February 2010

Tony and I went on a date last night.  It’s been awhile since we’ve gone to a nice restaurant and caught up.

The point of this post, however, is not to enlighten you on our conversation (or better yet, the details of watching Tony shovel 3 tacos and a club sandwich in his mouth).  The post is actually about what an idiot I proved I can be on the way home from dinner.

So I have this gorgeous little engagement ring…don’t think I mentioned it yet, but I’m sure you deduced that engagement usually equals engagement ring.  I have tiny fingers and the ring fits just a little loose.  Not enough that I’ve ever had problems with it slipping off, but it has a bit of a sloppy fit. 

For some reason, though, yesterday it was driving me particularly nuts.  I have no idea why it felt looser (in fact, I ate half a bag of salty chips the day before so really, my fingers should have been puffed up like little marshmallows).  Anyhow, as Tony was driving, I thought it’d be a good idea to not only tell him how loose the ring felt, but to visually show him how loose it was by waving my hand violently in front of his face and showing how the ring slips down to my knuckle.  (Side note, don’t drive with me.  I tend to find ways to be distracting).

And lo and behold, as I’m getting extra animated about driving the point home I feel the ring slip off the finger completely and then…quiet.  Followed by Tony laughing at me as what I imagine a look of pure panic crept over my face.

I started to laugh nervously and turned on the light because I figure…well, we’re in a car.  And it’s winter so (thank God) we didn’t have the windows open.  It had to be in the car somewhere.   So I started to feel around.  And then some more. 

After about 5 minutes I started to freak.  A.) I didn’t hear a clink, which means it didn’t bounce off any of the panel.  B.) Car lighting sucks. C.) What if it flew into those little openings for the air conditioning (hey, you don’t know the kind of luck I have)?

I finally made Tony pull over at a gas station under a big light while I got on my hands and knees and started to feel around under my seat, pulling up the floor mats and generally freaking the ‘f’ out, because…ok…haha, funny joke, come out, come out wherever you are!

I started getting horrible visions of the ring ending up with the unreachable quarter pile that now makes it home in the one spot my little fingers can’t reach under my passenger seat.  And while making its home amongst the outlaw quarter pile would really increase the market value of my car, it sure would be appreciated more on my ring finger.

At the exact moment I started to feel like I could possibly hurl, I looked over the edge of my purse and saw my ring balancing precariously on the top of my wallet.  Almost like “Hi Ma, I’ve been here all along.  Can we go home now?”

In its short lifespan as my engagement ring, it has also seen such exciting places as a city sidewalk (don’t ask) and the bottom of a kid’s prize bucket.  I have one of those traveling rings apparently.  Because its ability to pull great disappearing acts ala Houdini couldn’t possibly have anything to do with its owner.  That’s the story I’m sticking with.


Yeah I make up words, so what?

I have today off.  This is the first Saturday I’ve had off since I can remember.  Seriously.  It’s been months.  So I had big plans all week to really capitalize on this extra time.  Anything I thought to do I’d push to Saturday, as in… “oh, I’ll do the laundry on Saturday, I have the day off.”  Or… “Catch up on my DVR because it’s at 91%?  That sounds like a job for Saturday!” 

And here we are.  Saturday.  So far I’ve gotten the laundry moved into the washer, but I hold no false hope that the stuff in the dryer will be folded in a timely fashion. 

I’ve also spent all morning play fighting with Tony.  It’s what we do.  He got thwacked in the noggin’ as a good morning wake up and I got a sugar covered gummy worm in my ear.  By the same kid that used my last Q-tip last week.  The sugar can’t be good for my ear drum. 

I keep waiting for Uncle Jesse and Danny Tanner to come in the room and sit us down with a lecture on how to play nice.

That’s my Saturday for you.  A little bit of laundry, some cuddling with the boy toy and a date night planned for tonight! 

Hopefully my life will take a turn for the interesting within the next couple weeks and I can stop reporting on the state of my DVR and washer machine.

Ok, ok, I’ve been a total slacker on updating my blog lately.  I think it’s because I’ve had so much going on in my life I just can’t find the time.  Between having the week off and lying around on the couch watching the Olympics, I clearly have way too much on my plate.  The stress!  It kills me!

