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September Days

19 Sep

When I’m gone from the blog for more than a week, I always feel a self-imposed need to explain why.

But there’s no “big” news. We haven’t been on vacation; nothing out of the ordinary has happened. We’ve just gotten caught up in all the small, beautiful parts of life. Because it is all rather random, I give you the catch up bullet point style…

  • Aidan plays soccer three times a week – it’s time-consuming, but awesome. It’s so fun to watch him improve, and I embrace the role of mom cheering on the sideline. (Kyle embraces confirming the ref is making the right call, which I love.)
  • Summer has quickly faded to fall. We find ourselves living in the enjoyable land of sweatshirts, football, cooking, baking, bonfires, pumpkin painting and apple picking. I adore this time of year. We made a trip to Cranes over this past weekend to get some of the Honeycrisp apples and another bag that will turn into apple crisp later this week.
  • I raced yesterday morning and dropped a minute and a half off my 5k time (as compared to six weeks ago). I’m down to 22:12. For those of you that remember my 30 before 30 list, I’m 2 minutes and 13 seconds away from my goal. That’s a LONG ways to go, but I’m making progress. If I could stop arguing with myself in my head while I’m running, I think my body might get me there.
  • I’ve started crocheting a scarf – the first of the season. I want to learn to knit this year, even though I’ve had several failed attempts in the past. Does anyone have a brilliant resource for learning to knit (geared towards uncoordinated persons)?
  • While I wasn’t blogging over the last week and a half, I was channeling all my writing energy into a piece I submitted for a REAL SIMPLE writing contest. In the event it doesn’t make the winner’s circle, I’ll post it here. It’s a piece about my lovely relationship with my friend K.
  • After being glued to my iTunes pre-wedding, then taking a break, I’m back to seeking out new music. I’m loving this song, and pretty much the whole album it comes from (Foster the People – Torches).

Nothing incredibly exciting…we’re here, we’re living and loving and taking in each moment for all it’s worth. There is something to be said for the pleasure that comes in the every day. Enjoy your week!

The Night I Almost Caught the Kitchen On Fire

2 Jul

He’s sitting at the table, taking the Jung Myers-Briggs Typology test at my request, thanks to Josey’s latest post.  I am in the kitchen, making a very delayed dinner.  We had friends over for a playdate with Aidan, and it was finally adult dinner time.  Instead of just making peanut butter and jelly, like I would every other time, I decide to make us a spinach salad with avocado and gnocchi with a tomato-basil sauce.  I will admit, I am feeling pretty cool, having just picked the basil from the collection of herbs I planted in the backyard.

To make this easy sauce, I sauté garlic in olive oil until it browns, but then toss out the garlic itself.  Then I add a can of petite diced tomatoes and herbs.  The sauce does not usually involve FIRE IN MY KITCHEN.

Oh, but this time I tilted the pan too much and caught the oil on fire on my gas stove.  This huge flame leaps tall in front of my face, and I completely flip out, screaming and continuing to hold the pan.  My boyfriend whips around immediately, grabs the pan, tosses it in the sink and gets the flame shooting above my head out.  He is completely cool under pressure and I’m still yelling, “I don’t know what to do!”

“Honey,” I say, “if I promise not to light the kitchen on fire again, can you promise not to be mad at me when I accidentally hit one of your cars?”

“Of course,” he says, hugging my still trembling self.

He balances me out in the best way possible.  And my kitchen thanks him too.

Being in First Class Doesn’t Mean You Can Act Like You’re Better

14 Jun

A few days ago I had a rather chaotic morning in which I left my packing before a trip to the last minute and then my phone with my alarm clock on it died, leaving me to oversleep by an hour.  My one stroke of good luck for the day was getting bumped up to first class on my flight.  I was excited and promptly texted my mom, boyfriend and friend I visited something to the effect of: “Just got bumped to first class!  Sweet!”  I definitely enjoyed having a bloody mary in my hand within three minutes of sitting down and the little extras of faster service, awesome snack basket and a larger, more comfortable seat were not lost on me.  What baffles me however, is the other passengers in this “elite” area.

Prior to my boarding, a man in first class gave me a downright snotty look while using his iPhone to scan on for his boarding pass.  I could feel him thinking: I’m better than you.  I’m not being overly sensitive; I truly couldn’t care less.  But his posture, his look at me and his demeanor all spoke a message that he thought himself superior.  I just smiled at him.

Imagine his surprise when I boarded moments later and sat two seats behind him.  Now, I didn’t pay for that seat.  I was lucky in getting it.  Everyone else in first class had that silver-hair distinguished look.  Then there was me.

At one moment, the flight attendant got to me to deliver my drink and realized she couldn’t physically get the napkin wedged between her fingers to set my drink down with the other one she was carrying.  (Apparently they take beverage orders rather than pushing a cart in this area.)  Instinctively, I reached out for my drink and pried a napkin from her hand.  She looked relieved but was overly apologetic–far too embarrassed for such a simple thing.

