Mar 7, 2014 | Sesame, Uncategorized, What's going on |
Yesterday my alarm went off at 5:50. I don’t like alarms and I really don’t getting up when the first number on the clock is below 7 so you can imagine how happy I was to be up. I am hardly the Proverbs 31 woman when it comes to rejoicing in rising while it is still dark and all that.
I had three doctor appointments in Nashville with the first being at 8:20 which meant I had to leave before 6:30 to beat the traffic. I’ve mentioned before that Nashville drivers aren’t my favorite. In what city does it make sense to take a left turn through an intersection when the light is red?? Allow me to show you what morning rush hour looks like. I am the poor, unfortunate soul in the red ca.
I about lost my mind.
I was traveling with Louiz (as in “Geez Louiz, I can’t believe I’m relying on you to get me to my destination/Geez Louiz, why are you recalculating again.”) but he wasn’t always too helpful. The arrow down at the bottom told me to turn left but the green road went straight than at some point turned around and went the opposite direction. This is one reason I should never be a pilot. I can barely point myself in the right direction when I’m on the ground.
I eventually made it to the appointment with 10 minutes to spare. The receptionist gave me paperwork and this:
It’s a restaurant buzzer. Because the nurses aren’t big into calling your name anymore.
She didn’t explain what to do or where to go when it went off. I had no clue and didn’t want to seem uneducated by asking so I sat there staring at it and contemplating what I would order if it was a real restaurant buzzer. A cheese bagel and coffee from the Au Bon Pain down the hall in case you’re wondering. Between the alarm going off at the crack of ridiculous, the traffic and the buzzer I was ready to curl up for a nap and call it a day. At 8:16am.
And then the doctor asked if any females in my family have a misshapen, unusually sized or underdeveloped uterus.
AS IF I WOULD KNOW.
I can tell you the eye color and birthday of every female in my extended family but I have no idea the state of anyone’s uterus. I guess my mom’s performed well because she successfully had twins but beyond that I’m completely clueless.
I was also completely clueless about French kisses having a scent.
It really wasn’t a bad day. Sesame is small but not in danger, I had almost five hours between the second and third appointments so I had way too much plenty of time to do every errand I could think of and, most importantly, I learned what a French kiss smells like.
Feb 6, 2014 | Uncategorized, What's going on |
Monday Elizabeth and I traveled back to the land of my birth. I usually fly alone and while I don’t mind, having a travel companion is useful for the following reasons:
* someone to talk to and share snacks with (obviously)
* someone to leave your luggage with when you need the restroom. I hate trying to handle all my bags in those situations. (Quick restroom story. I saw a man, VERY CLEARLY A MAN, walk slowly into the ladies room in the Charlotte airport. I feel bad for all involved when he realized his mistake.)
The trip was uneventful in every way. I didn’t want the plane to crash but I enjoy a little excitement. The man sitting next to us on the first flight slept almost the whole time. When the flight attendant asked if he wanted a drink there was an obvious language barrier between them. I almost offered my sign language skilz but I didn’t think they’d be helpful in this situation. The woman next to us on the second flight started talking about how she doesn’t want to do a toxin cleanse that involves tubes in her colon. Obviously that’s a normal topic to discuss with strangers.
The rest of the country might be tired of snow, but I’m not. I’ve seen all of one inch this year. I can almost count the number of snowflakes in my backyard. It’s pathetic, really. I was so excited to see snow when we landed and then watch it snow all day. The people of Tennessee would die a thousand deaths if they saw 12″ of snow in their backyard but I think it was the greatest thing.
Jan 24, 2014 | Sesame, Uncategorized, What's going on |
I don’t know that you’ll be able to handle how exciting our life has been lately, so let me present it in bullet form:
* Christopher took a sleeping pill Thursday night and slept until 2 o’clock Friday afternoon
* We got caught up on laundry for all of 3.5 hours
* We bought an over-the-door shoe rack (CAN YOU BELIEVE THE EXCITEMENT?)
* The heating man came to fix the broken heat only to tell me, and I quote, “Have the homeowners move the thermostat to a better location.” In a world where it takes the property manager five weeks to even respond to emails, I doubt they’d be on board with any non-emergency construction.