Anyhow, I’m suffering from writer’s block, with such delightful symptoms as: 1.)a tendency to stare dumbfounded at the blinking cursor,  2.)gazing around the room, trying to find inspiration from such things as a large screen tv, my fiancée’s action DVD collection, and the weird lamp in my kitchen that looks like a nipple, and 3.) putting off any blog posting until after the men’s figure skating, ok how about women’s short track races, ok how about men’s skiing, ok…it’s time for bed so I’ll post tomorrow.

So instead of a cohesive post I will leave you with my Thought for the Day.  To make it look more official, I will give it a spiffy looking title.  In bold.  You’re welcome.

Katie’s Thought For The Day

I imagine the people who leave their grocery carts in the middle of the grocery store parking lot are the type of people who I would really dislike upon first meeting.  I know that person.  The one who doesn’t smile at anyone.  Who will become irate over something really trivial and take it out upon some poor employee.  They’re the ones who hate the world.  It’s crazy how much you can tell about the person behind the lonely grocery cart rolling in the wind in the parking lot.  And to that person – we will find you.  We, being the people who have endured costly scratches to our cars.  We will hunt you down and each get a go at ramming a shopping cart into your stupid minivan.  Fair is fair.

Anybody watching the Olympics?  I am, but I’m about 5 or 6 days behind.  I have to DVR it because of my crazy work schedule so I’ve watched up to about Monday so far.  So while I know who wins (it’s almost impossible not to know when MSN.com is your homepage…), it’s still fun to see it in action.

After watching figure skating last night, though, I went on Youtube and thought it’d be fun to search for ice skating “accidents.”  Don’t ask me why I thought it’d be fun.  I guess I thought the search would return results with skaters not landing their tri-drupal axel twisty whatevers, but ooooh no.  I was in for a much more horrifying experience.  To put simply, if you are fainthearted, don’t do a Youtube search for a similar query.

Everybody compares watching terrible things to watching a train wreck – you can’t look away.  I watched some of the clips with my hands in front of my eyes, my fingers slightly spaced so I could see out.  I squawked and announced to Tony that I just could not watch some of these clips.  And then I kept watching.

Oh the horror.  Ice skating looks so pretty, but if you take a major fall…there’s head trauma, spinal cord injuries, blades to the face.  Oh my stars. 

I think I’ll watch tonight in a whole new way.  Peeking through the little spaces between my fingers.  (Or having Tony watch it first, tell me what happens, and then rewinding it so I can be prepared.  This is how we watch scary movies.  Any question as to whether he’s a saint?)

P.S. – Anybody else also worry the skiers and boarders aren’t going to be able to stop at the end of their run?  They’re the top athletes of their sport, training thousands of hours a year, and I still worry that they won’t be able to keep from going through the safety guards at the bottom.  Maybe a visit to Youtube will tell me if this has ever happened before.

My BBFF Allie (the extra ‘b’ stands for blonde and yeah, we’re that cool) are going dress “looking” again on Monday.  I say “looking” because I’m not planning to “shop.”  Which, if I stopped being annoying and using quotation marks, basically means I’m not buying anything yet.  Not until I can have my mushy little moment with my mom getting to see me in the dress.

My mom is flying into town at the end of March for a “Wedding Dress Extravaganza” weekend.  If my assumptions are correct, we’ll pretty much be on wedding dress autopilot for her entire visit.  Which is exciting, but also a little nerve-wracking at the same time.  I worry a little that I won’t find “the one” when she’s here. 

So that’s why Allie and I have been on the prowl to check out little boutiques and get an idea of what dress styles might look good and if the shops are even worth a second visit when Mom’s here. 

So I’ll keep you updated on how Monday goes.  And thanks, Allie, for being such a fantastic little boo/co-maid of honor by running all over Oz County with me and taking lots of headless pictures.  (Do you know this girl asked me what color I wanted her hair to be on my wedding day?  Like…she just handed over to me the rights to her hair color for that day.  If she’s not careful, she’s going to turn me into a full-blown bridezilla.  And then our plan to land on that show might actually work.)

