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!  

Camping is Gross

I present a classic Spazella:
Reasons I _________ list:
So here is: Reasons I don't camp.

1. I have no survival skills. I would probably die.
2. I'm not going to sleep on the ground. Rocks digging into whatever body part they want and dirt? No thank you. 
3. I don't want to pee in the woods either. (I might feel differently about that if I was a boy and I could write my name in the snow.)
4. I pretty much hate nature. 
5. It's too quiet. That scares me.
6. It's too loud and full of nature noises. That also scares me.
7. Also, bears live in the woods. Bears will kill you.
8. No internets? Pass.
9. I have AAA for hotels. And even if I didn't - I would still hotel.

Football Dreams

I had this dream a while ago I thought I would share now* since it's football season.

Luke Kuechly, Colin Kaepernick, and some other well known player were all staying at our house during training camp. They all really wanted me to pack them their lunches for camp, like a mother hen. So for some reason I took them all grocery shopping with me. I would push the cart and send them all off into the store aisles to fetch whatever ingredient I needed to make the lunch they wanted.

They did pretty well but one of them (I think it was Luke) wasn't sure what kind of eggs to get, so he put a dozen free range and a dozen brown eggs in the cart hoping those were right. I asked if  he had checked to make sure none of them were cracked, but he sheepishly shook his head because he didn't know he was supposed to do that. I think I gently reminded him and sent him to another aisle. After that it gets a little hazy but I suppose I packed their lunches and sent them all off to camp.

I have the best football dreams.

*okay, full disclosure, I started this post in the summer right after I had the dream but totally forgot to post it because, well, life, and now and it just happens to be football season.

 

Cat House

I try to run a tight leash when it comes to the dog. I watched enough dog whisperer pre-Bailey to know my dog had to respect me if I wanted to have any type of control over it. Then we paid a hefty penny for hard core training when Bailey and Jules were fighting, and the respect thing was highly enforced. So when I go on a walk with the dog I keep her on a short leash and don't let her lead or mark along the way. Except for one place, the lawn that belongs to the cat that attacked her.
Yeah. You read that right.  My leashed dog got attacked by a cat.

Back when the baby was about a month old the four of us (me pushing the stroller, Mike walking the dog) were taking a w-a-l-k when out of nowhere this streak of orange comes from behind and animal fight noises start. The baby starts to wail so I snap into mama bear mode and run a few steps to protect her. Meanwhile Mike has managed to pick up the dog by her leash while kicking at the streak of orange attacking her, which then retreats to a tree trunk and hisses at us. While in fight mode something has bled on mike's pants and the dog nipped or scratched him along the jaw so he's bleeding too and all we can do for a moment is stare in disbelief at this hissing streak of orange that we have just realized is a cat. But it gets even more ridiculous.

All the commotion brought the cat's owner outside who asks what just happened. The dog is still wriggling so we have no idea if she's okay but we know at least one animal is bleeding, my husband is bleeding, the baby's crying and this cat is hissing at us. So still in a bit of shock we tell them this cat just attacked our dog. And their response? "But he doesn't even have claws!"

Excuse me? This cat we have seen around the neighborhood before that just attacked our dog is declawed?  WHAT? And the owner, who didn't see a damn thing and leaves the garage door open a crack so this declawed cat can roam around, keeps insisting the cat doesn't have claws and doesn't believe us, and they don't even ask if anyone, human or animal is okay.

By this point the hissing cat has run back into the open garage, Jules has stopped wriggling enough that we can tell at the very least she's and dr soc's jaw isn't gushing blood, but the baby is still wailing at the top of her lungs, our nerves are on edge and the cat owner keeps reiterating the cat doesn't have claws. We need first aid and we're going to get absolutely nowhere with this person, so we curtly restate the cat attacked our dog, and we are leaving to take care of ourselves and hightail it home.

The whole walk home we're making sure we're not crazy and that we both saw/heard the same thing. A streak of orange that roams around the neighborhood whenever it wants because the garage is left open is a motherf*cking declawed cat and it attacked our dog. That sounds made up but it totally happened! At home we clean the shallow scratches on Jules' legs and the nip along dr soc's jaw, but thankfully everyone is okay enough. In disbelief, but okay.

A motherf*cking declawed cat attacked my dog. Mark all you want at that cat house Jules. Mark all you motherf*cking want.

Area Codes

me: I have a friends on the west coast. Actually, I have a decent amount of friends out there. Really I have friends all over the country. It's sorta like "hoes in different area codes." Only none of my friends are hoes.
Cearra::laughing:: okay, I actually did think that exact though but I wasn't going to say it out loud.
me: haha! I did though!

Color Blind

Turns out my husband is colorblind on occasion.

