Our House

After spending an hour online with Carly looking at pictures of her house and helping her rearrange it via instant message, I decided it was time to take some pictures of our little apartment.

Actually I decided this in the middle of changing clothes and got right down to it, which is why in this first picture on the tour I had to hide and you can only see my arms in the mirror.


This is where Neil works. And by works, I mean shuts the door and watches The Wire. And yes, that is a poster of a semi-truck signed by Richard Petty on our bulletin board.


This is where Neil beats me EVERY single Sunday at Boggle.


See the missing patch of paint above the magnetic knife rack? Before I came along there was a hook there where Neil hung his squeegee. He said I could take it down as long as I put it somewhere he wouldn’t have to bend over to get it.

This is where I go with my blanket to watch Gilmore Girls

while Neil cooks me up some supper here.














Someone (Hoss, Skewed), please come visit us.

Maximum Capacity

You would think if you were getting on a water slide and the all the signs showing the correct sitting position for the 2-person raft showed an adult and a child, you might have second thoughts about hopping in with another adult. But since the lifeguard didn’t stop us, Neil and I figured we’d be fine. Check out the greenish slide in the background of the picture. This is where we almost died at my company picnic.

The ride on the slide is a short one that starts with a steep descent (sort of hidden behind the yellow tube slide), continues up an almost vertical wall where, after you slow down, you then descend down the wall backwards in your raft, over the remaining small bump, and down the ramp. As we waited for a long time on the tall, scary platform, we watched as the sliders in front of us flew up the vertical wall, reaching about 3/4 of the way to the top before the raft stopped and slid down backwards. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited to try out this great and different idea for a water slide!

However as we squeezed into this 2-person raft and descended the first hill, we picked up some serious momentum and flying up that wall was definitely a scary experience. As we came within two feet of the top edge and saw that all there was to protect us from flying off and descending to our death was a wire, Neil yelled "OH MY GOSH!"

Fortunately, by then we were stopping. We descended the wall backwards, hauled butt out of that water park, changed out of our swimsuits behind a towel, and headed off to ride the Grizzly, which did have a sign warning: "people with large proportions might not be able to ride."

Luckily we fit. But that was before we stopped for pizza.

Tasty Like a Raindrop, She's Got the Look

A few years ago, I went through a phase of doing notecard therapy. Notecard therapy is my own invention resulting from my self-appointed therapist status. I feel like I am a perceptive person and if you are having a problem, I can help you get to the bottom of it!

What happens is:

• You tell me your problem
• I ask you related questions
• I get to the root cause of your problem
• We talk about it more
• I write a notecard with steps to help you and give you a theme song or mantra.
  

A couple of weeks ago, I realized I had a problem that wasn’t getting solved: my clothes are too tight. I know we are supposed to get rid of stuff that doesn’t fit–not hold on to clothes in the hopes that someday we will lose weight and be able to wear them. I understand the philosophy behind that. However, I got married 7 months ago and have been eating a LOT of delicious food since then. I have been in an adjustment period and things will normalize again.......right? Going up one size isn’t the end of the world and I should just be patient because I can get back down......right? So I came to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be too hasty and rid myself of a lot of possessions I love, I just need a little more time.

Then I came up with the brilliant idea to do notecard therapy on myself. My fruitless search for an index card resulted in a homemade 3x5 manilla folder cut-out entitled "Operation Get Dressed," which is composed of the following steps:

1. Drink 2-3 water bottles (24 oz) full of water during work hours.
2. No more cokes until denim skirt fits again.
3. 1 treat every other day.
4. Smaller portions/no seconds.
5. No food after dinner.
6. 15 sit-ups daily (add 5 per week), 2 walks per week, 1 tennis session per week
7. Sit up straight/better posture (for the illusion).
Theme song: "The Look" by Roxette (It’s good! Not as good as "Joyride" but more applicable).

Operation Get Dressed got started 15 days ago. "How’s it going?" you ask. Well, I’ll tell you.

