My dad's girl

 Ten years ago my dad passed away. I'm....okay, but also not. Because it's been ten years. Enough amount of time the raw overwhelming malaise has quieted, but also a lot of time to have lived with that loss with no end.    

And so, life keeps moving. You adapt. The platitudes become rote and poignant. And the first 5 years were so hard. So very, very hard. But year six, I was okay, and the last  5 years I've been able to acknowledge the significance of the date and not let it consume me. And I think that's where I am today.  So...

Hi Dad!

Thanks for all the listening

I miss you. A lot. Especially today.

And love you, always and forever. 

       

Group Costume

Since Girl 1 could partake in trick-or-treating (i.e. walk on her own because I am not carrying her throughout the neighborhood*) we have themed the Halloween costumes. So the kids don't know anything else and dr soc and I will never tell them otherwise. 

*I did not apply the same logic in 2018 and carried 3 month old Girl 2 like a fool but almost 3 year old Girl 1 still walked when we were My Little Pony

This year we were Mario World:

Rosalina, *Power-up, Peach and Luigi
*people asked if they could punch dr soc a lot and he said yes if he could punch them back

One of my favorite Halloween *group costume stories of all time is from my early 20's and I wasn't even a part of the costume.

*favorite group costume in my early 20's was the sins. Yours truly strutted around the party in lingerie* as lust and totally got the boy I wanted.

*once again: early 20's     

Anyway, favorite story: I was getting drinks with some friends who had gotten married in September (I had been a bridesmaid btw). 

Newlywed girl (dreamy sappy voice of smug newlywed): It's our first married Halloween! We have to do something together! 

Newlywed boy (enthusiastically): Let's go as a horse!

Me and everyone else: (laughs)

Newlywed girl: (purses lips, glares at all of us)

They aren't married to each other anymore 🤷

SURPRISE!

For my parents' 10 year anniversary, my dad gave my mom a pearl necklace and showed it to my sister and I beforehand and told us "don't tell mommy."

My sister just flat out snitched, "it's a necklace." 
But I did not tell. I just dropped very subtle hints. Like, "you're gonna like it!" "It's really pretty!" And the most cryptic clue of them all "you wear it here," and patted my collarbone. 

Somehow my mom figured something was up. *shrugs* 

In my defense, this was 1987 and I was five (a young one at that). And, my mom didn't know it was a pearl necklace, so she was still surprised. And then 25 years later she let me borrow that necklace for my wedding, so it all worked out.  

Now lets fast forward to 2022, and my 10 year anniversary with dr soc was coming up. As you can see from yesterday's post he got me some bling bling* and I loves it. Beforehand he enlisted girl 1's help and she took her duty incredibly serious and as enthusiastically as she could. Girl 1 is 6. 

*yes I know I'm dating myself with that vernacular term

And so, the 2022 scene played like this:   

dr soc: yeah, my (wedding) ring is a bit tight and I may get it resized, but I don't remember what size I am

6: mommy, I need a tracing of your hand. 

me: yeah I had to get remeasured when I got my (wedding) ring resized last year. 

dr soc: ah-

6: mommy, what I really need a tracing of the finger you wear your rings 

dr soc: -

me: oh okay after dinner-

6: no lets do it now, here let me get a piece of paper and a pen for you. 

--7 seconds later ---

6: here, put your hand here (points to the paper she had slapped in front of me), and trace like this (starts tracing my hand) no spread your fingers out .

dr soc: rubs the bridge of his nose

6: okay that looks good I'm just going to cut this out. 

me: that's great honey -

6: now I can always have a high five from you! 

dr soc: sigh

me: That makes perfect sense kiddo.

--- 3 minutes later ---

6: daddy! -whispers- I got it! (slips him the cutout of my hand in front of me and giggles hard core* proud of the mission accomplished)

*also dating myself with this term and I don't care  

Somehow I figured something was up. *shrugs* But hey, at least she didn't flat out snitch!   

 

 

Introducing...

Ryder!

