One of my favorite things about living in a small town is the local newspaper. It is filled with a lot of feel-good stories and hilarious Letters to the Editor.
But even better than that...police reports! Like this one:
April 10. At 7:03 a.m. responded to report of llama on the road.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
How The Other Half Lives
People, I have seen how the other half live, and not only is the grass over there greener, it sprouts martinis and chocolate trees. I am sitting here sipping wine after a day of embarrassing luxury. Scott, referred to as TGTIMH (The God That Is My Husband) for the rest of this post, hired me a housekeeper for a day before a party we are hosting. This was not only the sweetest birthday present EVER, it also serves as a guarantee that we will be happily married for another year. No matter how prepared we are, we ALWAYS end up in an argument or with a major case of the grumpies after cleaning and cooking all day for a party.
So this time, TGTIMH drew the line and said no cleaning or cooking! We’re doing mostly potluck, making only sangria, some burgers and dogs, and some chips and dip for our guests. And I got to make my grocery list while lifting my feet for my new best friend to happily clean around.
You guys, I need to have a full-time housekeeper. When I win the lottery or that elusive rich relative dies, I am going to hire this lovely woman full-time. Possibly as a live-in. Possibly move to Utah so TGTIMH and I can marry her in a lovely commitment ceremony and we can live as sister wives, where she works and cleans and I cook and, you know, tend to the husband.
But seriously, this woman cleaned spots I didn’t know my house even had! Did you know this whole time my cabinets were not meant to have food splotches and grime on them? I know, the shocks keep coming! Did you know that the natural color of my carpet is not beige with spots of kid spit-up or dog pawprints?
I should be horrified at how we’ve been living, but I’m too relaxed to be horrified.
Because in addition to having my own little Hazel Helper today, courtesy of TGTIMH, I got an amaaaazing hour-long massage from MPWWASPM (My Parents Who Will Always Spoil Me). I found this masseuse when I was pregnant and fell in love with her immediately. She was gentle, but managed to get every kink out, and it was the first time I had ever fallen asleep during a massage.
Usually I get an intense deep-tissue massage, so I wasn’t sure about this woman because she’d only really touched me when she needed to treat me fragilely. But she was one of the first to listen to me when I said, “seriously, you can NOT hurt me.” I know this will kill tomorrow, but I so do not care. Every touch was a magical release of months of tension. She even mother henned me to come in more often and take care of myself now that I’m a mommy. I’ll have to find other people besides MPWWASPM to sponsor these sessions, I’m afraid.
The only break between that and my magical glass of wine was a trip to pick Cous Cous up at doggie daycare. Yup, you read that right! I once thought people who took their dogs to doggie daycare probably shouldn’t have puppies if they couldn’t take care of them. But I relented in the winter when we had a sleepless baby and an incredibly alienated dog. When the choice was between her eating or peeing on everything in my house or putting up some dough to send her to daycare, off she went! When she came home totally exhausted and didn’t so much as move a whisker for 24 hours, I was sold. But I wasn’t sold on the price and as soon as the weather turned nice, I intended to keep my $17 to myself, thank you. But today, such a special day, I sent TGTIMH to bring her in and he came home, shaking his head. Apparently he’d parked between to Infinitis and passed a Lexus on the way out. What? Our Saturns aren’t the epitome of bourgeoisie? The things I thought I knew.
So this time, TGTIMH drew the line and said no cleaning or cooking! We’re doing mostly potluck, making only sangria, some burgers and dogs, and some chips and dip for our guests. And I got to make my grocery list while lifting my feet for my new best friend to happily clean around.
You guys, I need to have a full-time housekeeper. When I win the lottery or that elusive rich relative dies, I am going to hire this lovely woman full-time. Possibly as a live-in. Possibly move to Utah so TGTIMH and I can marry her in a lovely commitment ceremony and we can live as sister wives, where she works and cleans and I cook and, you know, tend to the husband.
But seriously, this woman cleaned spots I didn’t know my house even had! Did you know this whole time my cabinets were not meant to have food splotches and grime on them? I know, the shocks keep coming! Did you know that the natural color of my carpet is not beige with spots of kid spit-up or dog pawprints?
I should be horrified at how we’ve been living, but I’m too relaxed to be horrified.
Because in addition to having my own little Hazel Helper today, courtesy of TGTIMH, I got an amaaaazing hour-long massage from MPWWASPM (My Parents Who Will Always Spoil Me). I found this masseuse when I was pregnant and fell in love with her immediately. She was gentle, but managed to get every kink out, and it was the first time I had ever fallen asleep during a massage.
