sometimes those windows of opportunity are so small. i was faced with one today that was so narrow i couldn’t squeeze my ever-expanding 148 lb frame through it.
i saw my ob-gyn today for my 12-week appointment. i was happy that i only gained one pound in nearly three weeks, so my rate of expansion is not too outrageous. and my blood pressure was good at 115/71. and the fact that i’ve made it to 12 weeks was a relief in itself.
we discussed genetic testing. having been through it before, and experiencing amniocentesis during my pregnancy with the Punkin, i thought i knew what to expect. (and i’ve read most of the series …) my doctor suggested a first trimester test with nearly identical accuracy, without the invasiveness and risks of an amniocentesis. any sign me up! unfortunately, we leave for vacation tonight and don’t return for eight days. they tried to schedule me for aforementioned first trimester test, but i was told i’ll be “too far along” by the time we return. oh well.
the amnio is scheduled. my 16-week appointment is scheduled. i paid my initial installment of my ob care and delivery payment plan. and el Jefe’ and i got to see the Peanut kick and wave. and i'm almost on vacation.
Happy Thanksgiving. see you in December!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
could this be spam?
i received this in an e-mail today:
Your flight #17 on November 23, departing Las Vegas at 2:45 am and arriving in Honolulu at 6:45 am has been changed.You are now confirmed on flight #17 on November 23, now departing Las Vegas at 1:00 am and arriving in Honolulu at 5:00 am.
the departure time (and coincidentally the arrival time) of the flight we are taking Thanksgiving morning has changed by 1:45. nearly two hours. earlier. damn good thing i was around to get my e-mail. el Jefe’ and i arrived at the airport once prior to the arrival (not departure) time of a flight … ooops, we both misread the itinerary. we didn’t care. we were on vacation, whether we were on an airplane, or sitting in the airport bar, or relaxing in a condo didn’t matter. we ended up getting a later flight, and then the rental car counter was closed, so we took a shuttle to the nearest hotel, rented a hot tub suite, and started our vacation as planned, just a day late. somehow, traveling with the Punkin, i just can’t fathom the same reaction.
i’ll be anal and call and confirm the time change with a real live person. wish me luck.
Your flight #17 on November 23, departing Las Vegas at 2:45 am and arriving in Honolulu at 6:45 am has been changed.You are now confirmed on flight #17 on November 23, now departing Las Vegas at 1:00 am and arriving in Honolulu at 5:00 am.
the departure time (and coincidentally the arrival time) of the flight we are taking Thanksgiving morning has changed by 1:45. nearly two hours. earlier. damn good thing i was around to get my e-mail. el Jefe’ and i arrived at the airport once prior to the arrival (not departure) time of a flight … ooops, we both misread the itinerary. we didn’t care. we were on vacation, whether we were on an airplane, or sitting in the airport bar, or relaxing in a condo didn’t matter. we ended up getting a later flight, and then the rental car counter was closed, so we took a shuttle to the nearest hotel, rented a hot tub suite, and started our vacation as planned, just a day late. somehow, traveling with the Punkin, i just can’t fathom the same reaction.
i’ll be anal and call and confirm the time change with a real live person. wish me luck.
Monday, November 20, 2006
erin go bleccchh
What food(s) do you love that other people think you are crazy for eating?
this is such a difficult topic. first off, i’m twelve-weeks pregnant. in between periodic gagging and perpetual nausea, my cravings change every couple of days. nothing exotic; nothing like the proverbial pickles and ice cream. the latest craving was cottage cheese, which el Jefe’ thinks i’m crazy for eating, but i don’t think that counts. it’s so mainstream …
then, although i’m new to the whole blogging thing, several pros (who actually make money off their blogs?!?) have plugged Maggie’s book “No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog”. i broke the rule in this post, but maybe it didn’t count because i described dinner from the hotel gift shop, not lunch. anyway, i am struggling to ignore the voices in my head: “it’s an assignment – stretch your wings!” and “you're doing it wrong!”
my early gastronomic experiences were of course shaped by my parents. my mom grew up on a farm in southern Indiana. her cooking tends toward the bland side, a side effect from an Irish background. i can say that thanks to my mom, i can stuff a mean turkey and can stomach the giblets. i like the gizzard and the heart, but it is tolerance and preference (gizzard beats liver) and nothing close to LOVE. my dad is a “meat and potatoes” kind of guy and my mom catered to his wishes. i think he ate a Quarter-pounder with cheese, fries, and an orange drink five days a week, nearly fifty weeks a year, for over a decade. could this be a clue where my OCD tendencies come from?
