim a 50 free below :30 seconds, read Moby Dick) won't happen. Or, more optimistically, won't happen soon. I'll need some more energy, will power, and dedication first.

There are also a lot of things that I never thought I'd like to do, but then read about someone doing them and think to myself "that would be fricken' awesome." For example, this guy named Ryan is running across Europe.

Stop and think about that.

Running.

Across.

Europe.

As in, putting one foot in front of the other, in a semi-quick fashion. And doing that action all across Europe. With just a little backpack. Running. Europe.

Madness.

Lucky for me, he's started a blog so I can live vicariously through him and have "running through Europe" on my list of things I'd like to do, but that we all know would actually never happen.

So. Please go and check Ryan out and read about his travels. I'm pretty sure that reading about his adventure is very much like exercise, so it's like going to the gym too.

Ryan Runs Europe

UPDATE: This guy is from Washington! Even cooler than before.

she talks to angels/black crowes

2009-06-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes it seems that radio stations get in these funks where they play the same artist or song (I'm looking at you, Rhianna/ZFUN)? And how its mostly just annoying? Well, the station we are now listening to now plays awesome music. They have some that they play fairly often, but since it's the rockin' sounds of the 70s, 80s, and 90s, we don't complain.

One of the repeats is She Talks to Angels, by the Black Crowes. I'm falling in love with this song all over again. For me, the first verse is just...awesome. I don't know why. It just is. I highly recommend picking up Shake Your Money Maker if you have the means.

Also, and this is a sidenote, are there many songs better than the Southern Cross by CSNY? Less than 20? That's what I was thinking too.

She Talks to Angels

She never mentions the word addiction
In certain company
Yes, shell tell you shes an orphan
After you meet her family

She paints her eyes as black as night, now
Pulls those shades down tight
Yeah, she gives a smile when the pain comes,
The pains gonna make everything alright

Says she talks to angels,
They call her out by her name
She talks to angels,
Says they call her out by her name

She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket
She wears a cross around her neck
Yes, the hair is from a little boy
And the cross is someone she has not met, not yet

Says she talks to angels,
Says they all know her name
Oh yeah, she talks to angels,
Says they call her out by her name

She don't know no lover,
None that I ever seen
Yes, to her that ain't nothing
But to me, yeah me,
It's everything

She paints her eyes as black as night now
She pulls those shades down tight
Oh yeah, there's a smile when the pain comes,
The pains gonna make everything alright, alright yeah

She talks to angels,
Says they call her out by her name
Oh yeah, yeah, angels
Call her out by her name
Oh, angels
They call her out by her name
Oh, she talks to angels
They call her out
Yeah, they call her out
Don't you know that they call her out by her name

meet: the bfa

2009-06-10T09:47:00.000-07:00

Hello all. It’s been a while since I’ve done a meet: feature, and my Blogless Friend April (BFA) has been gracious enough to sit for an interview…4 months ago. So, without any further shilly-shallying, I give you my dear BFA.
......................................

H: Hey April! What’s shaken, bacon?

BFA: Not much. I just read a treatise on how a CSA can solve world hunger, make peace with your family, and makes keys while you wait! Genius!

H: Sounds great. Let’s get past the crazy hippy portion of our interview and into the real meat and potatoes. What is your shoe size?BFA: 8.

H: I used to be a size 8.5. And then I had Birdy. Other parts of me have also grown. I also credit my love of cheese. What’s your favorite food?

BFA: I have too many, hence having to get up at 5:30 and sweat for an hour three times a week. Though, since it’s summer, it’s mostly swimming after work.

H: You are quite the swimmer…weekdays after work, weekends during P & G’s swim lessons. Enough with the softball questions: Which child is your favorite?BFA: The one I imagined before actually having children.

H: Good answer. What is your favorite way to spend an evening?

BFA: I’m a “vegger.” Hanging out and watching TV with the MD [editor’s note: everyone wants an MD in your life. If you don’t think you do, you haven’t met the MD]. I also like going to Swilly’s for a grilled chicken Caesar salad with extra croutons, or listening to the Little House on the Prairie audio book with P & G.

H: That DOES sound like a good evening. I can see why we are friends.

BFA: Because we like TV and croutons?

H: Among other things, yes. I’m writing this interview…if you get too sassy, I’ll write something like “I like to vote Republican whenever I can.”

BFA: Easy trigger.

H: Pipe down. Moving on. So, why do you like MD?

BFA: So, so, so many reasons. He’s nice, funny, smart, chatty, has strong opinions about men leaving their jackets on at weddings (which I totally agree with), he helps people move, knows how to cook, is a good father and he puts up with me being bossy and/or high maintenance every now and then. Oh, I’m bossy and high maintenance-y more than every now and then? Sometimes? Most of the time?! Hmmmm. Well. I like him even more now.

H: We all like MD. And his shrimp. Oh, sweet sassy molassy…the shrimp…um…I need a minute. Tell the people why you think manhole covers are round.

BFA: What? Do I work for the city? Who knows?