Usually I get an intense deep-tissue massage, so I wasn’t sure about this woman because she’d only really touched me when she needed to treat me fragilely. But she was one of the first to listen to me when I said, “seriously, you can NOT hurt me.” I know this will kill tomorrow, but I so do not care. Every touch was a magical release of months of tension. She even mother henned me to come in more often and take care of myself now that I’m a mommy. I’ll have to find other people besides MPWWASPM to sponsor these sessions, I’m afraid.
The only break between that and my magical glass of wine was a trip to pick Cous Cous up at doggie daycare. Yup, you read that right! I once thought people who took their dogs to doggie daycare probably shouldn’t have puppies if they couldn’t take care of them. But I relented in the winter when we had a sleepless baby and an incredibly alienated dog. When the choice was between her eating or peeing on everything in my house or putting up some dough to send her to daycare, off she went! When she came home totally exhausted and didn’t so much as move a whisker for 24 hours, I was sold. But I wasn’t sold on the price and as soon as the weather turned nice, I intended to keep my $17 to myself, thank you. But today, such a special day, I sent TGTIMH to bring her in and he came home, shaking his head. Apparently he’d parked between to Infinitis and passed a Lexus on the way out. What? Our Saturns aren’t the epitome of bourgeoisie? The things I thought I knew.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Things I Love Thursday: Mint Julep
No, not to drink, sillies. Well, actually, maybe I would, can't say as I ever have had a mint julep, but when I was pregnant and watching Mad Men, all the preggos were drinking them and they looked lovely and refreshing. Oh, to have lived in the '60s. But I digress.
You all know by now that my hygiene has suffered a tad since working at home. However, I am very meticulous about my skin. I’ve had, let’s say, “problem skin” since I was 13. I practically lived in the Dermatologist’s office.
I’ve tried a bunch of masques, both homemade and over-the-counter. But I came across this gem randomly in a drugstore. I have to say I’ve never really paid much attention to Queen Helene. Typically I see her stuff in the Ethnic Haircare aisle. My Irish side hit me hard with the hair. It’s straight as a board. So I’ve never needed that particular aisle.
I had no idea Queen Helene had broken into skincare, and I am glad I saw this Mint Julep Masque peeking out at me from all the other expensive creams and spot treatments and whatnot. According to the Web site:
“Mint Julep Masque is the original natural home treatment to help dry up pimples, rinse away blackheads and shrink enlarged pores. Simply apply Mint Julep Masque to your clean face and neck. As it firms and hardens within minutes, it draws out impurities from your pores. After the masque is removed, your skin will feel clean, refreshed and smooth. Even for individuals who are fortunate to be free of skin problems, Mint Julep Masque is a refreshing facial treatment that helps relax tired muscles and ease tension lines on the face and neck.”
I have no arguments with any of this. It’s one of the few masques I can use without making my skin feel dry, tight and flaky. I can’t say for sure the pores are shrinking because I’ve not used one of those magnified mirrors since high school, I don’t need that kind of daily view of disfigurement. However, I do notice my makeup goes on better after I use the masque, so there must be something to the claim.
What Queen Helene’s site is, apparently, too modest to say is that this Mint Julep smells AWESOME! I use it twice a week and I look forward to each application. As far as I can tell, there are no ingredients in there that would make sensitive skin go bananas and while it hasn't cured me forever, it has certainly helped some problem areas.
What skin products do you swear by? Have you been surprised by an odd brand before? And if you try this, let me know what you think!
I’ve tried a bunch of masques, both homemade and over-the-counter. But I came across this gem randomly in a drugstore. I have to say I’ve never really paid much attention to Queen Helene. Typically I see her stuff in the Ethnic Haircare aisle. My Irish side hit me hard with the hair. It’s straight as a board. So I’ve never needed that particular aisle.
I had no idea Queen Helene had broken into skincare, and I am glad I saw this Mint Julep Masque peeking out at me from all the other expensive creams and spot treatments and whatnot. According to the Web site:
“Mint Julep Masque is the original natural home treatment to help dry up pimples, rinse away blackheads and shrink enlarged pores. Simply apply Mint Julep Masque to your clean face and neck. As it firms and hardens within minutes, it draws out impurities from your pores. After the masque is removed, your skin will feel clean, refreshed and smooth. Even for individuals who are fortunate to be free of skin problems, Mint Julep Masque is a refreshing facial treatment that helps relax tired muscles and ease tension lines on the face and neck.”
