1. I hate wasting. I mean, I will use watered down face soap, hand soap, dish soap, shampoo, etc. for weeks just to make sure I get every last drop out. But I draw the line at dish sponges.
Washed four dishes, time to throw it out!
Those suckers are nasty, and the smell of one even slightly used makes me gag.
2. I might be the only adult who loves Peeps. I've never grown out of sugar coated fluffy sugar.
3. Don't get me started on chocolate covered Peeps. I hope the genius who created that masterpiece got a raise.
4. Now that I have about half a million felt balls to throw together I'm finding myself very busy all the time. I am also finding wool clinging to every surface I come in contact with at home, at work, in my car, etc.
5. Guilty pleasure, movie edition: Dirty Dancing Havana Nights. Don't judge.
6. I thought I was being really good about my new healthy breakfast of oatmeal with walnuts. Then I realized how much brown sugar I added.
7. While feeling around pocket in my purse for my lipstick I found the two chocolate Nestle eggs I threw in for after lunch and what I thought was a third:
"Oh! I packed three egg...no, wait. That's a bouncy ball."
8. I keep strange things in my purse. However, I did finally take out the little bottle of Tabasco sauce. In the two years it's been in there I have not found it necessary.
9. But I did keep the night light.
10. My sister called me an Indian giver last week. I told her that saying isn't quite correct.
"Fine. Then you're a Native American giver."
Not really my confession, but funny nonetheless.
...
Happy Friday!!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Ten on Tuesday
I sure hope these April Showers are ready to stop by Sunday when, you know, it's not April anymore.
But I digress. Time for some Tens:
1. How many blogs do you read every day and what are they? (I’m talking the ones you NEVER miss)
Depends on if they post every day (ahem, most of you, ahem). Of course there's Chelsea's Roots and Awesomeness, Erin's Sassy Self, Jen's Extremely Busy World because I only seem to see her in blog world on Tuesdays, and Mamarazzi's Dandelion Funny-as-Heck Wishes. Those are my staples.
Passive Aggressive Notes gives me a chuckle, Life Between the Trees is so cute it hurts, Ashley's Antics should be called Stacie's Twin's Antics.
New to my always growing list: super funny Random Stupidness, Something Different, Some Catchy Thing.
And then there are the others I know I am forgetting...
2. How many “best friends” do you have? Do you have different “besties” for different areas of your life?
I designate best friends for every activity I am involved in that includes two or more people.
But overall, I would say I have three besties: my sisters and my high school friend, Jill. People you've known for as long as I've known these girls just automatically become your best friends because you can fart in front of them.
3. What’s your daily make up routine?
I put it on, my face gets oily, it runs into my eyes, I take it off.
4. What is your ideal girl’s night?
Something that ends at 10pm with "special" chocolate milk and giggling.
5. Do you keep up with your nails/toenails or are they au natural?
I keep my toe nails pretty in the summer and then let them go wild in the fall, winter and spring. I mean, I still cut them, but I don't bother with the painting.
I love painting my fingernails, but I haven't had time to maintain a good paint job. Maybe someday, when I can hire out all processes in jewelry making to young children....sigh.
6. What’s your best roommate story?
My last roommate would borrow my clothes without asking, and then I would find out when I saw her in them her at our office. She also let her mom's boyfriend sleep half naked on an air mattress in the room I kept all my clothes in. That's a mental picture I've never been able to erase.
7. What’s your “go to” outfit that you wear more than anything else?
I don't think I have an entire outfit. But I do prefer the sweater I'm wearing today, it's a green wool blend, 3/4 sleeves and buttons on the shoulder. My other "go to" shirt is a gray cotton turtleneck that is ruched on the neck, sides, and sleeves. I go cozy. No polyester for this lady.
8. Do you have a beauty secret?
Good lookin' parents. And that's all I got.
9. Did you read Seventeen magazine growing up?
YES!! I looooved Seventeen. But they didn't have posters like Tiger Beat. Boo.
10. How did you learn to put on makeup?
I think I just copied what I saw on other people. Eventually I got the kind that diagrammed where stuff was supposed to go for make-up challenged folks like me.
...
Bye now!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Weekend Wrap Up: TBD
I had a lovely weekend, despite the finicky weather.
(first it's sunny, then it snows, then it rains, then it's clear, then it rains, then it's sunny, then it rains, etc.)
I wish I could tell you about it, but I have yet to receive the pictures from my mother's camera.
The pictures she promised to send to me ASAP.
