The Blair Identity

32 Below

2006-12-21T15:01:00.000-06:00

So I made it to the third bar last night before I figured out that I had left my wallet, including my ID, on my kitchen table. The blonde server who was at least a decade younger than me kindly asked me to leave. At least I felt young again for a fleeting second. Because our babysitter is a high school student who had class this morning, I gave it up at that moment and we just called it a night. It was 9:03 p.m. But I had enjoyed a few rounds of yummy cocktails, a great dinner and a once-in-a-lifetime chocolate custard pie already, so I was ok with it.

And now I can tell everyone that I got kicked out of a bar and they'll assume I'm some kind of bad ass. It's always good to be vague.

Shameless Plug

2006-12-20T14:10:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday to ME!

I'm not doing anything even remotely birthday-like today, except being a slacker. But that's kinda an everyday thing.

Canon cleaned out our home office that for more than a year (ever since we got a real, professional studio) was just collecting junk. So now I have an official craft room with two countertops for beading and sewing. I plan to move my wrapping supplies down there next. For my birthday Em got me a TV for down there, and it's like my own little piece of heaven! Now I just have to paint over the hideous blue-green walls.

So, um, yeah, exciting storyl. Tune in next week for more adventures in, ah, my exciting life.

Hello Boys & Girls

2006-12-06T16:01:00.000-06:00

November is over? How did that happen so soon?

Well, I stunk up the NaBloPoMo but at least I posted more than in past months, so, um, go me!

It's hot in here. That's what happens when you crank up your space heater and close your office door. What? Did you hear that? I said 'close your office door.' It makes me so happy to be able to say that. Rosy cheeks and sweaty palms a happy employee make. At least in my case.

It's Dec. 8 and I just crossed three more names off my shopping list. I'm practically giddy! The shopping/gifting is going well so far this year. The decorating is done, with help from Em, which means she takes the ornaments off the tree and rearranges them every night. That's ok though. It's actually the dogs who have broken the most ornaments this year. I don't plan on a lot of baking, but I do plan on Christmas cards, and that certainly isn't done.

I'm also trying to get to the gym at least 3 days a week. With all the company and travelling we're doing, that's a steep goal, but I'm set on it. Maybe it's all the 'me time' that's helping me deal so well with the holiday stress this year.

Speaking of working out, I ran the Turkey Day 5K! Woooooot! It was really fun, thanks to my co-runners (shout-outs to the Shes Who Shall Not Be Named!) and the great weather. I definitely plan on doing that again.

So, erm, what's on your wish list?

I'm big into the relaxation this year... I want some massage gift cards and a weighted hula-hoop just like the ones at my gym. My biggest wish is for Canon to turn our old home office into a craft room for me, and you know what? I haven't told him that yet. I think I will right now.

In other news, I suck

2006-11-20T22:41:00.000-06:00

Apparently being sick gives me license to ignore the "post every day" rule.

ahem.

I'm trying to think of anything worth posting. I've been trying to do that for a week now. It's kind of like in college, where our columnsts would write the obligatory "writing about having nothing to write about" column. It pissed me off then, and it pisses me off now.

Sorry for wasting your time.

Ummmm, I finally committed to running a Turkey Day 5K, so if it doesn't kill me I'll be eating whatever I please for dinner and not feeling guilty about it. It's not actually the running part that scares me. It's the getting-up-at-the-ass-crack-of-dawn part that I'm not looking forward to.

Tonight I baked a second batch of " 'nacks" as Em calls them, to take with us for the holiday. I also bought all the ingredients to a fabulous roll-up appetizer that I'll throw together tomorrow morning. Then Wednesday, it's off to the in-laws for a well-earned vacation. I can't wait.

Murffle glerk hork

2006-11-14T11:41:00.000-06:00

Don't get the flu.

I had it. Or maybe I still do. But at least I have it less than I had it over the weekend. What is it about being sick that just makes you want your mommy? I can tell you the opposite... being a mommy while sick is hell on earth. Man. You don't realize exactly how much you do for that lovable little leech until it physically pains you to do it. And that's with all the things she can do on her own. I guess she's not as independent as I was thinking she was.

Back when we were new (new together, at least) Canon was a pretty doting caregiver when I was sick. Maybe it's just familiarity or stress or the impossibility of being Mommy and Daddy and Nurse and Businessman all at once that overwhelms him. He did the best he could. He did a lot. I still wanted my mommy.

But now that I'm starting to feel better, I mostly just want a maid.

aherm

2006-11-11T23:32:00.000-06:00

well. I suck at the posting every day. Wow has stuff been happening.

My cousin got married today. My parents are here. Drama has ensued.

But I'm running through it. I even woke up before 8:30 and ran this morning. Whooo!

I (heart) SD. Mostly.

2006-11-08T15:15:00.000-06:00

Today I am proud to be from South Dakoka.

Ok, I'm always proud to be a SoDak daughter, but today the voters have made my heart sing. (No, I don't live there anymore.) I was so afraid they'd pass the controversial abortion ban... the one that wanted to give doctors 5 years in prision for doing their jobs, while elevating the life (nevermind the health standards they'd force upon some of those babies) of the fetus over the health of the mother at all times. Until she's on death's doorstep, and then, hmmm, better think hard, Doctor.

Proponents of the bill wanted to use SD as an example, to take this law all the way up that long marble stairway of the law in Washington, D.C. They dreamed of using it to overturn Roe v. Wade.

But my peeps stood up for themselves, for their fellow mothers, and for their own human rights. Good for them.

Now if only they'd rejected that stupid constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. There's still work to do. But I'm so glad those annoying ads are over.

Oh, and Democrats and Republicans? STOP CALLING ME. I was going to vote before you each called me 4 times to remind me. Instead, you almost convinced me NOT TO.

Election Frenzy

2006-11-07T18:18:00.000-06:00

I like election day. And I'm especially glad I don't have to cover them anymore.

There was a bat in our house last night. The third one since the spring. Looks like it's time to have that checked out. It's not so much the bats being in the house that bothers me (although that is troubling enough) but how the hell are they getting in? First there's a bird nest in my dryer vent and now bats. I hate projects that require effort.

I am Runner Hear Me Roar: my mile today was somewhere in the 13 range... but I didn't feel like death warmed over when I stepped off the treadmill, either.

Oh, hey, can someone overdose on dairy products? It seems all my little girl wants to eat these days is yogurt and cheese. Today she asked for that for breakfast and supper.

#@%&!

2006-11-06T12:00:00.000-06:00

I forgot to post yesterday! How the hell did that happen? Hmmm, wonder if that means I'm kicked out of the NaBloPoMo thingy?

