Combustible prickle pile

Every year we say our Christmas tree is the best ever.  Though I think this year may have topped the prior best, I can definitely say it topped the longest tree we've ever had.  Yesterday I finally had the chance to take down the tree, pack up Christmas and regain 30% of my living room.  I can't believe how well it held its needles, but it had to have been a serious fire hazard the last week or two.

It was a pretty one, and this holiday season was wonderful, but do you see that mountain of toys to the left?  Now that the tree is gone, our toy collection will have the space to breathe and grow and reach it's potential. 

P.S. My house isn't crooked, but apparently my blackberry camera alignment was a bit off kilter.

P.P.S. You should totally see The Fighter.  I love me some Marky Mark, but Christian Bale, Amy Adams and Melissa Leo deliver amazing performances as a crack-head, a kinda trashy but good-hearted hometown girlfriend and a crazy bitch mom, respectively. 

The new math

So I know the metric system is whacky and all, but according to the sticker on the rolly-cart in our garage, it also employs some of that "new math" I can never get my head around. To wit, 114 kg plus 114 kg is apparently less than or equal to 227 kg.


This is why Europe will never get ahead. I mean, "250 lbs. plus 250 lbs. is less than or equal to 500 lbs." might be grandly stating the obvious, but at least standard measurement still uses the good old-fashioned math we all know and love.

Bonus points to anyone who can explain the point of this sticker.

Why I'm anti-radio

I don't listen to the radio much, except for NPR. Once upon a time I did, but pop music left me behind when it turned into hip hop. For some reason, though, I do listen to the radio instead of CDs during the occasional drive. And my drive on Wednesday evening reminded me of The Top Five Reasons Why Radio Sucks:

5. Country music apparently makes me go all emo. Be honest - no one needs that.

4. Commercials are all louder than the songs. And inexplicably, all stations play them at the same time, leaving the listener no escape.

3. I only ever hear about the last three seconds of any decent song. It either ends as I find the station, or I drive out of range.

2. The shitty options leave me pondering things like which is likely to be the cheesiest: something by Journey, a song from Peter Cetera's unremarkable solo career or any random pop duet. Seriously, is there a single duet in the history of pop music that isn't 100% terrible? And why must my neurons spend precious processing on this conundrum?

1. "Mony Mony." That song is only liked by 12-year-old kids who think that shouting the dirty line out at school dances is hilarious. And it's like six and a half minutes long, and only has eleven words. Two of which are "mony". Which is not even a word, let alone two words.

I vacuumed today

That might not sound like a blog-worthy activity, but today it was. You see, today I got the Cadillac of vacuums. And I don't mean the "Cadillac" of our generation, but "Cadillac" like when it used to be the Cadillac of cars. Yesterday I was still using the '74 AMC Gremlin with one donut and one bare rim of vacuums. Technically it could get from Point A to Point B, but just barely. And today: Fat City.

The last straw came on Sunday night. We'd taken down the Christmas tree, and there were needles everywhere. The Bug and I swept up the biggest hunks of tree, and I pulled out our craptacular vacuum to finish the job. It sucked not at all. Didn't pick up a single needle. So I used the hose attachment and sucked up all the needles in the hallway one by one. About a million or so needles later, I had to unplug and move to another outlet. When I turned off the so-called machine, every needle fell out of the hose and back onto the floor. I was undaunted; I sucked them each up again. Then I turned off the pathetic excuse for a machine, and every needle fell back to the floor again. Because I was with a toddler I could not scream the f-word at the top of my lungs before hurling said piece of shit off of our balcony. So I used a broom to clean the floor, outwardly calm but seething on the inside. It sucked. (Actually, come to think of it, the broom actually did suck as much as the stupid vacuum.)

So now, I have the Cadillac of vacuums. Our floors are so clean, I am a bit grossed out at how not clean they used to be, even when they were clean. I might even use it again tomorrow.

I don't believe in resolutions

I'm sure that many people you know have spent the past week or so working on their new year's resolutions. I am not counted in that number. Frankly, I don't believe in them. If something is worth doing, I should do it, and willing it to be so one day a year won't make me exercise more or drink less (or vice versa). But if I were to make one, I think it would be to get a polar bear. A baby one. I mean, they're so freaking cute!

More stuff I've learned

Since sharing such incredibly useful info in October was so wildly therapeutic, I feel compelled to keep it up with my learnings of the past couple of weeks.

First, breastfed babies can go up to 10 days without making a Number 2. Pretty freaky, right? Since I don't want to go totally TMI on you, let me know if you need to know how to move things along as that day of reckoning approaches.

Second, carpal tunnel syndrome is not only caused by repetitive motion. It is also caused by pregnancy. If that makes no sense to you, you're not alone - the neurologist I visited (!!!) didn't appear to understand it, either. He said it is caused by the fluctuations in hormones, or the fluctuations in fluid... or something else in pregnancy, he's not sure what. Fills me with confidence, too. And for the record, carpal tunnel syndrome sucks.