I have no arguments with any of this. It’s one of the few masques I can use without making my skin feel dry, tight and flaky. I can’t say for sure the pores are shrinking because I’ve not used one of those magnified mirrors since high school, I don’t need that kind of daily view of disfigurement. However, I do notice my makeup goes on better after I use the masque, so there must be something to the claim.
What Queen Helene’s site is, apparently, too modest to say is that this Mint Julep smells AWESOME! I use it twice a week and I look forward to each application. As far as I can tell, there are no ingredients in there that would make sensitive skin go bananas and while it hasn't cured me forever, it has certainly helped some problem areas.
What skin products do you swear by? Have you been surprised by an odd brand before? And if you try this, let me know what you think!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
In Which I Confess, It Must be Embarassing to be Married to Me
I always make attempts to be glamorous. I would start a new job, and vow to refresh my lip gloss and makeup every two hours. I would set out jewelry to match every outfit. I would carefully put product in my hair and style it just so.
About a month in, I barely remembered to swipe my dry lips with chapstick, I would keep the same pair of earrings in for weeks at a time, and my hair never saw daylight from underneath the ponytail or bun.
It was the same with working at home. When I started working at home, I created a routine. By golly, I would get up, make my bed, brush my teeth, exercise, and make a glorious pot of coffee to start each day. About a month in, my routine looked something like this: snooze on the alarm until exactly 5 minutes before I had to clock in (the time it took to start up my ancient computer and get on the exhaustingly slow VPN). No time to exercise, and what’s the point of brushing my teeth if I am just going to have Folgers coffee? Showering? Meh, optional. Very, very optional.
When I moved in with Scott, I tried very hard to cover up this slovenly exterior, made a good show of at least being showered by the time he got home, hiding the remnants of my cheap coffee in the freshly emptied dishwasher. Well, you can see where this is going. But he married me anyway. A fact which, possibly, he regretted last week when he brought one of his new co-workers for a visit.
I hear “are you decent?” and him walking through the door with company. I look down. Red Sox t-shirt, pajama bottoms. “Yup! I sure am!” I went down to greet them with no shame.
This is not going to endear me to the Suburban Working Moms, but I have invented the concept of Work Pajamas. Maybe invented is a strong word, although they do say necessity is the mother of invention, and my Work Pajamas are a necessity. This is my last vestige of hygiene when I am working at home…I do not work in the PJs I slept in. Yes, they are pajama pants. Yes, it’s an oversized t-shirt. But…and this is VERY important…I did not sleep in them.
I forget the outside world may not consider this the height of hygiene. Not that I think men expect to come home to Donna Reed in heels and lipstick, holding a cocktail while fretting over a roast. But maybe they have the right to expect the little woman to be slightly put together.
Or the right not to have this conversation with their co-worker: “I’d really love you to meet my wife and baby, I just…well, I should warn you, I don’t know what she’ll look like.” I’m imagining a horrified look on the co-worker’s face, thinking he’s already dogging his wife. Is he going to smack her around in public?
Scott quickly backtracks: “No, I just mean…well, she has these work pajamas…”
About a month in, I barely remembered to swipe my dry lips with chapstick, I would keep the same pair of earrings in for weeks at a time, and my hair never saw daylight from underneath the ponytail or bun.
It was the same with working at home. When I started working at home, I created a routine. By golly, I would get up, make my bed, brush my teeth, exercise, and make a glorious pot of coffee to start each day. About a month in, my routine looked something like this: snooze on the alarm until exactly 5 minutes before I had to clock in (the time it took to start up my ancient computer and get on the exhaustingly slow VPN). No time to exercise, and what’s the point of brushing my teeth if I am just going to have Folgers coffee? Showering? Meh, optional. Very, very optional.
When I moved in with Scott, I tried very hard to cover up this slovenly exterior, made a good show of at least being showered by the time he got home, hiding the remnants of my cheap coffee in the freshly emptied dishwasher. Well, you can see where this is going. But he married me anyway. A fact which, possibly, he regretted last week when he brought one of his new co-workers for a visit.
I hear “are you decent?” and him walking through the door with company. I look down. Red Sox t-shirt, pajama bottoms. “Yup! I sure am!” I went down to greet them with no shame.