when you combine the aforementioned genetic traits with a third fact, it equates to my least favorite meal. i was born on St. Patrick’s Day. while most kids dream of picking their birthday meal, (pizza! hamburgers! spaghetti!) allowing that cookies and ice cream are not acceptable main courses, my wishes were ignored for sake of heritage and tradition. until my first year of college, i was subjected to corned beef and cabbage at nearly every birthday dinner. stringy, fatty beef; stinky, slimy cabbage; and fortunately, salty boiled potatoes. year after year after year. in the decades since, i have to admit i’ve probably eaten the dreaded corned beef and cabbage on an occasion or two, but it is forbidden in my own kitchen and i have never, ever selected it off a menu. it was probably at my in-laws, or my parents’ home, i was possessed by guilt, and it was most definitely not on my birthday.
on March 17th, my favorites could be oysters or spinach or snails, as long as it’s not corned beef and cabbage. and my folks still shake their heads, wondering if i’m crazy, wondering where they went wrong.
this is such a difficult topic. first off, i’m twelve-weeks pregnant. in between periodic gagging and perpetual nausea, my cravings change every couple of days. nothing exotic; nothing like the proverbial pickles and ice cream. the latest craving was cottage cheese, which el Jefe’ thinks i’m crazy for eating, but i don’t think that counts. it’s so mainstream …
then, although i’m new to the whole blogging thing, several pros (who actually make money off their blogs?!?) have plugged Maggie’s book “No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog”. i broke the rule in this post, but maybe it didn’t count because i described dinner from the hotel gift shop, not lunch. anyway, i am struggling to ignore the voices in my head: “it’s an assignment – stretch your wings!” and “you're doing it wrong!”
my early gastronomic experiences were of course shaped by my parents. my mom grew up on a farm in southern Indiana. her cooking tends toward the bland side, a side effect from an Irish background. i can say that thanks to my mom, i can stuff a mean turkey and can stomach the giblets. i like the gizzard and the heart, but it is tolerance and preference (gizzard beats liver) and nothing close to LOVE. my dad is a “meat and potatoes” kind of guy and my mom catered to his wishes. i think he ate a Quarter-pounder with cheese, fries, and an orange drink five days a week, nearly fifty weeks a year, for over a decade. could this be a clue where my OCD tendencies come from?
when you combine the aforementioned genetic traits with a third fact, it equates to my least favorite meal. i was born on St. Patrick’s Day. while most kids dream of picking their birthday meal, (pizza! hamburgers! spaghetti!) allowing that cookies and ice cream are not acceptable main courses, my wishes were ignored for sake of heritage and tradition. until my first year of college, i was subjected to corned beef and cabbage at nearly every birthday dinner. stringy, fatty beef; stinky, slimy cabbage; and fortunately, salty boiled potatoes. year after year after year. in the decades since, i have to admit i’ve probably eaten the dreaded corned beef and cabbage on an occasion or two, but it is forbidden in my own kitchen and i have never, ever selected it off a menu. it was probably at my in-laws, or my parents’ home, i was possessed by guilt, and it was most definitely not on my birthday.
on March 17th, my favorites could be oysters or spinach or snails, as long as it’s not corned beef and cabbage. and my folks still shake their heads, wondering if i’m crazy, wondering where they went wrong.
Friday, November 17, 2006
have you a Zans for cans?
“at our house we open cans. we have to open many cans. and that is why we have a Zans.”
my office held a non-perishable food drive as our traditional Thanksgiving charitable event. i often remind folks to go beyond cans. they weigh so much, and i wonder how folks at the food bank deal with a lack of can openers. sure, now several manufacturers have gone to the pull-tab style, but that is mainly for name brands that can be over-priced. i always donate canned fruits and vegetables, but i augment the selection with crackers, pasta, rice, and powdered milk. this year i included several jars of baby food. although i made Punkin’s baby food, we always had a couple jars on hand for traveling.
we’re getting ready to travel next week, i’m wondering what to bring on the plane. Punkin is way beyond baby food, but he still eats primarily unprocessed food at home. he eats what we eat at dinnertime, but i’m still stuck in the rut of a fruit and vegetable from the frozen stash or freshly prepared. i know Gerber makes jarred finger foods (like green beans), and i know we can probably throw a few of our Gladware containers in the diaper bag. i know it’s an overnight flight and he’ll most likely be sleeping, but we’re going to Hawaii. i have this fear that when we get there everything will be closed for the Thanksgiving Holiday. maybe i should pack a can opener in the diaper bag, too.
i’m sure this is my OCD kicking in. i’m sure el Jefe’ has not given this a thought, or more importantly, a worry. but these are the things that rattle around in my head. my mom had surgery, and she’s doing okay, so i obviously have to find something else to worry about.
thanks, Dr. Seuss.