He comes home from class and remembers he wants to look up the term "purple states," states that have roughly equal amounts of red and blue support politically. The color analogy made perfect sense to me, but dr soc had either forgotten or didn't know red and blue made purple.

Whatever, I rattled off a quick lesson in primary and secondary colors he didn't pay a lick of attention to and I didn't care. Then the baby spit up over my shoulder and onto the couch and that became the more pressing issue. I can see at least four burp clothes in my line of sight, though none of them are within grabbing distance.

So my husband grabs my hair and starts to wiping up the spit up with that.

me: What are you doing? My hair is not a towel!
dr soc: Oh! Oops! Here, use this. ~tosses a yellow blanket to me~
me: What? That's one of her blankets! There's like 4 burp cloths right in front of me. Grab one of those!
He finds a yellow burp cloth and cleans up the 3 remaining drops of spit up that remain on the couch from my hair clean up.
me: honey, why on earth did you grab my hair?
dr soc: I thought it was the brown blanket (that the dog burrows under) we had on the couch...

Colorblind.

   

Orphan socks

The other day I was folding several loads of laundry and I had no, I repeat, NO orphan socks. Every single pair had a buddy.
Major life achievement unlocked!

Let There Be Light

One night I woke up and had to go to the bathroom. As a fairly heavy sleeper, I knew that even in a sleep fog if I was waking up in the middle of the night I must really have to go and better get to it. So I did and returned to bed like you do. But as I was climbing back into bed dr soc stirred and was slightly confused to find me getting back into bed since me getting up in the middle of the night is a rarity in the first place.

--Note: this entire conversation occurred with us both in half-sleep-mode and was done with sleepy slurs and hazy logic in it's entirety--


dr soc: did you just go to the bathroom?
me: Yeah. Go back to sleep honey.
dr soc: Ok. Wait..did you turn on the light?
me: No. Turning on the light can wake you up more and I want to go back to sleep.
dr soc: Oh ok. ~pause~ You can go to the bathroom without a light? How?
me: I don't have to aim honey.
dr soc: Oh. Right. Goodnight.
 --A while later.--
We had gotten back from the gym or were getting ready in the morning or something that required a shower. I flipped on the shower light, turned on the water and Mike put our towels on the hook while we waited for the water to warm up to the (my) preferred scalding temperature.
mike: I turned off the shower light.
me: Why? I like the shower light.
mike: You do? What exactly do you do in the shower that you need light for? Do you need it to aim or something?
me: No...But I do need it if I'm shaving.  Or something.
mike: Ok, but are you going to shave this shower? 
me: I don't think so, but I still like the light.
--Mike gives me a look--
me: So I can pee the dark but not shower in it. Okay maybe that's a little weird but so what?
mike: Nothing.... Would you like me to turn the light back on then?
me: Yes. Yes I would.
mike: Ok. ~flips the light back on, smiling~ You weirdo.
me: Thank you. And yes, yes I am.
 --We went on vacation last week and we were checking out the bathroom of the rental house--
mike: Oh, and you will be happy to know there is a shower light in our bathroom. A very bright one too.
me: Yes!

think it through

dr soc (on facebook): I'd be all about a moat if we didn't have to worry about snakes.........or the HOA. 
me (on fbk): Actually per our hoa, as long as the moat is within a 3' radius of the perimeter of the house, we can landscape how we see fit. The snakes though....I got nothing.
facebook friend: Snakes are why you have outdoor cats.
me (in head): Outdoor cats* are feral and disgusting creatures. No fcking way. 
me (on fbk): Nope, per the hoa, no outdoor animals either.

Anyway. I was reiterating this conversation at work to my coworker who is just fabulous. She and I have similar thought processes so when I mentioned I had no idea how to get rid of the snakes (which she is also terrified of), her response was:

coworker: That's what the alligators are for! Duh!
me: Of course! Clearly you have thought this though!
coworker: Well, kinda. I had this conversation with my kids when they were little, and they gave me the alligator solution when they wanted a moat for our yard.  
me: Your kids are a little brilliant. 

*Indoor cats aren't my cup of tea either, but in my defense I am allergic to them. I'm not going to hold it against someone for having them and I take the good behind the counter allergy pills when vising feline homes. But as far as me ever owning on? No fcking way.  

