The Everything But Girl

Do you remember that girl in high school who would put out enough to develop a reputation and corresponding popularity with guys, but who never actually went all the way?

In my day, she was fondly known as “The Everything But Girl.” Alias: The Tease.

My daughter is the developmental equivalent of the Everything But Girl.

It started early with rolling over. In the sense that, well, she rarely ever did. She would lean slightly one way or the other, rest on her arm, then flop back to her original position. All the while smiling and gurgling and taunting me. She would do everything but actually roll over.

This is the only picture I have as proof she rolled over. At month 5. I don’t think Scott ever saw it in real life.

At the time I was dumbfounded. This child held her neck up at three weeks old, learned how to scoop food weeks before her cohorts at daycare…we hadn’t had any concerns over her developmentally at all.

I was told this wasn’t a concern, and sure enough, eventually she rolled over a few times. Then figured out how to sit up and that was basically that.

At 9 months, she showed zero interest in crawling. At first, I wasn’t worried. Then the doctor suggested I should worry.

I put it off a bit. This was about the time we were switching daycares and getting ready for our first plane trip, I had other things to worry about.

Wee ‘Burb was doing the Everything But again. She would get on all fours, she would move her butt…and then move it right back to the floor and sit. If she wanted to get somewhere, she’d scoot. Or leeeean. Or bat her eyelashes at her daddy. Everything but crawl.

I figured it was cool, she’d figure it out.

But the doctor gave me an ultimatum: she either crawls by 11 months, or she goes to physical therapy.

Then I wasn’t so cool with her Everything But Girl reputation.

I was especially alarmed because we affectionately call Wee ‘Burb’s pediatrician “Mother Goose.” She is like the calmest, most serene woman I have ever met. Kid fell and hit her head? Put some ice on it. A temperature of 101? Only bring her in if it lasts more than a day. She’s soothed me in many a panicked mom situation…but the one time I wasn’t panicked, she was telling me I should be.

I don’t recall there being any sort of transition, any indication that she would. I had tried everything: I got copies of what they do in physical therapy to figure out how to manipulate her at home, I put a trail of her favorite food just out of her reach (she cried until I gave it to her)…everything.

I had just finished telling everyone: “look, some babies don’t crawl, she’s just going to be one of those.” One of those Everything But Girls.

About a week short of 11 months, Wee ‘Burb started crawling like she was born doing it.

And now we’re at 15 months and it’s the same tease with the walking. Having just learned to crawl, I didn’t expect her to jump (no pun intended) into walking right at 12 months. And after the trauma of trying to force her crawling, I decided to lay off the walking. I encouraged her to stand and move, but I didn’t force.

I get a call from the county program we participate in. They send us questionnaires and they work as early interventionists if there’s anything wrong. Well, something was wrong, they said.

We kind of joked about it at home. Oh, Social Services will come take her away because we’re not nurturing her walking enough. She’ll go to college crawling. I planned her Intervention script. “Your disinterest in walking has affected your life negatively in the following ways…”

Only, it kind of didn’t. Affect her, that is. Or us.

I mean, she pulled up on furniture. She stood up and pushed her car around the house. I know that she can do it! I also know that if I try to make her stand up, she buckles her knees and crawls as far away from me as possible.

But people were eyeing her oddly, commenting on how she was so late to walk. Others reassured me. My mother told me early to talk, late to walk. As Wee' Burb already has a vocabulary of about 10 words, I was trying to take that to heart.

Nevertheless, I dreaded our 15-month appointment with Mother Goose. The interventionists had agreed to let the doctor lead the charge. Actually what she said to me was “perhaps this is more of an…emotional or behavioral problem? Something for your doctor to determine”

Diagnosis: your baby is a bit of a jerk. What have I been telling you people??!!

Mother Goose more or less agreed, although she thought perhaps it was a confidence issue. A fear of falling and getting hurt.

She sent me and the Everything But Girl home with a prescription to wait it out for another month or two.

Wee 'Burb continues to tease, occasionally letting her hands off the table for a moment, before collapsing on her butt in a fit of giggles. She will pull herself up on everything, but do not ask her to let go.

Everything But.

I’m just not ready to be the one to push her to go all the way on this one.

I Never Learn

In the five years I have known my husband, I have never won a bet.

I’ve won my share of Super Dates.

But no bets.

It took me about three years before I just stopped betting him. He says it’s no fun. I say it’s about preserving our relationship.