“have you a Zans for cans? you should.”
my office held a non-perishable food drive as our traditional Thanksgiving charitable event. i often remind folks to go beyond cans. they weigh so much, and i wonder how folks at the food bank deal with a lack of can openers. sure, now several manufacturers have gone to the pull-tab style, but that is mainly for name brands that can be over-priced. i always donate canned fruits and vegetables, but i augment the selection with crackers, pasta, rice, and powdered milk. this year i included several jars of baby food. although i made Punkin’s baby food, we always had a couple jars on hand for traveling.
we’re getting ready to travel next week, i’m wondering what to bring on the plane. Punkin is way beyond baby food, but he still eats primarily unprocessed food at home. he eats what we eat at dinnertime, but i’m still stuck in the rut of a fruit and vegetable from the frozen stash or freshly prepared. i know Gerber makes jarred finger foods (like green beans), and i know we can probably throw a few of our Gladware containers in the diaper bag. i know it’s an overnight flight and he’ll most likely be sleeping, but we’re going to Hawaii. i have this fear that when we get there everything will be closed for the Thanksgiving Holiday. maybe i should pack a can opener in the diaper bag, too.
i’m sure this is my OCD kicking in. i’m sure el Jefe’ has not given this a thought, or more importantly, a worry. but these are the things that rattle around in my head. my mom had surgery, and she’s doing okay, so i obviously have to find something else to worry about.
thanks, Dr. Seuss.
“have you a Zans for cans? you should.”
Thursday, November 16, 2006
the worry and the wait
my mom is in the hospital. she went in via the emergency room last night. i was unaware she was having problems, which is typical of my parents. instead of “no news is good news” they often abide by the philosophy “if they don’t know, they won’t worry.” when i finally spoke to my dad last night, the indications were she has an obstructed bowel and has been suffering since Tuesday.
today there were several phone calls back and forth. my mom didn’t have a room, but i was able to speak to her. my dad had their cell phone, and somehow lost his car keys at the hospital. my mom is 71; my dad just turned 82. they are in relatively good shape, but when normal tasks become difficult i am the first to blame their ages.
the latest diagnosis is an incarcerated hernia. as of 1:00 pm, she was scheduled for “emergency” surgery at 5:00 pm. hmph on the “emergency” adjective. my disappointment and sarcasm should be obvious. i’m not debilitated with worry because i’ve kept busy and occupied, but my grandfather, my mom’s father, died of a hernia when he was in his 60’s.
Hap Jack, my grandpa, developed his hernia after falling out of a tree. his doctor in rural Indiana diagnosed his pain as indigestion and recommended a laxative. Hap Jack’s hernia ruptured, and he died. i was five or six years old at the time.
i tell myself my mom has infinitely better care. but i’m creeped out by the fact i took pictures of the Punkin with my parents at dinner on Sunday. although i regularly toss the camera in his diaper bag, i made a specific effort to take pictures of them together. i just hope i can take more (and better ones) of them together at a later date.
today there were several phone calls back and forth. my mom didn’t have a room, but i was able to speak to her. my dad had their cell phone, and somehow lost his car keys at the hospital. my mom is 71; my dad just turned 82. they are in relatively good shape, but when normal tasks become difficult i am the first to blame their ages.
the latest diagnosis is an incarcerated hernia. as of 1:00 pm, she was scheduled for “emergency” surgery at 5:00 pm. hmph on the “emergency” adjective. my disappointment and sarcasm should be obvious. i’m not debilitated with worry because i’ve kept busy and occupied, but my grandfather, my mom’s father, died of a hernia when he was in his 60’s.
Hap Jack, my grandpa, developed his hernia after falling out of a tree. his doctor in rural Indiana diagnosed his pain as indigestion and recommended a laxative. Hap Jack’s hernia ruptured, and he died. i was five or six years old at the time.
i tell myself my mom has infinitely better care. but i’m creeped out by the fact i took pictures of the Punkin with my parents at dinner on Sunday. although i regularly toss the camera in his diaper bag, i made a specific effort to take pictures of them together. i just hope i can take more (and better ones) of them together at a later date.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
lowering the bar
once i became a mom, i learned very quickly (during those 17 hours in labor and delivery) to lower my expectations. it should be the mantra of the “What to Expect” series, but maybe they wouldn’t sell many books with the slogan “Expect Less”. it’s sort of a survival skill that i’ve applied universally throughout my life, perhaps out of convenience, but maybe more out of necessity to maintain sanity.
lowering your expectations increases your opportunity for success. no kidding.
i felt like shit the entire day today. my pillow was damp from my tearing left eye when i got up this morning. my nose is raw from tissues. my lips are chapped from mouth breathing. yet i made it through the workday as a productive individual. that was a success.