Football Words

My husband is a die-hard Cleveland Browns fan. So watching football with him (and the rest of the men in the family) is amusing because it's peppered with colorful phrases and curse words. It just comes with the territory. I don't really bat an eye because I don't have the most pristine vocabulary either, so really it's only a matter of time before our future children hear something we would rather have them not repeat. But rather than us be adults and try to change our behavior and make an attempt to curb the ingrained language of football season, we'll probably just tell them those are "football words" that we only say during football games.*

Anyway, twenty minutes before the second day of the 2014 NFL draft, the story of Josh Gordon's failed drug test/suspension breaks and dr soc was pissed. Actually, pissed is really an understatement, because the regular "football words" were replaced with some really bad ones even for him. And because I am an awesome wife, after I picked up my mouth from dropping in surprise, I just pointed and laughed. 

*This is a flawless plan brought to you from my childless parenting skills. 

Lonley Goatherd

me: You're such a dork!
mike: Yep. That's why we work.
me: True. But you're still a dork.
mike: Says the girl who was bouncing around yodeling* the other day.
me: Hey now, I wasn't bouncing, I was prancing.
mike: Fine. But you were still yodeling.
me: Yes. "She yodeled off to the lonely goatherd, lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo!" **
mike: Dork.
me: Yep. Hi kettle, it's pot!

*Sound of Music Live. Of all the songs you have to admit that when you sing you just can't help but be silly and prance around.***
** There was spinning and prancing here too.
***Oh, just me?

Ren Fest

Y'all I went to my first Renaissance Festival 2 weeks ago, and I was ridiculously exited about it. I mean, epic people watching, all kinds of food on sticks, , crap crafts and jousting?! What's not to like? We had a buy one get one free admission ticket, so I figured what the hell, lets go check it out.  And I'm glad we had the coupon because $44 for 2 people to drive a half hour to pretty much people watch is a bit much for my preferences, but $22 for the both of us to do the same thing and call each other wench in public is more justifiable. You pretty much have to pay if you want to actually do anything. I expected to pay for food and any sort of artisan crap you want to buy, but $3-$5 to toss an axe at a target, shoot a cross bow with no fabulous prizes or for your kid ride the barfing boat? Nah.

But it was fun walking around outside and people watching. We skipped most of the food since it was a pretty hot afternoon and a flask of hot cider or gnawing a roasted turkey leg didn't have the same appeal as fair food usually does for me. There was way too much incense wafting from every artisan booth for my olfactory sense, but if we're being honest, pretty much any incense is too much for my tastes. And when did pirates become a Ren-Fest thing? I figured there would be a lot of corsets and leather wearing for those die hard fans, but Johnny Depp style pirates are not one of the first things that come to mind when I hear ren fest. But I guess with all the bawdy jokes, the amount of cleavage on display and the possibility of a nip slip at every turn, the pirates figured they wouldn't raise too many eyebrows. 

I would go back with friends to judge people, and only if we had a coupon. But all in all, it was a fun time. Huzzah!

Not a Puppy

Scene: Wee-hours of the workday morning, my coworker opens the last delivery bin.
M: No!!!  No!!!!
me (from across the room): Now, Marissa, you can't yell at the books, they aren't a puppy. Scolding won't do anything.
M: --snort-- You look, you'll see.
--I look, and see a bunch of books on disc that we don't have room for on our shelves--
me: NO!!!!

Young Love

When I saw the cover for the Hunter Hayes's album, I thought, oh look how young he is! Yes, I know I don't look like I'm in my early thirties, but he's 21 so he really is young, whereas I just look young. (I just realized I'm 10 years older than him).

Anyway, he's adorable. But he is definitely young, and his lyrics reflect that.
One of the lines from his new (catchy, if you ask me) single is:    

Hunter Hayes: I don't want easy, I want crazy.

Aww, that silly young boy in love. Because only young love wants crazy. Or at least is willing to deal with it. Because after you hit a certain age, "crazy" becomes: so not putting up with that sh*t.

Pot Calling the Kettle Black

I was in my happy place Target the other night when I saw a woman breastfeeding. Which I have no problem with and after reading enough reddit stories of some passerby being upset by a boob sighting, the nursing mom defending her choice and having a nurse-ins, declaring anyone offended by breastfeeding anti-family, etc, I know that the law is pretty much on woman's side (for once) and that she can breastfeed whenever and wherever she see fit. Personally, I would prefer that a little discretion and some sort of cover is used, but I think a little discretion is a good thing in most cases in general.

Anyway, this woman was walking down the aisle, the baby strapped into some sort of carrier nursing away. While there wasn't a nip-slip due to the her shirt covering one and the baby's mouth covering the other, there was a lot of her shirt pulled up in general. I was a little startled and may have raised my eyebrows by the copious amount of stomach/top/and side boob exposed at first glance, but whatever. The nursing girl had a few other people shopping with her, 2 other women and a girl toddler no more than 18 months old. The toddler is trying to keep up as fast as her little legs can carry her and playing with the hem of her shirt at the same time. But they all passed by, rounded the corner and I continued shopping.

