Friday Confessions

1.  On Wednesday I wore my shirt inside out.  The whole day.  Thank you to the lady who leaned over at the planning board meeting at 6:30pm and whispered, "Is your shirt supposed to be inside out??"

2.  Last weekend, over two days and 6 hours, I mashed 80 boiled, mushy apples through a strainer by hand and all I got was 4 stinkin' quarts of applesauce.

3.  I am now late to work every single day.  The alarm may chime 7:30am, but my body says it's still sleepy time.

4.  Corey was given the silent treatment a lot this week.  I think he likes it.

5.  He is now officially back on the silent treatment for liking the silent treatment.

6.  When the movie Titanic came out in theaters it was just a big snugglefest for my friends and their boyfriends.  I swore I would not see it sans boyfriend, but since I didn't have one for another two years it was to heck with the danged Titanic.  I still have not seen it.  The moment has passed.

7.  I am rooting for SanFran in the World Series because I like looking at the pitcher.

8.  Oliver enjoyed my dinner last night.

9.  I very frequently have to apologize for the lunch remnants I leave on papers I hand my boss for review.  And every other night I spend a good amount of time picking melted chocolate off the butt of my pants.

10.  I'm messy.

...

Happy Friday!

Asparagus: Always the Answer

I am in the middle of what I like to call Brain Funk.

It's when I don't eat my veggies and my brain is unable to make connections to big words I used to know, such as superfluous.

What the heck does that mean?  I remember using it just last week.

Or maybe that was in a college paper...before my brain literally shrunk in size.  Shrunk...shrunck...schruhnk...

During Brain Funk I like to sit and stare.  Without moving.  For hours.

And then I try to do the things I am paid to do, like write letters on subjects I know nothing about.  But the kind of brain power it takes to pull such BS outta nowhere is beyond me.  So I sit and stare.  At my computer.  For hours.

I do think when I'm staring.  About lunch.

Or about the cake sitting in our dirty office kitchen put there by our sloppy office neighbors.

I think about how I can sneak a piece and, surprisingly, my thoughts are clear and concise.

But as my brain is still connected to my arms and legs, the funk does not allow me to move them as stealthily as would be necessary to swipe a piece of Beth's birthday cake without anyone noticing.

So I think about other things.

Maybe I'll cut my fingernails when I get home.

I'm Jimmy McMillen...breakfastlunchanddinner.

Why is it I can only breathe out of one nostril at a time...?

Did Zack and Kelly like each other for real?

I'm not sure I can pull off the jean jacket look.

This is brownie weather.

And so on.  For hours.

Luckily, I have about 5 bags of frozen veggies ready to be steamed in my microwave.  And if I eat all five between dinner and breakfast I may be 1) green, 2) the smartest person you know, or 3) still in a brain funk because lack of veggies was not the problem.

We'll see how it goes.

Free Range Burrito

On the menu for today's lunch: frozen burrito.

Of the burn your mouth because you have to microwave them for, like, an hour variety.

I'm pretty excited about it.

It's organic.  The sucker grew up on a burrito farm in northern Vermont.  Lived a happy life until it was, you know, time to be frozen and stuck in my microwave.

So, we'll see how it goes.

Ten on Tuesday

1. What is your favorite decor item in your house?

Our plants.  We have a bunch of them scattered all over the place.  Aside from bringing life into the room they give us some oxygen, so that's cool.

2. What is your favorite hair product?
A rubber band.

3. Are you a good dancer?
I think I was ok at some point.  But then I graduated from college, stopped drinking and lost all rhythm.

4. You get some good news, who’s the first person you call?
Depends.  Good news at work: Corey.  Good news at home: Mom and Dad.  Good new fart joke: Jill.

5. Would you rather take pictures, or be in pictures?
Now that my narcissistic stage (read: teenage years) is over, my hair is a bit droopier and I have all these little cracks in my forehead, I prefer to take the pictures. 

6. What is your shoe style?

Comfortable.  I am just one more day of wobbling in 3" heels away from a lifetime of Aerosoles, so help me....  Arch support, here I come.

7. How often do you eat out?

Only when Corey and I don't feel like cooking.  So, all the time.  And when it isn't take out, it's hot dogs n' crescent rolls, or cereal and cheese, or chips and ice cream.  We make it work.

8. If someone has food in their teeth, do you tell them?
Food in teeth is embarrassing.  But it is not tucking your dress into your underwear embarrassing.  But in both cases I wouldn't say anything.  I wouldn't want you to know that I know unless I know you then I wouldn't care if you know that I know that you know that he knows that I know....

You know?

9. Do you fold your underwear?
Yes, ever since Oliver ate my dang panty fairies.

10. Milk, dark, or white chocolate?
Yes, please.

I Want UpLIFTing

I am not what you would call "fashion forward."

I'm more of a "fashion circa 1995."

Or "fashion Land's End."

Maybe "fashion shoulder pads and high tops."