i participated in an hour-long conference call, and stayed alert enough to hit the mute button every time i blew my nose. i contributed. that was a success.
i reviewed a report (partially), but i am making progress. that was a success.
i scheduled and participated in a project review. although this is one of my responsibilities, it requires buy-in and participation from project managers. something about the proverbial “greased pig”? or maybe, i’ve just become accustomed to being ignored. anyway, a relatively inexperienced project manager, a new project, a new business group leader, and we held a successful review in the allocated hour. that was a success.
lowering your expectations increases your opportunity for success. no kidding.
i felt like shit the entire day today. my pillow was damp from my tearing left eye when i got up this morning. my nose is raw from tissues. my lips are chapped from mouth breathing. yet i made it through the workday as a productive individual. that was a success.
i participated in an hour-long conference call, and stayed alert enough to hit the mute button every time i blew my nose. i contributed. that was a success.
i reviewed a report (partially), but i am making progress. that was a success.
i scheduled and participated in a project review. although this is one of my responsibilities, it requires buy-in and participation from project managers. something about the proverbial “greased pig”? or maybe, i’ve just become accustomed to being ignored. anyway, a relatively inexperienced project manager, a new project, a new business group leader, and we held a successful review in the allocated hour. that was a success.
i beta-tested a new software application. the only instructions provided were installation instructions. i navigated around it slowly (uh, fits and starts as they say?) but i did not completely crash the system, and i had some valuable input in terms of bugs. That was a success.
i can’t say it was a perfect day by any means, but looking back, it appears as though i’ve accomplished something. and something’s better than nothing. a lot better.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
phlegm family
Punkin has pink eye ... again.
that was the start of our day, and i was livid mad. breakfast wasn't a success, either. and then there were the eye drops.
he had a 10:20 am appointment for a flu shot. i left work, picked him up from day care, and was informed he shouldn't come back with pink eye until tomorrow. "well, i wonder where he got it from?" loudly, and full of sarcasm. still, we made it to the doctor's office with five minutes to spare. not that it mattered; we waited 45 minutes for a two second shot (prepaid $25, i might add). i had to go back to work to retrieve work to do from home. by the time we got home, it was an hour and a half past his normal lunch time.
he survived.
we survived.
i have succumbed to the cold el Jefe' has been harboring for days.
that was the start of our day, and i was livid mad. breakfast wasn't a success, either. and then there were the eye drops.
he had a 10:20 am appointment for a flu shot. i left work, picked him up from day care, and was informed he shouldn't come back with pink eye until tomorrow. "well, i wonder where he got it from?" loudly, and full of sarcasm. still, we made it to the doctor's office with five minutes to spare. not that it mattered; we waited 45 minutes for a two second shot (prepaid $25, i might add). i had to go back to work to retrieve work to do from home. by the time we got home, it was an hour and a half past his normal lunch time.
he survived.
we survived.
i have succumbed to the cold el Jefe' has been harboring for days.
Monday, November 13, 2006
the Clampett family salon redux
i had several motivations to cut my hair. the first of which, it had been over 13 months since my previous hair cut. i had a coupon for a $6.99 hair cut. (good God, i’m cheap.) Friday also marked the last day of outdoor (sand) volleyball season; it was a make-up game from a rain-out, after which a pony tail wouldn’t seem such a necessity. and i had just enough hair to donate a 10-inch pony tail to Locks of Love.Locks of Love is a non-profit organization that creates hair prostheses (wigs) for financially disadvantaged kids under the age of 18 who suffer from long term medical hair loss.
the coupon expired on Friday. we are in a round robin volleyball tournament next Friday to battle it out with two other teams tied for first place. but on Saturday, i said, “when.” (refer to one of my favorite movies, “Regarding Henry”.)
el Jefe’ was in charge of the scissors and measuring the pony tail to ensure i was donating the minimum 10 inches. he measured it twice, and cut it off in several strokes. then i went to Great Clips to finish off the “styling” process. the stylist was rather confused by my instructions of “i don’t want bangs, you can layer it, i just want some sort of style and shape. i don’t own a hair dryer or curling iron, so it will need to air dry.” i explained that my husband cut off my pony tail. eventually, the light bulb lit; she understood i was donating the pony tail, and her task was to “fix” my hair. she commented more than once what a great job el Jefe’ did, he cut a “cute little shelf” in the back, and she would use the length as a guide to the rest of my hairstyle. although el Jefe’s time was minimal, i am proud to say he is truly a stylist at the Klampett Family Salon. (see profile. i'm having trouble with multiple images, and frankly one photo of me is more than enough.)