And I just can't tell a story about an alpaca spitting in my sister's face without photo evidence.
Sor-ry.
(first it's sunny, then it snows, then it rains, then it's clear, then it rains, then it's sunny, then it rains, etc.)
I wish I could tell you about it, but I have yet to receive the pictures from my mother's camera.
The pictures she promised to send to me ASAP.
And I just can't tell a story about an alpaca spitting in my sister's face without photo evidence.
Sor-ry.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday Randomocity
Friday Confessions is a bust this week.
On account of me forgetting yesterday was Friday.
Sorry.
I was busy taking the day off from work, and there was a lot going on.
I had to, you know, walk the dog, and make myself a hearty egg breakfast, and throw some necklaces together, and have lunch with a friend, and act in two Good Friday plays.
How can you forget it's Friday when you're in a Good FRIDAY play?
In the same way I could not know there onions in onion rings when I was five.
Things happen.
Plus, I didn't have much to confess anyway. I'm gettin' a little sloppy with these things.
Here's one I would have listed:
I picked up my aunt's cat. The one that doesn't seem to like being held or touched or talked to or looked at. It was my goal to snuggle the beast, so on the last day I just went for it when her mouth was facing away from my face, so essentially I was grabbing her by the backside. I screamed, "Look!! I'm holding the CAT!" It lasted all of five seconds, but it was magical.
One more:
Ever since Corey picked up a ricotta pie (tastes like a cheesecake) earlier this week I've made it a habit to take a piece with me to bed. And I eat it in bed. I can almost hear my saddlebags growing.
And that's all the news that's fit to print.
Later gators.
On account of me forgetting yesterday was Friday.
Sorry.
I was busy taking the day off from work, and there was a lot going on.
I had to, you know, walk the dog, and make myself a hearty egg breakfast, and throw some necklaces together, and have lunch with a friend, and act in two Good Friday plays.
How can you forget it's Friday when you're in a Good FRIDAY play?
In the same way I could not know there onions in onion rings when I was five.
Things happen.
Plus, I didn't have much to confess anyway. I'm gettin' a little sloppy with these things.
Here's one I would have listed:
I picked up my aunt's cat. The one that doesn't seem to like being held or touched or talked to or looked at. It was my goal to snuggle the beast, so on the last day I just went for it when her mouth was facing away from my face, so essentially I was grabbing her by the backside. I screamed, "Look!! I'm holding the CAT!" It lasted all of five seconds, but it was magical.
One more:
Ever since Corey picked up a ricotta pie (tastes like a cheesecake) earlier this week I've made it a habit to take a piece with me to bed. And I eat it in bed. I can almost hear my saddlebags growing.
And that's all the news that's fit to print.
Later gators.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Knock off the Jesus Jokes
Ladies and Gentlemen, quick question for you: being as how we are about 2,000 years removed from the guy who, you know, saved us from eternal damnation, do we really still need to mock Him and make Him the butt of our jokes?
I mean, whether you believe he is who he said he was, is it really necessary to poke fun at anyone who felt so strongly about something they died because of it? At the very least, can't we give him a little bit of credit for being tenacious?
Wow, Stace, where is this coming from??
Yesterday seemed to be the day for Jesus/God parodies on TV shows. Normally I'm not that big of a fan and I'm able to pass by without much of a hissy fit, but now that we are so close to Good Friday and Easter it just seems in bad taste. And that gets my dander up.
And when my dander is up it doesn't go down so easily, at least not without shedding a few choice words.
These are them words.
I just chose to aim them at you because you're here. How nice of me.
Nothing personal. Sometimes a gal just needs to let somebody know something, and puttin' it out on the Internets is a whole lot easier than a personal note to my co-workers, a note to the producer of this show and then that show and the other show, and another one to the person standing on the side of the street and the friend of a friend of a friend of my friend, or...etc, etc.
Because there are just too many people being tacky.
I know not everyone is going to believe what I believe or to the extent I believe it, but folks, I'm not laughing at your Aunt Alma who poops when she sneezes because I'm sure she doesn't like it as much as you don't like smelling it, so the least you can do is lay off my Lord and Savior.
Thanksomuch.
Stacie
I mean, whether you believe he is who he said he was, is it really necessary to poke fun at anyone who felt so strongly about something they died because of it? At the very least, can't we give him a little bit of credit for being tenacious?
Wow, Stace, where is this coming from??
