Hello from the Lucas residence. I'm home sick today, thanks to Mr. Lucas who coughs with wild abandon.
Eh, who am I kidding. I was going to catch this sucker anyway. My immune system has been compromised by cake, cookies and ice cream. There may be a leaf or two of spinach swimming around in there, and I did have an organic burrito last Thursday that had a carrot in it, but it's obviously not enough.
Dang temptation.
So anyway, sick or not, there is a weekend wrap up that must be told and I hope and pray this fog in my brain lifts before the memory of laser tag, cake ball tower, and karaoke is gone for good.
Until then, see you tomorrow for Ten on Tuesday.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Say it ain't so!
Bad new, folks. Just saw this in my email (apparently someone has heard of my unnatural love of chocolate):
It's an article.
And it predicts a most unfortunate occurrence.
One that ranks above global warming on my scale.
So what do we do? Where does this leave us? Growing mini cocoa crops in our back yards? Seed processing plants in our garages? Our own personal team of chocolate bar producers at a cost of $5,000 per Hershey's with almonds??
I grow dizzy at the thought.
But at the same time I wonder if 2014 is when I finally break myself of my kiss-a-day habit?
(and I'm not talkin' about Corey kisses)
I think New York State is doing something very similar with tobacco. Not that there is a shortage. They've hiked the taxes so high it costs an arm and a leg for a pack of cigarettes and it's forcing some people to quit. If I have to save a month's worth of wages for a simple Lindt truffle, it just might be worth it to me to instead use that money for, say, a few car payments. Maybe a week long trip to Europe. Or a complete wardrobe change.
But as I read the article further, I see they're talking about fairtrade cocoa. It makes up something like 1% of the chocolate in the world.
Looks like the addiction continues.
Will there be a chocolate drought? World’s supply of sustainable cocoa could run out by 2014
It's an article.
And it predicts a most unfortunate occurrence.
One that ranks above global warming on my scale.
'Supplies of sustainable cocoa are set to run out, it's that simple,' he said.
So what do we do? Where does this leave us? Growing mini cocoa crops in our back yards? Seed processing plants in our garages? Our own personal team of chocolate bar producers at a cost of $5,000 per Hershey's with almonds??
I grow dizzy at the thought.
But at the same time I wonder if 2014 is when I finally break myself of my kiss-a-day habit?
(and I'm not talkin' about Corey kisses)
I think New York State is doing something very similar with tobacco. Not that there is a shortage. They've hiked the taxes so high it costs an arm and a leg for a pack of cigarettes and it's forcing some people to quit. If I have to save a month's worth of wages for a simple Lindt truffle, it just might be worth it to me to instead use that money for, say, a few car payments. Maybe a week long trip to Europe. Or a complete wardrobe change.
But as I read the article further, I see they're talking about fairtrade cocoa. It makes up something like 1% of the chocolate in the world.
Looks like the addiction continues.
Friday Confessions
1. I made a major change in my life on Sunday: I got bangs.
Shallow? Don't judge.
2. In the office whenever the microwave dings to tell me my leftovers are done I open the fridge. Every. Single. Time. Please explain.
3. I, um, wanted a Bump-It before I realized they aren't cool.
4. One of my favorite times of year is when I can shred old documents. I make a game out of it: how many sheets can I shred at once before I jam the thing?! Or, keep a constant stream of paper going in. Don't let it stop!
Stupid? Don't judge.
5. I am growing a dust family in my keyboard. They're fed by crumbs from my lunch and an occasional splash of water from my cup. Only once did I make like God with Noah and flood the suckers. But it was an accident. And we have since started over. It's like my version of SIMS.
6. Oliver dog has had the worst bout of gas lately. The kind that instantly fills up a room and makes your eyes water. Corey knows this, yet he still asks if it was me. Like I am capable of producing 300lb man farts.
7. I find this topic funny. And immature. But I just can't help myself.
8. I have added numerous candy wrappers to the contents of my purse. Successful completion of my sugar addiction resolution is getting farther and farther from me.
9. Tomorrow I just might kill it altogether with the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles I'm making for my sister's birthday.
I'm weak. Don't judge.
10. I had a dream that I was picked to interview Pioneer Woman. It turned out she actually lived in a suburb in Ohio and all those kids she writes about really weren't hers. I remember having a deflated "this is it??" moment. Thank goodness it was just a dream!!
...
Now to enjoy the rest of my Friday! Which means putting off all the hard work until Monday.
Shallow? Don't judge.
2. In the office whenever the microwave dings to tell me my leftovers are done I open the fridge. Every. Single. Time. Please explain.
3. I, um, wanted a Bump-It before I realized they aren't cool.
4. One of my favorite times of year is when I can shred old documents. I make a game out of it: how many sheets can I shred at once before I jam the thing?! Or, keep a constant stream of paper going in. Don't let it stop!
Stupid? Don't judge.
5. I am growing a dust family in my keyboard. They're fed by crumbs from my lunch and an occasional splash of water from my cup. Only once did I make like God with Noah and flood the suckers. But it was an accident. And we have since started over. It's like my version of SIMS.
6. Oliver dog has had the worst bout of gas lately. The kind that instantly fills up a room and makes your eyes water. Corey knows this, yet he still asks if it was me. Like I am capable of producing 300lb man farts.
7. I find this topic funny. And immature. But I just can't help myself.
8. I have added numerous candy wrappers to the contents of my purse. Successful completion of my sugar addiction resolution is getting farther and farther from me.
9. Tomorrow I just might kill it altogether with the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles I'm making for my sister's birthday.
I'm weak. Don't judge.
10. I had a dream that I was picked to interview Pioneer Woman. It turned out she actually lived in a suburb in Ohio and all those kids she writes about really weren't hers. I remember having a deflated "this is it??" moment. Thank goodness it was just a dream!!
...
Now to enjoy the rest of my Friday! Which means putting off all the hard work until Monday.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Comfort is a dish best served with mustard
We've had a request here at Corey & Stacie.
A request for a certain topic to be covered.
One that this particular reader feels is not touched on as much as it should be.
A topic on the awesomeness that is Corey.
And that request came from Corey, himself.
...
"Hey Beetle, is there gonna be a blog post today?"
"Maybe."
"Do you have something planned?"
"Not yet."
"So you don't have something already scheduled?"
"Nope."
"You should write about how I made you dinner."
"You serious?"
"Yeah! I make stuff from Food Channel for my beetle!"
"Um, sure."
"Tell them I made a homemade raspberry sauce!"
"Ok..."
...
This was all said through a shower curtain, I should add, not over Wheaties and coffee as you probably imagined. But don't go back and try to imagine it. Trust me, it was as funny as it sounds.
And it was cute. Kind of a childlike excitement, he was so proud of himself. So I oblige:
Yes, Corey made us dinner the past two nights. And dessert. Which was very welcoming to me as I have been a tad down in the dumps over work stuff, future stuff, and the end of the world as we know it.
But I digress.
He's been watching a lot of the Food Channel recently, even a little Barefoot Contessa (whom he claims to not enjoy, but watches anyway..."I like the food," he says. He does, however, draw the line at Rachel Ray. As he should). His favorite: Diners, Drive Ins and Dives with Guy Fi....um, Guy Fior....the guy with the spiky blond hair. It is Guy who inspired Tuesday's meal of a burger covered in chili and cheese.
To Guy F. I say, Thank You. Because it was stinkin' awesome!
Last night it was our comfort food staple: tator tots covered in cheese, a meat sauce, ketchup and mustard. No inspiration. Just taking super good stuff and mixing it all together.
No big whoop, I make junk like this all the time.
Well here's the kicker, my friends, the piece that puts Corey above those of us who just make junk: he was home sick both days.
Awwwwww....
...wait, so you ate food that was probably tainted with cold germs?
Um, yeah. I guess I did. But heck, if I was gonna catch it, I was gonna catch it. Besides, how could I have turned down a meal planned to make me feel better from someone who should have been in bed trying to make himself better?!
The best part is next. He bought fresh raspberries.
While still sick.
And he made a sauce.
That he put over chocolate ice cream.
And cheesecake.
I die.
Almost literally. I thought my stomach was going to explode. But I ended up surviving and digesting and swearing off all things greasy and sweet. That is, until lunch time today.
...
So that's my story.
The hubbs takes good care of me when I need a pick-me-up.
And it works.
Until he comes over and farts in my face.
So maybe he doesn't quite get all aspects of soothe and comfort...