But today, you guys, today I was SURE I had him.

We were at Costco and as I was pulling out my checkbook. Scott rather gallantly announces: “I’ll pay for this one.” Yeah, we have separate checking accounts. Let it go, it works for us.

I hesitate for a second and then ask him if he really has that much cash? We had gone a little overboard on olive oil and diapers, people. This wasn’t a small bill.

He looks at me oddly and says he will put it on his card.

I tell him Costco only allows you to use American Express. They were very adamant with me on this point. I choose not to get an American Express, so I always bring my checkbook.

He says he can use his card, no problem.

I start writing out my check. He’s still insisting he can use his card.

So I challenge him: Wanna bet? He immediately says okay. We bet a date night.

I am so smug. I grin at him and say “know what? I am going to sign this check because I don’t want to hold up the line with your wrongness.”

So we get up to the checkout and I ask the girl: “you don’t accept debit cards, do you?”

And I am already packing up the groceries, planning on where to make him take me for dinner. It’s restaurant week next week in Minneapolis, what bliss!

So I barely here her say: “Welllll, some…”

I look at her and sort of choke. But I think I can still save this bet because she may not take HIS debit card.

He hands it to her confidently. Turns to me and grins and says: “I’ve used this here before. A bunch of times.”

BURN!

Although…he did buy the groceries. So, life isn’t all that bad.

But the moratorium on bets is SO back on!

Death and Taxes

Excuse the stereotype, but I am a total girl when it comes to math. In college, I majored in Communications, known by the acronym COM. It was fondly known as College of Optional Math.

I took The Philosophy of Science as my math/science credit. ‘Nuff said.

Taxes have always made me anxious, although I am capable of doing them. When we first filed jointly, Scott and I went and had our taxes done. It was an unpleasant experience. For $300, this dude dawdled for 3 weeks (or more likely, he had some accounting student dawdle for 3 weeks) and then filed our taxes without factoring in our mortgage. Small detail.

So after that, I insisted we do them ourselves. So when Scott brought up hiring it out this year, I about lost it. But he was right (you see that, Scott? It’s in writing), we had to have some help this year because of some unfortunate financial losses we suffered with his side business.

So I set out to do some due diligence and get a GOOD accountant this time. One that might, you know, realize a mortgage is a rather important little deduction.

The first woman I met with was phenomenal. She had a checklist and a list of forms she needed. Even though I had not hired her, she handed me a list of everything I would need and a recommendation of what to deduct in terms of the business.

She cost a little more than I was ready for, so I went out and met with another accountant.

The experience was slightly different. His office was in the midst of an antique store. He was near the bathroom and apparently someone had a wee touch of a stomach virus, or possibly a kidney explosion. The smell in the store was horrific!

Trying not to hold my nose, I ducked into his office and shut the door as quickly as possible. I started to sit down and realized I was almost sitting on a chair full of wood shavings. He pointed me to a seat nearer to him and asked that I excuse all the papers on his desk.

He said: “This will be the first year I actually get my own taxes done on time. My books are usually such a mess.”

Confidence inspired.

He flipped through my paperwork, totally baffled by a form for my Health Savings Account and daycare reimbursement. He repeatedly said: “hmmm…haven’t seen this one before.”

Confidence growing.

I began to get anxious as he pulled up TaxAct and started entering in my information. Unlike the woman I had seen before, apparently he was unaware that this was merely a consultation, to get a basic price quote and information before determining who we would ultimately use.

When I informed him, he pulled a number out of the air. It was exactly the number I wanted to hear…from ANYONE else’s mouth.

In my post about superlatives  I mentioned one of the things I don’t like about myself is my inability to sit still. The other? That I am not more assertive in business transactions. I should have said right then and there that I was not interested in his services. But I let him keep talking. He was talking about his clients who had been audited (seriously, worst…marketer…ever) and how many things can go wrong.

I was getting that feeling where you’re crawling out of your skin, where you think if you have to sit there one second longer, you will lose all control and just yell out, all Tourettes style: “you don’t know what you’re DOING, I would never hire you!”

I managed to escape without yelling that. About to relax in my car and text everyone I know about this horrible experience, I see his face at my window. Almost…died.

He had taken a few of my papers and added them to his own pile.

I don’t have to be good at math to know an accountant who can’t file his own taxes, has multiple clients who have been audited, and can’t keep paperwork straight on a first meeting is not going to be the right one to get us all we’re owed this year.

Scary + Dumb = Fired.