But I exaggerate.

No, I am not one to put this top with those pants and this loop-dee-loop with this vest and that scarf over this hair band.

Not because I don't like the look of sassy young things today.  I just don't know how to achieve it effortlessly. 

But in an attempt to take a much delayed step into a probably fading trend, I got me some tall leather boots.

(to ward off any hurt feelings from Corey I should add that he did buy them....with our money....and because he was in the dog house.)

And I went out yesterday in search of skinny jeans.  It took some getting used to, but I started liking the workin'-on-the-farm-in-gunk-so-high-I-need-me-some-tall-foot-protection look.

work it Cameron Diaz.

So to make what was a long story, but then deleted because it was too long, short, I did not end up with skinny jeans.  For some reason the Gap thinks that even though there is much less material needed to make a pair of jeans that clings mercilessly to every single curve, nook, and cranny they can charge as much as they do for normal grown-up pants.  The kind that uses double the fabric and gives your ankles plenty of personal space.

Oh, but they were comfortable.  See, typically when you have to practically paint your clothes on, they tend not to move about.  Which means they aren't riding all up in your business.

The price was just not right.  Instead I left with three sale shirts that are made to be too big.  Go figure.

But, alas, I know those jeans are meant to be mine.  At checkout I was the lucky winner of the random customer survey.

"Fill out your silly little survey and get 20% off my next purchase which will be those jeans I tried on in, like, 20 minutes?  Of course I will!"

Ha.  Little survey my....finger.  After answering questions about where I was, why I was there, what I did, who I saw, where else do I shop, I got this set of questions:

Have you heard of ***** brand?    No.

Have you heard of ***** brand?    Nope.

Have you heard of ***** brand?    Hmmm....thought that was a kind of dish soap.

Where are you going with this, Gap?  Are you trying to tell me something?

What brands do our jeans mostly resemble in fit and quality?

Yeah, ok.  So all of my jeans are so old and worn out in all the right places I can't remember how they fit in better times.  And I've never heard of, let alone own, a pair of 7 degrees of Kevin Bacon or whatever the brand is.  I don't need you to remind me how behind I am in fashion trends.  As you can probably tell by my transaction number I live in upstate New York, the wear-slippers-to-the-grocery-store capital.  So I believe I am qualified to skip this question thanksomuch.

Please answer the question.

Dang, you've got a lotta nerve Gap.  Here I am doing you a  service when all I'm getting out of the deal is a few dollars off a pair of jeans already marked up a-thousand percent and you're going to be all demanding?!

What the heck else could you possibly want to know?!

Touche, Gap.  Touche.  I'll be seeing you Wednesday.

Bulletin: Winter has arrived.

..
....
......

It.  Is.  Snowing!

Let the Christmas songs begin.

"City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed and holiday gear, and on everyone's hat there is Christmas..."

Um...songs we know.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.  Jack's dog nipping at your toes...."

That's not quite right.

"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer," can't mess this one up! "had a very shiny nose, and if you ever saw it you would even say it's gross..."

No, I don't think that's how it goes.

"Frosty the snowman, had a very shiny nose..."

Hmmm....no.

"We three kings of Orient are traveling with gifts for baaaa-by Jesus..."

I'd better brush up on my Christmas tunes before I embarrass myself.

Plus, it stopped snowing.  So I have a little extra time to learn the words I've been singing wrong.  All my life.

Friday Confessions

1.  I know my co-worker's sneezing pattern.  I know not to say "bless you" until the second one.  That's weird.

2.  For about a year I've been getting these emails by mistake from a lady who I thought owned a gym and was informing me of the aerobics classes she was leading.  I only recently found out the emails were for felting workshops I  had requested to be notified of.

3.  A man rode by on a bike.  His jeans had built in chaps.

4.  My mom-in-law also works for my boss, but in a different office.  Tuesday I received this call:

"Senator Little's office."

"Hi, can I speak with Ms. Lucas?"

"Uh...............Which one??"

I was caught off-guard.

5.  I say "good" when I should say "well."

6.  Tonight Kimberlie and I are going on a haunted hayride where I will be screaming in her ear and digging my fingernails into her arm because I am the jumpiest pansy there ever was.

7.  I know how to say bathroom in Africaans.

8.  My first time seeing frost I was 11 years old.  I asked my mom if I could stay home to play in the snow.

9.  I drove to my parents' house to use their bathroom yesterday.  Long story.

10.  For my birthday my parents gave me the Pioneer Woman cookbook.  I wanted to do the same for my mom's birthday but have PW actually sign it.  One day late August I realized how little time I had to buy the thing, mail it out, and have it mailed back, so to save time I took my cookbook and mailed it to Oklahoma.

I wasn't trying to save money, I had every intention to buy one to keep for myself after giving my mom mine.  That is, until I received a package in the mail.  It was a cookbook.  Signed for my mother.  Again.

...

Yipee for Friday!