A request for a certain topic to be covered.
One that this particular reader feels is not touched on as much as it should be.
A topic on the awesomeness that is Corey.
And that request came from Corey, himself.
...
"Hey Beetle, is there gonna be a blog post today?"
"Maybe."
"Do you have something planned?"
"Not yet."
"So you don't have something already scheduled?"
"Nope."
"You should write about how I made you dinner."
"You serious?"
"Yeah! I make stuff from Food Channel for my beetle!"
"Um, sure."
"Tell them I made a homemade raspberry sauce!"
"Ok..."
...
This was all said through a shower curtain, I should add, not over Wheaties and coffee as you probably imagined. But don't go back and try to imagine it. Trust me, it was as funny as it sounds.
And it was cute. Kind of a childlike excitement, he was so proud of himself. So I oblige:
Yes, Corey made us dinner the past two nights. And dessert. Which was very welcoming to me as I have been a tad down in the dumps over work stuff, future stuff, and the end of the world as we know it.
But I digress.
He's been watching a lot of the Food Channel recently, even a little Barefoot Contessa (whom he claims to not enjoy, but watches anyway..."I like the food," he says. He does, however, draw the line at Rachel Ray. As he should). His favorite: Diners, Drive Ins and Dives with Guy Fi....um, Guy Fior....the guy with the spiky blond hair. It is Guy who inspired Tuesday's meal of a burger covered in chili and cheese.
To Guy F. I say, Thank You. Because it was stinkin' awesome!
Last night it was our comfort food staple: tator tots covered in cheese, a meat sauce, ketchup and mustard. No inspiration. Just taking super good stuff and mixing it all together.
No big whoop, I make junk like this all the time.
Well here's the kicker, my friends, the piece that puts Corey above those of us who just make junk: he was home sick both days.
Awwwwww....
...wait, so you ate food that was probably tainted with cold germs?
Um, yeah. I guess I did. But heck, if I was gonna catch it, I was gonna catch it. Besides, how could I have turned down a meal planned to make me feel better from someone who should have been in bed trying to make himself better?!
The best part is next. He bought fresh raspberries.
While still sick.
And he made a sauce.
That he put over chocolate ice cream.
And cheesecake.
I die.
Almost literally. I thought my stomach was going to explode. But I ended up surviving and digesting and swearing off all things greasy and sweet. That is, until lunch time today.
...
So that's my story.
The hubbs takes good care of me when I need a pick-me-up.
And it works.
Until he comes over and farts in my face.
So maybe he doesn't quite get all aspects of soothe and comfort...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday can take a flyin' leap...
Boy am glad that day's over.
Over and done and gone forever.
Although it started with such promise....
...at 2am when Corey's coughing kept me awake until 3am and then a Lifetime movie kept me awake until 6am and then I had to get up for work at 7am.
Such promise.
It only really got rough once I got into the office. The NYS Senator's office where I take residents' complaints and turn them into sunshine.
And try to get them their unemployment.
So I'm in the office. I find out the maniac whose been honking his horn in the parking lot is Corey trying to get my attention. He's sitting there in his pajamas and slippers waving like a lunatic in my general direction. He had run out of the house behind me once he realized he left his cell phone in my car and desperately needed it.
Whoopsie.
Then I took a call and was yelled at by a constituent: apparently, my boss does not like children and would like to see harm come to them. This is, of course, the same boss who is mother to six and grandmother to 13.
Then I was hung up on.
Then I spent almost an hour listening to the saddest story of the week while watching a man cry.
(Girlfriends, can we say a hopeless, dejected man is one of the sadder things around?)
Then I balled to Corey on the phone while warming up my lunch. The events of the day were, as they say, the camel that came and sat right on my face.
...
The straw that the camel found in its ear....?
...
I realized that maybe it's time to find a new job, to move on.
Then realized that I have no idea what I would move on to.
And then I ate a buncha chocolate.
For serious. I had, like, twelve Hershey kisses with almonds and some Reese's PB cups leftover from Christmas. Because what's a girl to do who has a piece of paper that reads, "Congratulations, you have a degree in talkin' good"? And what's a girl to do who has ruled out all of the possible fields in which the skill of "talkin' good" would be applicable?
But that is neither here, nor there.
But really it is here. And I have no idea what that saying means.
Luckily, the bad stops here. I came home to footie pajamas. And Corey, probably fearing a still-sobbing mess, prepared a meal fit for an almost-sobbing-mess: a burger covered in chili, cheese and mustard, chocolate ice cream with homemade raspberry sauce, and cookies with milk. I snuggled up with the dog and fell asleep at 9pm.
I'm still expecting to find the same problems at work, the same issues I don't want to have to deal with anymore, and the same brick wall with the words "What's Next?" written all over in graffiti.
...not amateur Schenectady graffiti, more like the work of NYC subway tunnel artists.
But eventually things will change. I'll know where I'm going. And that dang camel will be able to find the piece of straw in the haystack.
Over and done and gone forever.
Although it started with such promise....
...at 2am when Corey's coughing kept me awake until 3am and then a Lifetime movie kept me awake until 6am and then I had to get up for work at 7am.
Such promise.
It only really got rough once I got into the office. The NYS Senator's office where I take residents' complaints and turn them into sunshine.
And try to get them their unemployment.
So I'm in the office. I find out the maniac whose been honking his horn in the parking lot is Corey trying to get my attention. He's sitting there in his pajamas and slippers waving like a lunatic in my general direction. He had run out of the house behind me once he realized he left his cell phone in my car and desperately needed it.
Whoopsie.
Then I took a call and was yelled at by a constituent: apparently, my boss does not like children and would like to see harm come to them. This is, of course, the same boss who is mother to six and grandmother to 13.
Then I was hung up on.
Then I spent almost an hour listening to the saddest story of the week while watching a man cry.
(Girlfriends, can we say a hopeless, dejected man is one of the sadder things around?)
Then I balled to Corey on the phone while warming up my lunch. The events of the day were, as they say, the camel that came and sat right on my face.
...
The straw that the camel found in its ear....?
...
I realized that maybe it's time to find a new job, to move on.
Then realized that I have no idea what I would move on to.
And then I ate a buncha chocolate.
For serious. I had, like, twelve Hershey kisses with almonds and some Reese's PB cups leftover from Christmas. Because what's a girl to do who has a piece of paper that reads, "Congratulations, you have a degree in talkin' good"? And what's a girl to do who has ruled out all of the possible fields in which the skill of "talkin' good" would be applicable?
But that is neither here, nor there.
But really it is here. And I have no idea what that saying means.
Luckily, the bad stops here. I came home to footie pajamas. And Corey, probably fearing a still-sobbing mess, prepared a meal fit for an almost-sobbing-mess: a burger covered in chili, cheese and mustard, chocolate ice cream with homemade raspberry sauce, and cookies with milk. I snuggled up with the dog and fell asleep at 9pm.
I'm still expecting to find the same problems at work, the same issues I don't want to have to deal with anymore, and the same brick wall with the words "What's Next?" written all over in graffiti.
...not amateur Schenectady graffiti, more like the work of NYC subway tunnel artists.
But eventually things will change. I'll know where I'm going. And that dang camel will be able to find the piece of straw in the haystack.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Ten on Tuesday
What a wonderful surprise to wake up and find out it's not Monday anymore! Time for some Ten on Tuesday hosted by Chelsea at Roots and Rings. I have no idea who came up with this round of questions, but as long as I can make just one marching band reference I'm happy.
1. Do you decorate for Valentine’s day?
No. Winter pretty much sucks the life outta me. The only motivation I feel to decorate comes when spring does. No V-day, no St. Pat's Day, no Easter. I'm a bum.
2. Does your desktop have a picture or computer graphic? Is it organized?
I have this picture on my desktop:
That's my boy Oliver with his buddy Rowdy, the only dog he's ever actually enjoyed playing with. Sadly, Rowdy died about a year after this day. He had a good life. Obviously.
3. Do you use a paper planner, electric planner or no planner at all?
I've tried 'em all! At the same time. So I usually have plans written down, I just don't know where.
4. Do you change purses or bags often or stick with a good thing?
I usually stick with one purse for awhile, like six months. But I would change more often if it was more convenient. Or if I didn't shove things in it that otherwise don't have a home. Like receipts. Night lights. Bottles of Tabasco sauce.