Do you do your own taxes? Are you someone who does them early or marches right up to the April deadline?

You Are Getting Verrrrry Sleeeeeepy......

So those of you who saw Office Space (I’m not the only one who watches it after a bad work week, right?), will recall the iconic scene in which Peter’s girlfriend (who IS cheating on him, by the way) gets hypnotized into a very relaxed state…one he doesn’t actually wake up from because the hypnotist croaks mid-wake.

Looking for anything…I mean, ANYTHING…that could take me out of my weight loss plateau, I came across a community ed class for hypnosis for weight loss.

So I roped my roommate into it. Or we roped each other. I’m not sure how it went down, but in the beginning of February, we were sitting in a high school classroom, pillows in hand, ready to be launched into a world where we hated food, loved exercise, and drank only water.

We walked in to sign up and the woman hands us a blue card with our names and the word “CANCEL” on it. So immediately I am all worked up and ask the woman why mine says “CANCEL.” She gruffly states: “I will tell you about that, you may sit down.”

Methinks she needs Hypnosis for ‘Tude Loss. But I digress.

So we sit down, cards and details in hand. And then Tude gets up and starts talking. And talking. Aaaaaand talking.

At the 22 minute mark I looked over at my roommate and whispered “do you…do you think this is part of the hypnosis?” I mean, seriously, does being bored and STARVING make you a better candidate for successful hypnosis?

Class started at 6 p.m. and was supposed to go to 8, we figured we could get out at 7 and eat. I was a little miffed because the smokers had an hour while we got hypnotized to go off and have a last smoke. I thought I deserved a last doughnut, thank you!

So, does being bored and starving and cranky make you a better candidate for successful hypnosis?

After quoting articles from well before I was born and going on and on about how great hypnosis is (which, I understand she probably frequently has to legitimize her profession, I get that. But we paid $50 to be in her presence, it’s safe to say on some level we believe this is legitimate enough to waste a few hours and some dough on, let’s get on with the tick tock, lady!), she finally hits the lead on how she became a hypnotist.

She was in a very abusive relationship, got a horrible divorce, and promptly (understandably) went into a dark depression. Wanting to get off meds, she sought a hypnotist, and within a year she had a new relationship, a new job, and a happy family. She was sold and made this her career.

I kind of liked the idea that this had worked for her (even if she was gruff in the beginning), but I was ridiculously starved by this point and you could hear stomachs growling and people shifting in their seats.

Finally, around 7:15 (yes, seriously, she talked for over an hour!) she sent the smokers off and got to work on us chubbers. To say it got off to a rocky start would be a bit of an understatement.

As she’s guiding us through imagery, she did the “deeper and deeeeeper” thing from Office Space and my roommate and I both had to swallow our giggles.

Then she said “you will feel like a wet noooooodle” and we both giggled again and I was starting to be concerned we were going to be the first people ever to get kicked out of hypnosis.

Then she took us through some imagery, and we were told to see a red light and the word “CANCEL” (which is supposed to be our mental mantra when we want food we are not supposed to have, it’s supposed to “cancel” the desire, and that’s why it was written on our card). And then…

Yeah, that’s all I remember.

I promptly fell asleep.

I woke up about 10 minutes later, so I figured. She was bringing us back to the count of 5 and I giggled again thinking “what if someone busted in here right now? Would I become anorexic because I was so relaxed and hating food?”

But we were brought back. And then told it had been actually 40 minutes of relaxation and hypnosis.

Which means, I slept for 30 of it!

We were sent home with CDs and the card guaranteeing us lifetime revisits should we need them.

My roommate and I promptly went and ate cheese curds and tater tots, fairly convinced and concerned this had little effect on us.

So, did it?

Well yes.

Now, before you guys get all excited, I have not lost a significant amount of weight. BUT, there have been drastic changes to my lifestyle as it relates to food. Changes I believe will contribute to better sustainable weight loss in my future.

1. Diet Coke. I am addicted. This was one of the hardest things next to wine that I had to give up when I was pregnant. I drink at least 2 cans a day, and that is only because I strictly limit myself to these portions. Were it up to me, I could easily finish a 24 pack in a week. Now? After adding a little programming in (with the CD, you get times in the hypnosis, assuming you can stay awake, where you can add in other things like biting your nails, or specific items you wish to avoid), I have to tell you, I’ve had 3 total in the last month. And each one has been worse than the last. The CD is programmed to tell you soft drinks will taste metallic. I’ve tested in 3 times. It’s 100% true. Do not ask me how this is so, but it is. I no longer like Diet Coke.