Friday, November 10, 2006
my favorite Mercury
these nice folks were kind enough to include me on their blog roll, so i’ve decided to pay back the favor and participate in Carnival No. 7. hell, someone might even read my blog. what a novel concept.as i get into the subject, i need to reveal a little about my past. i have an ex-husband. i made reference to the fact in this post, but i don’t typically spend time, or words, or energy on that marriage that began nearly 20 years ago (argh!) and lasted for six and a half years. in those six and a half years, i personally had loans for SIX different cars.
it started with a 5.0 liter Ford Mustang. the Mustang was replaced by a Toyota Celica GT because a 5.0 liter V-8 rear-wheel drive vehicle doesn’t handle well in Midwestern snow and ice (he was concerned about my safety, huh.). the Celica was replaced by a Mercury Merkur which i have to admit was our “dream car”. by this time, the ex was getting ready to graduate from college, and was convinced he would need something four-wheel drive for commuting 35 miles from our college town to the big city, so i went out and got a loan for a new Suzuki SideKick. if you do the math, i had one job, two car loans, and a husband yet to employed. he eventually got a job, in our college town, with my employer … we even commuted together for two years. thank God we had two new vehicles! eventually we moved away from the college town; i got a job in the big city, and the SideKick came in handy for the ex to commute (before he was an ex). the Merkur was within less than a hand-full of months of being paid-off, when the ex decided we really had to become completely suburban, and trade it in for a Ford Taurus SHO. i was embarrassed. it was a very fast car with a manual transmission, but for crying out loud it was a four-door sedan and we were in our late twenties!
maybe the constant influx of new cars was representative of a marriage constantly in flux. we were always lured by the bigger, better, stronger, faster, and the title was always out-of-reach. we agreed to a divorce, and a division of assets (no, property. we didn’t have any assets.) he said i should have the Taurus because i made more money (and the SideKick was closer to being paid-off. how convenient for him). i didn’t want the damn car, so i traded it for a used Mercury Capri. easily half the car. another metaphor, while i’m at it. yes, i got half in the divorce settlement. i got half of the debt. in addition to $10,000 in credit card bills and very little to show for them, i ended up with an additional $10,000 loan for the car but i didn’t care. it was used, it was a convertible, and yes, it was a perfect little divorcee’ car. that car got me through 18 inches of snow, two blizzards, and a major flood. it took me half-way across the country several times, and was with me when i relocated from the Midwest, worked six months on a Task Force assignment in Utah, and eventually when i moved to the desert Southwest. i paid off that car, and gladly stood in line at the DMV twice so i could have the title changed to my maiden name.
so the favorite car i’ve ever had was that Mercury Capri. it represented the first of many changes in my life of which i am proud. i became independent. i became practical. i became financially secure. i eventually became a wife again, and after six and a half years of a successful marriage, i became a mother (of a child, not an ex-husband).
P.S. when the Capri died, i donated it to charity. i now drive Volkswagen Jetta (manual transmission, but a four-door sedan for the relative ease of a car seat). i paid for it out-right.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Punkin with pumpkins
i'm having a bad work outside the home day. i have been pissed off by the projects i am working on, the project managers i am working with, the clients i am working for, and the responsibilities and assignments that i have.
this is my screensaver. and it makes me smile.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
at least they aren't known for efficiency
i heard el Jefe’ rustling around upstairs last night, specifically in the metal filing cabinet in the closet (drawers labeled “shit”, “more shit”, “legal shit” and “misc. shit”). my hearing is annoyingly good, which explains why i am a light sleeper, but not why i can’t get back to sleep. i digress. when asked what he was doing (when el Jefe’ was in the same room so we weren’t shouting across the house and so we wouldn’t wake the Punkin), he responded quite honestly that he was gathering old application information in order to apply for a promotion. no surprise. he works for the State. folks retire when they’re in the prime of their lives (bastards!) and then go have second careers and double-dip because they have pensions (bastards!). the retirement domino effect started in April this year and by about August it appeared the dominos could tumble in el Jefe’s path.
this promotion could require relocation. i gave el Jefe’ the go ahead months ago (but before i found a Peanut, so to speak). my company has an office within commuting distance. i could transfer. at the time, it sounded like a new and exciting change. but today, it sounds like a new and scary change.
i worry about Punkin’s daycare. i worry about leaving my very few friends, including Punkin’s godmother, the only baby sitter he has ever had (three times, i think). i worry about selling our house. i worry about my parents who currently live 10 miles from me, even though they don’t help me one iota, i guess i need to be close in case they need my help. i worry about living near a small airport, where it will cost a minimum of $400 to fly anywhere because it is a small airport. i worry that this will happen quickly and i’ll have to find new doctors and a new hospital. and i worry that i cannot voice these worries to el Jefe’ for fear that he will sacrifice a chance at advancement because i worry too much.