5. What’s your favorite YouTube Video?
I have a few. Thanks to Chelsea I'm hooked on the Harvard Sailing Team videos. Then there's my favorite commercial:
And I can watch this girl, Anjelah Johnson, forever. Hi-lar-ious.
6. Do you use Turbo Tax or a real person to pay your taxes?
I used to do my taxes online when times were simple. I was single. And had one income. Now I have a spouse who has a full time job and plays the ponies. I also have a side business where I sell one to two pieces of jewelry every blue moon. Stuff got tuff.
7. How many states have you set foot (or tire) in? Which ones?
Let's count: Washington-aunt lives there, Oregon-driving through, California-I lived there, Arizona-vacation, Nevada-Vegas, duh, New Mexico-driving through, Texas-driving through, took for-ev-er, Louisianna-driving through, Mississippi-granddaddy lives there, Florida-annual vacation, Tennessee-driving through, Kentucky-driving through, Indiana-I lived there, Illinois-neighbor, Michigan-neighbor and sometimes Sunday brunch, Ohio-neighbor, Pennsylvania-BFF lives there, New York-I live here, Vermont-new neighbor, Massachusettes-shopping, Connecticut-Corey's BFF lives there but I'm sure guys don't call their BFFs BFF, New Jersey-neighbor, Maryland-driving through, Delaware-driving through, Virginia-vacation, Hawaii-band (geek) trip.
Twenty-six. I'm over halfway there.
8. How many countries have you been in? Which ones?
Just three: Canada, Mexico and Italy. Four if you count changing planes in France.
9. How many pillows are in your house? (Sleeping or decorative)
Twelve on the bed (I think I've written before how much I love my mountain of pillows) and just two (of the softest pillows ever) on each couch.
10. How cold is too cold for flip flops?
I let my feet tell me when it's too cold. They turn a deathly shade of blue-ish purple. It is as gross as it sounds.
...
On that note...Happy Tuesday! Hope m' dead feet don't haunt your dreams!
Monday, January 24, 2011
I succumbed to peer pressure and Snoop Dogg.
It's true.
I pride myself on my ability to wear gray sweatpants with a different shade of gray sweatshirt into the grocery store and not giving two licks about the cashiers giving me the "oh no she didn't" sneer.
I go to breakfast in a half pajama, half could-be-pajama outfit, complete with no make up and greasy hair without wondering for a second if I'm going to run into someone I know.
In other words, I don't normally care what others think about me.
But not Saturday.
Oh dear. I'm almost ashamed to confess.
But as I tend to keep nothing to myself, here is my story:
I was invited to a friend's birthday party. And as we are not turning seven the "party" was not balloons, clown, cake, then nap. It was dinner followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by what could be called dancing.
Oh, the horror.
See, I'm not much of a boozer. My alcohol consumption for the entire year includes probably a pitcher of beer and bottle of wine. It's just not my thang. So, you can imagine my tolerance for the stuff is pret-ty low, which is why I gave myself a pint limit. And a 10:30pm bedtime.
Well, that went out the window by shot number one.
I can do just one shot. I mean, this is a birthday party and the thing is called Hawiian Punch. Completely harmless.
This lead to:
"Let's send Stacie home to Corey WASTED!!"
Which lead me to say:
"No, no, no, no, no. That's not necessary."
Which lead them to say:
"Drink this or you'll die!"
And I go:
"But I have so much to live for!"
And they say:
"Like what? You make felt balls and watch Matlock!"
And I'm like:
"You're right, but I really enjoy Matlock!"
And they go:
"It's hard not to...Ben Matlock is a courtroom genius!"
And I'm all like:
"Genius is taking it a little far...perhaps maybe he's just very insightful!"
...
Ok. So I exaggerate.
But I do normally feel bad when people buy me things meant for consumption and I'm just not in the mood. Corey bought me a Snickers bar last weekend after I'd already eaten my weight in candy, but I ate it anyway.
Bad example. But I think you get my drift.
So here is this second shot. Already poured. Already paid for. And a pair of puppy dog eyes behind it.
Ok, ok. Just this last one. Besides, it's the size of a thimble.
But with that I opened up a door to more booze thrown at me. Almost literally by the end of the night. Which came at 1:15am after two hours of dancing to music I've never heard of. Because I'm an old lady who watches Matlock movie marathons on Sunday afternoons instead of catching up on the latest in the industry.
Oh, and because I'm not too fond of the f-bomb.
Or the b-and-h bomb.
(please don't ask what that means...)
Lucky for me, and who knows how this happened, I married a man who will drag himself out of bed in zero degree weather with a cold looming to pick up his weak and not entirely sober wife and not point out the hypocrisy in her lectures on "going out" the occasional nights he chooses to watch a football game outside of their home.
(sigh...)
The moral of the story: don't be like me. Just say no. Because when you're dragging your butt outta bed six hours later to be at church the next morning I can guarantee you will 1) feel like gross NYC street sludge, and 2) sit in that pew feeling the ominous pointer finger of God with each word of your pastor's sermon.
So, let's drink to bringing back pinatas, swimming pools and My Little Pony cakes for birthday parties!
Drink chai lattes, that is.
I pride myself on my ability to wear gray sweatpants with a different shade of gray sweatshirt into the grocery store and not giving two licks about the cashiers giving me the "oh no she didn't" sneer.
I go to breakfast in a half pajama, half could-be-pajama outfit, complete with no make up and greasy hair without wondering for a second if I'm going to run into someone I know.
In other words, I don't normally care what others think about me.
But not Saturday.
Oh dear. I'm almost ashamed to confess.
But as I tend to keep nothing to myself, here is my story:
I was invited to a friend's birthday party. And as we are not turning seven the "party" was not balloons, clown, cake, then nap. It was dinner followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by what could be called dancing.
Oh, the horror.
See, I'm not much of a boozer. My alcohol consumption for the entire year includes probably a pitcher of beer and bottle of wine. It's just not my thang. So, you can imagine my tolerance for the stuff is pret-ty low, which is why I gave myself a pint limit. And a 10:30pm bedtime.
Well, that went out the window by shot number one.
I can do just one shot. I mean, this is a birthday party and the thing is called Hawiian Punch. Completely harmless.
This lead to:
"Let's send Stacie home to Corey WASTED!!"
Which lead me to say:
"No, no, no, no, no. That's not necessary."
Which lead them to say:
"Drink this or you'll die!"
And I go:
"But I have so much to live for!"
And they say:
"Like what? You make felt balls and watch Matlock!"
And I'm like:
"You're right, but I really enjoy Matlock!"
And they go:
"It's hard not to...Ben Matlock is a courtroom genius!"
And I'm all like:
"Genius is taking it a little far...perhaps maybe he's just very insightful!"
...
Ok. So I exaggerate.
But I do normally feel bad when people buy me things meant for consumption and I'm just not in the mood. Corey bought me a Snickers bar last weekend after I'd already eaten my weight in candy, but I ate it anyway.
Bad example. But I think you get my drift.
So here is this second shot. Already poured. Already paid for. And a pair of puppy dog eyes behind it.
Ok, ok. Just this last one. Besides, it's the size of a thimble.
But with that I opened up a door to more booze thrown at me. Almost literally by the end of the night. Which came at 1:15am after two hours of dancing to music I've never heard of. Because I'm an old lady who watches Matlock movie marathons on Sunday afternoons instead of catching up on the latest in the industry.
Oh, and because I'm not too fond of the f-bomb.
Or the b-and-h bomb.
(please don't ask what that means...)
Lucky for me, and who knows how this happened, I married a man who will drag himself out of bed in zero degree weather with a cold looming to pick up his weak and not entirely sober wife and not point out the hypocrisy in her lectures on "going out" the occasional nights he chooses to watch a football game outside of their home.
(sigh...)
The moral of the story: don't be like me. Just say no. Because when you're dragging your butt outta bed six hours later to be at church the next morning I can guarantee you will 1) feel like gross NYC street sludge, and 2) sit in that pew feeling the ominous pointer finger of God with each word of your pastor's sermon.
So, let's drink to bringing back pinatas, swimming pools and My Little Pony cakes for birthday parties!
Drink chai lattes, that is.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Friday Confessions
1. When I have a bad day I put on my footie pajamas. I think I have Corey trained to know when I'm in my onsie he best chill out.
2. They have sock monkey heads on the feet.
3. New Year's Resolution Update: I failed. Haven't been to the gym once. Eating sugar daily, hourly, minutely. Date nights? What are those?