Why I am the Best Person You Know

Every Wednesday afternoon that I'm not otherwise preoccupied with work projects (read: every Wednesday afternoon), I volunteer at the art museum down the street from my office. 

Now, this ain't your grandmama's museum, it's actually home to some Rembrandt, Picasso, and Degas, and has brought major exhibits from NYC and abroad.  Up in these parts we reckin' that's a big deal.

I won't delve into the snobbery of the place that kept our local soup kitchen from relocating to the neighborhood; a neighborhood that already houses drug dealers, the much less fortunate, and your typical riff-raff.  No, no, I definitely won't go there.

So anyway, I spend my Wednesdays doing random chores and projects the Director of Marketing doesn't have time to do herself.  Like research, stuffing envelopes, more research, making copies, research a little more, etc.  It's not what I would call making the world a better place,but I get to be surrounded by the art I love with people who love it just as much.

Now, getting to the part where I am awesome and you are so fortunate to know (of) me....

Yesterday I make my way down the street at my usual time, yet this time with a slight hesitation.  The woman I work with emailed me the day before to say she was going to be out of town and would leave me a letter to "prep".  I emailed her back:

"No problem....now what does that mean?"

I may have used a little more tact in my original wording. 

This project was to be one of such a scale I have never attempted before, especially without her there. 

I had to mail letters.

No, not just mail them, I had to find their recipients, merge them, print them, and label them.  All on equipment I have never used for that purpose.  Yes, Excel is Excel and Word is Word, I had no issues there, but which printer is hooked up to which computer? and where do you put the letterhead? and how does it need to be oriented? and where are envelopes?  labels?

The first time I almost put my fist through a cubicle wall I was struggling to print a test letter.

"Hey Sarah, is this sucker supposed to take 15 minutes to print?"

"Uhhh....no."

"Dangit."

"Try it again."

....

"Nothing."

All the while, the person sitting in the office across from me says nothing as I struggle of the computer I am sitting at not being connected to the main printer.

Sarah: "Hey so-and-so, is this computer connected to the printer?"

Ms. Unhelpful: "No."

She was also responsible for number three almost-outburst when I discovered none of the printers were hooked up to that computer.

Number two (not that number two) occurred as I went out in search of the person who was to sign the letters I finally was able to print.  I walked around the building looking for her, no luck.  I went to her office and the door was shut so I stood there and listened for a minute, movement. 

Score!  Something is going right!

I knocked on the door and turned the handle to find the executive director sitting at his desk. 

"Uhhh...."

"Can I help you?"

He was annoyed.  As he should've been, I walked in the back door of his office.

...

Finally, two hours and four un-ladylike words later, I finished printing and labeling all 16 letters.  And in half of that time, I realized, I could have hand written every single one of them and been on my way to yoga pants and fuzzy slippers.  That's when I bit my lip and got the heck outta there.

With every intention to go back next week and do more of the same.  For Free.

Cell Phone Secretary

The fun never ends, folks.

"Senator Little's office.  Keith speaking."

"Uh hi, is Stacie there?"

"Yes, just a minute..."

ring, ring

"Hello?"

"Hey, I think it's Corey."

"K, thanks."

short pause

"Hello?"

"Hey Beetle..."

five minutes of light conversation

"So are you at your office?"

Really?

For the Love of All That Is Clean and Orderly

To the employees and volunteers of X Office with whom we are obligated to share our kitchen and bathroom:

I respectfully request you stop being gross.  A collective "you" is implied here as I can't pinpoint which one of you is the mess maker and the rest of you who also use this space do not see a need to clean up after him/her.

Your coffee maker is dirty, permanently.  I know this because I tried to clean it.  With bleach.  And when you start up a fresh batch in the morning, the normally pleasant aroma is mixed with the stench of yesterday's take out sitting on top of last week's take out in the towering trash heap in the corner.  To make matters worse, that smell is then mixed with the Febreeze Aloha air freshener in the bathroom and before you know it I'm using the ladies' facilities in the Burger King next door.

Every day I clean off our counters hoping you will notice and be more conscientious when cutting open your bagel.

Nope.

I put your stuff away, thinking you might put it back when you are finished using it.

Mmmmhmm.

...

So now that you are aware of our issues, might you find a second or two in your busy day to wipe up your coffee splatters?

Maybe you could put paper towels in the garbage?

Oh, and we would love a little room in the fridge to put an occasional bowl of soup or can of soda.

Also, if you could wash down your crumbs before they dried it would save me a lot of chipped nail polish and name calling I will later regret.

With that, I appreciate your thoughtful consideration of my requests.

Stacie



Ten on Tuesday

This week's edition of Ten on Tuesday comes from me.  Both answers, duh, and questions.  The poor dear over at Roots and Rings who usually facilitates this post is having the had-baby-time-flew-now-must-go-back-to-work blues.  The idea for questions came while, ahem, in the facilities, which is where most of my brilliant schemes evolve.  Oops, TMI.