in the words and spirit of my good-natured, happy, laid-back husband: “We’ll see.”
this promotion could require relocation. i gave el Jefe’ the go ahead months ago (but before i found a Peanut, so to speak). my company has an office within commuting distance. i could transfer. at the time, it sounded like a new and exciting change. but today, it sounds like a new and scary change.
i worry about Punkin’s daycare. i worry about leaving my very few friends, including Punkin’s godmother, the only baby sitter he has ever had (three times, i think). i worry about selling our house. i worry about my parents who currently live 10 miles from me, even though they don’t help me one iota, i guess i need to be close in case they need my help. i worry about living near a small airport, where it will cost a minimum of $400 to fly anywhere because it is a small airport. i worry that this will happen quickly and i’ll have to find new doctors and a new hospital. and i worry that i cannot voice these worries to el Jefe’ for fear that he will sacrifice a chance at advancement because i worry too much.
in the words and spirit of my good-natured, happy, laid-back husband: “We’ll see.”
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
foiled by a common printer
print this screen as a record of your order.
so i follow directions. and i’m a little paranoid about ordering things on-line. like the time i ordered underwear (panties) from Victoria’s Secret. i took advantage of a 5 for $25 sale with free shipping and ordered 10 pairs. i received a split shipment that totaled 9 pairs. bummer. one pair was back-ordered, and an actual human scribbled illegibly on the shipment ticket, so i feel as though i don’t have legitimate proof that i got shafted out of a pair of underwear. i’ve given up hope.
i ordered a couple items from JC Penney yesterday (on sale again, with free shipping). maternity items. a pair of petite jeans, a dirt cheap pair of capris, and a couple shirts. each and every item was clearly labeled as a maternity item. and a very nice, male, newbie engineer in my department beat me to the printer. not hard to do; it’s approximately six cubes away. he saw it. he read it.
uh-oh.
so i follow directions. and i’m a little paranoid about ordering things on-line. like the time i ordered underwear (panties) from Victoria’s Secret. i took advantage of a 5 for $25 sale with free shipping and ordered 10 pairs. i received a split shipment that totaled 9 pairs. bummer. one pair was back-ordered, and an actual human scribbled illegibly on the shipment ticket, so i feel as though i don’t have legitimate proof that i got shafted out of a pair of underwear. i’ve given up hope.
i ordered a couple items from JC Penney yesterday (on sale again, with free shipping). maternity items. a pair of petite jeans, a dirt cheap pair of capris, and a couple shirts. each and every item was clearly labeled as a maternity item. and a very nice, male, newbie engineer in my department beat me to the printer. not hard to do; it’s approximately six cubes away. he saw it. he read it.
uh-oh.
Monday, November 06, 2006
A is for aardvark
Punkin is truly a toddler. in the past month, one of his favorite requests has become “Again.” i had read about this desire for repetition, but it honestly snuck up on me. during a diaper change the day he turned 21-months-old, i sang “Happy Birthday” to him. (it really was “Happy Year and Nine Months Birthday” and “Happy One and ¾ Birthday”) i sang both versions several times because as soon as i finished, he asked, “Again?”
this weekend, el Jefe’ read/sang the “I’m a Little Teapot” book no less than three times in one day. i was blessed with “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” twice in one sitting. whereas i can recite the Dr. Seuss “ABC Book” in my sleep, i don’t quite have “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” completely committed to memory (ingrained in my skull). and twice, el Jefe’ took the Punkin through his “A is for Apple” slide book.
Punkin has quite the vocabulary, although he occasionally mispronounces words. he used to ask for his woobie as “Ah-yee” but now he calls it his woobie. he used to know the word for spoon, but lately he has reverted to something closer to a form of balloon. he has words for octopus (“Oct-ee-pah”) and bicycle (“By-clah”). he really does very well at the beginning and end of the “A is for Apple” book. according to the book, “F” is for fox. twice, very clearly, Punkin said “F” is for fuck (pronounced “Fock” in Punkin language). i laughed until tears streamed down my face.
in honor of the letter “F”, these are just a couple of my selections from the Politically Incorrect Alphabet. you’ll have to check out what Mark Jones has chosen for the letter “F”.
"A" is for Arab, "B" is for Beer , "C" is for Cigarettes
this weekend, el Jefe’ read/sang the “I’m a Little Teapot” book no less than three times in one day. i was blessed with “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” twice in one sitting. whereas i can recite the Dr. Seuss “ABC Book” in my sleep, i don’t quite have “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” completely committed to memory (ingrained in my skull). and twice, el Jefe’ took the Punkin through his “A is for Apple” slide book.