Jeez Louise. It's a good thing I wasn't resolved to keep breathing.
4. But on a positive note: On Wednesday I made the best cupcakes you'll never eat because I can't let a single one leave the house without catchin' a ride in my own belly.
5. I mentioned on Wednesday I want to see Justin Bieber's movie. That comment belongs here with additional confessions: I heart Justin Bieber. He is the cutest little punk and I don't care what you say, he has some talent in that 12-year-old body.
What's that...? Oh, you say he's 16...well that explains his girlfriend, Kim Kardashian.
This is how rumors get started.
6. I also adore the Jonas Brothers.
7. Yesterday I wore a dress to work with thick tights. It was a darling little outfit, a real stretch from my usual frumpiness. However, because the tights were so thick I could not sense whether the bottom of my dress was stickin' with me or tucked up in my unmentionables.
8. I may or may not have kicked and/or elbowed Corey several times last night. But in my defense he was snoring and I needed my beauty sleep.
9. On People.com you can put your face in celebrities' Golden Globes hair. Of course, being in the market for new hair, I did. The result: get ready for the new J. Lo.
10. I am one hot mess today. An open-face turkey sandwich comes to mind.
...
On with Friday. And all of the pre-weekend goodness it holds.
2. They have sock monkey heads on the feet.
3. New Year's Resolution Update: I failed. Haven't been to the gym once. Eating sugar daily, hourly, minutely. Date nights? What are those?
Jeez Louise. It's a good thing I wasn't resolved to keep breathing.
4. But on a positive note: On Wednesday I made the best cupcakes you'll never eat because I can't let a single one leave the house without catchin' a ride in my own belly.
5. I mentioned on Wednesday I want to see Justin Bieber's movie. That comment belongs here with additional confessions: I heart Justin Bieber. He is the cutest little punk and I don't care what you say, he has some talent in that 12-year-old body.
What's that...? Oh, you say he's 16...well that explains his girlfriend, Kim Kardashian.
This is how rumors get started.
6. I also adore the Jonas Brothers.
7. Yesterday I wore a dress to work with thick tights. It was a darling little outfit, a real stretch from my usual frumpiness. However, because the tights were so thick I could not sense whether the bottom of my dress was stickin' with me or tucked up in my unmentionables.
8. I may or may not have kicked and/or elbowed Corey several times last night. But in my defense he was snoring and I needed my beauty sleep.
9. On People.com you can put your face in celebrities' Golden Globes hair. Of course, being in the market for new hair, I did. The result: get ready for the new J. Lo.
10. I am one hot mess today. An open-face turkey sandwich comes to mind.
...
On with Friday. And all of the pre-weekend goodness it holds.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Zombie Update
I have a bit of good news and bad news.
And I'm assuming if you're still with me after reading the title you're down with this weird zombie craze.
Either that or you're new here and wondering if I'm documenting my progress into Zombie-ness.
I'm not. Zombies aren't real.
No matter what AMC says. Which is what I'm getting at here. Remember that little show I instantly became obsessed with, The Walking Dead? Well about a billion other people are uber obsessed weirdos too and season two is scheduled...Woop Woop!
But now for the bad news: it won't be on until October.
Anguish. Pure anguish.
But I exaggerate.
Below are my episode wrap-ups. You'll want to know what's going on before October. Trust me:
Uh oh, Zombies commin' to camp
Movin' on up, to the CDC
Explosions 'n stuff
These are expert reviews.
You're welcome.
And I'm assuming if you're still with me after reading the title you're down with this weird zombie craze.
Either that or you're new here and wondering if I'm documenting my progress into Zombie-ness.
I'm not. Zombies aren't real.
No matter what AMC says. Which is what I'm getting at here. Remember that little show I instantly became obsessed with, The Walking Dead? Well about a billion other people are uber obsessed weirdos too and season two is scheduled...Woop Woop!
But now for the bad news: it won't be on until October.
Anguish. Pure anguish.
But I exaggerate.
Below are my episode wrap-ups. You'll want to know what's going on before October. Trust me:
Uh oh, Zombies commin' to camp
Movin' on up, to the CDC
Explosions 'n stuff
These are expert reviews.
You're welcome.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Oh how I love blogging. Let me count the ways....
I'm not much of a journaler, per se. I remember starting a few diaries when I was younger, but I never managed to make it more than a handful of pages in. It's not for lack of having things to say. Obviously I don't seem to run out of words. It was more of a combination of losing interest, having too much to say, and concern for making a very permanent mistake in pen.
My very first diary was made of puffy pink plastic with balloons and confetti all over. I wrote in it with different colored pens, the kind that had all the ink in one pen...remember those? The thing had a lock and key, which helped me keep my secrets from my sisters who were too young to read anyway. Deep dark secrets such as how mad I was at being sick on my birthday.
Whoa.
There were other things, too. I don't remember them all. But I know I was so embarrassed at the possibility of someone reading my thoughts I ripped out the pages and hid them somewhere. Great idea, because now I know where the diary is but I have no clue where those missing pages are.
Someone somewhere is going to find out about my super duper crush on Lorenzo Feliciano in fourth grade. I'll be ruined!!
But anyway, there was a point here and I have wandered off. Again.
What I was trying to say is that for some reason I've stuck to this blogging thing like it's a triple chocolate sheet cake. (It's probably because of this nifty 'backspace' button I use oh-so-frequently.) Been at it since May-ish of 2009. And I'm realizing there's more to this sucker than just puttin' words out there to be mildly entertaining. I can look back at stuff!!
I can go back to this day, January 19th of last year and see what the heck I was doing! Because I chronicled my sister falling through the ice in a lake I can remember the whole day so clearly. And then I can laugh and laugh all over again.
Gimme a break. She fell in to her knees.
I started Corey & Stacie when we (read: I) were planning our wedding and knee deep in about a million "things to do" checklists. All of those old posts are invaluable to me now; I was clinically brain-dead and can't remember half of what went on for about six months leading up to the thing. Looking back, I noticed after picking my bridesmaids this is how I introduced them to you. If that doesn't scream "this girl needs a brownie with her vodka" I don't know what does.
Eventually I did get my brownie and vodka (read: nap) and life moved on.
How do I know? Because I read it! That's almost literally what I said! Thank goodness for this blog and it's memory capabilities. Left up to myself I would not be able to tell my children and grandchildren:
"Did you know mommy almost sent Granny Lucas a picture of condoms?"
...
You're right. I can't possibly know if this whole blogging fad is even going to be around when I have my babies.
(And I would never tell them that, anyway.)
But while I can blog I'm going to. For both of our enjoyment.
**goofy smile**
My very first diary was made of puffy pink plastic with balloons and confetti all over. I wrote in it with different colored pens, the kind that had all the ink in one pen...remember those? The thing had a lock and key, which helped me keep my secrets from my sisters who were too young to read anyway. Deep dark secrets such as how mad I was at being sick on my birthday.
Whoa.
There were other things, too. I don't remember them all. But I know I was so embarrassed at the possibility of someone reading my thoughts I ripped out the pages and hid them somewhere. Great idea, because now I know where the diary is but I have no clue where those missing pages are.
Someone somewhere is going to find out about my super duper crush on Lorenzo Feliciano in fourth grade. I'll be ruined!!
But anyway, there was a point here and I have wandered off. Again.
What I was trying to say is that for some reason I've stuck to this blogging thing like it's a triple chocolate sheet cake. (It's probably because of this nifty 'backspace' button I use oh-so-frequently.) Been at it since May-ish of 2009. And I'm realizing there's more to this sucker than just puttin' words out there to be mildly entertaining. I can look back at stuff!!
I can go back to this day, January 19th of last year and see what the heck I was doing! Because I chronicled my sister falling through the ice in a lake I can remember the whole day so clearly. And then I can laugh and laugh all over again.
Gimme a break. She fell in to her knees.
I started Corey & Stacie when we (read: I) were planning our wedding and knee deep in about a million "things to do" checklists. All of those old posts are invaluable to me now; I was clinically brain-dead and can't remember half of what went on for about six months leading up to the thing. Looking back, I noticed after picking my bridesmaids this is how I introduced them to you. If that doesn't scream "this girl needs a brownie with her vodka" I don't know what does.
Eventually I did get my brownie and vodka (read: nap) and life moved on.
How do I know? Because I read it! That's almost literally what I said! Thank goodness for this blog and it's memory capabilities. Left up to myself I would not be able to tell my children and grandchildren:
"Did you know mommy almost sent Granny Lucas a picture of condoms?"