It was a gorgeous day here yesterday... we took the dogs and the little girl out to the Puppy Park... and it was such a hit that I was requested to include 'Puppy Park' in a verse of the Goodnight Song.

It was kind of nice to have a day off from exercising, but I was really excited to get back at it today.

I am runner, hear me roar: my new mile time is 12:57. HA! Take that, you effing gut! I'm shaving time off so fast I'm making myself sick. So I don't think I'll be running at that pace again. At least, not anytime soon.

Excitement of the day: New tires on my car. Good thing I'm going to the gym. Maybe I won't feel it as bad when they sock me in the gut with a huge price tag. Doubt it, though.

Saturday Blog Live

2006-11-04T15:53:00.000-06:00

I ran a mile again this morning... and I even shaved 7 seconds off my time. It's still 13:13, but it's down!

And it's Saturday, and I woke up before 8 a.m. and went running.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Mile Marker 1

2006-11-03T16:12:00.001-06:00

I totally ran a whole mile today! And it didn't kill me. And I felt good afterward. And it only took 13:20.

Plus, I did 500 steps on the stairmaster before I ran. I feel so good. And it even paid off: After all the Halloween Chocolate, I still lost 2 tenths of a pound. Not great, but not a gain!

I got a lot of detail-y things out of the way today. I'm so ready for the weekend. Bring it!

Day 2

2006-11-02T16:43:00.000-06:00

It's the second day of the challenge and already I'm stumped! Those of you who are bored, bail out now, please.

Last night was Parents' Night at baby gymnastics. Em was her exuberant self during the evening. So proud that here Papa was there watching her. At the end, all the kids had to go stand on "stage" (a folded up gym mat) and do a big Ta-Dah! in front of the whole class. When they called Em's name, she went up there and before she even got on the stage, she straightened out the two footprints they were supposed to stand on. When everything was just so, she stood up and Ta-Dahed.

She gets this from her father.

Also, this morning, I was dresssed in pajama pants to go to the gym, and she comes out of my closet with a business-style button up shirt, insisting that I wear it. The babysitter enjoyed it, as well as the women at the gym. And yes, I did bring a T-shirt to change into.

I also put the button-up back on when I dressed for the day.

Tomorrow:
An update of the first non-family-non-acquaintance babysitting session.

Aftermath

2006-11-01T12:04:00.000-06:00

I think I ate half a jumbo bag of Kit-Kats yesterday. I was hoping to take my love affair to new heights, to that point where you get so much of a good thing that you start to resent it. Or else it just makes you sick.

But I never did. Before I got the chance to find out that the chocolatey goodness isn't as good coming back up as it was going down, my husband snatched the remaining bars and marched them to the trashcan in the garage.

Sigh.

The addiction has not been broken.

Ode to Chocolate

2006-10-31T13:28:00.000-06:00

You are why I spend an hour
at the gym
everyday.

And also the reason why
the scale
never goes down.

And yet, I still
LOVE
you.

Happy Halloween.

Cable's Out

2006-10-24T21:32:00.000-05:00

Damn.

I knew I watched a lot of TV but I never really think about it until it's not there. I TiVo'ed Gilmore Girls tonight and only ended up with about 3 minutes worth of the show. Just enough to confuse me.

Thank God for iTunes and YouTube. And also Television Without Pity.

Project Doubleup

2006-10-23T15:32:00.000-05:00

I'm not a quitter. A procrastinator, yes, but not a quitter.

Ok, so I quit my job. But that was really a victory, not a defeat. And even though it's neglected, I didn't quit the blog. It just went on a reallllllly long unexpected hiatus.

The dashboard says I've made only 31 posts. Come November and the NaBloPoMo, I aim to change that number to 62. I guess that means posting on Thanksgiving, doesn't it?

So what's new?

I run now. Not fast, not far, but I'm a runner. Joined a gym and everything. I run 5 times a week, and dammit, I'm going to run a 5K next spring.

No quitting allowed.

I will persist until I succeed

2006-10-20T16:33:00.000-05:00

That about sums it up.

I'm taking the NaBloPoMo challenge.

See you in November.

Independence

2006-07-06T21:32:00.000-05:00

Well.

I'm back. And everything has changed. That job I volunteered to pull my teeth out for? It didn't happen. I never even got called for an interview. That was really the first link in a fateful chain of events, so looking back, I'm glad it didn't happen. But in February I was devastated over it.

Then the new director arrived at work. He immediately clashed with almost everyone. My job got expanded, with no hope of a raise, or even a bonus, in sight. (In fact, they ended up replacing me with two people. Two!) I had a few heart-to-hearts with myself, my best friend at work, and my husband, and decided it was time for a change.

So as of July 1, I'm self-employed! Or unemployed, as Canon enjoys reminding me. I'm going to work for his company, which on paper, I own half of, so yeah. But technically, I've got a LOT to learn.

And I can't wait.

For now, it still feels like I'm on vacation. The best kind of vacation, where I can sleep in until 8:30 and there is no 'Sunday night stress' blahs. For one thing, Em's been home with me because her babysitter is on vacation, so I haven't had a chance to start working in earnest. But that will happen soon enough.

For now, I'm just enjoying the fact that I can stay up as late as I want on a school night, and I'm in charge of my own schedule. I couldn't have done any of it without the support of my awesome husband.

I'm the luckiest woman in the world right now. Of that I'm sure.

Stark and Magnificent

2006-02-15T19:15:00.000-06:00

Stark? Yes. Magnificent? Well, not as much as I’d hoped. My New Year’s resolution was to blog more, and like ~~most~~ all of my past resolutions, this one died a quick death sometime in mid-January. Anyway, I saw that phrase describing something today. Stark and magnificent. And I liked it. Maybe I should change the name of my blog. Or maybe not. That’s a lot to live up to for someone who blogs 15 times a year.

Random:
When did they start putting symbols on candy hearts? That’s just so wrong. I want a candy heart, not a text message. Keep the Sweethearts vintage!

We had a great Valentine’s Day yesterday. A little romance in the morning, a little gourmet in the evening. Factor in the toddler that said “Hi, Grand-papa!” into the phone last night, and this adds up to the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had. I’ve won revenge over the holiday that used to torture me, and damn, it feels good. Oh, for the record, chef Canon made artichoke bruschetta, asparagus marinated in wine sauce and salmon with lemon and rosemary. Just for me! I have bookmarked this page for future reference and he’ll get a pass the next few times I’m mad at him. He’s earned it.

