I regularly read a column called "Not That You Asked" and it makes me laugh because the person who writes it goes on a rant about whatever irks her on any given day and I feel like that's what this entry should be called, but I can't STEAL it, so I'll just let you know that I know that nobody asked for this.
1) I promised myself one full hour of trashy television today. I managed to fit in the last fifteen minutes of Beauty and the Geek. I am going to try to see if I can get those extra forty-five minutes in sometime soon.
2) I will not cry tomorrow. I will not snot on my fiance's shoulder. Because after the last few days, he does not want or need anymore slobber.
3) Spring is my least favorite season. It rains all the damn time, my allergies start acting up, and, here in the great state of Minnesota, it snows in late April. I got an email from someone today, who lives in a state below mine, and it said, "enjoy the great weather." I almost went through the computer and strangled that poor woman.
4) Disappointments are disappointing, but they don't make the world stop.
5) If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I would be here.
6) If I could change anything in the world right now, I would have a dog.
7) Compulsively checking our gift registries online makes me feel like an awful person. I have resolved to stop doing this, but I can't help myself.
8) Is it not clear that including a stamped RSVP card in your invitation means that you need to return the card? Even if it's to send your regrets? Did I miss the "RSVP only if you're attending" lesson in etiquette school?
9) Watching someone deliver an ill-prepared presentation is like watching a baby bird fall out of a nest. You know they have to do it to learn how to do it correctly, but it's painful to watch and you cringe the whole time.
10) I once had a cat named Frisky. He slept in bed with me. One day he ran away and never returned. This is why I will never have a cat for a pet again.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Obsession
I am obsessed with greeting cards.
I have a box of cards, including thank you, birthday, wedding, baby/wedding shower, sympathy, thinking of you, and any number of holidays you can imagine, in our closet. Whenever one of these events happens, I pull out the box of cards and off goes the card in the mail. I am one of those crazy people who sends everyone I know a card on their birthdays, so you can imagine the number of cards in my card box.
Lately I have been somewhat frantic about thank you cards. See, I don't want to send out a bunch of boring thank you cards to our wedding guests, so I went on a mission to buy awesome cards that will make our thank you cards wonderful and beautiful without me actually having to take the time (ha! what time?!) to get out the cardstock and make them myself.
So I discovered Etsy. Now, some of you may already be so cool you know about Etsy. But, if you are not as savvy about the Internet shopping as I am, you may not know. People from all over sell their handmade stuff on Etsy. You order from them, it's a terrific price, transactions are made through PayPal, and handmade stuff comes to you. Then you give these to your friends and family and they think you are 1) creative and 2) talented. Even when you are neither.
I have purchased many greeting cards from Etsy, along with almost all of my Christmas presents last year, and I don't think it's giving too much away to say, almost all of the presents for our wedding party. I have really really really enjoyed doing my shopping this way. It made Christmas so much more pleasant for me this year, I can't tell you enough.
Here are a favorite of my shops: Crafty Red Fox, Apakshop, happy day studio (have you ever seen anything cuter than this?), and Bee Dazzles Gifts. Oh, but you want to buy something that isn't a greeting card you say? Oh, they have that, too. Jewelry, clothes (all the adorable, one of a kind onesies you could possibly want to make YOUR gift the hit of the baby shower!), purses, housewares, toys, pottery, whatever. It's there!
So, ummmm..., I'm not sure why I started this post, except to tell everyone that my new obsession means that if you come over to my apartment and notice that our mailbox is bulging, it is a combination of wedding RSVPs and cards from Etsy that are forcing it to look like that!
I have a box of cards, including thank you, birthday, wedding, baby/wedding shower, sympathy, thinking of you, and any number of holidays you can imagine, in our closet. Whenever one of these events happens, I pull out the box of cards and off goes the card in the mail. I am one of those crazy people who sends everyone I know a card on their birthdays, so you can imagine the number of cards in my card box.
Lately I have been somewhat frantic about thank you cards. See, I don't want to send out a bunch of boring thank you cards to our wedding guests, so I went on a mission to buy awesome cards that will make our thank you cards wonderful and beautiful without me actually having to take the time (ha! what time?!) to get out the cardstock and make them myself.