His full name is Ryder, Sir Snuggles of Our Silly Named St, The House Sociology, First of his Name, Protector of Small Loud Humans, Sweeper of the Crumbs and All Around Good Boy.

 

Also known as our 11 month Boston Terrier/lab mix (mutt!) from the Boston Terrier Rescue Group of NC (link below).

All of us with full vocabularies got some part of what we wanted:

Girl 1 wanted another Boston: 

Boston (mix aka mutt) ✔

Dr Soc wanted a puppy:

11 months < year = puppy ✔

And I was adamant* we rescue or adopt

 * I was also adamant I would never get another puppy yet here we are so... 

I loves him! Thanks BTRNC ✔

89% of me loves him so so much

1% will always miss the girls over the rainbow bridge  

and 10% of me can't believe I got suckered into another puppy! 

Oh well! Welcome to the family Ryder!

Scar tissue

 My dad died 6 years ago today. 

I’m sad today like always, but this is the first year I think the break in my heart he left has scarred over enough and I’m going to be okay.

Yeah. I’m okay. Still miss you dad. Always love you daddy. But I’m okay. I’m okay. 

Cap and Gown

Childless-20-something-year-old me: yeah little kids are cute in those graduation caps but the gown seems a bit extra for a preschool/kindergarten graduation. But whatever, to each their (overkill) own I suppose.

Two kids 38-year-old me with her first kid graduating preschool: OMG look how fucking cute she is in that pint sized cap and gown! I'm taking a vacation day, we're going to go out for lunch after the ceremony and she gets to pick dinner that night. Maybe we should get a cake and balloons and invite the grandparents and lets do...

Kindergarten bound! One extra mom right here!

   

Irony 2.0

The irony of  Girl 1 fighting me tooth and nail on her teeth* and nails is not lost on me.

*you may recall the teeth fight of 2020. Currently that war is at a lull but her checkup in December involved crying so her upcoming June appointment I don't know.

Now that she is a mature 5 year old the irony is this: The hill my child will die on is anything health related. 

• She will not take medicine, topical or internal. 
• She will not listen to her body for the bathroom.
• She will not blow her nose despite being unable to breath due to snot blockage or a river flowing from her nose 
• Refuses band aids and screams about any blood getting on anything and everything from refusing to cover it
• When she found out she had to go to the doctor because she mentioned to daddy her ear hurt, she said "I wish I hadn't said anything."*
• *This one actually worries me because I know she had to be hurting long and hard enough for her to even mentioned it. I don't want her to be afraid to say anything, ever. 
• Going to the doctor or dentist with her requires an iron will, Olympic sized bribes that never ever work which result to physically restraining her*
• *because that doesn't traumatize her at all and won't lead directly to the aforementioned fear of her being afraid to tell me anything.*
• *and that leads me to sobbing into my drink because OMG I hate that struggle so much and I do not know what to do so I cope by drinking and sobbing and questioning my entire ability of being a mom.

Uhhh, yeah. The irony here is that my child is willing to literally die on the health hill. Yeah.      

Goodbye Bailey

My first dog Bailey crossed the Rainbow Bridge Thursday morning. 

She was almost 12 and had the best life a best friend could have had. She had a tumor in her nose and it spread to her brain or a clot paralyzed her back legs, so her wonderful family let her go and were kind enough to let me know.

I wrote Bailey this goodbye (even though she couldn't read or spell 😊) when she got her 2nd family in 2013, so here it is again for her forever goodbye. 

From the Muppets take Manhattan

Saying goodbye, going away

Seems like goodbye's such a hard thing to say.

Touching a hand paw, wondering why

It's time for saying goodbye

Saying goodbye, why is it sad?

Makes us remember the good times we've had

Much more to say, foolish to try

 It's time for saying goodbye

Don't want to leave, but we both know

Sometimes it's better to go

Somehow I know we'll meet again


Not sure quite where, and I don't know just when

You're in my heart, so until then

Wanna smile, 

Wanna cry

Saying goodbye

La la la, la la la la la

It's time for saying goodbye

Goodbye my dearest, dearest Bailey. Thank you for being my best friend the past 6 years. Thank you for your unconditional love, fierce loyalty and unwavering support. I'll never forget you and I will always miss you. I know you'll love and take care of your new family as much as you did me.  