In other news, I’ve applied for a job that I really, really want. I promised myself that I wouldn’t tell anybody about it, but yeah, right. I just can’t keep my mouth shut when it comes to this stuff. It’d be a nice pay raise, but I’d do it for no raise. Really, the company has that great of a reputation. I’d flip to work there. I’d grovel to work there. I’d pull out a tooth to work there. I met with the recruiter, who loved my resume and cover letter, but it’s been 5 days now and I haven’t heard anything from the company, and my stomach is in knots. I’ve been taking sleeping pills for the last two nights. Me, the woman who can fall asleep on command. Last night I lay in bed, feeling drowsier and drowsier while my heart raced. It was eerie. Really, it’s dangerous to want something so much.

Because I’m a realist (Canon prefers the term “pessimist”) I’ve considered the worst-case scenario. There are lots of great things coming up at my job. We’re either remodeling or moving offices, (fingers crossed – Mama needs a window!). I’m involved in the development of a major new project. And I’ve got two smaller-term new projects to work on in the next few months. In two weeks I’ll celebrate my 7th anniversary there. I never thought THAT would happen. I’m comfortable there. I work with great people. And we’re getting a new director, which could be really great (or not, but now’s not the time, yadda, yadda). So, there is a lot to look forward to.

It’s still making me crazy. And it's completely draining.

So right now I feel stark, with the possibility of magnificent.

Towanda!

2006-01-16T21:09:00.000-06:00

So I'm sitting here watching the Globes and the car insurance commercial with the clip from Fried Green Tomatoes on it. "Face it girls. I'm older and I have more insurance." That reminds me of how much I LOVE that movie.

An acquaintance once told me that I looked like Mary Louise Parker in that movie and it was one of the best compliments I've ever recieved. Totally off the mark, but still flattering.

So as long as I've got movies on the brain, I thought I'd share some of my chick flick favorites with you. Keep in mind I have a toddler and I've only seen like, two movies in the theater in the last 18 months. So, I watch DVDs and HBO, when I can. I won't even mention all the films that are still on my Must See list. So in that spirit, here is a short list of chick flicks that I will drop everything to watch if I notice them on TV.

The list (in no particular order):

Fried Green Tomatoes
50 First Dates
Legally Blonde
The Royal Tennenbaums
The Wedding Singer
Love Actually
Beaches
The Man in the Moon
Steel Magnolias

So that's what makes me laugh, and cry and laugh and cry at the same time. Like Ninny Threadgoode says, "A heart can be broken, but it'll keep beating just the same." Or, as Truvy put it, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."

I'm smart. S-M-R-T!

2006-01-09T21:41:00.000-06:00

Tonight I was lucky enough to teach two important things to two important people in my life.

At dinner tonight Em tasted her first popcorn, and discovered Heaven on Earth. In this house we are popcorn addicts. Caramel corn, cheezy corn, kettle corn, smooth buttery popcorn. Bring it on. I've never met a kernel I didn't like. Even the dogs are in on the game.

A little later I got the priviledge of explaining AutoStart to Elise, who had never heard of it. AutoStart is a little sumptin sumptin that helps us Northerners get through Hell on Earth, er, winter.

And then, AND THEN, I managed to teach myself how to do links. I know, this should not be enough to get me all hot and bothered, but it so totally is. I am a geek at heart.

Pennies from Heaven

2006-01-03T20:47:00.000-06:00

So on our day off Monday we decided we needed to get out of the house. More importantly, we needed to get the baby out of the house. We figured the mall - with its endless sidewalks and dinosaur playland - would be the perfect spot.

After we spent some time exchanging germs with dozens of sniffling toddlers and a Brontosaurus cast in a strangely unnatural soft-plastic pose, we took off. Em made a beeline toward the rubber duckies at Bath & Body Works. In order to distract her, we turned her toward the fountain. She marched straight up to two little old grannies who were deep in conversation, looked straight up at them and said, "Hi." Then she stood there and stared up at them. Of course they thought she was adorable, because they were SMART little old grannies. And if anyone can recognize adorable, it's a granny.

Canon found some pennies and we showed Em how to pitch them into the fountain. We cheered with each tiny splash, and then spent some time looking at the glittering wishes that lined the bottom of the reflecting pool. Just as we were leaving, one of the grannies walked up to us to tell us how much she enjoyed Em, and asked what her name was. When we told her Em's full name, she practically melted into a puddle of goo right there on the mall floor. "That was my mother's name," she said. It's kind of an old-fashioned name, and I'm guessing it's been a while since she'd run into someone who shared it. The granny was positively glowing as she opened her purse and handed me a fistfull of pennies. She insisted we take them and let the baby throw them in the fountain.

As we tossed pennies and celebrated splashes, me with tears in my eyes, the old woman walked away with a faraway look in her eyes and an odd smile on her face. I hope it was a happy one.

MMVI

2006-01-02T21:38:00.000-06:00

There were no champagne toasts at our house at New Year's. There was just two tired parents, a sleeping baby and a whirring DVD player. Actually, I think I rang in 2006 about 3 feet from the spot where I rang in 2005. And while it wasn't one of my most exciting New Years Eves, it was definitely one of my favorites.

Wishing you all heatlh, happiness and plenty of snark in '06.

1995

2005-11-21T21:30:00.000-06:00

I had my friend Allison pick me up that night. We had been looking forward to the party for a few weeks. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and between my new job and my classes, I was so swamped. I really needed to blow off some steam. It's not that I was planning on going home with a certain someone else, it's just that I was planning on getting drunk. Underaged, stressed out, college student drunk. There was no way I was driving home.

Allison and I were among the first to arrive. Jax mixed us some of her trademark Crystal Light and vodka. My tongue turned bright orange as I sucked it down. The doorbell kept ringing and pretty soon the party was on. We drank, and laughed, and flirted mercilessly. We played strip Jenga. We stargazed from the third floor balcony, but damn, it was cold out there.

Until it wasn't. Until it was so jam-packed and hot inside I just had to get out for some air. And this guy, the one with whom I had flirted mercilessly for the past month, followed me out.

He was the kind of guy that was totally out of my league. He was tall, and slender, and tall, and he had great arms and a gorgeous smile. With dimples. His auburn hair had a just a hint of red lowlights. It was long -- longer than mine, and incredibly sexy. All those weeks of flirting, and I always assumed he saw me as a little sister type of kid; someone to tease, someone he found amusing. I figured he had a tall, leggy supermodel-type girlfriend at home.

But he didn't.

And we talked for a while, and laughed for a while, and I forgot about how cold it was on a November night in the upper Midwest. And suddenly he was kissing me. He had soft lips and warm hands, and I remember feeling so safe and content (and a little drunk. And a LOT surprised) wrapped up in him.

Until the standing ovation started. Apparently we weren't as alone as we had thought; someone inside had opened the blinds and there we were, making out in front of all of our friends and a few strangers. Hello, embarassment.