• Water consumption: Not too shabby...not perfect but definitely respectable: B
• Coke Drought: Have had 5: D
• Treat Schedule: Not perfect, but improved from pre-OGD: B
• # & Sz of Portions: A good improvement: B+
• No food after dinner: Good job: A-
• Exercise: Sit-ups: 3 days, Walks: 1, Tennis: 0: F
• Posture: When I think about it, I sit up straighter for 5 minutes or so: D
• Overall average: C- (based on a 100 point system)
  

Frankly, this isn’t very promising considering my morale and conviction lessen with each passing day. Oh well, maybe it is a losing battle. At least this does seem like the most reasonable weight loss method I’ve ever implemented. Other plans I’ve tried in the past include, but are not limited to:

• Wrapping torso tightly in saran wrap for a few hours in order to fit into a certain outfit.
• Getting a "body wrap" ($75). I was wrapped from head to toe like a mummy, doused with minerals and then forced to exercise for 15 minutes while wearing tight bandages, as the liquid minerals and body toxins leaving my pores dripped into plastic bags that were secured around my feet and hands.
• The 3-day diet for obese people needing to drop weight fast to have emergency surgery. This includes following a very strict meal plan with no variation and bringing to work lunches like: 2 hot dogs (no bread), 1 cup cauliflower and 1 saltine cracker.
• Drinking 1 oz. of straight vinegar every afternoon and 1 grapefruit a day.
• Body for Life
• Cleansing my system by eating only vegetables (none white or yellow), fruits (none white or yellow) and meat for 3 weeks and taking at least 12 different herbs/vitamins/enzymes per day.
• Work-out videos such as Bellydancing, Paula Abdul’s Get Up and Dance, The 10-Minute Solution, 8 Minute Abs, Yoga & Pilates, Thin Thighs, and Darren’s Dance Grooves.
• Discovery Health Channel's national health drive which included being weighed in a public forum and receiving a free trial membership to a gym. I went to the gym twice and wandered around for awhile.
  

And I feel I should mention unimplemented but revolutionary diet theories such as:

• Chewing up delicious but unhealthy foods and spitting them out, and then satiating hunger with something healthy (mine).
• Weight loss by body cast (Carly’s).
  

Hmmmm. Maybe this is a never-ending thing. But I guess for now I’ll just keep on keepin’ on with Operation Get Dressed as I go Na na na na na....

I'm Allergic to My Job

I don't think it's a coincidence that the day I started working was the day I got allergies. I'm obviously allergic to my job (or I have a Pavlovian sick response to work). In an effort to ward off Neil's attempts to get me to a doctor, I decided to first try an over-the-counter remedy. All I can say is--Thank Heavens for Wal-itin!! Walgreens brand of Claritin has changed my life. My number of sneezes per day is down to two from about 40.

I think I better put some Wal-itin in our 72-hour kit. Now I can't live without it and have it on hand at work and home and just automatically take one with my breakfast. Our stake is really into emergency preparedness right now and so is our home teacher who looked with disdain on our pre-packaged 72 hour kit and suggested that we improve it. oh and get a motorcycle for easy transportation out of the state if necessary. I'm not holding out any hopes for getting a motorcycle, but I did make a lot of jokes about it when it came time to make a list of things we still need. Neil gave me a moment to change my attitude and get serious about the task, during which he came up with the brilliant idea of getting some t-shirts made for our kit that say: "(Our Last Name): Making the Best of It" because then we could totally be on the news.

Top Ten Signs I Got an Awes. Husband

10. He doesn’t get mad when we are late to church every Sunday because I have to try on 15 different outfits. He just goes in the kitchen and prepares a tiny snack for my purse.

9. He watches old movies with me.

8. He cooks delicious food for me all the time and still doesn’t get mad when I request Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (only when I request No Bake Cookies.)

7. He doesn’t care that all I do is talk about myself and Bogart all of the conversation.

6. He’s obsessed with tiny cameras and has an unbelievable number of cords.

5. He puts delicious treats in my lunch (Cow Tales for example).

4. He gets up at 5:30 in the morning every day with me even though he doesn’t have to.

3. He tolerates Britney songs and let’s me listen to the same Postal Service lineup every single day on the way to work.

2. He refers to himself as Daddy.*

1. His main goal in life is to never have to bend over.

*This is in no way any sort of announcement or anything closely related to one.