I love you, forever. Goodbye my Bailey. Goodbye.

I took care of them Momma! Thank you for doubling my family! 

I love you too Momma. I love you too.

Goodbye Bailey. Giving you up made my heart heavy, but you lightened it by how happy you made all of us. Your family doubled in awesomeness and you made them so, so happy just by being you. Thank you for taking care of and fiercely loving us humans.   

Rest In Peace my sweet puppy.

Waiting on my Book Deal

All library workers are writing the Next Great American novel as we sit around and read all day. True fact. Now, I have no disillusions my book will be the Next Great American Novel, but I do have over-inflated sense of importance that the world needs to hear my musings so I am absolutely deserving of a book deal. For these 2 reasons:

Reason 1: I have a blog. And I started my blog at the tail end of men everyone with a blog gets a book deal. And this blog has many, many components of a book deal. Such as:

1. It is about my real life exploits and I am an extremely relatable heroine/protagonist.
2. I express my opinions in snarky hilarious ways, because I write like I talk and I make people laugh All. The. Time. rehashing the aforementioned real life exploits. Whimsical loquacious bloggers get book deals.
3. It has a built in story arc of a book deal. (broken engagement→dating→meeting dr soc→ marrying dr soc→best/worst wife ever→pregnancy→mommy)
4. The built-in story arc from my real life exploits have made whyeverythingshouldbepink several 'types' of blogs that get book deals. While mostly a 'lifestyle' blog it also a 'dating' blog, a running 'fitness' blog, a dog 'pet' blog, a bubble of tulle 'bride' blog, a  married, pregnant lady 'personal' blog, and it's currently 64% hilarious/heartwarming/jerky adventures of my children (and the stockpile of drafts to prove it) 'mommy/parenting' blog.  And mommy/parenting blogs always get a book deal. 

But like I said, I started at the tail end of the blog = book deal. By the time I had the content and story arc of a book deal, that ship had mostly sailed. Maybe. Sigh. But!

Reason 2: Twitter. I mastered the art of eloquently voicing my thoughts in 140 characters or less without using text talk like an uncultured swine. I have been (and continue to do so frequently) tweeting well before everyone with a slightly amusing/witty/prolific twitter feed also receives a book deal. Plus now that Twitter allows 280 characters and I finally figured out how to put returns in my tweets, it's like I've been writing nothing but mini novels. Maybe the Next Great American Novel even.

So. With those 2 reasons I really can't help to wonder: Where is my book deal?

Bleed Blue

My dad was an election official and our polling place was literally up the street. So I remember walking up there to bring him lunch and visit when we were kids. My dad rarely took a day off work, so that he was taking a whole work day off to do this maybe instilled in me voting is just what you do.

So you don't have to preach to me about going to vote. I will. I have. I just did. I've voted in every election I've been eligible to do so. Dad always made sure to send my sister and I absentee ballots all our college years. In fact, I think absentee ballot is the only way I voted my first few elections. As an idealistic 17 year old I registered as an Independent so I could only vote in the general election for a while there. But I'd still vote. Eventually I switched to Democrat so I could vote in the primaries, even thought I knew my blue party vote stood a snowball's chance in hell of counting in my Old Kentucky* solid red Home state.

And here it is, election day again, and I'm voting blue in a red area. The state is purplish (reddish purple really, but there is some blue in North Carolina. Some), but just over the county line more rural suburbia where I live is definitely red.     

I wonder what it's like to have a vote that counts?

Civic Duty done!** I took both girls with me because I think it's important for them to see me do so.

Principles over practicality.

*For a state that proudly claims to "bleed blue" they certainly vote red. 😣
** The sticker lady asked girl 1 if she or mommy got the*** sticker. Really? 1 sticker? You're going to break my child's heart and not offer her her own sticker? You have a whole roll! And it's not like enough people even vote in the first place and like you're going to run out?
***I let girl 1 have it when we left our polling place, but she gave it back to me when I left for work.  