We decided to find a place where we could talk that was a little more private. Here's where the story diverges: There's what actually happened, what Canon says happened, and the urban legend that's been propagated by our friends for the last decade. Needless to say, I won't spoil the mystique here. I will say that I did not go home with Allison.

To this day, I'm still a little bit amazed that that moment actually happened to me. And when I use that frame of mind to look at the life we've built in the ten years since that moment, I'm still amazed. The Best Dog In The World is curled up at my feet. The Co-Best Dog In The World is sleeping on Canon's lap. Our daughter is asleep in her room down the hall. And us? Here we sit, in the home that we've built together, still making each other laugh.

And occassionally making each other roll our eyes and sigh, or scream, or cry, but it's so worth it.

It's all been so worth it.

...You can keep it

2005-10-26T20:09:00.000-05:00

I was just reading an article on Joan Didion, where she discussses her process of writing. She says, “I thought, ‘If I can write it down, I can keep it.’"

That struck me like a lightning bolt. If you write it down, you can keep it.

But what if you don’t want to keep it? Because lately, I don’t want to ‘keep it’ at all. And I think that’s why I haven’t been writing. Maybe if I don’t talk about feeling lousy and lazy and uninspired, it will all just go away, vanish into the past, and I won’t ever have to confront it.

Confront what? you’re asking. Well, I’m not exactly sure. Anything and everything. Life. Work. Deciding what to wear, what to make for dinner. Some days it just feels so entirely overwhelming.

I wake up in the morning and force myself to find a reason to get out of bed. Maybe it’s indulging myself an extra long a hot shower. Or spending five minutes doing nothing but cuddling and scritching my dogs before I get dressed. Or maybe it’s because I know it’s a Gilmore Girls night. Thinking about the whole day ahead is too overwhelming.

I’m afraid of writing, in fact, and writing is my job. I can sit and type all day but all I read is garbelymumbo… is any meaning even coming through? I can’t believe people pay me to do this. I have to keep quiet about not knowing what I’m doing or someone will find out and then I’ll be screwed. And then what? I know how to pretend to be normal, but oh God, it's tiring. I don’t know what comes after you get exposed.

And that's the scariest thing of all.

Silent

2005-10-17T20:45:00.000-05:00

For a long time after my miscarriages, I imagined my uterus was lined with spikes. Sharp, pointy, jagged spikes that would tear and crush any life that dared to grow there. I hated that killer uterus, the thing that took two babies away from me. I thought it was useless and defective and cruel. For a long time I was convinced that it was eating away at my future, from the inside of my body out.

My uterus, as we finally discovered, works well enough. But the feelings persisted.

Those spikes – raw, gnashing, ugly – they’re still there. In my soul. I can’t stand myself. For a while I thought it was my exterior. I thought maybe losing some weight or getting a pedicure would make me feel better. And then the nail polish would wear off, the calluses returned and for all my good intentions, the weight kept creeping up. And I only hated myself more, and found more excuses.

I hate what I am, what I appear to be. My inside is just as ugly as my outside. I constantly feel that nothing I do is right. I don’t look right or say the right things, or act right, or write right.

I certainly don’t feel right.

Once I told a counselor that I was having “dark thoughts.” I imagined no one loved me, that no one even liked me, that I was a burden on everyone around me, that I embarrassed people just by being in their presence. “Dark” to me meant admitting some of my deepest fears. “Dark” to her meant something else. She laughed and said that I didn’t know what “dark” was. I never went back. That was four years ago. I didn’t ever talk about it with anyone else.

I thought that I needed to be suicidal to seek the help of a professional therapist. I didn’t want to die, so I felt trapped inside a person I hated. I tried to hide. I crawled inside myself and chewed on my fears, my failures, till they were raw. I pulled away from my husband, my family and my friends. I caused a lot of problems by not being honest with them, and by not being honest with myself.

I have a lot to face up to. I have a lot to say. This is going to suck, but there’s just no way around it. I’m scared as hell.
----------------------------

I wrote that a month ago. But I still couldn't bring myself to post it. Doing it now means that I'm better. Not all the way... we're still talking baby steps here. But I have a new found respect and admiration for SSRIs. They help. They really do.

I'm sorry I left my blog so abruptly, and for so long. I'm pretty sure no one's even checking it anymore, and that's ok with me. It means I can ease back into blogging. And if you're still checking up on me, well... thanks.

Funked Out

2005-08-03T21:05:00.000-05:00

So, what’s it been, a month? Longer? *Sigh.* I was afraid blogging would turn into another responsibility for me, and so it has.

You’ll figure this out on your own, I’m sure, but I’m in a serious funk today. I don’t know why, really. There is no good reason. But for some reason, it seemed the right time to return to the blog.

A lot has happened in this month. I am full of stories. But they’re not coming out right, and I just get all frustrated about not having anything witty to say or not being able to thread certain events together into a cohesive story. So, I chose to duck and cover.

We had a nice vacation. It was stressful, because Em was a lot of work. She was pretty clingy and it was a lot of time in the car for her, so it was tough. She did great… probably as great as we could expect from a 10-month old. But I returned home tired and cranky and disheartened that there wasn’t a vacation to look forward to anymore.

And then came Advopalooza. A baby-free weekend with old friends that left me invigorated and content. And suddenly I figured it out; I need to take some time for myself. So now I have a new hobby, and I’m going to try to find a few hours a week to devote to it… and not worry about the work deadlines or the household chores.

Em’s birthday is roaring up. There’s so much I want to do before the party, but I have a feeling that most of it won’t happen. For some reason I can either be productive at work or productive at home, but doing both at once is more than I can handle. And work’s been a bitch lately.

So yeah. Tired, crabby and blue, that’s today’s theme. But tomorrow, that’s another day. Hopefully I’ll have a better story by then.

Back to the grind

2005-07-07T20:18:00.000-05:00

Well, the vacation is over. We're back from a 10 day, 7 state trek that covered 2,600 miles of the upper midwest. It's good to be home.

And it sucks. Canon and I both agreed it wasn't exactly a relaxing vaction. It's just hard to relax with a 10-month-old who doesn't enjoy sleeping in the car. it just gets a little old when you average 8 hours a day driving. Were we crazy to attempt this trip? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes.

Even though Em's struggling to get back into her routine. I took her to the walk-in yesterday because she just wasn't being herself. I was glad to hear that nothing major is wrong, she's just crabby. Hey, she is our kid after all!

Anyway, it's back to the grind. Woo hoo.

It's Dark Out

2005-06-16T22:03:00.000-05:00

And I can see straight across the street into the neighbor's office window. He's always in there. I'm not sure what he does, but it involves lots of vans, trailers, and lawn equipment. He's also got an ugly lamp.