So I discovered Etsy. Now, some of you may already be so cool you know about Etsy. But, if you are not as savvy about the Internet shopping as I am, you may not know. People from all over sell their handmade stuff on Etsy. You order from them, it's a terrific price, transactions are made through PayPal, and handmade stuff comes to you. Then you give these to your friends and family and they think you are 1) creative and 2) talented. Even when you are neither.
I have purchased many greeting cards from Etsy, along with almost all of my Christmas presents last year, and I don't think it's giving too much away to say, almost all of the presents for our wedding party. I have really really really enjoyed doing my shopping this way. It made Christmas so much more pleasant for me this year, I can't tell you enough.
Here are a favorite of my shops: Crafty Red Fox, Apakshop, happy day studio (have you ever seen anything cuter than this?), and Bee Dazzles Gifts. Oh, but you want to buy something that isn't a greeting card you say? Oh, they have that, too. Jewelry, clothes (all the adorable, one of a kind onesies you could possibly want to make YOUR gift the hit of the baby shower!), purses, housewares, toys, pottery, whatever. It's there!
So, ummmm..., I'm not sure why I started this post, except to tell everyone that my new obsession means that if you come over to my apartment and notice that our mailbox is bulging, it is a combination of wedding RSVPs and cards from Etsy that are forcing it to look like that!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
A Pain in the Rear
Last Wednesday I went for my first bike ride of the season. Ha! I rode from our apartment to my part-time job. It's probably five or six miles, and since I was going to teach when I got there, I eschewed my bike shorts in favor of...jeans. Because I have the brain the size of a peanut. By the time I taught my class and got back on my bike for the five or six miles back...ummm*...my inner thighs and other tender areas were somewhat sore. By the time I was halfway home, I was no longer sitting on my saddle, but practicing a sort of hover on my seat. By the time I was three-quarters of the way home, it was a tie between my ass and my quads as to which was more sore and I eventually got home with gritted teeth and a determination to NOT DO THIS AGAIN NEXT YEAR. Next winter, I'm going to get some saddle time in somehow. Even if a trainer must be purchased.
So then on Sunday, I cleverly arranged another session at my part-time job so that I would be able to ride in with my gorgeous fiance. But again, I decided that since I would be teaching when I got there, I would wear...jeans. And again, as soon as I got off the bike at my job, I found myself squeezing my buttocks and massaging my inner thighs, which is not as easy as you might think when you find yourself standing in front of four people you barely know**, trying to sound like an authority on something you are clearly not an authority on. And on the way home, I was sore again, but clearly I was putting more weight on my arms this time around because when I got home, my shoulders were tense, my upper arms were shaking, and I could barely carry my bike up the stairs to put him away. Yes, my bike is a boy. He's a very feminine boy.
Then last night, I again rode in with BB to my job. And I was feeling much better this time. But we rode back in with his boss WHO OWNS A BIKE SHOP AND RIDES 40 MILES EVERY DAY and even though he was clearly taking it easy because I could barely breathe at the pace we were going, I almost died when I finally got off the bike.
All of this to say, it was lovely. It's nice to go to bed and be physically tired, as well as mentally tired. It's nice to actually commute on my own free will and not in the confines of an overlarge vehicle with a broken CD player. It's nice to get outside and see the sun and feel the wind and be part of the city again. I have been burning the candles at both ends for a couple of months now and riding my bike again has reminded me that I really need to start taking care of my physical self, too.
I have had to hustle in other parts of my life to make sure I can get these bike rides in, but I am more and more determined that this is what I need to do. Not just the biking, of course, but occasionally leaving work before all those papers are graded or all those lesson plans are written, so that I can work out. So, that's it. I'll try and write more about my workouts. I have a working out tag, but I can't remember when I last used it. I'm hoping that it will gradually become just a part of my routine again, as much as it has been in the past before things got out of control crazy. (By the way, you won't hear so much bitching about this for much longer. In a month, everything will sort itself out, I will be unemployed again, and I will get enough sleep.)
Oh, but did I mention? That even though it was in the mid-60s when I rode home last night with the crazy bike shop owner, it's forecasted to snow tomorrow? Oh, Minneapolis, how I love thee.