A Bald Streetwalker Swims In Our Pool

Okay, maybe she's not really a streetwalker, but she does wear a wig very similar to Julia Robert's in Pretty Woman. She also gets dressed right when she gets out of the pool, not at her apartment like the rest of us. Obviously, she probably doesn't live in our apartments and that's fine--Who am I to judge? I have been sneaking into pools for the past 5 years, but at least I tried to look like a resident by showing up and leaving in my swimsuit and cover-up. Not the bald streetwalker. She gets out of the pool, puts on her heels, walks over to her chair, gets her wig out of her bag, lays it out on the chair, takes off her swimsuit, and puts on a black bustier. She then stands there lacing it up while we all watch. After she gets the bustier on, she goes into the locker room and emerges 10 minutes later fully clothed and wigged with lots of makeup and big sunglasses on. It's weird!

It's also weird that the really, really old, hunched-over Chinese man whose balcony faces our front door is often standing outside poking a tree with a long stick.

It's nice to know that everyone here is not weird though. There are some kindred spirits. Like the girl Neil and I saw at In 'n' Out, who, after placing her order, walked over to Krispy Kreme, bought and stuffed an entire box of a dozen donuts in her purse, and then walked back over to In 'n' Out to pick up her burger order. I could probably be friends with her--especially since my legs are TOTALLY sore from bowling for one hour yesterday. I know. It's pathetic. I don't even deserve to fit into those pants under my bed. But at least after losing to Neil time and time again at every sport or game we've ever played, I finally beat him yesterday at air hockey.

I Can't Think of a Good Title But I Have to Go Now Because It's Burger Night Which I'm Really Excited About. Read This Post and You'll Understand.

I wonder if there is anyone out there who will read this or if everyone who ever read my blog has just stopped checking it. I wouldn't blame them. Well, here I am-- partly because of Skewedview's challenge and partly because I feel a little bit of guilt at not having written in so long. After all, this blog did get me a job and a husband.

So I guess I'll just dive in and tell you some of what I have been up to in the last, oh, 3 months or so. As I said, I got a job and I'm working with Alice. Too bad peeps get fired for blogging about their jobs because there is a lot I could tell you. So I'll just divulge this small piece of info: When I started working, I found a card with a phone number under F in the rolodex on my desk for a contact merely listed as "Fat Lady."

I've also been spending a lot of time thinking about, talking about, and eating food. But mostly just eating. And as evidence, I give you the bag under my bed containing 10 pair of pants that I can almost fit in. My mom did tell me if I wanted to be thin, I shouldn't have married Neil who is fixing me 3 delicious meals a day. Although the problem is really not in the number of meals I'm eating, but the quantity I consume for each meal. Mine is not a humble portion. Perhaps last weekend's large burrito, double cheeseburger, fries, cokes, Krispy Kremes, deep dish pizza and ribs were a little much. After all that, I couldn't even make it through Fast Sunday. Around 2:30 in the afternoon, I climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen and scarfed down some leftover chicken salad 2 hours prior to dinner. I guess you could say I lost it.

I've also been doing a lot of reading. My most recent books have been Peace Like A River, Mrs. Dalloway, Atonement, The Wonder Spot, Freakonomics, Home Alone America, The Power of One and The Alchemist. Have you read any of these? Let's talk.

Besides the "my life is comprised by an obsession with food" guilt, I've also been feeling a little guilty about all the piano playing Neil has been asked to do lately. It all started when he was asked if I play by a man who was looking for a pianist at an upcoming baptism. Since we were going to be away, Neil distracted them by saying, "Actually I play, but we're going to be away that weekend." Lucky for me, I have a husband who protects me. Unfortunately for him, that dude remembered and then after asking Neil to play in the joint Priesthood/Relief Society meeting 2 weeks ago, people were literally lined up with pianist requests immediately following that meeting. My light is still under a bushel, and luckily with Neil on my side, it looks like it's going to stay that way.