I guess this means he can probably see me jamming out to Gwen Stefani, huh?

The post with the shopping and the choking and the pedicure

2005-06-14T21:07:00.000-05:00

The baby is 10 months old! Wow, this has been the fastest year of my life. I'm already starting to think about what I should do for her birthday bash. I'm hoping we can have a great big backyard barbeque because a) that's the only kind of entertaining we're good at and b) that's the only kind of entertaining we're good at.

And our backyard is nice and large, so we can break out the lawn chairs, turn the kids and dogs loose, and watch from the deck as all hell breaks loose. Add a few streamers and you've got a good time.

Canon left on Friday for a job on the other side of the state. That left me in charge of Lucy, Murphy and Em for 48 hours.

I survived Girls' Weekend by satisfying my base urge to purchase mass quantities of consumer goods. I stocked up on such luxuries as formula, diapers, and and an ankle-length wrap to hide my day-glo white legs during swimming suit season. I also bought dental floss and Tums just because I can't get enough flossing or calcium these days; an odd by-product of pregnancy, I guess.

Either I wasn't really sick on Saturday night, or I have some difficulties interpreting non-digital thermometers. I don't know why I didn't just think to use one of the four or five digital ones we got as baby gifts and hospital favors (Hey, the nurse said clean out the bassinet drawer, so I took her up on it) but I didn't, and the uncooperative environment under my tongue only raised the mercury to 96 degress. And isn't that close to clinically dead or something? But I wasn't dead, I was just suffering. Sweating and headachy and dizzy-sick. Luckily Em cooperated and went to bed easily. As soon as she was sleeping I crashed myself. Then I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling normal. Canon came home around one that afternoon, and Girls' Weekend was officially over. Somehow I lived to tell the tale.

And so did Em, considering she choked twice this weekend. The second time I had to get her out of the high chair, turn her upside down and tap her on the back. She just loves stuffing her mouth full and so far my repeated safety lectures have gone in one ear and right out the other. Kids! Luckily it wasn't that bad, and she spit up right away. Is it wrong that the only thing going through my head at that moment was to hold her over the high chair tray? The scary part hit me later, but in the moment all I could think about was not letting her throw up all over the floor. (We were at someone else's house.)

And now it's Tuesday and another week is flying past. Time to get my shiny red pedicured toes to bed.

The New Neighbors

2005-06-08T20:38:00.000-05:00

So last night, my biggest problem was that I took Em outside dressed only in a onesie, shoes and a hat, while the next-door-neighbor baby was bundled up in pants, socks pulled up to her knees, a dress, a jacket and a stocking cap. For close to a day, I was all paranoid that I was letting my baby freeze slowly in her stroller (ok, it was 71 degrees, but hey, all those layers really threw me off) while I enjoyed the fresh air.

Today we received a flyer, stuffed unceremoniously in the front door. We have new neighbors. Turns out they’re sex offenders.

Three men ranked as “moderate” sex offenders have moved into the apartments at the end of our street. I researched one of them (hey, working at a newspaper has its advantages. Not many, but some) and he was arrested for luring a 15-year-old girl through an online chatroom – a 15-year-old girl who was neither 15 nor a girl, but an undercover cop.

One other man is obviously not from around here. The mug shot on the state’s web site is seriously the shittiest photo I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I’ve seen nicer driver’s license photos. It’s so dark he’s a silhouette. Only the whites of his eyes show. Yeah, I’ll be on the lookout for THAT guy. Seriously, are these the best photo skills law enforcement has? No wonder they need CSIs to analyze crimes for them. Obviously their eyes (and their light meters) don’t work. Maybe I could get a job as a police photographer. I’m good with a pencil.

Ok, now that I’ve worked myself into a froth over that, the good news! Em is crawling!

It’s pretty hilarious. She flings herself from a sitting position onto her hands and one knee. Yep, she uses her left knee and her right foot, with her little butt sticking up in the air. She’s still a little slow and wobbly, but she’s determined. She’s also a lot more confident on her feet. She will walk five or six steps if she’s got my hands… still no creeping along the furniture, yet. She can stand unassisted for a few seconds now and she loves it. She’s constantly saying “Up! Up!” and reaching out to pull herself up on whatever she can find: empty laundry baskets, her activity table, the dogs, my pants, it’s all good.

She has mastered “So Big” and will patty-cake on demand. She is also an expert Bye-Bye Waver. Maybe it will get her a scholarship. Nursery school’s not cheap, you know. Especially considering how we will probably be pouring buckets of money into getting a new security system for the ~~fortress~~ house, you know – electric fence, moat, drawbridge. Just the basics. I don’t want to freak out and go overboard.

... what happened next.

2005-06-02T19:45:00.000-05:00

So after I recovered the ATM card from it’s backseat adventures, I actually had a nice weekend. A date-night at a hipster restaurant downtown (complete with free babysitting); a visit from my parents and sister; a family-wide barbeque at our house; and a day-long graduation celebration for my cousin – the one with the great sense of humor.

And then the real fun started.

On Monday afternoon Em and I were hanging out in the backyard, enjoying the sun and watching the dogs wrestle in the freshly sprinkled grass seed. I was just on my way to the neighbor’s swing set with the baby on my hip when Canon came out of the house with that face… the one that makes me panic. I seriously thought someone was dead.

That someone turned out to be a water pipe that runs through the middle of our house and feeds the outside spigot. And when it died, it took its sleek, seamless body with it, leaving an inch-long escape route for all that angry, pent-up water. The water, it grabbed its opportunity.

It gushed through the pipe, soaked the wall and pooled on the carpet. Then it started forming a little river through our basement… running through Canon’s office and our guest bedroom, into the hallway and the guest bathroom. Luckily, the pipe had only been hemorrhaging water for 10 minutes or so before Canon discovered it.

So no swinging for the baby. Instead she sat on the family room floor and wailed while we hauled boxes of soggy documents and photographs out of the office and stacked them in safe places.

Canon was able to shut off our water supply, successfully locate the leak on his first try (this involved blindly cutting out a chunk of wall) and get all the right parts to fix it (in only four trips to the hardware store!). Not bad for an amateur plumber, huh? It was the welding that finally proved too difficult.

Because it was a holiday and we’re cheap like that, we figured we could go for the next 18 hours or so without running water until a plumber could come in at non-emergency rates. And we did. We considered using the baby wipes for sponge baths but settled on showering at our friends’ house instead. I was allowed three flushes, one for each toilet, but I rationed myself and only used two. Damn, I’m good. The rest – using bottled water to brush our teeth and wash our hands – was pretty much like camping. Lucky us, all the drawbacks of a night in the wilderness and none of the benefits. At least it didn’t rain.