10 years later

So. In 2008, that is 10, yes, 10 years ago, I started this blog with 100 things about me. 
Some things in that 100 haven't changed. Such as: 

• My favorite color is pink.
• I talk all the time unless I am exhausted or mad as hell.
• I do whatever Jeanne tells me (PS: buy her yarn!)
• I'm allergic to cats (including that mother f*cking one)
• Text talk is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Some things are in the past and therefore cannot change. Such as: 

• My appendix ruptured and had to be removed when I was 6.
• I had my belly button pierced until I was 21 when a drunk wrestling match went horribly, horribly wrong. 

Some parts of things have changed. Like: 

• In 2008: I know so much random pop culture stuff, but not as much as my friend LB. 
• In 2018: I know practically nothing pop culture unless I heard it on NPR. LB still knows more than me though so I have her explain things. Or have my (much) younger coworkers explain things to me (occasionally I get to tell them stories of my youth).  
• In 2008: I don't judge my friends. But everyone else is fair game. 
• In 2018: I don't cast my judgement net as broadly. I realized for the most part no one really knows anyone's story. So when I do judge it's typically warranted or I'm just being a bit (or lot) of an asshole.

And some things are just not the same at all. Like: 

• My dad was alive in 2008. He was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia in 2010 and up until he passed away in 2015 it changed so much. It changed my parent/child relationship with both my parents. It lead to some serious crisis's. I found courage I didn't know I had. The fights my mom and I got into. He died right before father's day and while I was pregnant with little turkey I'll never forget being there when he died, and how it it was one of the saddest and strongest moments of my life. I miss him so much and always will. 
• But the biggest most changing thing that has happened in 10 years is that I married the love of my life in 2012 and we have two children! 
• Because when I started this blog I had just broken an engagement. It HURT for a long time. It was hard. I grieved over my could have been, I vented. I cried. I was angry. I wished a lot. I wondered. I doubted. 
• BUT! Ultimately, many, many, much more wonderful things were a result of that broken engagement. Like having an epiphany. Discovering what I truly wanted in a a husband. I celebrated things. And came up with multiple, (often time) hilarious, random lists. So the day came and went and life moved on. 
• And life got better. I met dr.soc and we clicked pretty quick. He had 19 out of  21 of my husband checklist. I was so happy engaged to him and swirling around in the bubble of tulle. Sometimes I'm a great wife and other times not so much. Our marriage isn't perfect (no one's is) and there were tough times I didn't talk about here. But our marriage is good, it's strong, our anniversaries keep coming and I know I wouldn't love him the way I do if I hadn't given back that other ring.  
• AND, dr soc and I created our own family! Which changed everything. Parenting will probably be what this blog will be about more often than not. Sometimes I'm a great mommy and have instagram to prove it. Other times I'm bad mommy and phone it in. It's all about finding the balance. But now my future think is beyond my own lifetime. I'm willing to fight for things, to voice my opinion, and try to make the world a better place now for my girls. Motherhood is hard and very challenging at times, but it's also one of the most fulfilling and wonderful things in my life.  

So. Ten years later, here I am! I hope my life is just as happy in another 10 years. Thanks for reading y'all!  

High Hopes

Girl-2 is a burper. Which is perfectly normal but since Girl-1 rarely burped (she still doesn't burp much really) any burping, especially the juicy ones, we notice more. Dr soc and I (okay, more me than him) find burps hi-lar-ious, so we (okay, more me once again) have high hopes Girl-2 will one day give us a "Ben & Jerry's burp."

The backstory: Dr soc and I were on the patio of Ben & Jerry's one afternoon (either engaged or newly married) with a mom and her 2 kids, a boy and a girl. Out of nowhere, the girl (about 8) lets out this monster burp. I'm talking John-Belushi-frat-boy-dragon-roar-style burp, followed with a dainty "'s'cuse me!" I absolutely lost it, laughing so hard I couldn't stop. Dr soc was laughing too, but not nearly to my extent. The mom was mortified, but the girl was quite proud of herself judging from the smug smile she was giving her brother. From that moment on, that "Ben & Jerry's burp" was deemed the pinnacle of burps and utter hilarity.