*Did anyone besides me catch Geoff Nunberg on Fresh Air last Monday with his insightful, somewhat hilarious commentary on the word "um." I just about peed my pants and found myself examining my own vocal tics for the rest of the day.
**One of these people works for General Mills and made the super duper fantastic announcement that Rice Chex IS GLUTEN FREE. Oh, my God. The joy in Biker Boy's face when I told him this was unlike anything I could ever explain. We had been buying a cereal called Rice Crunch 'Ems, which was just like Rice Chex without the gluten. But it costs almost $2 a box more. And we had to go to the fancy grocery store to buy it. Now, we can buy Rice Chex ANYWHERE.
So then on Sunday, I cleverly arranged another session at my part-time job so that I would be able to ride in with my gorgeous fiance. But again, I decided that since I would be teaching when I got there, I would wear...jeans. And again, as soon as I got off the bike at my job, I found myself squeezing my buttocks and massaging my inner thighs, which is not as easy as you might think when you find yourself standing in front of four people you barely know**, trying to sound like an authority on something you are clearly not an authority on. And on the way home, I was sore again, but clearly I was putting more weight on my arms this time around because when I got home, my shoulders were tense, my upper arms were shaking, and I could barely carry my bike up the stairs to put him away. Yes, my bike is a boy. He's a very feminine boy.
Then last night, I again rode in with BB to my job. And I was feeling much better this time. But we rode back in with his boss WHO OWNS A BIKE SHOP AND RIDES 40 MILES EVERY DAY and even though he was clearly taking it easy because I could barely breathe at the pace we were going, I almost died when I finally got off the bike.
All of this to say, it was lovely. It's nice to go to bed and be physically tired, as well as mentally tired. It's nice to actually commute on my own free will and not in the confines of an overlarge vehicle with a broken CD player. It's nice to get outside and see the sun and feel the wind and be part of the city again. I have been burning the candles at both ends for a couple of months now and riding my bike again has reminded me that I really need to start taking care of my physical self, too.
I have had to hustle in other parts of my life to make sure I can get these bike rides in, but I am more and more determined that this is what I need to do. Not just the biking, of course, but occasionally leaving work before all those papers are graded or all those lesson plans are written, so that I can work out. So, that's it. I'll try and write more about my workouts. I have a working out tag, but I can't remember when I last used it. I'm hoping that it will gradually become just a part of my routine again, as much as it has been in the past before things got out of control crazy. (By the way, you won't hear so much bitching about this for much longer. In a month, everything will sort itself out, I will be unemployed again, and I will get enough sleep.)
Oh, but did I mention? That even though it was in the mid-60s when I rode home last night with the crazy bike shop owner, it's forecasted to snow tomorrow? Oh, Minneapolis, how I love thee.
*Did anyone besides me catch Geoff Nunberg on Fresh Air last Monday with his insightful, somewhat hilarious commentary on the word "um." I just about peed my pants and found myself examining my own vocal tics for the rest of the day.
**One of these people works for General Mills and made the super duper fantastic announcement that Rice Chex IS GLUTEN FREE. Oh, my God. The joy in Biker Boy's face when I told him this was unlike anything I could ever explain. We had been buying a cereal called Rice Crunch 'Ems, which was just like Rice Chex without the gluten. But it costs almost $2 a box more. And we had to go to the fancy grocery store to buy it. Now, we can buy Rice Chex ANYWHERE.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Ha! Pictures Two Months Later!
Yeah. So I made a big deal about the Winter Carnival in St. Paul. It's really lame. But some nice lady took our picture. (Yes, the Winter Carnival is in January and I'm just now posting pictures. Deal.)
So, I probably should edit out the people who aren't me, but I'm the one in the bright purple coat. Because why wouldn't I have on a bright purple coat?
But, anyway, the Winter Carnival was lame. And they only do the Ice Palace like once every ten years and this wasn't the year. It's ice sculptures and large crowds and a hot dish tent. Lame. But purple!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Burning the House Down
Three hours ago, we went to the local co-op where they make a super delicious gluten-free bread. Normally this bread is way outside of our price range, but because we were there we decided to splurge and buy it. It's kind of expensive and it's shelf life is about two days. BB prefers we get this disgusting kind of bread on a more regular basis (it's a tapioca loaf by Ener-G and it is DISgusting), but it has a very long shelf life.