Hard Luck and Soft Rolls

2005-06-01T21:32:00.000-05:00

Some people just have a knack for certain things.

Me, my knack is losing stuff. Important stuff. Although I must bow to Karen, she of the misplaced $4,900 tax return. We're in the same league.

Once I threw away my keys. Yep. I mean, I think that's what happened to them. Obviously, I had them when I drove myself to work that morning, but by 5 they'd vanished. Gone. Out with the dumpster and the grocery bag which I must have tossed them in after I made my contribution to the United Way Bake Sale on the third floor. (That's what I get for bringing storebought goodies to a bake sale.)

The big deal is that the car key was electronic ... the special theft-deterrant kind of key that has a computer chip embedded into it. Oh, and the remote keyless entry happened to be on the same keyring. My husband was so mad, we never did replace that remote. Three years, one new electronic key and a $175 key later, we still have to trade the "good" set of keys (the one with the remaining remote) whenever one of us drives that car.

I lost my cash card once. Well, make that twice. On Friday I went to run an errand for Canon and when I pulled out my purse, no card. Oops. Of course I didn't have any cash, either. I barely ever carry cash anymore. That card is just too damn convenient.

So it was gone. First I drove across town to Bennigan's, sure I had left it there at lunch yesterday. Nope. I searched my purse about six times. Drove back to work, called the bank. No strange activity, so I knew it hadn't been stolen. Nobody steals a cash card and waits to use it. At least I hope not, because if they do, they've got bigger problems than petty theft. Maybe, I thought, it was just sitting on my kitchen table. I thought maybe I remembered cleaning out my reciepts the night before. Yeah, maybe. So I suffered through the rest of the afternoon thinking of little else.

I get home at 5:30, no card. Not on the kitchen table, not on the kitchen counter, not anywhere. I called my friend who drove us to lunch yesterday and made her pull off the highway on her way to a wedding and search her car. And then it occurs to me: my car. Sure enough, there on the floor behind the driver's seat sat the ATM card. I had accidentally dumped my purse over earlier that morning when my co-worker and I stopped at a bakery to pick up carmel rolls for a pot-luck.

So, yeah, a happy ending. The best part was that I didn't have to tell my husband about it until it was all over. Oh, and I think the universe has a lesson for me: Knock it off with the store-bought baked goods at work functions. They always lead to trouble.

The Three Game

2005-05-25T20:35:00.000-05:00

Hello internets! I’m so sorry I’ve been remiss in my blog-tending. The truth is, life has been pretty boring lately – boring in the “oh my God, this is what I waited so long for and I’m totally enjoying it and ignoring my blog” asshat kind of way. And I’ve been busy totally enjoying it and ignoring my blog.

To illustrate, I dug out my old dayplanners. To re-live the glory, if you will. Let’s take a stroll down memory lane.

May 25, 2001: It was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend. I have a work project deadline crossed off. I’m guessing it got cancelled. It was day 4 of my cycle (yes, I was charting way back then) but I’d had light spotting since the 12th. That’s 14 days of pantyliners, people. I should have known from that alone that there would be a difficult path ahead.

May 25, 2002: A Saturday. We were in Sioux Falls for my mom’s grad school graduation. Family meltdown. Not a fun weekend to reminisce about. The first miscarriage had happened 2½ weeks prior.

May 25, 2003: I have it recorded as Day 7, even though I’d been spotting on and off (mostly on) since the 3rd. This was normal for me. NORMAL. Can you believe that?

May 25, 2004: I was 28 weeks and one day pregnant. Excerpts from my journal: “Twenty-eight weeks. I am stuck between wondering how this has managed to go so fast and why it isn’t done yet? … My belly is stretching all the time. The stretch marks are very itchy. Other than that and the occasional sore hips in the evening, I feel really good.”

Three days later I felt the first kicks.

May 25, 2005: While I was getting ready this morning Em sat at my feet and scratched my legs. She was trying to grasp my robe so she could pull herself up. I waved the blowdryer at her wild hair and she squinched her eyes and laughed.

See how much better that is?

And now, because Elise ~~is making me~~ tagged me and what the hell, I need a topic, The 3 Game:

3 names I go by:
Sarah
Blair
Mamamamamammmmmm

Screen-names I've had:
SarahA
Holliebaby74
Blair

3 physical things I like about myself:
My long, strong fingernails
My ankles
Damn, this is hard. Couldn’t it just be “The 2 Game?”

3 physical things I dislike about myself:
Finally, an easy question.
Waist (or lack thereof)
Thick upper arms
Thighs

3 parts of my heritage:
English
German
Irish

3 things I am wearing right now:
Watch
Wedding ring
Ugly red sweater I keep at my desk because my office is FREEZING. (Oops, I mean, I’m on my lunch break. Yes. Totally on my break.)

3 favorite bands / musical artists:
Of all time, or currently? Because that all depends on my mood.
Billy Joel
Sheryl Crow
Barenaked Ladies

3 favorite songs:
(Current)
“About Me” by Keri Noble
“Float On” by Modest Mouse
“Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane

3 things I want in a relationship:
Love
Trust
Laughter

3 physical things about the preferred sex that appeal to me:
Eyes
*Ass
Arms

*Some (Ok, most) of you may not know that my husband’s nickname is
HotPants. And I didn’t even give it to him. (L is for Love, Honey!)

3 of my favorite hobbies:
Reading
Eating great food that I didn’t cook
Lounging at the lake in the summer

3 things I want to do really badly right now:
Lounge at the lake
Eat large quantities of whatever I want
Leave work early

3 things that scare me:
Eating large quantities of whatever I want
Snakes
When Em or Lucy and Murphy get sick

3 of my everyday essentials:
Moisturizer
Wedding ring
Watch

3 careers you have considered or are considering:
Television news producer (I actually did that one)
Speech pathologist
Decorative painting or furniture refinishing

3 places you want to go on vacation:
New York
Hawaii
Italy

3 kids' names you like:
Em’s whole name (duh)
Anya
Grace

3 things you want to do before you die:
Get old
Enjoy my family
Have a job where I work for the satisfaction, not for the money

3 ways I am stereotypically a boy:
I will leave the house without makeup or doing my hair
I will wear (some of) the same clothes two days in a row
I can identify almost any make and model of car on sight

3 ways I am stereotypically a chick:
I ask questions during movies
I own shoes that go specifically with one outfit
I have trouble programming the VCR because it’s also hooked up to a
receiver and a digital cable box and I forget what channels everything is
supposed to be set to. Sometimes I record an hour of static because JUST
ONE setting is off. We so need TiVo.