I've also been doing a lot of learning about marriage and what it takes to be a good wife. The first thing I've learned is: It's a good idea to try and dress like your husband. What you do is just wait until he gets dressed then put on a matching outfit. It's fun and not annoying at all! The second thing I've learned is: When your husband is in the shower... hide! When he gets out, he will eventually start wondering where you went and start looking for you. And it's even better if, when he finds you, you are wearing his clothes. This is not annoying either and never gets old. And if anyone were ever to think this was annoying, then you just threaten to stab him with a letter opener.

I also got a haircut last week. I decided not to return to Jesus/Maggie who, after showing her this photo:





made my hair look like:
































So this time I got smart and went to Fifi, who, when I showed her this pic (yes, I will only have hair like Mandy Moore now):


























made me look like this:




























Just kidding. I really like my haircut now and I only look like Rod when I wake up in the morning.

Anyway, that's it for now. I hope you're all still out there. I plan on sticking around because living in San Francisco and being married to a national-award-winning husband is really supplying me with a lot of material.

Blogging. It's on my calendar. Remind me to tell you how, thanks to my adequately meaty wrists and Neil's freakishly strong lats, we are hoping that someday we'll *have a professional bowler.

*This is just a thought/prediction/hope and in no way any sort of announcement or anything closely related to one.

I'm Learning A Lot

I have been doing a lot of really important thinking and stuff while I have been hanging around the house lately. Besides thinking about getting a job, I have also been pondering the following...

Tagalongs are the best girl scout cookies. And they are best eaten with the peanut butter side down (facing your tongue). The crappy thing about them is that you think you have a whole box full but really you just have one of those clear trays that pull out containing about 1/4 of the amount of cookies that should be in that box--making one box equivalent to one serving. Maybe you don't think a box equals one serving, but then again you probably don't think one box of macaroni and cheese equals one serving like I do either. Other honorable cookie mentions are the Do-si-dos, thin mints (best frozen) and of course samoas. But frankly, I think samoas have been given too much hype for their quality--and again, enough with the clear plastic tray thing already.

Secondly, I have a love/hate relationship with Oprah. "Hate the person, love the show" are my sentiments actually. While she drives me bonks, she actually has good show topics (sometimes) and has the power to get big name guests. This week was focused a lot on Hurricane Katrina (yawn) so I have been holding on for today which is going to be Part II of "America's Debt Diet"--Oprah's push to get Americans out of debt. I'll be honest and say that the show has done little to inspire me to get out of debt and a lot to make me feel good that I am not as ridiculous as the woman on the show who throws away her bills, owns 5 cars and spends $7,000 a year on her hair. I AM frugal! Other important stuff I have learned from Oprah is that Matthew McConahey, while handsome, is a fool. I was upset by his wardrobe choice, his constant face touching, his love of pickles, his arrogance about how he is so "real" and "earthy," as well as his personal life motto: "Just keep livin'."

I've decided my favorite drawer is my sweater drawer. In the past I have kept my sweaters folded on a shelf in the closet, but now they are in a dresser drawer. There are 3 stacks of sweaters side by side consisting of approximately 4 sweaters per stack. But I have the sweaters slightly terraced so that part of each is showing. It looks just like something you would see in a store, except all the sweaters are ugly and I hate them.

Is purple eye shadow cool or even just acceptable? I have been thinking a lot about this actually. It seems 80's but IT JUST LOOKS SO GOOD! Because I am loving Bobbi Brown's gel eyeliner in Violet Ink, I decided recently to jazz it up with some purple eyeshadow. I know I don't look cool or sleek like the bright-eyed ladies at the MAC counter or anything--I probably look more like I should be hanging out with Molly Ringwald. I wonder if she would approve of my blue's clues shoes.

Once I looked through a book called Are You Smarter Than You Think You Are? But what I need is a book called You are Smarter Than Other People Think You Are. That might have given me the self-confidence I needed when I had to sit between a physicist and a neurosurgeon at a dinner party recently. When talking to Roxy the next day and telling her I had felt a little out of my league, she encouraged me by saying, "You should have told those people, 'You think you're so smart, but do you have The Parent Trap memorized?? I don't think so.'" And that's probably true. So there.