Moving on...

1.  Comfiest: shoes?
I bought a pair of shoes (thank you tax free Pennsylvania) while visiting my friend Jill.  A pair of clogs that I hoped to wear throughout the winter to work with SOCKS so my little feetsies wouldn't freeze.  While clogs are made to be awesome and supportive, the top band is so tight it cuts off the circulation in my left foot and leaves a bruised indentation.  So to answer the questions, Stacie, my comfiest shoes are my new sneakers.

2.  Comfiest: shirt?
Any of Corey's sweatshirts, which are now my sweatshirts that I let him borrow occasionally.  They are usually paired with my comfiest pants: stretchy yoga pants that come up a good three inches past my belly button.

3.  Comfiest: room?
My living room.  We have a couple huge windows that let in lots of light and views like this:

It's also in close proximity to every other room in our apartment so I am always aware of what's going on.  I have this thing about being in the middle of all the action.  It's very relaxing to me.

4.  Comfiest: furniture?
I greatly enjoy our recliner.  It's lumpy in all the right places.

5.  Comfiest: food?
Scrambled eggs and rice.  I didn't realize this is not a normal food pairing until I met Corey.

"Whaddya mean not everyone puts breakfast AND dinner in the same bowl??"

It reminds me of growing up.  And growing up was good.  Therefore, eggs and rice must be good.  Transitive property.  Who says you don't use algebra in real life?

6.  Comfiest: drink?
Apple cider.  Warm and fresh.  But only in the fall when it's reeeeeeally chilly.  And when I'm ready to flush out my system.

7.  Comfiest: place?
Home.  I love being home where I know how to work the washer, I can find something to eat on my own, and I can be with all my adhesives.

Oh, and that's where my peeps be at (winky face).

8.  Comfiest: work outfit?
Whatever I wear on the days I designate as jeans-day.  I love me some jeans.

9.  Comfiest: time?
Those few minutes between getting home from work and starting dinner/projects/cleaning/laundry, or watching Corey start dinner/projects/cleaining/laundry.  I put my old lady stretch pants on, something baggy on top, and browse LL Bean's winter gear in my comfy place.

10.  Comfiest: season?
Right now.  Love, love, love, love fall.  Holidays are coming, shopping trips are coming, ugly sweater parties are coming....The anticipation builds, folks!

That's 10.  I'm out.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I snorted out loud today.  In my office.

I read a sleep talking story; they get me every stinkin' time.

Please tell me if this does not make you cry:

My husband and I have been married for 4 years now and he has always said the most random things, but one stands out the most. One night I was still up reading and he was asleep. All of a sudden he kind of sat up and asked me "Do you hear that?" I asked him what he was talking about and he said that he heard a strange noise. I asked him what it sounded like and he said "It sounded like a unicorn getting scooped out of a birthday cake.....??" I still wonder what that sounds like.

Feel the Burn

I have a Corey story for you.

It's been awhile since the last one, and I know you've been itchin' for a little "he really said/did that?!"

Corey's been itchin' for a little face time here, too.

However, not actual face time.  He ran from me as I whipped out my phone to take a picture of him wearing one of my headbands around the house.  (not just any headband, the one with the pretty green flower attached.)

And then again 45 minutes later when he still had it on.  The boy just loves to be goofy.

...

So, last night I sat in my studio playing with some beads, trying to ignore The Waterboy (aka: the only thing on that wasn't sports or NCIS) when I get a call.  It's Corey.  He's laying down in the bedroom.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hey Beetle.  Can you bring down the weights?"

"What?"
"The weights."

"The what?"

"Weights.  The.  Weights."

"The weights???"

"Yeah, bring down the two five-pound weights."

"Um, ok..."

"I need them right now."

click.

So I clean up my craft table.  Put my beads back in baggies.  Put all the ribbon spools away.  Tuck the pliers into their case.  Pick at my cuticles a little bit.  Look for the weights.  Find the fives sitting with the threes.  Think to myself, "good choice, Corey."  Head down the stairs.  Stop to watch the end of one of the dumbest movies ever made.  Then I rush right into the bedroom and hand Corey his weights. 

His plan?  Work out.  While in bed.  You know, like what seniors do from their wheelchairs.  Because he realizes the need to stay fit in his advancing age of 38, or 37 as he claims.

So now, with two five-pound weights sitting next to the bed, I will be falling asleep as my darling husband "pumps iron" to nightly news with Diane Sawyer and "gets ripped" to ESPN recaps. 

But at least I won't have to worry about the weights bursting open and making a mess in the same way I was when he was "lifting" soup cans.

Friday Confessions

1.  My sister, Kimberlie, and I like to wear mustaches.  The kind you get out of the machines at Walmart.  The kind that fall off when you laugh at how ridiculous you look.