3 celeb crushes:
George Clooney
Brad Pitt
David Boreanaz

That was fun! OK, who plays next:

Shari

Kelli

Krissy

Blah, blah, blah

2005-05-12T21:10:00.000-05:00

So the last few weeks have kind of flown by. Work has been so busy that I've pretty much been avoiding anything having to do with writing when I'm at home. No bills, no birthday cards, not even a shopping list.

Ok, that's not entirely true. I have done a few e-mails here and there, and one late-evening chat that was pretty fun.

One of the reasons I was nervous about starting a blog was that I didn't want it to feel like a chore. I figured eventually it would, I just didn't figure it would be so soon. Sometimes I wish my life was more dramatic, so it would be easier to write about. But that's stupid, I know. I'm so thankful that everything is smooth sailing for us these days. Back when I was in infertility drama overload it was just about killing me. So I'll take this any day.

Canon rented office space this week. He's picked out paint chips and gave his last final at the university today. The business is going strong. Em is pulling herself up from sitting to standing. She's doing lots more tummy time and scooting backwards pretty well. The only problem is that's not the way she wants to go, and it's really pissing her off. That girl can screech like a velociraptor.

And me, I'm just hobbling along, trying to get a productive day here and there. I've got a cold that's kicking my ass. Lately I've been missing small details at work and forgetting some pretty basic stuff. It's not really like me, and that's really bothering me. How can I bitch about the doofi I work with when I can't even get my stuff right? I think it's time for a vacation.

Anyone else remember when Jerry, the desk clerk on ER, was a high school student on "Parker Lewis Can't Lose?" Now he's got a gray goatee. Damn, I feel old.

And there we have it: B.O.R.I.N.G., with all the bad --and all the good-- that goes along with it.

In A New Light

2005-05-01T21:01:00.000-05:00

Tonight I got a new house.

I've lived here for 19 months, but it finally feels like mine. Isn't that stupid? All we did was switch a light fixture. But it was one of those little detail things that just makes this place feel like mine.

I remember when we bought our first house. It was a good house, but I just wasn't in love with it. I hated the wallpaper, and the whiteness. White carpet and white walls with white trim. One weekend, before I had a baby and two dogs, I stayed up all night painting and pulling up carpet while Canon was on a hunting trip. And on the day we replaced the Wonder Years-era light fixture that hung over the kitchen table, it turned into my house. It finally felt like home.

And now, so does this place. I don't know exactly what it is about the light fixtures, but it's amazing how much they can change the way I see a place. And apparently, the way I feel about it, too.

It's all about the shoes

2005-04-28T20:41:00.000-05:00

So just after I posted about my fondness for shoes, I discovered Em shares my passion.

She's always been interested in her own shoes. Saturday she gnawed and drooled on one of her pink baby sneakers so much that it was squishy-wet. The babysitter told Canon on Monday that Em played with the babysitter's shoe for 90 minutes.

She's also crazy for my shoes. I have a great photo of her playing with a pair of my shoes while my slippers sit discarded at her side.

More than likely, she didn't pick it up from me, even though I hate to admit that. Her furry brother Murphy will stop at nothing when he wants your shoes. He even taught himself to open the closet doors. Soon they will be partners in crime.

--------------

Did anyone else watch the press conference tonight? I remember, even as a kid, when the President was on TV I wouldn't miss it. I couldn't imagine why anyone *wouldn't* want to watch their President talk to them about what was going on in the nation. Of course, current events was always my favorite part of elementary school. (I was initiated as a dork early, I guess.)

Anyway, I watched tonight, and maybe it's because I'm older and more jaded, or maybe, as Canon says, politics are just more partisan (read: vicious), but all I heard coming from Bush's mouth was "Blah blah blah." Ick. It all sounded like dodges and excuses. And it's getting harder and harder to respect the office when you're so disillusioned with the officeholder.

Maybe I should have been watching The Food Network.

Fucking Thin Mints

2005-04-20T21:19:00.000-05:00

Why do I give money to the G*rl $couts? Why? Why do I do it? I shell out cash every spring and all it gets me is fat.

And yet I'm happy to pay. And happy to eat. Damn Peanut Butter Patties. Damn Caramel DeLites. Damn Thin Mints. They own me.

All they have to do is figure out a way that Thin Mints will actually make you thin, then I'd love them back.

My feet, they've finally healed

2005-04-18T21:23:00.000-05:00

So seven years ago tonight I was at my wedding dance. I remember a lot about that day, but the thing I'll never forget is how bad my feet hurt at the end of the night. I hobbled out to the car to be whisked away to the Honeymoon Suite and all I could think about was getting as far away from my shoes as possible.

I've gone through a lot of other shoes in those seven years. Most of them still clutter my closet. I have this thing about parting with my shoes. I just can't do it. I still have a pair of tennis shoes I wore in high school. (Give me a little credit; I only wear them when I mow the yard. Which is about once every three years.) But I've still got them.

Chunky shoes, knee-high boots, fuzzy slippers. I wore them through miscarriages and fertility treatments and hopeful positives and long, long months of nothingness that crushed tighter every month. The "normal" shoes sit next to the extra-large flip-flops that were the only thing that fit on my swollen hooves for the last four months of my pregnancy.

It must have taken a few days for my feet to heal after the wedding. I really can't remember. There's certainly been a lot more aches and pains and heartaches and hurt since then. Seven years ago I couldn't have predicted any of it. I'm glad i didn't know the struggles and the pain we've endured. But the love, the support, the laughs, they've been better than I expected, too.

I still have those wedding shoes in a box in my closet. I'm not quite ready to get them out and try them on again; I'm still getting used to *all* of my scars healing. But here, at the seven year mark, we've got the family we always wanted. One day I'll show those shoes to Em: the wedding shoes and the flip-flops. And I'll tell her how much both of them hurt my feet. And how I can't decide which pair I love more.

Hottest Ticket in Town

2005-04-14T21:03:00.000-05:00

Tonight Em treated us to her first concert.

She sat on the floor, FIsher-Price activity table propped in front of her, Leap-Frog piano to her left, and played the alphabet song and "Old MacDonald" simultaneously. She bopped along in a Baby Dance of Glee whlie surveying the flashing insturmentation spread before her.

I took it all in from my front-row seat, so proud that I had birthed a musical genius. Musical multi-tasking like that could probably earn her a spot in Rush.

No wonder her father is her biggest fan.

The Eighth Month

2005-04-13T21:25:00.000-05:00

I have been a mother for eight months today, which means Em has been here almost as long as I waited for her to arrive.

But not nearly as long as I wished for her; longed for her.