2. Coffee and other caffeinated beverages. Same as above. Now, I still drink coffee every morning, but I used to pour tons of Sweet and Low in it and drink 3-4 cups. Now? I sprinkle some Sweet and Low in, and can only really stomach 1 or 2 cups before I begin to experience the horrible aftertaste.

3. I heart water. Guys, I can’t describe how I loathe water. It’s just so booooring! Getting 3 cups a day was a GOAL of mine before this. And that was more just “okay, your body needs water after working out, not Diet Coke.” Now? I drink 4-6 bottles a day, and that’s only because I had to impose limits of no water after 6 or I was up all night going to the bathroom.

These are little things, right? You’re thinking, “that’s great, Stephanie, but those little items are not going to lose you that much weight.”

And you are totally right.

What will, though? My awareness of what I am eating and why.

Before hypnosis, almost every Friday night we would order pizza, polish off a bottle of wine, and watch TV. I thought about it, but only casually. “Well, this is a good cheat day, I have worked hard, I deserve one day not to fret about food.” And yeah, that would have been mildly acceptable (as much as constantly rewarding yourself with food is acceptable) if it weren’t for the fact that I let that thought carry me through my weekend.

Now?

Friday night, Scott brought home leftover pizza from work (he’s been forbidden from ordering pizza since my hypnosis). It sat in the fridge, mocking me. I was hungry.

I stopped, took a deep breath, said “CANCEL” and walked away.

I was still hungry.

I ate a banana and a small piece of chocolate…not the whole bar, an actual serving size piece of chocolate. That pizza, tempting as it was, stood in its plastic wrap because I THOUGHT about what I was eating and why.

So what do you think? Do you reward yourself for food? Has you or anyone you known ever done hypnosis? Would you ever consider being hypnotized?

Celebrating Superlatives..

So, my good bluggy (that's blog buddy) Tenaciously Yours was crazy enough to tag me on this little questionnaire. I'm honored she chose me, and of course totally overwhelmed at having to somehow sum up my life in a few short responses. But here goes!



What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Laying by the ocean, eyes burning from the sun, toes covered with sand.

What is your greatest fear?

I am totally copying Tenaciously, but I constantly worry about failing.

Which figures do you most identify with?
This is a tough one. I was once compared to Cameron Diaz in There's Something About Mary. Not looks-wise, obviously. But in terms of being a guy's guy looking for a guy who sees her as a girl.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

My inability to enjoy the quiet. I can never just be alone with my thoughts, meditate, or truly relax.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Condescension. I think that’s the ultimate offense you can commit (other than, you know, murder and stuff).

What do you most value in your friends?

Loyalty.

What words or phrases do you most overuse?

No way! Totes. Oyyyy.

What is your favorite journey?

Back in the day when we drove from MN to Cape Cod, and we finally hit the bridge that joins Boston to the Cape.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

I’m totally stealing Tenaciously’s again (this is why she’s one of my faves, we’re like the same person sometimes). I don’t get the big deal about patience. If we all sat back and waited…life would just pass us all by. Boooooring.

What is your favorite occupation?

Writing.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?

I so want to be enlightened here and say that I love my stretch marks because my sweet baby girl caused them. But I don’t. I loathe them. I’m also not fond of my skin’s ability to break out at the WORST times. Still…at over 30 years old.

What is your greatest regret?

I wasted a lot of time in bad relationships, ones that gave me nothing back, and caused me to give more of myself than anyone deserved.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

Scott, of course! Who gave me the other love of my life, my sweet baby girl.

Where and when were you happiest?

This summer bringing my baby girl to Cape Cod, where I had the happiest moments of my life growing up. Watching her play in my sand, swim in my ocean, giggle at my seagulls stealing food. Just an awesome experience. I sat back and thought “I created that.”

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My inability to take risks. I take calculated risks. But just about every action in my life is planned, and planned again, and then there’s a plan B.

What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?

Getting into the college I wanted early decision. And being a good mom. I’m a cheater, I’m doing 2.

What is your most treasured possession?

A ring that my cousin wore before she passed away. We share a birthday and it’s very precious to me.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Waiting in line, or waiting on hold.

Where would you like to live?

Puerto Rico or Mexico.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Physical I seem to be known for my smile. As a person, probably being earnest.

What is your greatest extravagance?