So here's hoping one day, Girl-2 (or Girl-1, really, just one of them), gives a "Ben & Jerry burp" and I laugh as hard as I did that one afternoon!

Old Wives Tales 2.0

We're waiting until Little Lion (or Crab depending when they are born*) to find out the sex of this baby. But just like their big sister, we have to rely on the old wives tales and speculate again.
*please just stay in until mommy's birthday kiddo!

Here are the 2018 old wives tales:

1. Sleep position: Sleep on my right side = girl, Sleep on my left side = boy
• I guess my right side more, because my back arches weirdly when on my left side. And once I'm on a side it's too much effort to roll over. But I'm actually most comfortable on my back. Girl
2. Nausea: Sick as a dog = girl. Happy no nausea preggo? = boy
• Remember my Long Jacket blog? Yeah. I was still sick the first trimester but it was a  different sick than my first pregnancy. That one I would puke at dinner time without fail, but this one was far less puking. (yay!) However overall I had a gross cloud of nausea all the time. Girl
3. Food cravings: sweet cravings and citrus = girl. Salty cravings = boy 
• Salt. OMG the salt. I'll still have a sweet tooth, and I like my orange juice in the morning and lemonade all the time. But for a while there I wanted nothing but chips and I may or may not have contemplated pouring the salt shaker directly into my mouth a few times. Boy
4. Food again: If you crave meat it's a boy. If you'd rather not: girl.
• Little Turkey I had a big meat aversion so no deli meat and soft cheese was no big deal. This pregnancy: I have never wanted that turkey sandwich I'm not allowed to have more. (still no love for soft cheese though) And hot dogs? Yes please (just nuke the hell out of them (or "forget" that guideline like I did because dammit I'm growing a human and I will eat what I want) Boy   
5. Soft or dry skin: soft = girl, dry = boy
• Dry. Dry, dry dry. I swear this kid is sucking all the moisture out of me now mater how much water I drink. Boy
6. Girls steel your beauty, boys enhance 
• I'm breaking out more than usual, but I actually put on makeup for a while there. And I've been told I'm "absolutely glowing" on several occasions. So I say boy because people tell me I'm pretty.  
7. Graceful swan= girl. Clumsy = boy
• Bending is highly overrated. Boy
8. A fuller full face = girl. Normal face = boy
• A little fuller but not like a puffer fish fuller. I've had mostly a normal face.  Boy
• I may have just asked my coworkers this for clarification and they all said "uuuh...normal?" So there may be some bull shit in there but I'm taking it.  
9. Moody? = girl. Even keel = boy
• Would it be considered moody if you don't give any fucks? Yeah when there are feels I have all of the feels. But mostly I've just given zero fucks for almost everything. Boy 
10. How I carry the belly: high = girl, low = boy
• Right right in the middle again. Neutral 
11. How I carry the belly "sports" edition: cute round basketball shape belly = boy. Not as cute wider pointier football shape belly = girl 
• Adorable basketball belly. Boy
12. Weight gain in the front = boy, weight gain that spread out = girl 
• I don't have ankles anymore. My wedding bands came off the first trimester. And my little sister's maternity pants are snug because I will always be taller and older. Girl. 
13. Conception age and the year are both even or odd = girl. An even/odd combination = boy
• I became pregnant at 35 in the year 2017. So two odds combo is a Girl
14. Heartbeat: 140+ = girl 140- = boy
• Most heartbeat readings have been less than 140.  Boy
15. Mommy's dreams: whatever you dream you're having-that's it.
• Somewhere in my nightly bat-shit crazy dreams I dreamed boy. Boy

So in the girl column we have: 4
And in the boy column we have: 10
And neutral for shits and giggles : 1

So...guess we'll see soon enough no matter what!