...
You're right. I can't possibly know if this whole blogging fad is even going to be around when I have my babies.
(And I would never tell them that, anyway.)
But while I can blog I'm going to. For both of our enjoyment.
**goofy smile**
Just a Few Things To Chew On
A few quick notes because I'm having a hard time with complete thoughts:
- After crawling under a blanket a few nights ago with Corey to watch some Food Network nonsense I hear a roaring fart immediately followed by, "Don't worry about that, Beetle."
- This morning I stepped outside and said to myself, "It smells like a nail salon." And then I said, "Boy it's warm out here." It was 30 degrees.
- I spent about 10 minutes yesterday after work chipping at ice that formed on all the windows of my car. Chips of ice went down my shirt and in my eyes and I was cold. For this I felt I deserved six cookies. Three cooked, three raw.
- I am currently wearing the frumpiest combination of clothes I could ever have come up with. A room full of monkeys could have done better with me.
- However, I don't believe a room full of monkeys could come up with some Shakespeare. Just so we're clear.
- I want to see Justin Bieber's movie.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ten on Tuesday
1. What’s your favorite color to paint your nails?
Pink, in every shade. Is there any other color?
2. Do you like to sneeze?
Love it. But I'm a mouth sneezer, so when I am midway through chewing I prefer to not have to sneeze. But we can't always control that!
I like hiccups even more!!
3. How often do you fill up your car with gas?
It's sixteen degrees outside right now. I can stand to put maybe half a tank in before my nose falls off. And because I have a 30-minute commute each day I fill up pretty regularly.
Lord, please mandate full-service stations in Upstate New York....
4. Were you named after anyone?
No, but I think my parents liked the name on someone else and decided to steal it. My middle name is after my daddy. I'm a Stacie Jo.
5. Have you made any good recipes lately?
I made an excellent trip to the store for some pre-made sushi last week.
6. What’s an easy money-saving tip that you use regularly?
Don't. Waste. For this cause, I am a nutcase:
"You don't need a whole tissue to clean out the dog's eye goopies!! Just use a toilet paper square!"
...
"Whaddya mean you threw out the bread because it was stale?? We could have used it for bread pudding!!"
...
"Do you really need to do a whole load of laundry for one stinkin' pair of pants???"
Nut. Case.
7. Would you rather have a sore throat or an ear ache?
Um. Ear ache?
8. Do you have any scars? What are they from?
I have a scar on each knee from Kindergarten. My dad and I were racing home and I tripped and slid on the concrete. I remember the pain quite vividly. And then I have a chicken pox scar next to my eye.
That's it. I'm very careful (read: lucky)
9. What are you “known for” in your circle of friends/family?
I think I might be obnoxious. But the dears are too nice to kick me out of parties.
10. How do you like to eat your pancakes?
Depending on my mood I like them one of four ways, 1) plain as nature intended, 2) butter and sugar, 3) butter and syrup, 4) loaded with chocolate chips.
Geography 101: New York
Dearest Blog Friends,
I feel compelled to lead a brief lesson in New York State geography titled, "New York is Actually an Entire State You Buncha Dodos." I may or may not shorten the title upon publication.
Publication, where, you ask?
In the Journal of Historical...Scientific....Classifi....well it's not important at this juncture.
The necessity of this post comes from a conversation I had with a gentleman in Missouri. While discussing work matters, a misconception surfaced (I'll admit it was one I held myself before I moved here from the midwest) that this state is just one big, crowded mess.
The Reader's Digest version of the conversation:
"Hey guy in Missouri, I have this constituent and I need help with (this and that and this and the other thing)"
"Well, I'd love to be able to help but we just don't have the same technology as you do in big cities."
"Ok, but we're not in The city."
"I just would like to find out if there are any other options for our constituent."
"Um, we do not live in a big city."
"Out here in Missouri we are just a buncha very rural towns and villages..."
"Ok....SO ARE WE."
So begins the lesson: New York State is not just one big New York City.
We have a few big cities. Maybe you've heard of one of them.
Buffalo? It's pretty cool.
But now let's take a look-see at the lesser known areas.
The green areas are rural. The really green areas are pretty-darn-rural.
See that giant circle at the top? That's called the Adirondack Park. Don't get much more rural than that, folks. Six million-bagillion acres, and people live there. No exaggeration, except for the bagillion part. That's not even a real number.
My neighbor to the left, Hamilton County, is home to 5,000 people....total. You're more likely to see a seven-toed black bear than a person. And my neighbor to the right is just one big cow patty: farms, farms, and a few more farms.
Quite the difference from the flaming red island, NYC.
Probably not what you expected.
It wasn't what I expected. I thought there would be suburbs as far as the eye could see. Shopping malls on every corner. And at least one Macy's per household. But this is just not the case. I have to drive about an hour to get my Jessica Simpson purple 5" wedges. Mr. Missouri does not know my plight.
sigh
So, in conclusion: Yes, New York is home to the biggest city we got, but that ain't the whole package. We can be just as rural as Missouri with not even the slightest hint of greasy street grime or traffic lights. Parts of New York State have more cows per mile than people, more trees per mile than cows and more black flies per mile than trees.
(That last one is actually not a good thing.)
I'm not sayin' all this to get you packed up and moved out. No, your state is probably just fine.
Consider this....continuing education.
Class dismissed.
...
Up next: What the skin on your hands starts to look like when the temps are consistently in the negatives.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Friday Confessions
I'm back to Friday Confessions. With a vengeance. See below, if you dare.
1. The very funny Mamarazzi at Dandelion Wishes reminded me of something I must share or else I will just die: I've got these little hairs prematurely sprouting from my face. You probably could guess that about me, judging by my deep manly voice and burly physique, but what is odd is that my little hairs are less of a whisker and more of an out-of-control-peach-fuzz. It is not unusual to see me walking around with a two-inch baby hair attached to my chin. Don't judge. I'm beautiful on the inside.
2. Mamarazzi also makes me think of that "Paparazzi" song by what's-her-face...uh...Lady Gagoo. For the first several months that song was out and played all. the. time. I sang at the top of my lungs, "blah, blah, blah, papa...papa roxie..." while thinking, what's up with this poor girl's dad??
3. I am an over-sharer. A serial TMI-er. It's because I don't know you. Well, I know some of you, but those of you I know also know me and know this is not out of the ordinary. For that reason...
4. I probably won't stop.
5. But I digress...
6. It took me an entire week to realize going to work while it's 15-20 degrees with my hair wet is what is causing me to shiver at my desk all day.
7. Our Christmas tree is still up. Every night for two weeks we've had this conversation: "We'll definitely take the tree down tomorrow night." But we will definitely be taking it down, for sure, tomorrow night.
8. Maybe, we may be taking it down tomorrow night.
9. Most likely not. I doubt our tree will be down before February.
10. This is what I found in my purse today: poop bag, night light, candy wrapper, wine cork, ribbon, two sets of car keys, refrigerator magnet, and 14 tissues. This is, of course, in addition to hair ties, two wallets, a lipstick holder, several pens and bobby pins.
...
Happy Friday! Or Tuesday, for those of us who may or may not have been completely thrown off by Wednesday's snow day...
1. The very funny Mamarazzi at Dandelion Wishes reminded me of something I must share or else I will just die: I've got these little hairs prematurely sprouting from my face. You probably could guess that about me, judging by my deep manly voice and burly physique, but what is odd is that my little hairs are less of a whisker and more of an out-of-control-peach-fuzz. It is not unusual to see me walking around with a two-inch baby hair attached to my chin. Don't judge. I'm beautiful on the inside.
2. Mamarazzi also makes me think of that "Paparazzi" song by what's-her-face...uh...Lady Gagoo. For the first several months that song was out and played all. the. time. I sang at the top of my lungs, "blah, blah, blah, papa...papa roxie..." while thinking, what's up with this poor girl's dad??
3. I am an over-sharer. A serial TMI-er. It's because I don't know you. Well, I know some of you, but those of you I know also know me and know this is not out of the ordinary. For that reason...
4. I probably won't stop.
5. But I digress...
6. It took me an entire week to realize going to work while it's 15-20 degrees with my hair wet is what is causing me to shiver at my desk all day.
7. Our Christmas tree is still up. Every night for two weeks we've had this conversation: "We'll definitely take the tree down tomorrow night." But we will definitely be taking it down, for sure, tomorrow night.