For all those years I dreamed of a snuggly, balled-up, squinty newborn with a mewling cry. I got my wish. But no one told me how fast those days would come and go. How quickly she'd grow up, and assert her independence, and resemble a toddler more than an infant. I look at her and I don't see Baby; I see Child.

I also see my husband and myself, in a whole other person I could never have imagined. Beautiful blue eyes, fluffy flyaway hair, a maniaical, throaty laugh. I see a wide stubborn streak, a love for music, an inquisitive mind. She rolls over only on her own terms. She hates tummy time. I suspect she will skip crawling and go right for the walking... she must stand, oh yes, she must. You are a fool to assume she might sit with you.

She says ba,ba,ba when she's happy or just babbling. She says Ma,Ma,Ma when she's sad or upset or lonely. She knows the difference.

She is the difference.

I love you, Em.

Are you like me? Pick one.

2005-04-12T21:29:00.000-05:00

So there's a pot-luck coming up at work.

Again.

I think we all know by now the dangers of blogging about work, so I won't go there. But it did get me thinking, after I noticed that one of my more consistent co-workers had signed up to bring slushburgers. I shudder just typing that. Now, if you live anywhere near me, you're intimate with slush and all the dirty ice, pebbly gravel and melty shoe-prints that it entails. So why would you ever want to spoon that between a bun and take a bite? Come on, what is with you people?

So what do you say? Choose "slushburger" if you must. I promise to mock you quietly.

Slushburger, sloppy joe or barbeque?

Gray duck or Goose?

Do you "put gas on," "fill up the tank" or "get gas"?

Bubbler, water fountain or cooler?

Hot dish or casserole?

Buffet or Smorgasbord?

Pop or soda?

Sub, hoagie or po'boy?

Supper or dinner?

Tennis shoes, track shoes or sneakers?

Bitch, whore, or wife? (thanks for the help, Honey.) (He's sick, people, you really can't blame him.)

"Eh?" "Yeah, sure" or "You betcha?"

That last one is more of a trick question. If you live in Fargo, it's all three.

I have seen the future

2005-04-11T20:57:00.000-05:00

... and it is poopy.

We're having a poopapalooza at our house. The baby has been bodysnatched by a Pooping Bandit. I hope it's the teething, because if it's not, I'm totally lost.

This is the same kid, who, just a few months ago, wouldn't poop. The same baby with the prunes, and the great formula search, and the infant suppositories, and the prunes. Yesterday she had four blowouts, one of which included an actual puddle. I'm so tuned into the poop I can smell it a room away. Or maybe it's just that bad.

The necessity of mulitple outfits is finally beginning to make sense to me.

Oh yeah, and she started saying Mama this week, which pretty much cancels out all the diapers.

And now you know… The rest of the story

2005-03-29T14:28:00.000-06:00

I can’t remember not watching television. It’s just always been there. My earliest memories involve an old black and white set perched on a squeaky metal cart. Every day my dad would come home for lunch and my parents would turn the cart toward the kitchen, where the three of us would sit around the table watching Paul Harvey broadcast the noon news. And I’m not just talking about my earliest television memories – I mean earliest memories, period. I think this was before my sister was even around.

I remember days in the basement of our house in Aberdeen. I’d ride my red tricycle in circles on the gray tile floor while Sesame Street and The Electric Company called out to me from the carpeted end of the room. My dad built an entertainment center for the new, color TV out of some flat boards and a few cinder blocks. I found out later that the cable company had accidentally hooked us up instead of the neighbors. Pretty soon it was back to 3 channels.

When I was older, there was Captain Kangaroo in the morning, and Little House on the Prairie every day after school. I know that show so well I bet I’ve seen every episode three times. (Quiz me, I dare you.) I remember going to the KELO studio for birthday parties on Captain 11. “Wave one hand. Now wave both hands. Wave both hands and one foot. Now wave both hands and both feet!”

In elementary school I snuck out of bed to watch Cagney & Lacey and Hill Street Blues from the shadows of the hallway. My 8:00 bedtime seemed so unfair. I remember the night a small aircraft crashed and took out a power line near our home. I was in the family room watching Laverne and Shirley when the world went black. I’d never been so terrified.

When I was in junior high, I watched Thirtysomething, because it was the cool new show. I had no idea what it meant. I thought it was boring.

I did my homework in front of the TV. We ate supper in front of the TV. No one ever suggested it might be bad for me. At school, we talked about our favorite shows, or who was on Saturday Night Live. TV was our seventh-grade social life, our culture. You were such a geek if you didn’t watch the right shows or remember the funny lines. And I took it to heart.

When I got to college, with my long, bouncy curls and my mall bangs, I knew two people. It was so liberating to have a fresh start, a chance to forge a new identity. It didn’t take me long to meet the group of people I still call my best friends. And it wasn’t long after that, the night we sat down and reminisced about growing up. Talked about the lives we used to lead. The things we used to do. The shows we used to watch. We sat around on the floor of Jo and Amy’s room singing old theme songs. I only got a few words into “You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have…” and I was branded: Blair. At first I objected. I was not a rich-bitch daddy’s girl. And that wasn’t even one of my favorite shows. But I did have the Blair-hair. And when you’re sharing a bathroom with 24 other women, and five of them share your first name, it helps to have a moniker.

Miss Independence

2005-03-26T12:02:00.000-06:00

So last night we went to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner and Em got her own high chair. And for the first time, we didn't turn it upside down and sit her car seat in it. She sat in it like the big girl that she is. And then she proceeded to drop all her toys on the floor, one-by-one.

Seriously, I didn't know that drop it/watch Mommy or Daddy pick it up game started so early. She thought it was great. She was even an equal-opportunity dropper. One on Mommy's side, one on Daddy's side. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Repeat.

And then we came home and went to bed at 9.

It seems like another lifetime ago, those days when my evening wouldn't even *begin* until 9 or 10. And it was. But I don't care. This is better in a million ways that I can't explain, and one that I can. It's a big, single-toothed silly grin.

Settling In

2005-03-23T23:27:00.000-06:00

Hello, Internet? I'm home.

Meet the players

2005-03-23T22:00:00.000-06:00

So I blab a lot, and this is who I like to blab about:

(For purposes of anonymity, they will all be given cute little pseudonyms)

My husband: Our seventh anniversary is coming up this spring. They have been the best seven years of my life. Even when they sucked. But we'll get into that more later. I'll be calling him Canon. "L" is for love, honey.

My daughter: Baby Em. Born on Friday the 13th. She's gorgeous, but you'll have to trust me on that one.

The Puppies: Lucy and Murphy. They are golden fluffs of energy who can leap 5-foot walls in a single bound. Even while hindered by chronic hip pain.

All others, including Terri Schiavo, George W. Bush and Jon Stewart will be referred to by their real names.