This is not going to endear me to the Suburban Working Moms, but I have invented the concept of Work Pajamas. Maybe invented is a strong word, although they do say necessity is the mother of invention, and my Work Pajamas are a necessity. This is my last vestige of hygiene when I am working at home…I do not work in the PJs I slept in. Yes, they are pajama pants. Yes, it’s an oversized t-shirt. But…and this is VERY important…I did not sleep in them.
I forget the outside world may not consider this the height of hygiene. Not that I think men expect to come home to Donna Reed in heels and lipstick, holding a cocktail while fretting over a roast. But maybe they have the right to expect the little woman to be slightly put together.
Or the right not to have this conversation with their co-worker: “I’d really love you to meet my wife and baby, I just…well, I should warn you, I don’t know what she’ll look like.” I’m imagining a horrified look on the co-worker’s face, thinking he’s already dogging his wife. Is he going to smack her around in public?
Scott quickly backtracks: “No, I just mean…well, she has these work pajamas…”
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Crazy Cat Lady
We have a real live cat lady living in our neighborhood! I mean classic insane cat lady like the one on the Simpsons. Know how we know? Because she WALKS HER CATS every day!!
Scott brought her to my attention awhile ago while Wee ‘Burb and I were still recovering from her rather chaotic entry into this world. He had gone out on a particularly chilly day to encourage Cous Cous to spend her energy on eating grass rather than my comforter and new toys we’d just purchased for Wee ‘Burb.
So he’s halfway through the path behind our house and this insane lady stops him and says he and Cous Cous can’t go any further. Scott’s so nice because I would so be in her face like “lady, I pay $200 a year to this association, and they barely plow half of these paths. This is the ONLY route in which my dog will go and I can still walk without needing snowshoes, so BACK OFF.” But, you know, that’s me.
So he, instead, kindly asks her what’s going on and she starts screeching “kitty, kitty!” and then instead of a kitty, a big black mangy dog comes running out. So Scott’s thinking perhaps this woman, ironically or insanely, has named her dog “Kitty”. But, in fact, in addition to letting her dog off his leash, she has let her cats off their leashes and now they’re missing.
Cats… leashes.
So now that Wee ‘Burb and I are back to walking, I convince a friend of mine to walk with us and we run into this frantic looking woman with crazy red-streaked black and grey hair and this weird pilled flannel fleece shirt. She’s followed by a soaking wet mangy black dog. I nudge my friend and whisper “Do you think she’s the one Scott was talking about?”
And then we both see she’s holding several leashes in her hand and creepily yelling “kitty?? KITTY?” and my friend and I are about to pass out from holding in our giggles.
I didn’t realize I thought Scott was exaggerating or embellishing until right when I saw her and went “Oh my GOD, she IS real!”
Scott brought her to my attention awhile ago while Wee ‘Burb and I were still recovering from her rather chaotic entry into this world. He had gone out on a particularly chilly day to encourage Cous Cous to spend her energy on eating grass rather than my comforter and new toys we’d just purchased for Wee ‘Burb.
So he’s halfway through the path behind our house and this insane lady stops him and says he and Cous Cous can’t go any further. Scott’s so nice because I would so be in her face like “lady, I pay $200 a year to this association, and they barely plow half of these paths. This is the ONLY route in which my dog will go and I can still walk without needing snowshoes, so BACK OFF.” But, you know, that’s me.
So he, instead, kindly asks her what’s going on and she starts screeching “kitty, kitty!” and then instead of a kitty, a big black mangy dog comes running out. So Scott’s thinking perhaps this woman, ironically or insanely, has named her dog “Kitty”. But, in fact, in addition to letting her dog off his leash, she has let her cats off their leashes and now they’re missing.
Cats… leashes.
So now that Wee ‘Burb and I are back to walking, I convince a friend of mine to walk with us and we run into this frantic looking woman with crazy red-streaked black and grey hair and this weird pilled flannel fleece shirt. She’s followed by a soaking wet mangy black dog. I nudge my friend and whisper “Do you think she’s the one Scott was talking about?”
And then we both see she’s holding several leashes in her hand and creepily yelling “kitty?? KITTY?” and my friend and I are about to pass out from holding in our giggles.
I didn’t realize I thought Scott was exaggerating or embellishing until right when I saw her and went “Oh my GOD, she IS real!”