So that's what I've been up to. Just doing a lot of important thinking about a lot of life's important issues. I better get going now though. There are only 30 minutes 'til Oprah and I still have to put on my Jimmie Johnson NASCAR light pink fleece pantsuit and sit around and think about a few more things.

It's Back: Name That Song

The Rules:

1. Please DO NOT guess in the comment section! E-mail me (see my profile page for my e-mail address).
2. Please do not look up the answer...I really send a prize, so be honest and fair.
3. Previous winners may still play.
4. Be the FIRST to e-mail me with the correct song title & artist and win.
Good Luck!

This month's lyric is:

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself

and by "do with myself," I mean "wear to church." Perhaps I have surprised Neil with the way I start asking "what will I wear to church?" every Saturday and staring in the closet for long periods of time. But he didn't see me the time I skipped class in college because I felt ugly in all of my clothes and sat in a pile of them on the floor all afternoon. Or when my mom and I would ditch school because we needed to "call in fat."

Here's the problem. I haven't come to terms with my new fashion rules yet. I'm not used to the weather/lack of seasons here. If it's warm all day but chilly at night, can I wear wool pants because it's February? Or should I not because it was 70 degrees that day? Is it okay to not wear pantyhose if it is warm? Even though it IS February? And my legs are really white? I tried observing other women at church, but that didn't help me a whole lot. I mean there were girls without nylons, but they were also girls wearing them.

Since I never know what to wear and my hair was starting to look like Bo Duke's, I decided I needed a haircut to make me feel better. I unpacked my Mandy Moore pics and got out the phone book. I found a lot of strangely named salons ("Hotheads" and "Total Concern for the Bride"), so I decided to get out of the house and do some drive-bys of these places. I ended up getting my hair cut in Regis at the mall by a woman named Jesus (she went by Maggie) who told me she had washed my hair twice so I wouldn't have to wash it the next day.

I also have some blue Nike casual tennis shoes that I have taken to wearing daily. They are comfortable and cute and have a small pattern of clusters of three flowers. It turns out though that the clusters of three flowers look like paw prints and peeps think I'm running around in "Blue's Clues" shoes. Not exactly chic, I know. But it hasn't stopped me from wearing them everyday no matter what color or style of top I have on.

I never said "top" until I married Neil who always says it when I ask him what I will wear. "What will I wear today, husband?" "Jeans and a top" is his standard, very helpful reply. I think it's because he doesn't know whether he should say shirt or blouse or better yet, something specific. But it's still cute and I'm going to stick with it. It's the least I can do now that he is trying to sport a southern accent.

I'm Married Now, Suckahs

Evabody told me that married life would be an adjustment. But as I sit here at 1 o'clock in the afternoon in my bathrobe with my orange juice, all I know is, my adjustment just hasn't been that bad. I mean, would you have to adjust to being asleep at 10:30 in the morning when your husband brings you a bowl of homemade cake frosting to eat? or when you are instant messaging in your pajamas at 3 p.m. while downing some little smokies? I don't think so. And what if you had your own bedside table with a drawer containing 4 lbs. of Snickers Minis and a bottle of Tums? I don't think I'd hear you complaining either.

Plus, it's not like we're one of these gag-me cheesey couples with matching hiking pants and water bottles who can never be apart. Neil is perfectly happy to wear his hiking pants while cooking up some supper in the kitchen while I wear mine in the other room to watch Beauty and the Geek 2.

Now that all the wedding stuff is over, this seems like cake. I mean, it wasn't really ideal to be ralphing in front of my fiance on the trip from Tennessee to Utah before our wedding. Or when our sheepherder sealer consistently mispronounced my name. Or when he mispronounced pornography (as phonography) for that matter. But is mentioning pornography during a marriage ceremony really a good idea anyway?

And maybe the officiator at our ring ceremony did use my mother's first name instead of mine. And maybe I did nail my 14-year-old sister in the face when I tossed my bouquet. But these were all just trivial bumps on the road to a fabulous life with a man who is just happy when I address him as "husband" because it's a step in the right direction from "dude."