Right now, seeing a chiropractor.

What are the qualities you most like in a man?

Protection. Openness. Honesty.

Who are your favorite writers?

Elizabeth Berg, Jodi Picoult for current. And I will always go back to the Brontes for comfort.

How would you like to die?

In my sleep, regretting nothing.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

I’ve always loved Holden Caulfield, I can’t help it.

Who are your heroes in real life?

My mom, for teaching me how to be an awesome mom without either of us knowing it. My grandmother for teaching me a love of words and writing. My dad for teaching me that gender roles were made to be broken. My husband for helping me continue to break them, and for showing me what real love and acceptance is.

What is your motto?

“It’s my lot in life…it’s not a lot, but it’s my life.”



I’m going to cheat and tag everyone and anyone.

But in the meantime, please visit Tenaciously Yours and a few of my other favorites, including:

Divine Secrets of a Domestic Diva talks about a world full of "azul"s.

Ivy League Insecurities examines what loving your life means.

Small Town Mommy discusses having to go gluten and dairy free for her daughter. Very honest piece about life changes.

It's Blogworthy openly discusses reflecting on what her blog means, and how to make it more.

As always, I love so many bloggers. These are just a few posts recently that have moved me to think, laugh, or cry.

Everything I learned about love, I learned from Lifetime TV Movies

I love Lifetime movies. My love started with TV movies on the regular channels back in the day, specifically the competing ones that came out over Amy Fisher, the Long Island Lolita! Hooked!

To this day, if I see one with the name of any former 90210 or Melrose Place actor, I will watch it, no matter how crappy the storyline. In fact, the crappier the better!

So on this Valentine’s Day, I submit to you the invaluable love lessons I have learned from Lifetime TV Movies.

1. If your boyfriend or husband ever utters anything about a “secret mission” he is not a cop or secret agent or military personnel. He is a rapist or murderer. Or he has another family. Those aren’t mutually exclusive.
2. If you are seen putting on eye cream or skin cream at night and poking at the invisible wrinkles in your face, your husband will soon be cheating on you, if he’s not already. [This one goes out to the woman at Sephora who was kind enough to ignore my slight teariness when she recommended I purchase eye cream]
3. If you are cheated on, don’t look at it as a bad thing, though. It will show you the holes in your relationship, which you will of course wish to repair when your husband realizes the chick he was banging on the side is as batcrap crazy as you are. And requires more maintenance.
4. Do not accept a death certificate until you’ve seen a corpse. Seriously, do you know how easy it is to fake your own death? Until you see the body, you are to assume your spouse is not at all dead, but in fact has drained your bank account and moved across the country to become some sort of local politician, meaning someday years later you will see his picture in the paper, recognize his lying face as the one you thought you buried, and go on a rampage.
5. If you know someone who used to be ugly and is now pretty as a result of an accident that required plastic surgery, run away from that person. She is out for revenge. You will get in the way. The results will be unpleasant.
6. The same goes for anyone who lost family in an accident, or believes you caused their beloved brother’s death (it’s almost always a brother or a daddy). Trust no one. Enter witness protection if you can.

 Your turn! What have you learned from TV movies? How are you spending Valentine’s Day?

I Had a Dream...

I had a dream...

I dreamt that traveling for work would mean the only thing I would be picking up after work would be a laptop and a bottle of wine. I dreamt of watching some Netflix, sipping a glass of wine, putting my feet up on a pillow in my own bed, a bed I don't share with a husband and dog, and occasionally a baby.

I dreamt I would go to bed early, without interruption from said husband, dog, or baby. I would sleep through a night.

In the morning? The only person I would have to get ready is me. No wrestling with pigtails, no making sure the husband has clean work shirts, no getting the dog outside.

The reality? 12 hours of meetings, followed by four hours of huge dinners with copious amounts of wine and waits for tables, followed by arriving at the hotel at 11, nearing tears trying to take the heels off that had now suctioned to the blisters on my feet.

Then...well, then I got to spend two hours doing work I had to neglect during the 12 hours of meetings.

Meaning, I went to bed near 1 a.m. and then got up at 6 a.m. to start it all over again. 12 hours of meetings. Hours of dinner. More work. Getting up early. Painful feet.

So I came home to my husband, dog, and baby for relaxation and sleep.

Instead of a feather bed, I sunk into my own pillow-top mattress, covered with dog hair and baby drool. I washed work shirts for my husband. Cleaned out the stuffy nose of my baby. Brushed the puppy...