Third, if your smoke detector battery begins to die, it beeps really loud. At random intervals. Sometimes a couple of times a minute, sometimes it'll give you a break for half an hour or more. It is very annoying. And if your ceiling is 15+ feet above your floor, and the wacky ladder your husband uses to get up that high weighs like a million pounds, you'll learn to live with it for a day. During that day, however, you might get a wee bit irritable.

Fourth, ice cream is still good, even if you're not pregnant any more.

And finally, newborn babies are really, really soft and cuddly. And when they smell good, which is most of the time, they smell really, really nice.

They're *my* shells, dammit!

One of our neighbors leaves miscellaneous decorations on the table in our floor's elevator lobby: a basket of plastic eggs around Easter time, a random fishbowl full of wine corks a few weeks ago, and most recently these two giant bowls full of sea shells.


Apparently, the level in the larger bowl has dropped suspiciously in recent days, because this note appeared on Sunday evening:

Gotta love that smiley face... Looks like we've got a new submission for passiveaggressivenotes.com!

Joker and I haven't quite decided the appropriate course of action... Do we take all the shells and replace them with plastic eggs or wine corks? Do we take the bowls and just leave the shells on the table? Do we just start dropping in chewed up bubble gum and cigarette butts every time we pass by? We simply cannot let this little display of goodwill towards man go unrewarded.

Quick bloggy update

I realized it's been a long time since my last post, but over a week?? Wow! I'm sure the expectations have been building, and you're really dying to hear the wisdom I impart after a little hiatus, so here goes.

First and foremost, work has really turned up the heat. I have been unbelievably busy. Totally swamped. It's really cool stuff, including the launch of a new channel, but my days are filled with meetings and I still have to get my day-to-day work done... so alas! very little time to blog.

And I had to buy a dress to wear to a couple of weddings. Need I remind you, it had to be a maternity dress. On the plus side, I'm not a cast member in either of my summer weddings - though I'm clearly one of the most highly valued guests, I am not required for photographic immortality. Anyway, the experience was miserable. I went to a higher-end store in the hopes that the pickin's would be decent. I tried on 20 dresses - which is more than I've ever tried on for anything in my life - and bought the one I hated the least. According to my friends at the first wedding, I did not look like a cow, so I'm going to chalk it up as a victory and up the ante with even cuter shoes for the next event.

And finally, a couple of notes on the wedding we went to over the weekend... Congrats, Georgia and Jeff! It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony, the band was fantastic, the food (especially the grilled Greek cheese - where can I get more of that??) was delicious, the Perrier was of the finest vintage, and we could not be happier for our two dear friends. Worlds of happiness to you both - you deserve every minute of it!

Driving in the rain

Nearly four hours in the car. Rain most of the time. Gray and dreary. Bad radio. Hair bands and country were my high school years. I still remember all the words to Garth's "Rodeo", but only most to Sabbath's "Paranoid". I zone out a lot. Memories like a collage, images without context.

The kitchen of one party I went to, don't know where or with whom, but I remember the kitchen. Last day of school one year, driving around listening to Girls, Girls, Girls and passing around a bottle of peach schnapps. Country songs I've never heard before make me wish someone would have broken out a guitar at the gravel pits.

How it felt to have a crush, to find out it was mutual, to think it was important, to learn it was not. You faded, but that feeling, it was memorable. No nostalgia for those days. No, that's not quite right. Nostalgia for the edited versions, where my small high school was quaint and friends were dear and teachers cared and everyone had dreams.

I had dreams. I am so glad I had those dreams, those ambitions. I didn't go where I thought I would, but trying to get there brought me to here.

Pull into the garage. Back to my life. Who I love, what I love, where I want to be.

Norway is not the capital of Sweden

I always wondered what made those wacky Norwegians tick. Enjoy this valuable lesson in geography and sociology!

Let's try this one again

Perhaps you recall when I boldly stated my intention to get back into running last October. While that did get me through to bikini time, my motivation faded into a hazy memory upon our return from Mexico. This time, I have a longer-range goal, giving the good habits a bit more time to take.

Memorial Day, the Bolder-Boulder, a 10K road race through one of the prettiest towns in the country. Incidentally, this also commits us to celebrating the Bug's second birthday in Colorado with her Mima and Boppie. I'm pretty sure they'll be happy about that, too.

Joker and the Bug will have to watch from the sidelines - no strollers allowed - but anyone want to join me? Carly? Jessie? I think my folks are already on board. I don't anticipate setting any land speed records, but hey - you never know!

Whale go boom!