2.  When I first moved to New York six years ago, I worked at a place I hated.  My co-worker hated it more.  One day, while driving back from lunch we spotted an unopened box of donuts laying on the side of the road.  You can imagine where this is going.  He stopped, picked up the box, then served them to our other co-workers.  My confession:  I didn't stop him.  But I did warn a few people I actually liked.

That was a different Stacie, people.

3.  Tuesday I was yelled at by an old couple hobbling across the street.

"TURN YOUR HEADLIGHTS ON!!"

"HEY, YOU TURN THOSE HEADLIGHT ON!"

They were pretty angry about it.  So I gave them a thumbs up.

4.  I watched Baby Mama three times this week.

5.  Yesterday I spelled "thought" wrong in the title of my post.  Sorry.  You deserve better than that.

6.  On Sunday my dad and I are running in a 5k.  I'm shooting for a time of 45 minutes.  That's about 15 minutes per mile.  Also known as walking.

7.  Corey and my dinner last night was a sweet potato.  And water.  Ahhhh, the meal of prisoners.

8.  As soon as my mom shows my dad this post, he's going to make me a plate of brownies and question my eating habits even though he didn't seen the cup and half of cereal I ate with a thick slice of banana/chocolate chip bread this morning, the bowl of fruit I had as my mid-morning snack, the two pound chicken salad sandwich I plan on stuffing down my throat for lunch, or the chicken dinner Corey has planned for tonight.

9.  I think I just ruined my chances of getting those brownies.  Dangit.

10.  Because I have had to clean up after our dirty office neighbors, I felt they owed me.  In the form of a donut hole with sprinkles, which I gladly accepted as I snuck it out of the kitchen.

Though Process and Turkey Sandwiches

Today I dumped green beans into my leftover Pad Thai and I got an oil change.

...

That's how most of my posts start out.  Not that exact way, with the beans and the oil stuff, but similarly with some random, boring nonsense that you are not going to be interested in.  Then I think of something to add or change and I end up with:

So yesterday my dog licked my foot while I was sleeping and it startled me so badly I hit my head on the wall!

And you're like, Whoa!

And I'm like, Yeah!

And you're like, Tell me more!

And BAM.  I have a full, exciting post.

Well, maybe not exciting.  But definitely entertaining....  Um, informative?

Let's go with that.

So, today is no different.  Just another day where I get up and go to work.  I neither run out of gas on my way nor do I get into a fist fight with the people who share the office kitchen and get it all stinky and dirty with their crappy coffee maker.  Yeah, I talked to some lame people on the phone and my lunch was a little stale, but other than that I have nothing to share with you.

All I can do I write what's going on in my brain.

(Mother, I know you would love to comment here, but you have officially lost all commenting privileges.  You know what you did.)

And narrate the process by which I provide all four of you regular followers with a chuckle or two.

I simply write and write and write until I've gone from turkey sandwich to politics in Scandinavia, then I chop it off somewhere in

Ghost Whisperer

My mom sent me an article this morning from one of Saratoga's newspapers describing a strange phenomena in the museum, in the park just steps from my apartment.  That phenomena: ghoulish activity.

shuddddder

Tonight on Syfy you can see for yourselves.  A paranormal investigation team from the network came to town in June to poke around, measure temperatures and use fancy soul-seeing equipment to give workers in the building a definitive "yes, that dress floating around without anyone inside of it is, in fact, a ghost."

Maybe you'll see me and Corey.  We do live right.  there.

Just steps away from shudddddddder ghosts.

shudddddder

I'm not a fan.  Nope. 

I'm actually quite paralyzed by fear at this exact moment knowing these suckers live so close to me, knowing other suckers have been "seen" in the old houses around me, knowing I, myself, live in an old, creeky building.

shuddddder

I've always been afraid of ghosts and ghost stories.  There's just something about dead people that you can't see walking around, sitting on your stuff, and watching you pee.  Are they friendly?  Do they look like zombies?  Will they try to push me down the stairs because I look like the person who 100 years ago was the cause of their deceased state?

...

Here is a real life ghost story for you:  my co-worker last week discovered one in his house.

Now just hang on Mr. and Ms. SkepticalPants:

One afternoon his wife put their babies down to sleep and turned on a camcorder to see what they really do during nap time.  About 30 minutes into the tape you see her walk in to soothe them and then leave.  You can hear her footsteps walking down the stairs.  Then, as clear as a snort chuckle from my friend Liz, you hear "settle down" in a soft whisper.

No one else was in the house.

There was no mistaking it for wind.

shudddddder

I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears.

Later in the week she had plans to visit a relative, leaving my co-worker alone in the house for the night.

"I'm staying at my brother's."

...

I'm just glad it's not me.

If There Is a Party In the Woods and No One Takes Pictures, Was It Actually Groovy?

I was gone most of the weekend at a 10th birthday party for a pound puppy with no known date or place of origin. 

My friend Jill just likes to throw theme parties.