In those three hours, he has made toast two times. He likes his toast a bit darker than I like mine, so the house smells like...burnt toast right now.
In those three hours, he has made toast two times. He likes his toast a bit darker than I like mine, so the house smells like...burnt toast right now.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Wedding Content - Read at Your Own Peril
We made the decision early on to have a small wedding. We failed. Biker Boy's immediate family alone numbers more than I wanted to have. So we're having a medium-ish wedding. We sent out 65 invitations (which numbers about 120ish). We're hoping for a turnout of 75-100. RSVPs are trickling in and we should have a firm count in the next couple of weeks. (And, as a sidenote, can I just say that the excitement of so much mail every single day is FANTASTIC?)
So, the invitations went out to immediate family members, aunts and uncles, and friends (our guest list is actually divided up into Biker Boy's friends, NGS's friends, and our Minneapolis friends). We did not invite cousins because it would practically double our guest list. We did not invite children of friends because then we would have been overrun by small children. I adore children, but it seems to me that in recent years I have been to a number of weddings where kids sort of ran amok at weddings. Plus, parents can't really have fun when they have to watch their kids. I want people to have a good time. Plus, our wedding is an evening wedding. Hopefully these children have bedtimes that are way before we plan on our event ending. So there you have it. My reasoning.
Okay, we even shelled out the extra bucks for an inner envelope so that we could specifically write every single person's name on the envelope who was invited. We spent hours practicing having conversations with people about how they couldn't bring their kids. We spent hours over Christmas finessing Biker Boy's family about a certain small child. This was a big freaking deal and we did everything we could to make sure people knew before the invitations arrived what was what.
So, I'm sure you can guess what happened. We got back an RSVP card that included children. It was one of MY relatives, of course, so I had to write the email explaining all of the no kids, no cousins, doubling the guest list, blah, blah, blah crap. I took the blame, apologizing for any miscommunication (even though it was CLEARLY communicated in my humble opinion). And got a badly punctuated email in return, basically saying that the parents weren't going to come then, either.
And, I'm going to be honest, I was hurt. I was a little mad, but mostly I was hurt that they would be angry with me when they were the ones who disregarded what the invitation actually said and then had the gall to act like I was the one being rude by pointing out that they were in the wrong.
After scouring message boards to make sure I wasn't being silly and overreacting (I mean, we spent A LOT of time and money making sure the invitations were just so to avoid having to have these tense discussions), I realized that I had to let it go. They aren't going to come, they'll probably hold a grudge for a long time about me not wanting their kids to come, and family gatherings will take on a tense air.
So, what's with this? Why do people not realize that there are some places to which their children shouldn't be? Why are people so rude as to ignore basic etiquette? Could we have been clearer in some way? Blech.
I'm a bit stressed out about this. (And stressed about the hotel that keeps telling our guests that the block is full. Okay, so add some more fucking rooms to the block. The hotel is empty that weekend except for our wedding. Blech. The sales and catering manager and I are going around and around about this. See, it's my responsibility to make sure there are enough rooms available. But the web site that they promised me would let me check on my rooms regularly doesn't work and they know it doesn't work. So how can I check? Good question. But it's my responsibility. Until I go to that hotel on Friday afternoon and kick some sales and catering manager ass.)
So, if you've been wondering what I've been doing for the last week, I think you can guess. Carefully worded emails with terse emails written in response. Carefully worded voice mails with incompetence in response. Oh, plus I have these pesky jobs and somehow I need to sleep. And read me some JD Robb.
So, the invitations went out to immediate family members, aunts and uncles, and friends (our guest list is actually divided up into Biker Boy's friends, NGS's friends, and our Minneapolis friends). We did not invite cousins because it would practically double our guest list. We did not invite children of friends because then we would have been overrun by small children. I adore children, but it seems to me that in recent years I have been to a number of weddings where kids sort of ran amok at weddings. Plus, parents can't really have fun when they have to watch their kids. I want people to have a good time. Plus, our wedding is an evening wedding. Hopefully these children have bedtimes that are way before we plan on our event ending. So there you have it. My reasoning.