Or HECK out of dodge.  My mom hates when I swear on this blog.  Sorry Ma!

Anyhow – the realtor is definately working her little house-peddling butt this week and we’re due for our second showing tomorrow.

And do you know, after a long day of work, what I come home to?  Tony cooked bacon.  A smell that, from experience, I have learned does not leave my dwelling until at least 3 days time.  If that.  In fact, I think if you were to rummage through my linen closet, you might STILL find trace hints of bacon.  The boy likes bacon, what can I say? 

Have I mentioned that the smell of bacon makes me feel a little ill?  Like, especially in enclosed spaces like little condo units?

So I’m sure our realtor will be in for a nice surprise.  Kind of serves her right for telling us she has a showing between the hours of 12 to 2.  Really?  Who does that?  Make us get out of our place for a 2 hour stretch of time so she can conveniently show it at some point during that stretch?  And on my one day off naturally.  So I need to come up with a quick outside-of-the-house hobby for 2 hours tomorrow.  Now taking suggestions.

Anyhow, I’m ready to get out.  I love, love, love this place, but I’m ready to live in a place where I don’t have to wake up hungover on Sunday mornings and scrub out my bathtub in time for “Sunday Open Houses.”  I know it sounds fun and ya’ll are jealous, but take it from me – you’d rather be sleeping.  You’ll just have to trust me on this one.

So, hence the title.  It’s time to get the heck out of dodge (that’s for you Mom!)

Whooo-wee people.  Spirited debate going on in the comment section of the last post. 

So I reread my last post and hope I didn’t come off all uppity.  Cuz if you know me, I think it’s fair to say I’m not really like that in real life.  Unless I’m judging you on your shoes.  Then you might want to watch out because I can come up with pretty snarky comments (in my head, of course! ) Like when I saw a lady at Target the other day and thought “ooh, I never got the memo that we time traveled back to 1999.”  It’s terrible, I know, but we’re all allowed to be judgmental little bitches every once in awhile.  Especially at certain times of the month.  (Should I have shouted earmuffs before that last sentence for the fellas?  Sorry!)

Anyhow – let me clarify my feelings on Twilight because we have some “Twi-hards” up in the hizzouse tonight!  Ok – it’s not that I didn’t like the books.  I just don’t think I’d read them again.  I’d rather watch the movies and get a little eye candy fix, if ya’ know what I’m sayin’.  Anyhow – as much as everyone loves the book, you HAVE to admit…it’s not tough reading.  Which is what appeals to a lot of people.  And for a good month – I was one of those people, too.  I agree with Aunt Jen – they’re the kinds of books that let you escape into easy reading after a long day at work.

The problem I found with the book was that I kept shooting back to la la fantasyland circa Junior High.  I would sit in study hall and dream up crazy ass daydreams about my crush of the hour being some awesome roller skater or something (ok, everyone was into roller skating in 6th grade, shut up).  And then in my daydream, the roller rink would go dead and we’d be like, totally kissing in the middle of the skating rink and ooooh, sighhhh.  See what I mean?  Twilight brought me back to that awkward place, because in the book, all Bella’s weird fantasies happen and they’re just a little too…saccharine and farfetched.  Like Stephenie Meyer was still trying to live out that roller rink fantasy through Bella or something.

Anyway – I gobbled up all the books and spent my hard earned money on them at Amazon so I hold no judgment against those who did the same.

Although I don’t think any of you took the post this way, I do just want to clarify (because I’m anal and paranoid like that) that when I spit off my favorite and least favorite books and then tell you I love to poke around through people’s bookshelves…it’s not intended to come off like I’m judging anyone on his or her tastes (only his or her shoes, remember?).  

In a world where image is such a focal point, it’s so refreshing to hear people go against the popular opinion.  So, while I didn’t necessarily like Twilight for my own personal reasons (cringe inducing rollerskating rink fantasy flashbacks, for one) I am totally loving that some of you came to its defense in the last post and raised those Team Edward flags high!

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