So, I drove down to Philly Saturday afternoon and came back early yesterday morning.

Or did I?

...

I, Stacie Jo Lucas, being of sound body and mind, am a chronic picture taker.  I take pictures of funny shaped bird poop, of the spot on my dog's tongue, of my face to see if I have any dried boogies hanging out of my nose when a mirror is nowhere to be found.  Yet I have no pictorial proof of my adventures in Philadelphia.

No pictures of cute little Lucy and what felt like a wet diaper leaking onto my shirt.

No pictures of Maggie and her birthday girl ribbon.

No pictures of my bone-crushing badminton skeelz.

No pictures of the food and water bowl shaped cakes.

No pictures of the doggy bag favors.

No pictures of the Best in Show award ceremony.

No pictures of my very first and last foray into beer-ponging.

And if there are no pictures, does that mean it didn't happen??

....Ooooo, deep.

...

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I went away for the weekend but I don't have any pictures to show you because I was busy and I forgot and I'm sorry and I'll try to take pictures next time and that's all.

Ten on Tuesday

1. What does your work out schedule look like?

I like to run every other morning with my buddy Oliver.  I do cardio-kickboxing every Tuesday and Thursday night.  Then I sign myself up for other classes at the YMCA that I don't have the energy to take.


2. What is your favorite machine to use at the gym?

Treadmill.  Even though I hate running.  I hate it.  Hate.  But, unfortunately, marathons can't be completed by leisurely strolling.  Well, I guess they could, but I'm thinking race organizers tend to take down the finish line after hour six or so.

3. What is your favorite class to take at the gym?
Cardio-kickboxing--I not only get a super cardio workout, but our instructor has a black belt in karate and she teaches us some self-defense moves.  Moves I have accidentally used on Corey while we were sleeping.

I elbowed him in the face.

4. Where do you shop for work out gear and clothing?
Well, I just bought a pair of running shoes from Dicks, one stretchy shirt from Target, and the rest of my gear is random junk I've had forever.  Including one thinning pair of shorts I wore for soccer in 3rd grade.

5. If you can’t go to the gym, do you have a favorite outdoor activity?
Frolic.  I generally like to frolic about, doing frolicky things while frolicking.

6. What about a favorite work out DVD? If so, please share!

I tried a Denise Austen tape, yes tape, but gave up after a few weeks of not being able to bounce a quarter off my butt cheeks.  Aerobics classes work best for me.  I need competition, I need accountability, I need to see that there are people in worse shape than me.

7. Are you more active now or when you were in high school?

I was probably more active in high school, but not by much.  In the fall I would have marching band practices every day and most weekends (trombones are heavy, folks) and golf practices and matches after that.  Then in the spring I had track practice every day until I gave it up for being a lousy high jumper...and the whole hating running thing.

8. How has your dieting/working out philosophy changed since high school?

I only eat processed crap when absolutely necessary.  Like "Ugh, it's 2:00 again, I need me a dang Ding Dong!"  Other than that, I eat pretty much the same way.

9. What do you do while working out– (i.e., day dream, read, listen to music, gab with a friend)?

I watch TV when I'm at the gym, but when I run at home I look at all the 100-year-old houses in my neighborhood.  Anything to take away the pain of each step.  But I exaggerate.

10. What working out resolution would you like to make for yourself this year?

I'm going to do a triathlon in the spring.  So my resolution would be to train for the sucker.  I would like to actually pull myself out of bed in the dark of morning and get my freezing cold buns to the pool so that when the time comes I don't drown in the Hudson River.

 

And to get over the whole hating running thing.

Friday Confessions

1.  On Monday I wore my slippers at work.  All day.  And they aren't the kind of slippers that look like shoes.  I would say they are a cross between moccasins and hairy feet.

2.  Wednesday night I talked in my sleep:

"What did you say earlier about Betty's campaign...(sigh) my head had all these ice picks running through it."

Corey immediately wrote it down and shared with me Thursday morning.

3.  Only 5% of adults still talk in their sleep.  We were supposed to grow out of it.

4.  I bought new running shoes, and then was disappointed that I got tired after running for 10 minutes.  Then I realized I'm not a runner.

5.  I have a few weird quirks that I can't share with you.

6.  I painted my nails a cool, shimmery brown color.  It makes me feel all sassy and trendy.

7.  After a frantic call from my mom after last week's Friday Confessions (#2) I realized "break the seal" in another generation could have a different, much more inappropriate, meaning.  So don't worry Aunt Cindy, I did not clue your daughter in on the ways of the working girl, just binge drinking.

8.  I wish bad things upon people who can abuse children and animals....

9.  ...I watched Opera on Monday.

10. Today is Book Sale day at the library.  I don't have room for the books I currently own.  So I'm going to buy more.

It doesn't make sense to Corey, either.

Garage Sale Day: Debrief

Saturday was the most wonderful day of the year.  Besides Christmas.  And Thanksgiving.  And each day I get to buy new shoes.