Yesterday seemed to be the day for Jesus/God parodies on TV shows. Normally I'm not that big of a fan and I'm able to pass by without much of a hissy fit, but now that we are so close to Good Friday and Easter it just seems in bad taste. And that gets my dander up.
And when my dander is up it doesn't go down so easily, at least not without shedding a few choice words.
These are them words.
I just chose to aim them at you because you're here. How nice of me.
Nothing personal. Sometimes a gal just needs to let somebody know something, and puttin' it out on the Internets is a whole lot easier than a personal note to my co-workers, a note to the producer of this show and then that show and the other show, and another one to the person standing on the side of the street and the friend of a friend of a friend of my friend, or...etc, etc.
Because there are just too many people being tacky.
I know not everyone is going to believe what I believe or to the extent I believe it, but folks, I'm not laughing at your Aunt Alma who poops when she sneezes because I'm sure she doesn't like it as much as you don't like smelling it, so the least you can do is lay off my Lord and Savior.
Thanksomuch.
Stacie
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
In Other News
Two weeks before I left for my vacation I think I wrote a post about being super anxious.
I could actually go back and find that post but I have a belly full of mac 'n cheese and it's preventing me from doing any more movement than necessary lest it stir me from my mid-day semi-slumber.
I was anxious about Corey and my house-hunting progress and the lack thereof. I saw houses I liked and I just wanted to get one already.
Good news.
No, my darling husband and I did not find and/or purchase a house, but we did finally take some pretty big steps and are just this close to being homeowners!
The only thing standing in our way is, um, finding the house.
There was also this little matter involving a super dooper craft fair going on in my town later this spring for which I applied to sell my felt goodies. It's the kind of fair that draws 30,000+ people over the weekend and only lets certain vendors in.
More good news.
They lost my application.
Say wha...?!
Hold the phone, just let me finish.
So, they have absolutely no record of me existing. Even though I hand delivered my application to the office in an envelope that was clearly marked "June Festival," it has been hopelessly lost.
In a series of emails with the person in charge I tried my darnedest to find out what this meant for me without actually asking, "What the heck does this mean, lady? Am I in or out??"
And then I left the dirty work up to my co-worker. After getting no where in the emailing, and having to leave for vacation the next day, Sharon marched down to the office and worked some kind of magic that landed me a spot in the show...woohoo!
See, good news.
It just takes me a few extra minutes to get to the end of the story.
I like stories.
I could actually go back and find that post but I have a belly full of mac 'n cheese and it's preventing me from doing any more movement than necessary lest it stir me from my mid-day semi-slumber.
I was anxious about Corey and my house-hunting progress and the lack thereof. I saw houses I liked and I just wanted to get one already.
Good news.
No, my darling husband and I did not find and/or purchase a house, but we did finally take some pretty big steps and are just this close to being homeowners!
The only thing standing in our way is, um, finding the house.
There was also this little matter involving a super dooper craft fair going on in my town later this spring for which I applied to sell my felt goodies. It's the kind of fair that draws 30,000+ people over the weekend and only lets certain vendors in.
More good news.
They lost my application.
Say wha...?!
Hold the phone, just let me finish.
So, they have absolutely no record of me existing. Even though I hand delivered my application to the office in an envelope that was clearly marked "June Festival," it has been hopelessly lost.
In a series of emails with the person in charge I tried my darnedest to find out what this meant for me without actually asking, "What the heck does this mean, lady? Am I in or out??"
And then I left the dirty work up to my co-worker. After getting no where in the emailing, and having to leave for vacation the next day, Sharon marched down to the office and worked some kind of magic that landed me a spot in the show...woohoo!
See, good news.
It just takes me a few extra minutes to get to the end of the story.
I like stories.
Adventures in the Air...port
Oh the joys of traveling.
And by traveling I mean any mode of ground transportation.
Like driving the open road. Taking a train and enjoying the scenery. Or busing across country forming bonds with strangers and singing show tunes to pass the time.
In no way would I put "joy" in the same sentence with "flying."
Especially not now, as I recover from my trip back home from Washington.
Yes, I did make it home.
Yes, I do still have all of the same (plus some) affects I took with me.
But boy did I have some time of it.
...
My journey began Sunday night as I made my way through Seattle's airport. Have you ever attempted this maze? First you have to find the security checkpoint, not easy at 10pm when half of everything is shut down and you wonder if they really would make you walk all the way down the the end of the airport.
They do.
Then, if like me you leave from gate "N" as in Nowhere Near Here, you have to walk down a series of halls, down several flights of stairs and take a train halfway across the tarmac.