* We discussed taking our Christmas trees down but haven’t actually done it yet. The fake tree obviously isn’t in danger of dying and the real tree is so carefully preserved in our frigid 50% of the time house that it’s held up quite nicely. I did take the ornaments off the real tree a few weeks ago so all we have is a bare pine tree wrapped in a tree skirt taking up a corner of the living room. It’s very klassy. Decorators of the year over here!
In other words, nothing has been going on our lives are so full of activities worthy of appearing on the cover of Time magazine that I can barely breathe.
Speaking of breathing, our second childbirth class was this week. Side note: I HATE the word birthing.
We watched a MUCH MUCH MUCH too up close and personal video from the 70’s of a lady having her baby and of the six people in the room, only two enjoyed the experience. One was the teacher and the other was the Chatty Cathy Doula in training. Quiet Sidekick Doula in training didn’t say much but I noticed she moved so a pillow was in a strategic location between her and the tv. The other dad in the room, who already has a daughter, almost passed out on the couch. His wife was giggling too much from how embarrassing the whole thing was to look. I looked as little as possible because UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL. Christopher was blessed beyond measure to be working late and miss the class. Unfortunately his absence meant Chatty Cathy Doula offered to be my husband when we had to practice the exercises, but ANYTHING to get away from the video.
While we’re on the topic of babies (since we’re on a rabbit trail of topics here anyway), I’d like to discuss for a moment how creating a baby registry is nothing like creating a wedding registry. Wedding registries are all fun and games and “OOOOHHH!!!! Look at this carrot peeler! Let’s put that fancy cutting board on the list! Don’t forget the wine glasses!! And we need the swivel-top trash can to complete our kitchen decor! Isn’t this fun?” Five hours later the people who accompanied you are sitting in the massage chairs wondering when you’ll be done.
Baby registries are a whole different ball game. Heaven forbid you choose the wrong ring stacking toy and suddenly your child is destined to be behind it’s peers for life. Amazon has more than 7 pages of ring stacker toys to choose from. Wooden, plastic, or cloth? Rainbow or pattered? Turtle or Veggie Tale themed? Five or seven rings? Rainbow or ombre? All organic materials? WHY DO THEY MAKE PICKING A TOY SO COMPLICATED? These toy designers need to simmer on down and remember that kids like playing with boxes from the recycling bin. I excel when it comes to over-thinking very small and unimportant decisions so it took me 15 hours to decided on this one.
Don’t ask how long it took me to decided on a pack n play pattern.
PS. I can’t even imagine how I would feel to be this woman. I take that back. I imagine A LOT of tears.
Jan 16, 2014 | Life, Sesame, Uncategorized, What's going on |
* Within a span of seven days the following items in our house broke: the heat, the hot water heater, the kitchen sink, the internet, and the water filter in the refrigerator. Our house is cursed. Who wants to come visit?
* I was recently reading an article about a team traveling to Mars. I was feeling jealous not to have been included when I read that it’s a one-way trip. And just like that I decided I have no problem staying home.
* At my last appointment the midwife was talking about birth plans. I didn’t tell her I developed a plan called JITB, or Jack in the Box. It works like this: you pick a short tune, preferably a lullaby or some other child appropriate tune (extra parent points if it’s educational), to be played you’re while in labor. The song plays for 10-15 second before suddenly stopping. As soon as it stops the baby pops out and you have the worlds fastest delivery. Move over, Hypnobabies. There’s a new method in town.
* I failed the glucose test on Monday so I go back on Friday for the 3 hour test. I anticipate
1. fainting from lack of food
2. being completely bored
3. failing again
* Since we’re on the topic of my health, I had to find a new primary care doctor. I didn’t know who to pick so I looked on the website of a large and popular doctors office in town. My method of narrowing down doctors was very scientific- Are they female? Do they look nice? Do I like their name? I am nothing but superficial. I eventually choose a doctor named Greta because she sidelines as a jazz gospel singer. This singing doctor discovery was almost as exciting as learning last summer that I had been assigned to a doctor named Mary Crawley. If you don’t know who Mary Crawley is than I not sure we can be friends.
* Speaking of Mary Crawley, this season of Downton Abbey has already DONE ME IN. As if not having Matthew and his wonderful hair around isn’t bad enough, now I have to hurt for Anna until the next episode. I MAY NEVER RECOVER.