The One

For the record: I do not believe in "the one." Neither does my husband. And as of today he has been my husband for 6 years, and we're still counting. But anyway, I still had a pretty good feeling about dr soc pretty early into our relationship. We just...worked.

But there are two distinct instances when I was pretty much: this is my husband.

The first one was when were texting a lot (and we still do - only now it's more "we're out of milk" and "has the toddler pooped yet?" and fewer flirty "forget your pants" but those still exist) and I realized he really didn't use text talk, one of my biggest pet peeves. (omg I h8 the u 4 u with the 🔥 of 1000 ☼s) My heart skipped a beat I thought: oooo I'm keeping him.

And the second is when he said he had absolutely no desire to go camping.
I was done. I knew: I'm going to marry him!

Happy Anniversary my dearest!

Family Resemblance

I can usually see a family resemblance like everyone else when comparing people. Except in me. And my family to some extent. It's not like I don't see resemblance at all, but I just don't see the strong/twin/carbon copy/clone moniker people typically assign. I've never been able to see that really. People say my sister and I look alike, but I can almost always tell who's who even if it's just one of us in the picture.

me on the left, my sister on the right
see also: I am taller and older

My husband captioned this Mother's Day 2017 picture with "the resemblance is strong" 

me, my girl, my mom

Yeah, I see we look related. But the mom-clone thing is lost on me.          

And yesterday I posted a side-by-side Easter picture of my daughter and I at 2 years old: 

I wonder who had the better basket?
And isn't that orange kitchen great?

Everyone, and I mean everyone, made some sort of remark about that being the same kid. Even my mom (who at times is the most obtuse person out there) said we are spitting images of each other. And it's not that I don't see any resemblance at all. But I legit do not see twins. I see two extremely adorable but distinctly different little girls.    

Who knows if I'll ever be able to see it. I wonder if I'll see twins in my own kids. But it doesn't matter really, little lion is going to be a cutie just like little turkey. Twins or not.

Taller and Older

When I lived in Kentucky occasionally I would run into people I had gone to school with (k-12) or they had worked or taught there. But as time goes on you forget names, so most people knew I was one of the T-girls, but couldn't remember if I was the big or little one. When we were kids it was easier to tell us apart because I was "taller and older." And for the record, I still am.

Fast forward to today. As grown adults my sister and I have very similar body shapes overall. (and similar styles too it seems since we both wore the exact same sweater from stitch fix at thanksgiving) Since I'm the first kid and the first granddaughter on both sides, I didn't get a lot of hand-me downs. And though my little girl is our first born she has 2 older female cousins who gave her their outgrown wardrobes, so most of her clothes are hand-me downs. When I visited my sister a month ago she gave me a bunch of her maternity clothes which is great because because she had summer clothes and baby 2 is due in July, aka peak-stupid-hot-summer. So in a little bit of role reversal, I was getting hand-me downs from my little sister. We're going through them and I held up a pair of pants and asked if they were capris from the proportions.

Her response: no, they're regular length, my ass just got that big. Holy sh*t my ass got that big?! (she also was the one to tell me to put coco butter there to minimize stretch marks) 

A week later I was wearing a different pair of pants from her and they were tight. So I texted her: I'm wearing the maternity khakis from you and they are snug. So even if your ass got larger when pregnant, know mine is wider. 😂

Looks like I'm always going to be the bigger sister!

Good Cars

I'm not a "car person." see: just how "helpful" I can be and why I lost my car rights if you need further clarification. But in my defense, wait, no, scratch that. I really just don't care. Whatever. And dr soc isn't a car person either, but he is a hard core researcher. So when he studies or looks further into something I pretty much listen to what he says (unless it's navigation or spacial planning, that's my wheelhouse). When I test drove my corolla in 2010 and told him about it, I didn't think much of anything when he said "corollas are good cars."

And they are, Consumer Reports just rated it the best compact car. Anyway fast forward a year and a half later right after we see his ex-girlfriend in Kentucky, newly engaged and in town to look at wedding venues. We sit down for lunch and I'm still being super supportive and giggling at his discomfort.

me: So that was K huh?
dr soc: (sigh) Yeah, that silver corolla with the UGA plate.
me: Wait - she drove a corolla?
dr soc: Yeah (cringe) And, um, D also drove a silver corolla too.
me: That's how you knew they were good cars!
   