Punkin has quite the vocabulary, although he occasionally mispronounces words. he used to ask for his woobie as “Ah-yee” but now he calls it his woobie. he used to know the word for spoon, but lately he has reverted to something closer to a form of balloon. he has words for octopus (“Oct-ee-pah”) and bicycle (“By-clah”). he really does very well at the beginning and end of the “A is for Apple” book. according to the book, “F” is for fox. twice, very clearly, Punkin said “F” is for fuck (pronounced “Fock” in Punkin language). i laughed until tears streamed down my face.
in honor of the letter “F”, these are just a couple of my selections from the Politically Incorrect Alphabet. you’ll have to check out what Mark Jones has chosen for the letter “F”.
"A" is for Arab, "B" is for Beer , "C" is for Cigarettes
Friday, November 03, 2006
vertically challenged
i’m 5’-5”. i used to say 5’-5 and ¾” because i was oh-so-close to being 5’-6”, but my posture isn’t stellar, and i’ve had two back surgeries, and achieving 5’-6” just isn’t in the realm of possibility anymore. i own two pairs of shoes with heals; they’re dress shoes, and as such they are worn only once or twice a year.
according to my inexact survey of women’s fashions (remember, i was born without the shopping gene) i am a midget.
last Sunday, i was determined to purchase a new pair of jeans. i had wandered through Target previously on more than one occasion in the past couple weeks, and it was apparent that my favorite store could not fulfill my dream. maternity, or just a size or two bigger than normal, every pair was just too long. by several inches. so i ventured to a local department store with reasonable prices and a petites section, armed with a 15% off coupon and lured by a “lowest prices of the season” advertisement. i selected four different pairs of jeans from the petites section, and two from maternity. size choices in the petites section were minimal, and in my current overweight state, nothing was even remotely acceptable, and i couldn’t go up a size because it wasn’t available. i normally wear a 6, or in a 30x30 in men’s. 8’s didn’t work, and 14’s were my next available option. maternity mediums were roomy in the waist (fortunately) but extremely too long. 3” stilettos would still require inches of hemming, and then i still would risk falling on my face regularly. i wandered to the women’s section, where they featured two store-brand styles that come in three different lengths: tall, average, and short.
i purchased a size 10 short. with the sale and discount coupon, they ended up being less than $15 (before tax). even in my growing state, i’ll get a couple weeks of wear out of them. all that said, they are still too long. ok, i’m wearing tennis shoes, but they’re dragging. i’ll only get a couple weeks of wear out of them because the backs will be trashed. short equals a 30” inseam. i measured them this morning (i am such an engineer.)
how can a woman who is 5’-5” be shorter than short?
according to my inexact survey of women’s fashions (remember, i was born without the shopping gene) i am a midget.
last Sunday, i was determined to purchase a new pair of jeans. i had wandered through Target previously on more than one occasion in the past couple weeks, and it was apparent that my favorite store could not fulfill my dream. maternity, or just a size or two bigger than normal, every pair was just too long. by several inches. so i ventured to a local department store with reasonable prices and a petites section, armed with a 15% off coupon and lured by a “lowest prices of the season” advertisement. i selected four different pairs of jeans from the petites section, and two from maternity. size choices in the petites section were minimal, and in my current overweight state, nothing was even remotely acceptable, and i couldn’t go up a size because it wasn’t available. i normally wear a 6, or in a 30x30 in men’s. 8’s didn’t work, and 14’s were my next available option. maternity mediums were roomy in the waist (fortunately) but extremely too long. 3” stilettos would still require inches of hemming, and then i still would risk falling on my face regularly. i wandered to the women’s section, where they featured two store-brand styles that come in three different lengths: tall, average, and short.
i purchased a size 10 short. with the sale and discount coupon, they ended up being less than $15 (before tax). even in my growing state, i’ll get a couple weeks of wear out of them. all that said, they are still too long. ok, i’m wearing tennis shoes, but they’re dragging. i’ll only get a couple weeks of wear out of them because the backs will be trashed. short equals a 30” inseam. i measured them this morning (i am such an engineer.)
how can a woman who is 5’-5” be shorter than short?