Then, if like me, when you leave your wallet at the security checkpoint and are paged over the loudspeaker you have to walk all the way back to the beginning and start again.
This is why you give yourself plenty of time.
Unless you know your head is screwed on straight.
My flight left at 11:30pm. Also known as two hours past my bedtime. I hadn't slept since the night before, and even then it wasn't a sound sleep, so I expected to nod off for at least part of the four hour flight to Washington-Dulles Airport.
Silly dreamer. Of course I didn't sleep. How could I when every bump and wiggle had me convinced the plane was going to break apart in mid air?
No problem, I thought as I landed at 7am, I'll be home by 9:30 and I can sleep then. In my own bed. Snuggled with Oliver-dog.
That was all dependent on whether or not there would be a plane to take me home.
Which there wasn't.
Of course.
I waited at my gate, read my book, and glanced occasionally at the time. By the time we were supposed to depart I noticed we still weren't even on the plane. The lady at the desk told me we were waiting for a plane in Newark.
I assumed we were waiting on the plane to land.
Silly.
We wouldn't find out until, oh, five hours later the darn thing wasn't even scheduled to leave.
By about 10:30am people started to get a little antsy. A few guys hung out at the counter for answers. Nice lady was replaced by mean shorty guy.
"We have no idea when the plane will be here."
(mass grumbling)
"You know, we have people waiting here since FRIDAY."
(louder grumblings, you might call it shouting)
"You will be most likely waiting here all day."
(pitch forks out, torches lit)
"Talk to the hand."
Say wha...?!
Yes, this little guy actually told one angry customer to "talk to the hand." And when angry man's phone started to ring, short man told him to answer the call and leave him alone.
At this point I called Corey and cried. I did not want to be stuck in an airport. I wanted to go home, take a shower, and nap the day away. The worst of it was these airport people couldn't even give us a rough estimate of when we could expect a plane.
Three hours? Five hours? Twenty-four hours??
"We really have no idea."
Fine. More crying in the bathroom.
But first a potty break.
And of course I find the super sensitive automatic toilet.
Of course.
(spoiler alert: i talk about bathroom stuff here, just so you know)
I place the seat cover on the seat and sit. I reach over to grab my phone from my purse and...
FLUSH
Dangit.
Place second seat cover on the seat and...
FLUSH
Not funny, toilet.
Place third seat cover on....
FLUSH
Waterworks. "I just wanna sit down and peeeeee....and I wanna go hooooome."
Place fourth seat cover on the se....
FLUSH
Oh. Em. Gee. This cannot be happening. What do I do? Pee in the sink?
Place fifth seat cover on my butt and sit down.
And I pee.
Then I stand up.
Nothing.
I wave my hand in front of the sensor.
Nothing.
I act like I'm putting a seat cover on.
Nothing.
I Push. The. Button.
FLUSH
By this time I'm hungry. I know, great transition. But that's what happened.
So I ate. I watched other travelers walk down to their gates where they most likely got on planes and flew away.
They didn't know how lucky they were...sigh.
I talked to my parents who were worried about me. Rightly so, I was definitely losing my marbles.
And I considered my options: 1) I could stay at the airport until my plane came, possibly all day and night; 2) I could go to a hotel, sleep, and take the earliest flight out on Tuesday; 3) fly to LaGuardia and then to Albany, and pray my luggage follows.
Fortunately, we were notified at 1:30pm that the plane we were waiting for in Newark had left.
People four gates over must have wondered what all the commotion over at A5 was for.
We were happy. And within two hours we were in the air.
Not long after that I was sitting in Corey's car heading home, where I'm pretty sure he talked to me. By then I'd gone 30 hours without sleep and my mental capacity was limited to functional systems. You know, like breathing, and keeping my heart beating, and not drooling all over myself.
We got home, I took a shower, ate some deviled eggs and tater tots, and went to bed. It was the best 11 hours of sleep I've ever had, and by 7am I was fully recovered.
Physically.
Mentally, however, I have resolved to never, ever fly again.
Until my next vacation.
And by traveling I mean any mode of ground transportation.
Like driving the open road. Taking a train and enjoying the scenery. Or busing across country forming bonds with strangers and singing show tunes to pass the time.
In no way would I put "joy" in the same sentence with "flying."
Especially not now, as I recover from my trip back home from Washington.
Yes, I did make it home.
Yes, I do still have all of the same (plus some) affects I took with me.