Dec 23, 2013 | Love & Marriage, Uncategorized, What's going on |
We’ve been talking about getting a new car for a little while now. Last week Christopher gave me a list of acceptable cars and told me to go on each website to learn more about each car. He asked if I know about car buying to which I replied that it is not my forte. I may have also said something along the lines of not knowing whether 12 or 72 horsepower is better. What can I say? I have simple car buying criteria:
* nice color, preferably blue
* good blinker (None of this clickclickclickclick stuff. I prefer click pause click pause click pause.)
* must have a regular key that goes in the ignition (Apparently that makes me very old fashioned.)
* no little screen that pops up when the car is put in reverse (I was taught to look in the direction in which I am driving so it makes no sense to look forward at the screen when I’m traveling backwards.)
I went on each website and really tried to be more objective than rating the cars according to cuteness, but one website was lacking in pictures so I was thoroughly confused. This told me absolutely nothing about the car.
What is this variable cylinder management of which you speak?
Last Saturday we went out test driving. Naturally I fought the urge to giggle the entire time because that’s what I do in situations where I should seem grown up. We were driving one car when Will the salesman piped up from the backseat, “Can you feel how the gears don’t shift? It’s all one smooth motion.” I hadn’t noticed. I was trying to figure out if the car came with seat warmers and how big the glove compartment was. Christopher deals with the mechanical specifications and I take care of the frilly details. It’s a system that’s worked well so far.
After test driving a whopping one vehicle, we went back Wednesday to buy it. (For inquisitive minds, we got a Nissan Rogue. The name makes me feel wild and adventuresome.) It does have the reverse monitor, but it’s easy enough to ignore. Buying cars really is hardly something I do every day, so I didn’t know that sometimes you need to be prepared to spend three hours of your day in the dealership waiting for papers to process. At least Will provided fresh cookies and water to make our stay more pleasurable. I needed something to comfort me after Christopher pointed out to me, Will, AND the insurance lady on the phone that I had two new gray hairs. He’s just the sweetest.
While the car will belong to both of us, technically it is more mine than Christopher’s because we still have his car. As proud owner, I will have more power in matters of importance such as what we name it and any outer decor. I was also told I can have whatever I want on the license plate. I’m thinking of a picture of Jimmy Stewart in one corner and a picture of Dick Van Dyke in the other. Maybe a third of Harrison Ford just to round things out.
Nov 23, 2013 | Uncategorized, What's going on |
I thought it was time to do some sort of life update that didn’t involve pictures of my slowly expanding stomach, but I got sidetracked by taking the My Mental Age test (again) and now I’ve spiraled into the pits of depression.
Two weeks ago it said I was 43.
Today it said 46.
HOW DID I AGE THREE YEARS IN TWO WEEKS AND WHAT CAN I DO TO REVERSE THIS TRAUMATIC SITUATION?
Although that would explain my gray hairs.
I’m convinced this drastic aging has to do with the answers I gave regarding my views on a) what should not be shared on social media and b) that the intended way for a baseball hat to be worn is for the visor to be in the front. See? The below situation could have been avoided if he was wearing his hat the way the inventor intended.
So now I feel useless to the world because I’ve officially skipped the ages of 25-45 and I’m not one bit wiser. Case in point: today I went for my weekly visit to the post office. A mild panic attack happened because I didn’t know if the proper answer to “Are there any liquids in this box?” was yes or no when the product in question was lotion. Either I missed that lesson in science or it was never discussed because HOW SHOULD I KNOW? I didn’t want to seem stupid, so I twisted my keys around for a minute before saying, “Uuumm. Well. There’s lotion in there.” Ronnie had obviously been trained by the USPS powers that be and could be responsible for figuring out the chemical properties of lotion.
Tonight, provided no one gets sick or needs to take a last minute trip to Walmart to pick up prescriptions (and we all know I’m not talking about myself here), we’re going to see a comedian in Nashville. I really hope he’s funny. Is that too much to ask? Sometimes Christopher will watch comedians on Netflix and will go minutes on end without laughing. What’s the point of watching a comedian if he’s not making you laugh? If a comedian can’t made me laugh within the first 10 minutes (and I mean LAUGH, not ha that’s funny), I’m over him. He has failed at his job.
A second burning thought about tonight’s event is this:
I’m especially looking for something of the chip and dip variety.
I just saw that on the comedy club website it says Dress code: Yes, please wear clothes. Why do they need to specify the need for clothes? Have they had issues with people assuming it’s a nudist establishment?
Maybe I really am 46 years old if the thought of a bunch of naked strangers being in the same place as me makes me uncomfortable.