8. Maybe, we may be taking it down tomorrow night.
9. Most likely not. I doubt our tree will be down before February.
10. This is what I found in my purse today: poop bag, night light, candy wrapper, wine cork, ribbon, two sets of car keys, refrigerator magnet, and 14 tissues. This is, of course, in addition to hair ties, two wallets, a lipstick holder, several pens and bobby pins.
...
Happy Friday! Or Tuesday, for those of us who may or may not have been completely thrown off by Wednesday's snow day...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Ten on Tuesday
Hello, Tuesday. And hello to you, too, blizzard warning to last until tomorrow. I welcome you and your frozen gifts with open arms, a fuzzy hat, and snow boots.
But that sounds weird.
Anyway, on to my TENs!
1. Is there a band/artist that you HATE?
From the deepest, darkest, grossest part of my soul I strongly dislike Third Eye Blind. Before my freshman year of college I went to a concert with my super-fan friend Carla (we were friends for years and yet I still don't know the right way to spell her name...Carla...Karla...??) where I stood the entire night pressed up against hundreds of drunk, smelly people. The music was terrible and the bassist was a real look-at-me-I'm-the-coolest-person-I-know-here-have-some-sweat kind of jerk. I ended up almost passing out and having to rush to the EMT guys.
2. What do you do when you get a gift that you do not like? How do you react?
If someone has taken the time and effort to get me something they think I will like, I like the gift. I may not use it. But I will keep it, I will remember fondly the person who gave it to me, and I will have a very hard time parting with it should the time come.
Currently sitting next to my computer I have two painted eggs given to me by a co-worker almost three years ago and a little snowman with my name spelled wrong by the little old man who uses our office to do volunteer work. He found it at a flea market and thought of me. I can honestly say I will never ever give it away.
3. How is your work office/cubicle decorated?
See above. Now, see below:
4. Do you use all of your vacation every year?
I work for the state, unless I take about half the year off I will never use up all of my vacation time.
5. Did you have a real or fake Christmas tree?
Real. I enjoy the hassle of it all (read: watching Corey struggle with the thing and laughing hysterically while taking pictures)
6. If you could have anything for dinner tonight, what would it be?
I am so in the mood for PW's caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza. Best thing I've ever had.
7. Do you bite your fingernails?
I was blessed with rock hard nails. Biting them hurts my teeth.
8. How many cups of coffee do you drink each day?
None. Exposure to extreme coffee breath early in life has been a huge deterrent for me. Plus I think it tastes nasty.
9. Do you have a nervous tick?
Um, I don't think so. But I do bite my lip, talk a lot, wiggle and nearly pee my pants when I'm nervous. Does that count?
10. How often do you vacuum?
Don't even get me started...but since you already have, I have not once vacuumed since getting our new vacuum contraption. Corey always beats me to it. One of these days when I get off early that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to vacuum everything and it is going to be magical.
Wait. What am I saying??
But that sounds weird.
Anyway, on to my TENs!
1. Is there a band/artist that you HATE?
From the deepest, darkest, grossest part of my soul I strongly dislike Third Eye Blind. Before my freshman year of college I went to a concert with my super-fan friend Carla (we were friends for years and yet I still don't know the right way to spell her name...Carla...Karla...??) where I stood the entire night pressed up against hundreds of drunk, smelly people. The music was terrible and the bassist was a real look-at-me-I'm-the-coolest-person-I-know-here-have-some-sweat kind of jerk. I ended up almost passing out and having to rush to the EMT guys.
2. What do you do when you get a gift that you do not like? How do you react?
If someone has taken the time and effort to get me something they think I will like, I like the gift. I may not use it. But I will keep it, I will remember fondly the person who gave it to me, and I will have a very hard time parting with it should the time come.
Currently sitting next to my computer I have two painted eggs given to me by a co-worker almost three years ago and a little snowman with my name spelled wrong by the little old man who uses our office to do volunteer work. He found it at a flea market and thought of me. I can honestly say I will never ever give it away.
3. How is your work office/cubicle decorated?
See above. Now, see below:
Ok. It appears today is one of those days blogger does not feel like flipping pictures. Why does she have to be so fickle? Anyway, this is my desk. If you click on the picture you can see my narrations.
You'll also want to see this:
you're welcome
4. Do you use all of your vacation every year?
I work for the state, unless I take about half the year off I will never use up all of my vacation time.
5. Did you have a real or fake Christmas tree?
Real. I enjoy the hassle of it all (read: watching Corey struggle with the thing and laughing hysterically while taking pictures)
6. If you could have anything for dinner tonight, what would it be?
I am so in the mood for PW's caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza. Best thing I've ever had.
7. Do you bite your fingernails?
I was blessed with rock hard nails. Biting them hurts my teeth.
8. How many cups of coffee do you drink each day?
None. Exposure to extreme coffee breath early in life has been a huge deterrent for me. Plus I think it tastes nasty.
9. Do you have a nervous tick?
Um, I don't think so. But I do bite my lip, talk a lot, wiggle and nearly pee my pants when I'm nervous. Does that count?
10. How often do you vacuum?
Don't even get me started...but since you already have, I have not once vacuumed since getting our new vacuum contraption. Corey always beats me to it. One of these days when I get off early that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to vacuum everything and it is going to be magical.
Wait. What am I saying??
Monday, January 10, 2011
Consumer Alert
Dear Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public,
I fear greatly for the sake of your family, and so I must warn you of a simple error that could find you in a whole heap of financial trouble:
There is a can of artichoke hearts that costs $8.59.
Gasp!!
I know. It is hard to believe, but this can sits next to those ranging from $1.35 to $2.49. How, possibly, could this particular brand cost so much?
Do the farmers irrigate with Evian?
Are the artichokes fertilized by golden donkey poo?
I cannot say. But I do know from personal experience how easy it is to see this can, and then see the price of the can next to it ($1.35) and think that is the price of the can you are holding in your hand, and then raise your eyebrow at the cashier who gives you your total which you believe to be too high, and then walk out of the store vowing to return to get your $7.24 back at a time when you are not rushing to get home and make your artichoke heart and parmesan pita pizza only to be told at that time the price is actually correct, and then walk out of the store all embarrassed because you almost got nasty to the customer service lady.
Save yourself. Check the prices.
Sincerely,
S. Lucas
PS. Corey, sorry this is the first you're learning I actually bought a can of artichoke hearts that cost $8.59. Artichoke hearts that tasted the same as the cheapo ones. Whoopsie!
I fear greatly for the sake of your family, and so I must warn you of a simple error that could find you in a whole heap of financial trouble:
There is a can of artichoke hearts that costs $8.59.
Gasp!!
I know. It is hard to believe, but this can sits next to those ranging from $1.35 to $2.49. How, possibly, could this particular brand cost so much?
Do the farmers irrigate with Evian?
Are the artichokes fertilized by golden donkey poo?
I cannot say. But I do know from personal experience how easy it is to see this can, and then see the price of the can next to it ($1.35) and think that is the price of the can you are holding in your hand, and then raise your eyebrow at the cashier who gives you your total which you believe to be too high, and then walk out of the store vowing to return to get your $7.24 back at a time when you are not rushing to get home and make your artichoke heart and parmesan pita pizza only to be told at that time the price is actually correct, and then walk out of the store all embarrassed because you almost got nasty to the customer service lady.
Save yourself. Check the prices.
Sincerely,
S. Lucas
PS. Corey, sorry this is the first you're learning I actually bought a can of artichoke hearts that cost $8.59. Artichoke hearts that tasted the same as the cheapo ones. Whoopsie!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Jesus is in the Country
This post is two-pronged.
Three if you count me telling you I do not intend to follow my Friday Confessions schedule today because I simply have not kept track of myself this week. (Not that I don't have anything to confess, which I'm sure I do...)
So let me start out by saying I am not cut out for the country. As much as I say I want a farm house with a billion acres to take care of my retired racehorses, alpacas and chickens, I will not survive in that life.
Last night I went to a Bible study out in Argyle, which is also known as the middle of stinkin' nowhere. It's farm country, and in farm country they don't believe in street lights. Although, in the daylight it's probably the prettiest scene you'll ever see. Rolling fields with snow covered peaks in the background...but I digress.
So there I go with my phone's Google map leading me to the girl's house. I follow my little arrow and with only two turn-arounds and the dang thing taking me to the neighbor's house I finally made it. We had a lovely time together with cranberry bars at the end (goodbye wellness plan). People started to leave and a couple of girls who were from the area asked if I would be able to find my way out.