But boy did I have some time of it.
...
My journey began Sunday night as I made my way through Seattle's airport. Have you ever attempted this maze? First you have to find the security checkpoint, not easy at 10pm when half of everything is shut down and you wonder if they really would make you walk all the way down the the end of the airport.
They do.
Then, if like me you leave from gate "N" as in Nowhere Near Here, you have to walk down a series of halls, down several flights of stairs and take a train halfway across the tarmac.
Then, if like me, when you leave your wallet at the security checkpoint and are paged over the loudspeaker you have to walk all the way back to the beginning and start again.
This is why you give yourself plenty of time.
Unless you know your head is screwed on straight.
My flight left at 11:30pm. Also known as two hours past my bedtime. I hadn't slept since the night before, and even then it wasn't a sound sleep, so I expected to nod off for at least part of the four hour flight to Washington-Dulles Airport.
Silly dreamer. Of course I didn't sleep. How could I when every bump and wiggle had me convinced the plane was going to break apart in mid air?
No problem, I thought as I landed at 7am, I'll be home by 9:30 and I can sleep then. In my own bed. Snuggled with Oliver-dog.
That was all dependent on whether or not there would be a plane to take me home.
Which there wasn't.
Of course.
I waited at my gate, read my book, and glanced occasionally at the time. By the time we were supposed to depart I noticed we still weren't even on the plane. The lady at the desk told me we were waiting for a plane in Newark.
I assumed we were waiting on the plane to land.
Silly.
We wouldn't find out until, oh, five hours later the darn thing wasn't even scheduled to leave.
By about 10:30am people started to get a little antsy. A few guys hung out at the counter for answers. Nice lady was replaced by mean shorty guy.
"We have no idea when the plane will be here."
(mass grumbling)
"You know, we have people waiting here since FRIDAY."
(louder grumblings, you might call it shouting)
"You will be most likely waiting here all day."
(pitch forks out, torches lit)
"Talk to the hand."
Say wha...?!
Yes, this little guy actually told one angry customer to "talk to the hand." And when angry man's phone started to ring, short man told him to answer the call and leave him alone.
At this point I called Corey and cried. I did not want to be stuck in an airport. I wanted to go home, take a shower, and nap the day away. The worst of it was these airport people couldn't even give us a rough estimate of when we could expect a plane.
Three hours? Five hours? Twenty-four hours??
"We really have no idea."
Fine. More crying in the bathroom.
But first a potty break.
And of course I find the super sensitive automatic toilet.
Of course.
(spoiler alert: i talk about bathroom stuff here, just so you know)
I place the seat cover on the seat and sit. I reach over to grab my phone from my purse and...
FLUSH
Dangit.
Place second seat cover on the seat and...
FLUSH
Not funny, toilet.
Place third seat cover on....
FLUSH
Waterworks. "I just wanna sit down and peeeeee....and I wanna go hooooome."
Place fourth seat cover on the se....
FLUSH
Oh. Em. Gee. This cannot be happening. What do I do? Pee in the sink?
Place fifth seat cover on my butt and sit down.
And I pee.
Then I stand up.
Nothing.
I wave my hand in front of the sensor.
Nothing.
I act like I'm putting a seat cover on.
Nothing.
I Push. The. Button.
FLUSH
By this time I'm hungry. I know, great transition. But that's what happened.
So I ate. I watched other travelers walk down to their gates where they most likely got on planes and flew away.
They didn't know how lucky they were...sigh.
I talked to my parents who were worried about me. Rightly so, I was definitely losing my marbles.
And I considered my options: 1) I could stay at the airport until my plane came, possibly all day and night; 2) I could go to a hotel, sleep, and take the earliest flight out on Tuesday; 3) fly to LaGuardia and then to Albany, and pray my luggage follows.
Fortunately, we were notified at 1:30pm that the plane we were waiting for in Newark had left.
People four gates over must have wondered what all the commotion over at A5 was for.
We were happy. And within two hours we were in the air.
Not long after that I was sitting in Corey's car heading home, where I'm pretty sure he talked to me. By then I'd gone 30 hours without sleep and my mental capacity was limited to functional systems. You know, like breathing, and keeping my heart beating, and not drooling all over myself.
We got home, I took a shower, ate some deviled eggs and tater tots, and went to bed. It was the best 11 hours of sleep I've ever had, and by 7am I was fully recovered.
Physically.
Mentally, however, I have resolved to never, ever fly again.
Until my next vacation.
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