This is tremendous... Can you even imagine why the Oregon Highway Department (a) was called onto the scene in the first place, or (b) thought that blowing up the whale would do anything other than spread the whale around a larger geographic area?

25 random things

There's this thing going around Facebook, where people write 25 random things about themselves and then get all their friends to do the same thing. Being rather amused by everyone else's lists, I've decided it'd make a darn fine blog post, too.

1. River Phoenix was my first major movie star crush.
2. The Brothers Karamazov is my favorite book of all time.
3. I drink pickle juice. Straight from the jar.
4. I'm fully aware that's disgusting.
5. I met my husband when we were both in costume.
6. It wasn't Halloween.
7. My favorite movies of all time are Godfather I and II and Casablanca.
8. I wish I could have gone to Hogwarts.
9. I probably would have been good at potions.
   
10. I would not have made the quidditch team.
11. My beautiful little Bug makes me smile a dozen times a day. No... way more than that.
12. I'm glad she has my dimples.
13. I'm also glad she has Joker's eyes.
14. I call my grandma a few times a week.
15. She thanks me for it, but she deserves the "thanks."
16. The most amazing historical site I have visited was the 10th Century Moorish castle in Sintra, Portugal.
17. The best scuba diving I have done was in Rangiroa, French Polynesia.
18. I've eaten blowfish, frog's legs, and Rocky Mountain Oysters.
19. I thought Eddie and the Cruisers was the name of a band until I was in college. I saw John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band play Toad's Place, and asked a friend if they played anything but Eddie and the Cruisers covers.
20. I got engaged on an island in Sweden.
21. I walked down the aisle to "Here Comes the Sun."
22. I hope the Bug uses her passport well.
23. She may need to when she lives at home and goes to Yale, as per my current plan.
24. Season 4 of Buffy was my least favorite, but it contained two of the best episodes: "Hush" and "Restless."
25. I've written a blog since August 2007. This is post #235.

Dear, sweet Facebook

Twenty-four hours ago, I threw up my hands in despair. How, oh how, would I find my missing stylist? The answer was simple. Facebook. With 150 million active users, half of them on daily, how could that not have been obvious?

Major hair disaster

I'm overdue for a haircut. WAY overdue. With no end in sight.

I finally called my salon yesterday to make an appointment. And to my horror I was told that Sheridan has left, but that they would be happy to recommend someone else. Sheridan has been cutting my hair since the beginning of the '00s! I don't want them to recommend someone else. I want them to give me her forwarding information. Which, as yet, they won't do. Sheridan gave me her cell phone number years ago, but it is (best case) in my old Rolodex in a box in storage. Any other suggestions on how to find her??? If I cannot, am I doomed to a future of Crystal Gayle's hair???

New to the blog roll

I added a couple of new blogs to my blog roll today. One is by an old friend of mine from college, who I had completely lost touch with after graduation. Turns out she lives in Brooklyn, works in Manhattan, and got married and gave birth around the same time as I did. She is, however, a bit of an overachiever - she went and had two babies for the price of one. Check out their antics in I Do Know How She Does It.

And those of you with kids in or around Fairfield County should check out Fairfield County Child. It's full of great kid-focused activities, as well as info about fabulous sales at local businesses.

The hands-down best way to buy shoes

I've don't like shopping. I love having new stuff, I'm rather fond of buying things, but the shopping experience is simply a means to an end. Now that I have no time (have I mentioned that??), shopping rarely happens.

On Monday, when I wore my 3-inch skinny heels to work, I realized I desperately needed new shoes. I walk 40 minutes or more every day. I've gotta be reasonably comfortable, at least *some* of the time!

Enter Zappos.com, which I'd only used once before. Always free shipping; always free returns. They have amazing search criteria; in the case of my prior purchase, I looked only at black boots, size 6, 1 3/4-2 1/2" heels, skinny calves, within a specific price range. On Monday morning, I looked for black ankle boots, 1 3/4-2 1/2" heels, size 6, within my price range. I bought a pair I liked on the first page; had notification within the hour that I'd gotten free upgraded shipping; and had great new boots at my door yesterday. I love Zappos!

Grasping at motivation

I was still running three miles a day right up until the Bug was born, and I resumed it within two weeks. I was able to keep it up for a while, but somehow along the way running completely fell by the wayside. I blame our insane schedule.

But we are going to Mexico in a month, so insanity be damned! I am thus declaring my intention to drag my weary ass out of bed at 5am for a run at least three times per week. Between looming images of bikini-wearing, and my ego being too large to publicly admit defeat, I think it'll work.

Courtesy 101, post script

At Ali's suggestion, I sent Courtesy 101 to Passive Aggressive Notes. It was finally posted, and has gotten over a hundred comments. Check it out here. Though if you're squeamish, skip the comments.

What to wear...

...when someone tells you to "Put on your big boy pants!"


Or, if you are a naked Volkswagon.