It made me wonder how someone would normally treat her in that situation.  Would they actually be upset?  Maybe.

I enoy the nicer things in life, I do.  But I don’t think human beings should be treated so very differently based on perceived wealth or status.  That will never define me.  If I was in first class or in the last row of the plane, I’d certainly act the same to everyone around me.  That defines me–how I treat other people.

What defines you?

The Fashion Show

19 Apr

Remember the skinny jeans post?  The one where I talked about the little spring fashion show I was going to be a part of?

I learned something during my fitting session.

Not only are there skinny jeans…people wear jean leggings too.  This was news to me!  And, naturally, with all my fear of skinny jeans, I was the one they picked to wear jean leggings.  And a gingham top.  That didn’t cover my butt.

Yeah.

Friends, have you worn jean leggings before?  Have you?  Because I went to pull them on and they flat-out stopped at the knee.  I’m looking at myself in the mirror, a genuinely horrified expression painted on my face, and trying to figure what the normal girls do.  Do they sit down and pull?  Hop around and hope the spandex portion of the leggings takes pity on them and starts to hike up?  I finally got them on and had just one thought: It looks like someone got out a Big Can of Jean and spray painted my legs.

And then took a highlighter to the many imperfections in case there were any questions.

So I already have jeggingsphobia (very technical term) upon arrival to the show this past Thursday.  Then my non-model self goes down to mingle with all the other models.  And I don’t really get hung up on looks and all that jazz, but everyone is already so put together in their street clothes.  And they either all just got back from Florida or getting their spray tans.  And who is the one person also modeling WHITE SHORTS?

Me, of course.

I also have on the most make-up I have worn all year, and I’m still the least put together looking.

So I decided to embrace the fact that I will never, NEVER be the modeling type.  And when they brought down the cheese/crackers/grapes platter, I took great satisfaction in eating more than half the cheese while all the other models popped two grapes each.

As promised, pictures…

*Note: Sorry about the blurry shots; this is all I have for you. :)



Please Don’t Make Me Wear Skinny Jeans

16 Mar

**Disclaimer: Men will not be interested in this post.  Spare yourself.

Have you ever pulled a pair of jeans out of the dryer, the same ones you wore just a few weeks ago, and not been able to fit your ass in?  You shimmy them on, but they are clearly too tight; you’re bordering on creating your very own muffin top.

This recently happened to me.  I come from a petite family; I’m not a big girl.  But my weight fluctuates easily.  If I eat a lot and drink a lot and don’t exercise enough, you can tell.  Specifically in my butt and the region in which I housed a human life for nine months.  I’ll be honest, I argued with the jeans for a moment: “Damn you!  Shrinking in the dryer!  What were you thinking?!”  Then I stepped on the scale.

Oh.

Up a bit.

If all this confirmation wasn’t enough, my doctor actually said to me at my annual physical a couple weeks ago, “Well, everything looks great!  I mean, obviously you’ve put on a few pounds, but you’re still in the healthy range.”

Cue me turning forty-five shades of crimson.

Whatever, not a big deal.  I’m just getting back into running season and my body responds to that.  Once I start doing 10 mile runs I’ll eat a half a chocolate cake and feel good about it.  Then I’ll call my doctor: “Just wanted to let you know I’ve been eating leftover icing out of the jar for breakfast all week.  My running is offsetting it.  No need to comment on current weight status.”

So it all rolled off.

Until today.  I cannot believe I am posting this, but no need to be embarrassed for me.  I’M EMBARRASSED ENOUGH FOR ALL OF US.  A very lovely boutique in my downtown, jb&me, is having a spring fashion show.  They called me and asked me to be a model for it today.

This is more than absurd.  I’m 5’1″!  I’ve had a kid!  I have zero features desirable for modeling.  I have purchased a few things from this great store, but this store is for fashionistas!  I am no fashionista.  I’m the furthest thing from it.  They must have a new short persons collection coming in or something.

And, naturally, I’m a good eight pounds heavier than usual.  All I can think is this: WHAT WILL I DO IF THEY MAKE ME WEAR SKINNY JEANS?

Surely they’ve put a note next to my name: Modeling all things for short girls, including the new kids’ collection.  Please note that she has an extra large ass and will not look good in fashionable pantwear.

And now, oh now the girlie girl in me comes out.  I expect the running log will get some serious attention in the next four weeks.  I also may want to look into what normal, fashionable girls are doing with themselves these days.

(I know, I know.  I could totally decline this.  But that’s where the really girlie girl part is coming in.  I’m a little bit excited for someone else to make me look prettier than I make me look and to wear cute clothes I normally would not purchase for myself.  Feel free to make fun of me in the comments.)

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