H: That wasn’t nearly the time I needed to recover from the memory of the shrimp. And manhole covers are round so they don’t fall down into the sewer. Triangle shapes work well too. Anyway. Shrimp live in your refrigerator, but not as often as they should. What else would we find in there?

BFA: You will almost always find milk, eggs, and tortillas. We keep the cheese in the freezer and the Diet Pepsi in the pantry. So come on over for quesadillas anytime you like!

H: You know it! The taco night from your youth is alive and well at your house. Speaking of youth in an offhand way, what posters were on your wall when you were 16?

BFA: Duran Duran, Def Leppard, and tons words from magazines cut out and made into collages.

H: I think that would accurately describe most 16 year-old’s bedrooms. What is it with chicks and words cut out from a magazine? I used Seventeen most for such things. My mom’s Martha Stewart and my dad’s Popular Science didn’t have enough “awesome” words like “grrl power” and “sweet.” You can’t be melodramatic with words like “futuristic space car” and “zinnias are a good thing” on your walls. The thing about being a girl and being a teenager at the same time is that you are never really happy with who you are. If you could have a super power to up your awesomeness quotient as a non-teenage girl, what would it be?

BFA: I would have a shield that made me impervious to smells and germs.

H: Htr told me about your queasy stomach when you were pregnant. Who would you say is your favorite office mate? And would you own a poster of him/her and put it in your room surrounded by cut out magazine words?

BFA: My favorite office mate is Htr. And that’s not just because she’s the only office mate I’ve ever had. And, I would totally have a poster of her, but only if she would sign it; “To April, you really are my favorite and you’ve never been a bit high strung. Love, Htr” I would pay good money for that!

H: You know me, right?BFA: I would hope so at this point.

H: So you know my love of Ikea. Thus, I pose this question: If you could name an item at Ikea, what would you choose?

BFA: Flemsvik.

H: What would it be?

BFA: Storage that holds scrapbooking materials, and magically organizes it for you. Wait, can I change my superhero powers to having the ability to organize anything in a matter of moments while making it look like I live in a Pottery Barn catalog?

H: That is a tall order, but if anyone can do it, it’s IKEA. Since we both love reading, what fictional character would you be and why?

BFA: Good question. You’ve stumped me. I’m pretty happy being me. Although if there’s someone who snacks a lot and sleeps a lot, yet is healthy, looks fit and lives in a tidy and organized home, and is more patient I’d like to be her.

H: I think that’s a character in a Nora Roberts book somewhere. Not that I would read those books or anything. I read things like War and Peace. Often. In fact, I’m reading War and Peace while I’m interviewing you.

BFA: I’ve notice that, and I think it’s rude to be reading and interviewing at the same time…though I do admire your ability to multitask.

H: Next, I plan on reading Moby Dick. P and I have formed a book club.

BFA: Easy trigger…or I’ll hunt you down like a white whale too.

H: So angry…we’ll move on to the last question. What is one seven letter word that describes you?

BFA: Your “one 7 letter word” rules can’t contain me! I guess I’ll go with… SoSassy.

H: I think that sums up this entire experience, don’t you think?

BFA: I never promised to not be sassy or make up words.

H: I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. Thanks for joining us BFA!

cue belly rub

2009-06-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

My roommates Jason and Randi and I made these for dinner. And everyone (really, everyone) loved them...spicy, and gingery, and garlicky...yum. I wish there were leftovers for lunch. However, we devoured them, and then went to get ice cream because our mouths were hot from ribs and proceeded to devour THAT. Ugh. It was a night of delicious excess.

Tonight: Randi's stuffed peppers!

I love my roommates. :-)

ikea love

2009-06-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

I love Ikea.

A lot.

So, of course, I follow the Ikea Hacker blog (located to your right on my sidebar), where people do amazing things with Ikea products. I just submitted something I made to their blog...we'll see if it comes up and I become momentarily famous!

To see what I made, check out the Design Team blog.

*Ikea love photo courtesy of Jane

want/need

2009-06-03T10:55:00.000-07:00

This. Is. AWESOME.

something to remember

2009-06-03T09:20:00.001-07:00

I think we can all agree that we are not the best wife (or husband for the 1.2 males in my audience who may be married) we could be. For me, that is especially true. I have a lot of stuff (emotionally or otherwise, I guess) that makes living with me either a) super awesome b) tolerable and c) worst experience ever. Some of the stuff is depression-related, some of it is my own issues. I'd like to think my delightful qualities greatly outweigh the negative, but we all think that, and we can't ALL be right, right? Anyway.

I'm worried about a few things that go along with moving to a new place with no support base near by. As someone who's dealt with depression on and off in my life (some episodes triggered by circumstances, others triggered by chemical imbalance) (thanks again, Grandma Lorraine), these kind of situations unnerve me. I can, if I allow myself, to become depressed very easily. Keeping a positive mental outlook isn't a luxury for me, it's a necessity. I worry, with my depression and ability to be a totally shrew, if my marriage is going to be hurt by moving so far away. Can our relationship handle me falling victim to myself? I can dwell on these topics for a while, which puts the Living With Heather index into a code red situation.