And was grateful I am not often away from this kind of chaos.

Wiener Watch 2011

As I pull into the dog park, the Park Service truck pulls up next to me.

I’ve mentioned before, I am irrationally afraid of authority figures considering I'm about as straight-laced as they come. I’m not sure that Park Service is really an authority, per se. More like a taxpayer with a plow. But, still…

So the guy has me roll down my window and then says: “we’ve had reports of a loose wiener dog. Could you call 911 if you see him?”

I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. Partly in relief that I am not in trouble and having to visit Diabla and her crew.

But also?

These aren’t the wieners I am usually warned about in public parks.

My Bad Insurance Should Get Me SOMETHING, RIGHT?

Recently, Wee ‘Burb has taken to emptying my purse. I thought stealing mom’s credit card and keys was a teenage thing, but apparently not.

She especially loves to take the credit cards out of their slots. I allow this because it keeps her quiet for 12 seconds. These days that’s a precious gift.

So, a friend of mine and I signed up for a candlelight yoga session as part of our 2011 goal of taking some different gym classes. I grab my cell phone case and toss in my debit card and license.

After a wonderful hour-long session of yoga, we both agree we could use some wine. We have a favorite wine. It’s cheap and light. Perfect to accompany some languid watching of Scared Straight and Celebrity Rehab.

I pay the nice lady for the wine and we head home.

Later that night I am putting my cards back in order when my blood goes cold. The card I have pulled out of my cell phone case? The one I used at a LIQUOR STORE to purchase WINE?

Is my health savings account card.

Do you think I can make a case to the good people at my insurance company that the wine was medicinal?

Meet The Girl Next Door...

Hey, guys! I'm guest blogging over at The Girl Next Door today, and sharing my recipe for a noodle-less lasagna. Her blog is firmly planted in an elite status in my Favorites: Daily Read. I’m honored to be associated with her any day…especially because she’s a fellow Minnesotan! Us bloggers here in the frozen tundra must stick together…at least to keep warm.

Check out my post here!

NaNaNaNaNaNa...BATMAN!

Long-time readers know Lola, she has guest posted for me a few times. 

Lola, as you may know, does not really live in suburbia. And yet seems to have run-ins with wildlife that are weirder than in actual suburbia. This one takes place on her DOORSTEP! Like her actual apartment doorstep.
Our e-mail conversation went like this:
Lola: I think I have a bat by my door.

Stephanie: What? Really??

Lola: Yes! I thought it was a dead mouse at first, but upon closer inspection, it's got leathery appendages. I think it's hiding from the cold.

Stephanie: Which door?!

Lola: That would be my apartment door. Well, it's in the corner BY the door. In the hallway. So it's not really in my apartment, just kind of hanging out in the hall...I hope it doesn't get vacuumed up by the caretaker!

Stephanie: Duuude, that's scary!!

Lola: Why? I wonder what it eats...do all bats eat fruit?

Stephanie: No just fruit bats. Now I feel kind of sad for the poor disease-ridden thing!

Lola: I know!! How will it get out? Of course I don't want to toss it out in this weather. I'll just leave it there and maybe it'll fly off...

Stephanie: But then it will...fly and give some old bird a heart attack [by this I mean old lady...Lola lives in a condo building crammed with old ladies]

Lola: Well, what do you want me to do?!

Stephanie: Hide! Run! Call for help! Just don't get rabies!

Lola: [ignoring my rabies comment totally] I just wonder how the hell it got in! Probably through the attic.

Stephanie: It defies nature. Pls take a pic for the blog

Lola: What if the flash upsets it and gets tangled up in my hair? Who'll be taking THAT picture?!

Stephanie: The coroner?

Lola: Hee, exactly. I'm not sure I'm ready to sacrifice myself for the sake of your blog.

Stephanie: Some friend you are!

Lola: Hey, I showed you my turkey! That sounded odd...

Stephanie: Now that I may use in my blog.

An hour later I get this from Lola:

Risking my life, I took a daring snippet of the dang bat. So please meet Bella, the batty bat. It's not very sharp but trust me, it's a fuzzy bat sleeping on its folded wings.

Happy dreams!

Postscript: Lola finally did call the caretaker. He called her back and told her there was nothing there and made it sounds like she should perchance upgrade her meds. She knows she wasn't crazy because a) she has this picture and b) her neighbor called and left her a voice mail saying she had something by her door...although, he IS an alchy.