It was GARAGE SALE DAY!!!

Again, this was the World's.  Largest.  Garage.  Sale.

As in, it don't get much bigger than this.

As in, you'll find all the junk your heart desires.

As in, bring your walking shoes, wallet, granny cart and patience.

...

Friday night I stayed at my parents' house; we planned to leave for the sale early the next morning.  Kimberlie and I blew up the air mattress, settled in with our favorite sleepy-time movie, The Mummy, and fell asleep.

But not before her darling puppy peed all over the kitchen floor sending Kimberlie downstairs to the laundry room for "dog towels" (which are just crappy towels they no longer use) to find the basement flooding.  So while she cleaned and disinfected the kitchen, my mom and I rotated from the wet ground to the washing machine's spin cycle the rest of the dog towels until we cleaned everything up.

I then went to sleep and woke up at 6am.

But not before I had to leave the air mattress because I am now too old to sleep a mere 5 inches from the cold hard ground to sleep on the couch, waking Kimberlie's dog every 15 minutes to stop her from snoring.

It was a great start.

But nothing was going to stand in my way of junk shopping my little heart out.  Not lack of sleep, not cold, harsh winds, not even Mother Nature's poorly timed surprise.

And with that resolve, we headed out.

However, some of us were a little less resolved than others.  Some of us are also not morning....creatures.

This is the gang before commencing, minus my dad who is taking the picture.  Kimberlie is on the right and my mom is in the middle.  Notice: the dog is wearing a pink hoodie.  And, yes.  She is matching my sister.

See my granny cart?  You'll see in a second just how useful the sucker was.  What you won't see are the hundreds of other granny carts, carted by non-grannies.  I can't properly express the feeling I had pulling it behind me, a feeling of camaraderie between me and my fellow Warrensburg Garage Salers as we braced ourselves for a full day of wading through treasures, watching novices, counseling them in the ways of weight distribution.  It was evident, by that cart, I knew what I was doing. 

And then I knocked over four people on my way to get dried Chinese lanterns.

We start so early in the morning because by noon the town looks like this.  Tens of thousands of people, literally, pack into what is really a small stretch of Warrensburg.  It gets annoying.  Especially when one of those ten thousand buys the glass pitcher and bowl I knew would look so perfect on my antique dresser. 

The food is a great part of this who shebang.  It's the same fried crap you get at county fairs and at a time of the year when you and your lower GI are just starting to miss it.  We got chicken quesadillas here.  At 10am.  Donuts came next.  Then sausage and peppers.

Eventually, we did need rest breaks. 

And we took them wherever there was enough space to park our tooshes.  See my cart?  It's full of goodies, jackets, water bottles, an empty tin can, hopes, and dreams.  See the lady petting the dog?  This happened all. stinkin'. day.

Hehe.  I am in so much trouble for posting this.  I consider it payback for her little monster keeping me up all night and literally trying to eat my hair.  But because I am afraid of my youngest sister, I am not going to tell her I "featured" her here.  Let's just keep this between you and me.

There is an equally hilarious picture of me floating around out there, but I conveniently can't find it.

...

So after 7.5 hours of walking up and down the main street in the small town of Warrensburg, stopping at almost every stand, completely filling up my cart, this is what I ended up with:

An old tobacco tin, a horse hankie, five green buttons, one antique button and a gold flowery thing. 

You probably had the same reaction as I did:

That's it?!

...

See you next year best garage sale ever.

Corey & Stacie's 400th Post!!

Just A Good 'ol Boy

Since the temperature up here in the land of snow and frozen solid lakes has begun it's gradual decline, Corey and I decided it was time to fire up the trusty hot box.

However, the hot box was not so hot.  It was cold, and it was spewing cold air into our already cold apartment.

After a few choice words and 30 straight minutes of click, fan, click, off, click, fan, click, fan and some other weird noise, click, off, click, click, click, Corey called our landlord.  Who called the heater fixer.  Who said he would be at our place in the early morning.

He wasn't.  And as Corey and I left for work, we were assured he would be there to fix it at some point during the day.

Hey, no problem.  Obviously our landlord trusts the guy to be in his buildings unsupervised.  And we trust our landlord.  Soooo....

....yeah.  We have a dog.  A friendly dog that just happens to be completely unpredictable when meeting new people.

He could:

1. Bark his sweet, golden head off.
2. Wag and pee profusely.
3. Hang out in his "room," until you're gone.
4. Shove his toy in your hand, leg, crotch until you throw it for him.

So, Corey left the guy this note, just in case we ran into a number 1 situation:

We hoped for the best.

And then we came home to confirmation that our boy is not entirely psycho.

Phew.

Ten on Tuesday

Here I am, back on our Ten on Tuesday schedule, sittin' at my desk, answerin' questions in my bedroom slippers.  This is the way it should be.