However, I was really convicted by something Jon wrote today: God loves love, and His ability to repair it will forever exceed our ability to deserve it.

Garsh.

When thoughts like that are brought to light, my weaknesses and worries aren't so significant. I have the author of love rooting for me, and on my side. I need to recognize that more often and lean on that promise and that strength more often.

That's all for today.

P.S.--One of the radio stations in town changed their format to 70s and 80s rock. If that isn't proof there is a God out there who loves us, I don't know what is.

this land is your land, this land is my land

2009-06-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

Hello, my 3.6 readers.

I have good news, and bad news.

We are moving to a place where people are tanned, blonde, and beautiful. As we are going to a highly selective university that may or may not be located in the Silicon Valley, we know at least that we will not be surrounded by valley girls.

Like, fer sherrr.

I am happy and sad about it.

I've been at RSU for seven years (for those keeping track at home that is equivilent to the age of a second grader, or roughly 27% of my life. For me, that is a lot.

I've never lived in a state that didn't border Canada. The last time I was in California, people asked me if I was FROM Canada.

I'm excited for new opportunities, for meeting friends that I don't know about yet, and for being able to go to a park and play at any time of the year.

I'm going to miss seeing all 3.6 of you on a regular basis. But, SCU is just a mere 18 hour drive from RSU! It's like I'm still down the street! And we're on the way to Disney Land (only 6 hours away)!

I'll be posting developments as they come up, and will be redesigning the web site banner to reflect us birds migrating south for the next few years.

things i love

2009-05-19T09:10:00.000-07:00

1. I love classic rock. I love the Rolling Stones, AC/DC, ELO (don't bring me down Bruce!!) (I'm pretty sure I'm ELO's only fan), and more. It's great.

2. I like movies like American Beauty, Office Space, and When Harry Met Sally.

3. I like HBO.

4. I like Dane Cook.

This is in response to Jon's post on Christian Secular Culture Disclaimer. So, I'm coming out loud and proud and stating how awesome the aforementioned items are. Please check it out and feel free to post your secret-secular likes.

I mean, God talked to a guy in a burning bush. I didn't expect to see Him in Office Space, but there he was, challenging me to be a better employee. Or something.

cool beans

2009-05-15T10:46:00.001-07:00

I think I want to be more like Ryan.

He's intentional. And spiritual. And loves his family. And he's a good cook. I do some of those things, but I could do all of them better. And Ryan is like that too.

Does anyone ELSE want shrimp, like, every moment of every day? Because I do. And this is not helping:

In many of his posts, I feel like he's saying what I'm thinking.

Exhibit A.

I encourage you to check him out. And let me know if you dig him too.

P.S.--to my 2.6 readers, I'm fresh out of writing recently, hence the last few posts (or lack of the last few posts). We're going through a bit of an uncertain time, and that's what is taking most of my brain space.

almost famous?

2009-05-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

Please to note the names of those fabulous modelquins!

It must be in a future when I have time and motivation to get fit! Birdy and I look so nice and pale!

true confessions

2009-05-05T09:17:00.001-07:00

To hear more about my scrapbooking shame, please click yourself over to the Design Team blog.

And please don't judge.

Please?

Thanks.

:-)

2009-04-29T08:20:00.000-07:00

I think I'm pretty lucky.

There are a lot of people out there who make my life better because I know them (if you are thinking, "does she mean me?", I do. Really). Some people I don't know as much as I would like.

Angela, you are one of those people.

My good pal Anita (and currently my longest-time-known friend at RSU) introduced me to Angela by way of Ladies' Craft Night, hosted at the church we all attend. As someone who is slightly (okay, more than I would like to admit) agoraphobic, this is/was the best way for me to meet people. I'm not one to stand around and chat before and after church. The "meet your neighbor and shake their hand" part of church makes me sweat, and I try to look nonchalant when really I want to just sit down and take part of church in a more anonymous fashion. Like, a lot of anonymous. As in, I think I'll just listen to the podcast of the sermon in my house. In my pajamas. Eating pancakes. With no one but Brandon and Birdy (who would undoubtedly eat ALL the pancakes. Piggy).

But this is getting a little off the subject. Let's get back to Angela.

Angela is awesome, and from what I've known about her so far, she is incredibly genuine, a devoted mom, and insanely creative. I like that. I want to BE that, you know? After the boo-hoo posts last night due to The Biggest Loser, she sent me a link for Cathy Zielsky's blog, who also happened to catch an episode of TBL. It was a good post. It was funny. It made me read more of her blog. That, dear internets, isn't good. Don't other bloggers know to not be so interesting? Don't they know I have enough to read? Harumph.

And mostly, it was good because it showed me that someone takes interest in me. As the slight-agoraphobic person, I tend to make a career out of being somewhat invisible (or is it opaque, or transparent?) so that I'm not noticed too much.

So thanks, Angela. You rock. And, I'm looking forward to Saturday (even though there will be people there I don't know) (Eek) (I'm already getting clammy).

garsh part 2

2009-04-28T21:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, fine. FINE. I cried 7 times. That last 10 minutes killed me.