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Things I Love Thursday: Prosecco
This is just a quick one because the week of birthday festivities has left me with a to-do list a mile long. If you are a champagne lover, you MUST try Prosecco! It's less bubbly and less likely to cause a hangover than champagne. I tried this the first time at a wine tasting at our local wine shop (if you live in the Western 'burbs, you should TOTALLY try Dolce Vita Wine Shop, they have amazing service and they keep a record of what wines you buy so you never have to do the whole "I tried that one...awhile ago? It had a label with a house on it or something?").
Anyway, it's a dryer taste, like a dry asti champagne. I've had many, and none have been bad. But the Astoria Lounge one pictured here has been, by far, the best one of all. My father-in-law brought two bottles to our dinner and even gave me an extra bottle to savor later. The two bottles were gone before we passed the fruit salad, everyone loved it!
Enjoy, and feel free to comment and share your favorite beverage!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Things I Love Thursday: These Boots are Made for Walking
I should confess, I don’t have these boots yet. I just love what they represent to me right now.
I have been coveting these for months, ever since I saw them in a magazine. I was taken back to my childhood when I wore “galoshes” and splashing in a puddle was the greatest thing EVER.
I saw them and thought two things: 1) these are the cutest boots ever and 2) these are the least practical boots ever. I mean, I barely leave my house.
So, I put them aside and thought of them no more, until I began to start focusing on losing the baby weight. Like many women, I’ve gained and lost ad nauseam. I have a broader range of clothing sizes than The Gap. This time, I was hell-bent on taking my time and doing it slowly so it would last. This approach goes against my very soul, as I am the queen of Instant Gratification. But as I figured out, if you lose it fast, you gain it fast.
To maintain my sensible weight loss plan, I had to play some head games with myself. Embarrassing, but true. So I began to set little weight loss goals. At 15 pounds, I bought myself a massage. At 20 pounds, a manicure.
And, folks, you are seeing what I am getting for 30 pounds, a milestone I reached last week. It’s taken me since January to get here, it’s been a long journey, but here I am. And here are my boots, which shall arrive here in 3-5 days, just after the rain is going to stop. Great.
And now I need your help, Internet! My big goal is actually close, too. I want to hit 32 pounds by my 32nd birthday, which is this coming Tuesday. I’m close to reaching the goal, and I was going to treat myself to a housekeeper for a day to clean my house from top to bottom, but my awesome husband is getting that for my birthday.
And so, I need something to treat myself. Something bigger than boots but smaller than a trip to Napa (that’s my 50 lb prize, if I ever get there). Ideas??
What have you done to treat yourself? Some great things I’ve heard along the way include one woman who logged how many miles she ran in a year and then treated herself to a vacation that was the same mileage away! Do you have to do these little mind tricks or is the number on the scale enough motivation?
I have been coveting these for months, ever since I saw them in a magazine. I was taken back to my childhood when I wore “galoshes” and splashing in a puddle was the greatest thing EVER.
I saw them and thought two things: 1) these are the cutest boots ever and 2) these are the least practical boots ever. I mean, I barely leave my house.
So, I put them aside and thought of them no more, until I began to start focusing on losing the baby weight. Like many women, I’ve gained and lost ad nauseam. I have a broader range of clothing sizes than The Gap. This time, I was hell-bent on taking my time and doing it slowly so it would last. This approach goes against my very soul, as I am the queen of Instant Gratification. But as I figured out, if you lose it fast, you gain it fast.
To maintain my sensible weight loss plan, I had to play some head games with myself. Embarrassing, but true. So I began to set little weight loss goals. At 15 pounds, I bought myself a massage. At 20 pounds, a manicure.
And, folks, you are seeing what I am getting for 30 pounds, a milestone I reached last week. It’s taken me since January to get here, it’s been a long journey, but here I am. And here are my boots, which shall arrive here in 3-5 days, just after the rain is going to stop. Great.
And now I need your help, Internet! My big goal is actually close, too. I want to hit 32 pounds by my 32nd birthday, which is this coming Tuesday. I’m close to reaching the goal, and I was going to treat myself to a housekeeper for a day to clean my house from top to bottom, but my awesome husband is getting that for my birthday.
And so, I need something to treat myself. Something bigger than boots but smaller than a trip to Napa (that’s my 50 lb prize, if I ever get there). Ideas??
What have you done to treat yourself? Some great things I’ve heard along the way include one woman who logged how many miles she ran in a year and then treated herself to a vacation that was the same mileage away! Do you have to do these little mind tricks or is the number on the scale enough motivation?
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