Okay, we even shelled out the extra bucks for an inner envelope so that we could specifically write every single person's name on the envelope who was invited. We spent hours practicing having conversations with people about how they couldn't bring their kids. We spent hours over Christmas finessing Biker Boy's family about a certain small child. This was a big freaking deal and we did everything we could to make sure people knew before the invitations arrived what was what.
So, I'm sure you can guess what happened. We got back an RSVP card that included children. It was one of MY relatives, of course, so I had to write the email explaining all of the no kids, no cousins, doubling the guest list, blah, blah, blah crap. I took the blame, apologizing for any miscommunication (even though it was CLEARLY communicated in my humble opinion). And got a badly punctuated email in return, basically saying that the parents weren't going to come then, either.
And, I'm going to be honest, I was hurt. I was a little mad, but mostly I was hurt that they would be angry with me when they were the ones who disregarded what the invitation actually said and then had the gall to act like I was the one being rude by pointing out that they were in the wrong.
After scouring message boards to make sure I wasn't being silly and overreacting (I mean, we spent A LOT of time and money making sure the invitations were just so to avoid having to have these tense discussions), I realized that I had to let it go. They aren't going to come, they'll probably hold a grudge for a long time about me not wanting their kids to come, and family gatherings will take on a tense air.
So, what's with this? Why do people not realize that there are some places to which their children shouldn't be? Why are people so rude as to ignore basic etiquette? Could we have been clearer in some way? Blech.
I'm a bit stressed out about this. (And stressed about the hotel that keeps telling our guests that the block is full. Okay, so add some more fucking rooms to the block. The hotel is empty that weekend except for our wedding. Blech. The sales and catering manager and I are going around and around about this. See, it's my responsibility to make sure there are enough rooms available. But the web site that they promised me would let me check on my rooms regularly doesn't work and they know it doesn't work. So how can I check? Good question. But it's my responsibility. Until I go to that hotel on Friday afternoon and kick some sales and catering manager ass.)
So, if you've been wondering what I've been doing for the last week, I think you can guess. Carefully worded emails with terse emails written in response. Carefully worded voice mails with incompetence in response. Oh, plus I have these pesky jobs and somehow I need to sleep. And read me some JD Robb.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
News of the Mundane
We got our first RSVP in the mail yesterday. I jumped around the apartment very excitedly. Wheee!!!
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
He Puts Up With This?
He unpacks the night he comes home from a trip; I wait until I need that shirt three weeks later.
He waits until the grocery list has a large number of items on it before taking the list to the store and getting everything on it; I panic about the fact that we have no cumin like it's a national crisis and run to the store on my way home from work without a list and buy lots of things but forget the cumin.
He takes a solid half hour at night with his evening ablutions, taking his time in the bathroom and putting away his dirty clothes for the night. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and floss in three minutes before throwing my clothes onto the floor in front of the bed and dashing into bed. The clothes will stay there for three days before I pick them up.
He reads books about Cicero for pleasure; I read J.D. Robb books and must hide them away in our bedroom so our intellectual-type friends don't judge me harshly when they come over to dinner.
He is excited to see friends and family at our wedding; I am excited to see them, too, but also can't wait for the new plates.
He uses fountain pens he won't let me use because I might bend the nib; I use Pilot pens because they come in purple.
He is often described as dapper; I am often described as frantic. (Funny story: On my teaching evaluations for last semester, a student wrote, "She's doing a great job, but seems kind of frantic. Slow down! You're doing a good job!" And that made me laugh. Frantic is my natural state.)
He eats a pint of ice cream every two days; I have been eating the same quart of ice cream for about three weeks now.
He listens to REM and Radiohead and Tom Waits and has serious music credibility. I listen to Garth Brooks and Shania Twain and get laughed at when people look at my playlists.
He loves his Mac; I tolerate my Dell.
He watches The Simpsons every night as I go to bed and tries to muffle his laughs so he doesn't disturb me. When I get to that funny part in the book when the heroine is a smart ass and puts the slightly abusive husband into his place, I turn to him, look him in the eyes, and laugh.