Famous almost last words, "Oh yeah, I'm good at finding my way back, plus I have my phone map."
I pull out of the driveway and head down the road. My phone has no signal now. It shows my location on a grid with no landmarks or street names. No problem, I think. I take the left, and then another left, and another one, and then....
Wait...was I supposed to take a right?
...
This doesn't look at all familiar.
...
Why are those trees laughing at me?
...
Did I cross a bridge to get here??
...
Ohmigosh where am I??
...
Why isn't this phone working?!
...
Turn around, yes I should definitely turn around.
And there I was. Lost.
This is when I knew I was not cut out for the country:
Now, as I was making my way back to what I thought was the right way and ended up being the complete wrong way I started to worry. I knew I needed to head southwest but the roads were so curvy I could go both south and north within a half mile.
I started to cry. "I just wanna go home!" I think I might have whined. I knew eventually I would find my way out, but it was late, it was dark, I was tired, and I had no idea if I was going to get pooped out in Vermont or my back yard.
Then I prayed. "Please just show me a way out of here!" Let me tell you, people, I was as desperate as they come. When I say I'm afraid of the dark, I am afraid of the dark. I have to use a flash light to get to the fridge in the middle of the night.
I once sat completely still for 45 minutes with just my finger pushing buttons to make my cell phone light up when the power went out one night. My parents were away and I could not force myself to get up and light some candles, or find a flashlight. To say I am paralyzed by the dark is an understatement.
So anyway, here I am on the edge of a meltdown, praying my socks off when simultaneously I see a sign for Rt. 40 (my way out!) and I hear on the radio this part of a song, "...my savior's always there for me..."
Whoa.
God knew exactly what I needed when I needed it and didn't give it to me a minute sooner or later than he should have. Thirty minutes after getting me out of the Argyle maze I was home and cozy in my jammies.
I hope I never let myself forget again that He's got permanent shot gun.
Three if you count me telling you I do not intend to follow my Friday Confessions schedule today because I simply have not kept track of myself this week. (Not that I don't have anything to confess, which I'm sure I do...)
So let me start out by saying I am not cut out for the country. As much as I say I want a farm house with a billion acres to take care of my retired racehorses, alpacas and chickens, I will not survive in that life.
Last night I went to a Bible study out in Argyle, which is also known as the middle of stinkin' nowhere. It's farm country, and in farm country they don't believe in street lights. Although, in the daylight it's probably the prettiest scene you'll ever see. Rolling fields with snow covered peaks in the background...but I digress.
So there I go with my phone's Google map leading me to the girl's house. I follow my little arrow and with only two turn-arounds and the dang thing taking me to the neighbor's house I finally made it. We had a lovely time together with cranberry bars at the end (goodbye wellness plan). People started to leave and a couple of girls who were from the area asked if I would be able to find my way out.
Famous almost last words, "Oh yeah, I'm good at finding my way back, plus I have my phone map."
I pull out of the driveway and head down the road. My phone has no signal now. It shows my location on a grid with no landmarks or street names. No problem, I think. I take the left, and then another left, and another one, and then....
Wait...was I supposed to take a right?
...
This doesn't look at all familiar.
...
Why are those trees laughing at me?
...
Did I cross a bridge to get here??
...
Ohmigosh where am I??
...
Why isn't this phone working?!
...
Turn around, yes I should definitely turn around.
And there I was. Lost.
This is when I knew I was not cut out for the country:
- I am afraid of the dark, the country is dark.
- Winter trees are super creepy.
- Serial killers are definitely waiting for people like me behind those creepy trees.
- I cannot live without cell service.
Now, as I was making my way back to what I thought was the right way and ended up being the complete wrong way I started to worry. I knew I needed to head southwest but the roads were so curvy I could go both south and north within a half mile.
I started to cry. "I just wanna go home!" I think I might have whined. I knew eventually I would find my way out, but it was late, it was dark, I was tired, and I had no idea if I was going to get pooped out in Vermont or my back yard.
Then I prayed. "Please just show me a way out of here!" Let me tell you, people, I was as desperate as they come. When I say I'm afraid of the dark, I am afraid of the dark. I have to use a flash light to get to the fridge in the middle of the night.
I once sat completely still for 45 minutes with just my finger pushing buttons to make my cell phone light up when the power went out one night. My parents were away and I could not force myself to get up and light some candles, or find a flashlight. To say I am paralyzed by the dark is an understatement.
So anyway, here I am on the edge of a meltdown, praying my socks off when simultaneously I see a sign for Rt. 40 (my way out!) and I hear on the radio this part of a song, "...my savior's always there for me..."
Whoa.
God knew exactly what I needed when I needed it and didn't give it to me a minute sooner or later than he should have. Thirty minutes after getting me out of the Argyle maze I was home and cozy in my jammies.
I hope I never let myself forget again that He's got permanent shot gun.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Poop Shoots and String Cheese
Weird day, today.
I woke up to a Facebook friend request...wait, first I woke up to a splitting headache.
This only happens when I am abruptly woken up in the night. And I am usually only woken up by Corey trying to show me a segment of Animal Planet where a cat takes the train to the zoo every day or the dog is making that "gagoo, gagoo..." sound before he yaks yellow goo all over our carpet.
Last night happened to be the later.
Yeah, I know. I just threw up in my mouth, too.
But anyway, I woke up to a Facebook friend request from a guy who went to school with my parents. I only know this because when the name didn't look familiar I stalked him.
But let's face it, I don't need much of a reason to Facebook stalk.
So here is a guy asking to be my "friend" who is twice my age and knows nothing about me other than that I share a last name with a guy he may have spoken with twice in high school and that I'm hot.
(Corey just rolled his eyes.)
(My mom probably did too...)
Needless to say, I ignored him.
Then I go back to sleep for another two hours (headache, remember). I eventually get myself up, showered, fed and off to work.
Where I am greeted by pictures of a coworker's colonoscopy.
"See that spot there? It's diverticulosis."
"Hmmm mmmhmmm....wow, wouldya look at that."
This is followed by a conversation on gynecologists and a snack of string cheese.
What could possibly be next.
...
.......
Nope, my zipper is definitely in the up position today.
I woke up to a Facebook friend request...wait, first I woke up to a splitting headache.
This only happens when I am abruptly woken up in the night. And I am usually only woken up by Corey trying to show me a segment of Animal Planet where a cat takes the train to the zoo every day or the dog is making that "gagoo, gagoo..." sound before he yaks yellow goo all over our carpet.
Last night happened to be the later.
Yeah, I know. I just threw up in my mouth, too.
But anyway, I woke up to a Facebook friend request from a guy who went to school with my parents. I only know this because when the name didn't look familiar I stalked him.
But let's face it, I don't need much of a reason to Facebook stalk.
So here is a guy asking to be my "friend" who is twice my age and knows nothing about me other than that I share a last name with a guy he may have spoken with twice in high school and that I'm hot.
(Corey just rolled his eyes.)
(My mom probably did too...)
Needless to say, I ignored him.
Then I go back to sleep for another two hours (headache, remember). I eventually get myself up, showered, fed and off to work.
Where I am greeted by pictures of a coworker's colonoscopy.
"See that spot there? It's diverticulosis."
"Hmmm mmmhmmm....wow, wouldya look at that."
This is followed by a conversation on gynecologists and a snack of string cheese.
What could possibly be next.
...
.......
Nope, my zipper is definitely in the up position today.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Resolution Fail
I do not intend to make this blog a resolution tracker of any sort, but I do feel the need to tell you my Wellness Plan has derailed.
The same plan I knew I would struggle with, but decided to implement anyway for my own good.
I thought it would take me a little longer before I fell off the wagon.
Day one: this was the day I blogged my heart out and ate sections of my purse (when a girl gets hungry...). I ate a snack of string cheese. My lunch was a salad and my dinner was a quesadilla constructed of just a little bit of cheese, turkey and onions soaked in balsamic vinegar. By then I was satisfied. I made it through the day. And although it took getting myself into footie pajamas and a state of ultimate comfort, I was resolved to not raid the mound of candy that seems to grow daily.
Then Corey walks over with a tray of cookies that are ready to go into the oven.
I was supposed to cut back on sugar.
So, I only ate three.
And then I had four last night.
Oh well. My mom's grandfather had a shot of whisky with his burnt toast every day and he lived to be 104.