Thanksgiving Play, Act 2, Scene 3

Since we've been in North Carolina, dr soc and I have hosted Thanksgiving. Neither one of us really has the time from work and now with Little Turkey's birthday, hosting has been what works best for us. We know what works as far as the food, guests sleeping arrangements and things to do, so the weekend runs well, is a lot of fun and we look forward to it.  
But in the issue of full disclosure: it did not start that way. It started like this:

--SCENE SET UP--   

I cook. Dr soc cleans kitchen behind me, including stuff still being used. I use another spoon/dish/pan since I can't find anything. Dr soc washes new dirtied item. We continue to get in each other's way throughout the day. Tempers shorten at 1:1 ratio of missing:dirty items.

--BEGIN SCENE--

me: (pour olive oil in pan. decide to forgo whatever meal that was. look for clear space and place pan on top of drying rack to left of the sink)
dr soc: (sees pan with liquid. grab dish towel. start wiping oil)
me: (blurt across kitchen) Oh no honey! That's not water, that's olive oil!
dr soc: (exasperated) Then why was it on the clean side?
me: (completely frazzled. look at dr soc)
dr soc: (eyes widen. throw up hands) Sorry! I'm sorry! (backs out of kitchen-fearful) 

--the next hour--

dr soc: (slink* into the kitchen to clean)
me: (see slinking. screech) I'm not done! (flail hands) Still using that! (strangled incoherent gargle) 
dr soc: (leave kitchen)

(repeat 2-3 more times at random intervals throughout flurry of holiday activity)
--END SCENE--

At the time it was just ridiculous but now it's one of my favorite memories and I crack up whenever I tell it (seriously I'm giggling hard core right now). But needless to say, we've gotten a lot better.

*this is very hard to do with an open plan like we have

Age is Only a Number

A few months after I got married, my sister mentioned I had just done so, and the person she was talking to asked how old I was. I had turned 30 in July and that person said "Ha! I bet she got married in May so she would still be 29."
My sister, bless her heart, said no, she didn't think my age was a factor on my wedding date.
But when she relayed this conversation to me my response was:

me:  No she's right. That was totally a reason I we picked May.
Amy: really?
me: Yup. I mean if it (getting married) didn't happen before 30 I wasn't going to stress it, but since it could happen while still in my 20's...well why not? And I got to be dr soc's wife sooner and all that other romantic stuff. 
Amy: well. okay then.

Yeah. I own it though. I totally own it.
 

Call Me!

These are the phone numbers that I can rattle off no problem:

• mine
• dr soc
• my parents' house
• work's public line if i think about it for a second  

And:

• my ex fiancé's

And here's why. A friend had left her cell in my pool bag and neither one of us realized it until she and my ex were at work. She couldn't call her fiancé to get it from me because she didn't know his number. (I ended up dropping it off at work-which was not on the way- before I went out of town. ie: I'm a good friend) My ex was astounded she didn't know her fiancé's number, but I came to her defense. Ever since cell phones became the norm no one's really had to memorize a phone number since it's stored in your contact list. After all I didn't know his number off the top of my head.

He was gobsmacked (and pissed). How could I not know his number? After all, he knew my number! (but not the exact date of my birthday) And his phone number was so easy too! It was one number different than the area code and then 2 other numbers! How could his fiancé not know his number!?

Well I once heard you have to repeat something (at least) 21 times before it's committed to memory. Being the mature young 20-something I was at the time to shut him up I started reciting his phone number. Twenty-one times.

me: 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx...
::while following him around the apartment:: After the 10th time or so-
ex: okay, okay, I get it!
me: nope, it's gotta be 21 times before I remember. Great now I've lost count and have to start over.
me:-sigh-: 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx....

Yup. But, hey, I learned his phone number. Which came in handy when I drunk texted him the holidays after we broke up.