He sometimes randomly starts spouting off mechanical-type words like derailleur and crank and drive chain and whosywhatsit and tearing apart bicycles on a stand in our living room. I sometimes randomly talk about the absolutely sexiness of chi square distributions and observed and expected values and laying out several different text books all at once in our living room.
He drives from here to there in silence, smiling to himself every now and then when he thinks a funny thought. I drive from here to there with the windows down, radio cranked, screaming out the lyrics.
He researches the perfect perfumes, shaving creams, and razor blades and spends hours at the Neiman Marcus counter sniffing and spraying. I slap some Curel on my body because Amy told me to and I'm done.
He hasn't sent a letter in the real, live postal service mail in years. I desperately try to get birthday cards out to everyone I know every year, on time or not.
He calmly sleeps without moving the covers or his body; I twist and turn, steal the blankets, and occasionally punch him.
He claims the almond M&Ms as his favorite; I think this is blasphemous as I eat half a pound of peanut M&Ms.
He is an oddly perfect foil for my imperfections. Yay for 46 days from now! Invitations went out today!!
He waits until the grocery list has a large number of items on it before taking the list to the store and getting everything on it; I panic about the fact that we have no cumin like it's a national crisis and run to the store on my way home from work without a list and buy lots of things but forget the cumin.
He takes a solid half hour at night with his evening ablutions, taking his time in the bathroom and putting away his dirty clothes for the night. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and floss in three minutes before throwing my clothes onto the floor in front of the bed and dashing into bed. The clothes will stay there for three days before I pick them up.
He reads books about Cicero for pleasure; I read J.D. Robb books and must hide them away in our bedroom so our intellectual-type friends don't judge me harshly when they come over to dinner.
He is excited to see friends and family at our wedding; I am excited to see them, too, but also can't wait for the new plates.
He uses fountain pens he won't let me use because I might bend the nib; I use Pilot pens because they come in purple.
He is often described as dapper; I am often described as frantic. (Funny story: On my teaching evaluations for last semester, a student wrote, "She's doing a great job, but seems kind of frantic. Slow down! You're doing a good job!" And that made me laugh. Frantic is my natural state.)
He eats a pint of ice cream every two days; I have been eating the same quart of ice cream for about three weeks now.
He listens to REM and Radiohead and Tom Waits and has serious music credibility. I listen to Garth Brooks and Shania Twain and get laughed at when people look at my playlists.
He loves his Mac; I tolerate my Dell.
He watches The Simpsons every night as I go to bed and tries to muffle his laughs so he doesn't disturb me. When I get to that funny part in the book when the heroine is a smart ass and puts the slightly abusive husband into his place, I turn to him, look him in the eyes, and laugh.
He sometimes randomly starts spouting off mechanical-type words like derailleur and crank and drive chain and whosywhatsit and tearing apart bicycles on a stand in our living room. I sometimes randomly talk about the absolutely sexiness of chi square distributions and observed and expected values and laying out several different text books all at once in our living room.
He drives from here to there in silence, smiling to himself every now and then when he thinks a funny thought. I drive from here to there with the windows down, radio cranked, screaming out the lyrics.
He researches the perfect perfumes, shaving creams, and razor blades and spends hours at the Neiman Marcus counter sniffing and spraying. I slap some Curel on my body because Amy told me to and I'm done.
He hasn't sent a letter in the real, live postal service mail in years. I desperately try to get birthday cards out to everyone I know every year, on time or not.
He calmly sleeps without moving the covers or his body; I twist and turn, steal the blankets, and occasionally punch him.
He claims the almond M&Ms as his favorite; I think this is blasphemous as I eat half a pound of peanut M&Ms.
He is an oddly perfect foil for my imperfections. Yay for 46 days from now! Invitations went out today!!
Monday, April 07, 2008
Exhaustion
10:43 pm: Still working on lecture for 8:15 tomorrow morning.
Am exhausted. Have a lovely post all thought out. Will write tomorrow when not almost dead.
Am exhausted. Have a lovely post all thought out. Will write tomorrow when not almost dead.
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