...
Maybe I should try that wellness plan!
Up Next: what happens to me with nothing but a slice of toast and liquor in my belly.
The same plan I knew I would struggle with, but decided to implement anyway for my own good.
I thought it would take me a little longer before I fell off the wagon.
Day one: this was the day I blogged my heart out and ate sections of my purse (when a girl gets hungry...). I ate a snack of string cheese. My lunch was a salad and my dinner was a quesadilla constructed of just a little bit of cheese, turkey and onions soaked in balsamic vinegar. By then I was satisfied. I made it through the day. And although it took getting myself into footie pajamas and a state of ultimate comfort, I was resolved to not raid the mound of candy that seems to grow daily.
Then Corey walks over with a tray of cookies that are ready to go into the oven.
I was supposed to cut back on sugar.
So, I only ate three.
And then I had four last night.
Oh well. My mom's grandfather had a shot of whisky with his burnt toast every day and he lived to be 104.
...
Maybe I should try that wellness plan!
Up Next: what happens to me with nothing but a slice of toast and liquor in my belly.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Ten on Tuesday
I thought today was Wednesday...
1. What type of home do you currently reside in?
Loft apartment. It has a buncha character, lots of room to play soccer with the dog, and my own space for a studio. However, Oliver dog needs a yard to spaz out in and I need a room for all the babies.
ahem.
2. If you could completely redecorate one room in your home, what room would you pick, why, and what would you do to it?
The bathroom. Oh how I shudder when company asks where it is. We have nice marble tiles and a pretty decent shower, but our counter, sink, closet, mirror and lighting is like what you would find in campus housing. Or a garage. The counter is green laminate that has stains from Corey's shaving cream (why??), the cupboard below and closet are laminate particle board from Target, meant to be used to store cleaning supplies in a garage. The mirror is just one big piece o' glass and the lights are straight out of the 80's. I have pleaded with Corey to talk to our landlord, but alas....
3. What is your favorite place to gain inspiration for your home decor style?
HGTV.
4. What is your favorite piece of decor in your home?
Our floor lamp. It's kinda like....
...this. Actually, this is it.
5. What do you want visitors to feel when they visit your home? Do you think your home gives off that feeling?
7. What are some predominant colors or patterns in your home?
Brown. Corey likes a very, very neutral color palette. The old bedspread was brown, towels were brown, shower curtain is brown, couches are ivory, ottoman is brown, etc. I have managed to introduce a green rug and red quilt and his parents gave us colored towels. It's a work in progress.
8. What is your favorite room in your home and why?
My studio, all of my goodies live here.
9. Do you take a hands-on or DIY approach to projects around your home or do you enlist or hire help?
I am strictly hands on. And I live with a man who hires people to put up blinds. There is much room for compromise.
10. Where is your favorite place to shop for home furnishings?
Anywhere I can get a good deal on good quality. Also known as a garage sale. But we do have a lot of Pottery Barn stuff, and I can't argue with the quality there. I can, however, argue with the price. Yikes.
...
There's my ten. Now on with Tuesday.
1. What type of home do you currently reside in?
Loft apartment. It has a buncha character, lots of room to play soccer with the dog, and my own space for a studio. However, Oliver dog needs a yard to spaz out in and I need a room for all the babies.
ahem.
2. If you could completely redecorate one room in your home, what room would you pick, why, and what would you do to it?
The bathroom. Oh how I shudder when company asks where it is. We have nice marble tiles and a pretty decent shower, but our counter, sink, closet, mirror and lighting is like what you would find in campus housing. Or a garage. The counter is green laminate that has stains from Corey's shaving cream (why??), the cupboard below and closet are laminate particle board from Target, meant to be used to store cleaning supplies in a garage. The mirror is just one big piece o' glass and the lights are straight out of the 80's. I have pleaded with Corey to talk to our landlord, but alas....
3. What is your favorite place to gain inspiration for your home decor style?
HGTV.
4. What is your favorite piece of decor in your home?
Our floor lamp. It's kinda like....
...this. Actually, this is it.
5. What do you want visitors to feel when they visit your home? Do you think your home gives off that feeling?
Comfortable, and I think they do. We have a wide open layout, lots of plants and good, soft lighting. Although, it is a tad unnerving to constantly be watching out for poles and slanty walls.
Ps. This is what it looked like before we filled it with our junk.
6. Describe your home in one word and explain why you chose that word.
Artsy. Because when you think of a real cool cat you picture him wearing a beret, smoking a skinny cigarette and carrying a portfolio full of charcoal drawings of naked people and you know he lives in a loft apartment in NYC.
Brown. Corey likes a very, very neutral color palette. The old bedspread was brown, towels were brown, shower curtain is brown, couches are ivory, ottoman is brown, etc. I have managed to introduce a green rug and red quilt and his parents gave us colored towels. It's a work in progress.
8. What is your favorite room in your home and why?
My studio, all of my goodies live here.
9. Do you take a hands-on or DIY approach to projects around your home or do you enlist or hire help?
I am strictly hands on. And I live with a man who hires people to put up blinds. There is much room for compromise.
10. Where is your favorite place to shop for home furnishings?
Anywhere I can get a good deal on good quality. Also known as a garage sale. But we do have a lot of Pottery Barn stuff, and I can't argue with the quality there. I can, however, argue with the price. Yikes.
...
There's my ten. Now on with Tuesday.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Change is a Nasty Green Monster
This is Day One of my new wellness plan.
A plan that has me eating the things my body needs instead of wants.
A plan that has me moving and exercising.
A plan that addresses all aspects of my well-being in an effort to give myself happiness and longevity.
...
I am stinkin' mis-er-a-ble.
This morning I started out at 5:45am, read my Bible, did a little devotional, put on my running gear, ran until my shins hurt (11 minutes), powered up Wii Fit, let it remind me I missed my last goal, set new goal, cooked some eggs, took a shower, got pretty and drove to work.
And for not one second did I think this whole stupid plan was a bad idea.
Fast forward two hours to my usual snack time.
Wow, It's only 10:30, huh?
...
Whaddya know, I left those new pretzel M&M's sitting on my desk when I left Thursday. Boy do they look good.
...
Hmmm...my Rolodex is starting to look like a ham sandwich.
...
I'm, uh, pretty hungry.
...
Is it normal to see stars?!
...
My stomach....it's....it's....digesting itself!!
...
HOW MANY CARBS ARE IN LEATHER?!?
...
After eating my purse straps I feel a little better. But I'm starting to doubt the diet portion of my plan is going to work:
Like eating those little round crackers with the peanut butter in the middle.
Today I was strong.
But I don't know how I'll do tomorrow....
A plan that has me eating the things my body needs instead of wants.
A plan that has me moving and exercising.
A plan that addresses all aspects of my well-being in an effort to give myself happiness and longevity.
...
I am stinkin' mis-er-a-ble.
This morning I started out at 5:45am, read my Bible, did a little devotional, put on my running gear, ran until my shins hurt (11 minutes), powered up Wii Fit, let it remind me I missed my last goal, set new goal, cooked some eggs, took a shower, got pretty and drove to work.
And for not one second did I think this whole stupid plan was a bad idea.
Fast forward two hours to my usual snack time.
Wow, It's only 10:30, huh?
...
Whaddya know, I left those new pretzel M&M's sitting on my desk when I left Thursday. Boy do they look good.
...
Hmmm...my Rolodex is starting to look like a ham sandwich.
...
I'm, uh, pretty hungry.
...
Is it normal to see stars?!
...
My stomach....it's....it's....digesting itself!!
...
HOW MANY CARBS ARE IN LEATHER?!?
...
After eating my purse straps I feel a little better. But I'm starting to doubt the diet portion of my plan is going to work:
- Stop eating so much sugar: it's not necessary, and my pancreas has actually told me it needs a vacation.
- Follow portion guides: a scoop of cheesy potatoes the size of my head is not accurate.
- Avoid cheesy potatoes.
- Knock of the carbs, already: I can't seem to eat a meal without at least 45 grams. My job is nearly sedentary so all those sugars are settling into my seat-meat, putting their feet up, and preparing for a long-term relationship.
- Eat veggies everyday.
- Give myself some cheat treats: because Lord knows I will not make it if I cut out everything. That means I'm havin' myself a tortilla with my eggs tomorrow.
Like eating those little round crackers with the peanut butter in the middle.
Today I was strong.
But I don't know how I'll do tomorrow....
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