Thursday, November 02, 2006
found a Peanut
i met my new ob-gyn today. (and saw the Peanut via transvaginal ultrasound!) i totally did not expect the ultrasound … my previous doctor farmed that out. i told el Jefe’ not to bother accompanying me to the appointment; all i was expecting was a lot of paperwork and an exam. i filled out releases and medical histories for 35 minutes, and waited another 20. stepped on the scale (ugh! 147!), stuck out my arm for the blood pressure cuff (100/70), and peed in a cup. and then i met my new doctor, in his office, with my clothes on.
granted, i haven’t had a new ob-gyn in several years, but this surprised me. it was kind of nice to be treated professionally, without my big(ger) ass hanging out in the cold from the confines of a paper gown. at the end of the consultation, he asked if i came to the appointment alone … prelude to the first photo opportunity.
i’ve got so many risks it’s mind boggling. but i’ve got a Peanut, and only one Peanut, and it has a heart beat.
granted, i haven’t had a new ob-gyn in several years, but this surprised me. it was kind of nice to be treated professionally, without my big(ger) ass hanging out in the cold from the confines of a paper gown. at the end of the consultation, he asked if i came to the appointment alone … prelude to the first photo opportunity.
i’ve got so many risks it’s mind boggling. but i’ve got a Peanut, and only one Peanut, and it has a heart beat.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
yet another club that won't have me as a member
it’s National Blog Posting Month!
as much as i’d love to participate, and i so appreciate the challenge, i cannot commit. the idea is great, the participants are numerous, and the prizes are enticing. i would even try to find a way to post on weekends. El Jefe’ is still unaware on this baby blog in its infancy, but i would risk his discovery. i’d get up early or stay up late, and if that didn’t work, i’d make up an excuse or (heaven forbid!) fess up. i haven’t shared this with him partly because he just doesn’t get the blog concept. i love him, anyway.
so i cannot blame el Jefe’ for my failure to registering to NaBloPoMo. i cannot blame the plethora of social obligations clogging my calendar (alas, they are few and far between). i cannot blame my regimented schedule of weekend chores. no, my excuse is a good thing: we are going on vacation!
it has been planned for a couple months. we have reservations. we purchased tickets (including full-price airfare for the Punkin … ouch!) we are spending a week on the lovely island of Kauai starting Thanksgiving Day. we are staying in a timeshare, although we own a home there. the house is an investment; a long-term rental. it was part of the five-year-plan to chuck it all here and relocate … but that was nearly four years ago, two years pre-Punkin. the five-year-plan has been extended or postponed indefinitely, but that just means the goal still exists, we are just unsure of the timing. so the house is a tax write-off, and has not quite reached money pit status (yet).
arriving in paradise on Thanksgiving Day is a bit of an unknown. there certainly is potential for adventure! there is some guilt associated with disappointing my parents, not sharing a turkey and way too many side dishes, but it isn’t the first time we played hooky on Thanksgiving. and we’re staying in a timeshare, which means we’ll be inundated with requests for a tour of the property, and we’d rather have root canals than sit through a presentation. and i was just notified that i could’ve saved $120 per ticket on airfare if i had just waited. and i don’t care. we are going on vacation! it has been a long 16 months.
so i can’t participate because i don’t have a laptop, and i don’t want to be a regular in the business center. not when i’m on vacation!
as much as i’d love to participate, and i so appreciate the challenge, i cannot commit. the idea is great, the participants are numerous, and the prizes are enticing. i would even try to find a way to post on weekends. El Jefe’ is still unaware on this baby blog in its infancy, but i would risk his discovery. i’d get up early or stay up late, and if that didn’t work, i’d make up an excuse or (heaven forbid!) fess up. i haven’t shared this with him partly because he just doesn’t get the blog concept. i love him, anyway.
so i cannot blame el Jefe’ for my failure to registering to NaBloPoMo. i cannot blame the plethora of social obligations clogging my calendar (alas, they are few and far between). i cannot blame my regimented schedule of weekend chores. no, my excuse is a good thing: we are going on vacation!
it has been planned for a couple months. we have reservations. we purchased tickets (including full-price airfare for the Punkin … ouch!) we are spending a week on the lovely island of Kauai starting Thanksgiving Day. we are staying in a timeshare, although we own a home there. the house is an investment; a long-term rental. it was part of the five-year-plan to chuck it all here and relocate … but that was nearly four years ago, two years pre-Punkin. the five-year-plan has been extended or postponed indefinitely, but that just means the goal still exists, we are just unsure of the timing. so the house is a tax write-off, and has not quite reached money pit status (yet).
arriving in paradise on Thanksgiving Day is a bit of an unknown. there certainly is potential for adventure! there is some guilt associated with disappointing my parents, not sharing a turkey and way too many side dishes, but it isn’t the first time we played hooky on Thanksgiving. and we’re staying in a timeshare, which means we’ll be inundated with requests for a tour of the property, and we’d rather have root canals than sit through a presentation. and i was just notified that i could’ve saved $120 per ticket on airfare if i had just waited. and i don’t care. we are going on vacation! it has been a long 16 months.
so i can’t participate because i don’t have a laptop, and i don’t want to be a regular in the business center. not when i’m on vacation!
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