Then I hear from the next aisle over (directed at the toddler): "Pull your shirt down!

Which, wasn't that a little pot calling the kettle black? Oh well. 

Feivel Goes West

Fourth of July we decided to be patriotic and grill like all the other houses in our neighborhood were doing. Mike went outside to preheat the grill as I was prepping everything, when he comes back inside to tell me:

mike: Well, I cannot light the grill right now because, and this is something I never thought I would say. Actually, just guess, do you have any idea?
me: Is something wrong with the grill? I mean, other than that I can't think of anything else.
mike: No, the grill's fine. I cannot light it because --pause for dramatic effect-- I just saw a mouse run in there.

--I stare at him to make sure he's not just making shit up. Then I realize that's way too oddly specific to be made up, and I don't think he's that good of an on the spot story teller so if he didn't want to grill he would just say so. So there really is a mouse in my his grill. Ewww.--

me: Ewww! You're right though that is something I never would have eve imagined either. Now what do we do?

I call upon my trusty sidekick (to the internets!) and turns out that mice in grills are not super uncommon because it's a dry place they can nest. I want to start cooking, but neither one of us is willing to just turn on the flames and risk essence of mouse. And we want to disinfect the hell out that thing and all it's parts too before either one of us feels comfortable putting any sort of food on there. So Mike is taking the pieces out and I'm just about to pour the vinegar/water/soap mixture (an internets concoction) all over the grill when the mouse runs out and across the concrete slab the builder thought was an acceptable thing to call a a patio* and disappears into the grass.

Startled, I scream bloody murder. Due in part because OMG I have just seen a MOUSE run out of my grill!!! And also omg I just saw a mouse run out of my his grill across my patio over there and I'm not wearing shoes.**

So now Mike is on his own to take care of all the man things outside, clean and disinfect the grill, and laugh at his wife who flew into the kitchen and is currently jumping and flapping around in wayward circles still freaking the fck out. Needless to say, I made dinner in the over that night. And wore my rain boots that go up to my knees the next time I went outside.  

*it's not
**What can I say, I grew up in Kentucky.***
***Nope. No brothers.****
****EWWWW!!!!!

Hot Streak

So, I'm pretty used to be totally wrong on selecting a winner or calling something. So when it came time for my people to have babies, I would always predict one and it was always the other.  

BUT!

I was on a super hot streak for a while there. Ever since I was right that my friends' first would be a girl, I've been able to call future babies boy or girl. (Mike likes to point out that it's a 50/50 shot every time so the odds are really not in my favor, but whatever. He's just jealous of my skill. That and I may have said I thought we're going to have 2 girls and little girls scare him).

I was 100% convinced my friend would have a girl. Her son was born earlier this month.
And I ever since my sister told me she's pregnant I've been pretty damn sure a nephew is joining the family. We found out a few days ago it's a niece, surrounding my dad with even more women.

So oh well, my hot streak is over. But I've never been happier to be wrong though!

I Dreamed a Dream

My dream last night was so incredibly awesome that I just have to share.
I was drafted in the first round for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers as their offensive coordinator. It was a complete surprise for several reasons.

1. I was the only female selected in the entire draft.
2. The offensive coordinator is not a drafted position and once again, I was the only offensive coordinator selected.
3. I clearly have no experience in this position at all yet here I was being thrust into a high level executive position.

Anyway, I excelled at this job. Like, kicked some serious ass. So somehow I was working with my Panthers in the same executive position. And the Panthers', the entire team, adored me like I was their den mom. They treated me as a cool female cousin but yet they still all wanted to protect me and did everything I said with a "yes ma'am." I was still married to Mike and we had gotten married in the Panther's press box and all the guys were lining up to take their picture with me on that spot because they loved me that much.

Like I said, it was so incredibly awesome.

Fair Trade

Dr soc had is PhD in sociology and is the best sociologist ever. His wife has her undergraduate in sociology, but she is the worst sociologist ever.*

I am a librarian in the making and love to read. My dream job is to get paid lucratively to read all day and to judge it.  But my husband, the academic, actually hates to read. So that puts him on the opposite end of my career spectrum.

It's a fair trade really.

*I pronounce Max Weber (who he used heavily in his dissertation) as Web-er, not Vay-ber just to drive him a little batty.** See Go Team  and Animal Instinct for more affirmation.
**Worst wife ever

Speed

The other day I left a message on our answering machine for my husband about dinner, and I listened to it before I erased it. Holy crap I talk fast. So I said to my husband:

me: So as I was listening to the message I left the other day about dinner, I realized two things:
One: wow, I really do sound like my mom.
And two: How on earth do you understand me?

Seriously, how does he?