1. What keeps you up at night? (figuratively)

When I say mean, hurtful things.  I fret the most over hurting someone's feelings more than I do over anything else.  Because I am usually a very nice person.  Humble, too.

2. What keeps you up at night? (literally)
My brain.  And everything that happened in the day, week, month, year, and my entire life.  Also, thoughts of future jobs, projects and children, songs, mythical animals, and comebacks that never were but should have been.  I fall asleep with the TV on or I don't fall asleep.

3. Where do you want to go in life? (figuratively)

If I knew the answer I would be on my way.  At the moment I don't know, and I'm ok with just going wherever God wants me to be.  An excuse for being indecisive or lacking motivation?  Nah.  But I do have both of those excellent qualities.

4. Where do you want to go in life? (literally)
Everywhere.  I could live a nomadic life for a few years before settling down in Martha Stewart land with Corey and our retired racehorses, chickens and alpacas.

5. Have you ever bit off more than you could chew? (figuratively)
More times than I can count.  There were approximately 15 projects going on this summer.  I have conveniently forgotten what they all were.

6. Have you ever bit off more than you could chew? (literally)

Yes.  Cupcakes, in their entirety, are not made to fit into an adult sized mouth.  I will not elaborate, but it did not result in death by chocolately goodness asphyxiation.

7. Is the grass really greener on the other side of the fence? (figuratively)

No way.  Except if we're talking about hair.  Smooth, straight hair is much better than my lame-o half curls.

8. Is the grass really greener on the other side of the fence? (literally)

Oh.  Yes.  (sorry daddy) My family's lawn has never been known for its rolling waves of green.  More like its  fried pee patches.

9. If you can’t stand the heat, do you get out of the kitchen? (figuratively)

I sure do.  Because I am a wimp who has never really had to work hard.  I blame my upbringing.  You can too.

10. If you can’t stand the heat, do you get out of the kitchen? (literally)

No.  I take off my sweatshirt.

A Trip Through The Adirondacks

Corey and I spent a good part of Sunday up in Lake Placid for my boss's fundraiser; a BBQ complete with bluegrass, honkey-tonk band, balloons, a pink-haired clown named Penelope, and campaigning.  All my favorites.  A party simply cannot go wrong if you have a good balance of Patsy Cline and politicking.

And that balance is more Patsy, less other schtuff, of course.

Allow me to paint a mental picture of the day using a few key words: Northeastern New York, outside, mountains, outside, horse show grounds, outside, outside. 

The danged thing was outside, did I mention that?

Overall, it was cold.  I mean good.  There were a lot of frozen finger tips, I mean supporters.  And we raised a good amount of frostbite...er, money.

It was a tad chilly, is what I was tryin' to say there.  But I did not expect early October to give us any more than 50 degrees, which she didn't, and the biting wind was an added bonus.

(Can I just say, I just realized as I've been typing this I'm sayin' all the words in my head usin' a southern accent just like the boys in the movie I watched last night: The Assassination of Jesse James blah blah blah Too Long Of A Title blah blah Robert Ford.  Just thought y'all should know.)

So anyWAY, there we were, deep in the six million acre Adirondack Park, and as our eyeballs thawed in the sun-baked car on our way home we were awestruck by the view...

...and the perty colors

...and the mountains

...of the Adirondacks.  As much as I complain about the cold weather and how little people know about driving manners here, there is a big part of me that loves this place.  Fall, my favorite season, is my little reminder. 

It lasts until we get below 20 degrees in February, which is when I get cranky.

Corey says hi.

Friday Confessions

1.  Growing up, my family designated "favorite movies" based on the amount, duration, and intensity of fart scenes.

2.  I may or may not have taught my innocent, 13-year-old cousin what the phrase "breaking the seal" means.

3.  I attended a luncheon on behalf of my boss where I sat at the head table with the Assemblywoman and the Chancellor of the New York State University school system.  I had a visible booger in my nose the entire time.

4.  I also dribbled sauce down my chin oh-so eloquently.

5.  And then I ran out of the building.

6.  The World's Largest Garage Sale starts this weekend.  I purchased this old lady cart to store my treasures...and snacks.

7.  Corey and I had an anniversary a few weekends ago.  I spent the day with my family that was visiting from all over the country then the night baking my mom's birthday cake.  We both passed out on the couch dinnerless and wedding-cakeless.

8.  As this year has felt like no fewer than five, we were ok with it.

9.  Marriage is hard, people.

10.  After reading yesterday's post, my mom said our life is like a reality show.  Let me tell you: we would be the dumbest show on the planet, second only to The Hills.  Aside from our occasional misadventures, this is our nightly routine: come home, Corey walks dog, talk about dinner, eat cheese and crackers, forget to eat dinner, eat dessert, Stacie watches Matlock and plays with felt, Corey checks stats online then watches game, Stacie goes to bed, Corey watches game and falls asleep on couch.

Bo-ring.

But I would definitely entertain any and all offers.  Just sayin'.