Should I Be Concerned?

I will admit this: I am very flirty at work. I feel that my place of work is one where the atmosphere should be light and friendly, and make people want to come in regularly. Look forward to coming in regularly, even. And so I have fun with it.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm offering free lapdances or anything. I most certainly charge for those! Usually people get me, I think. The few times that people misconstrued my joking around as an invitation directed specifically at them, I was very quick to set them straight. I am very openly happily married, and have no intentions of starting any type of sexual relationship with anyone, especially at work. But the times that has happened are few and far between.

Anyway, recently the following email exchange occurred with someone in the security department at work. It started with my needing to resend an email requesting some assistance regarding fitness center access for a member. Start at the double dotted line and read up:

______________________________________________
From: Security Guy
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:10 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff

Slow down and think about it.

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:09 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: RE: Stuff

143?

_____________________________________________
From: Security Guy
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:09 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff

143 anyway.

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:08 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: RE: Stuff

Oh whatever

_____________________________________________
From: Security Guy
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:08 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff

HUH What??????

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:08 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: RE: Stuff

…so I don't have to email you twice.

_____________________________________________
From: Security Guy
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:07 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff

HUH????

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:06 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: RE: Stuff

THANK YOU

Next time can you get it done right the first time? ;o)

_____________________________________________
From: Security Guy
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:06 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff


DONE AS REQUESTED………..

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 10:24 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: FW: Stuff



______________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 7:39 AM
To: Security Guy
Subject: Stuff


----------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------
I didn't get what 143 meant, so I forwarded the above emails to a Work Friend, who replied with this:


______________________________________________
From: Work Friend
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:15 AM
To: BMore Mama
Subject: RE: Stuff

Uh it could mean…. I love you?

I=1
Love=4
You=3

Creepy….

_____________________________________________
From: BMore Mama
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2008 11:12 AM
To: Work Friend
Subject: FW: Stuff

Help?

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

I didn't think much of it until later that day, when Work Friend asked how I had replied to it. I told him I didn't respond, and he said Security Guy probably got that Oh, Sh*t feeling. I said that I was pretty sure he was just kidding, given the context of the comment.

Work Friend then offered the following: Then why be cryptic about it? If you were joking around for sure, you aren't cryptic like that. You could say later once it is figured out hey I was just kidding around but maybe if you take it to mean a little more than joking around, well then….the door is open...

I don't claim to understand how guys work. But there's a lot of question in my mind about how this email was intended. I don't know Security Guy well enough for him to be like, It's ok, I love you anyway- which is one way I could have taken that. But on the other hand, I'm not sure I believe that SG was professing his love for me through cryptic emails.

Sometimes Eloping is the Answer

I'm a pretty easygoing gal. I know that there are times when I feel frazzled and pulled in 20 different directions at one time, and in these situations I might snap a bit under the pressure and get a sharp tongue. I have been chastised about my sharp tongue many a time. I ought to get a cap for it, because there have been times when I just say the first thing that comes into my head, and usually that's more for shock value than anything else. And I get myself into trouble.

But that's only on the rare occasion. Or when I've been forced to spend too much time in Blank Stare's presence. Most of the time I'm just downright happy-go-lucky.

That being said...

This Saturday is my brother's wedding. He's my older brother- 32 years old. I am very happy for him and wish he and his future wife nothing but the best. But I am starting to get nervous about this wedding. SB is a flower girl in the wedding. Small part, I understand. But as of last Thursday, all I had received was the generic invitation, instructions on which dress to buy, and rumors that there was talk of a rehearsal dinner the day before the wedding.

They are getting married on a Saturday, which means this "rehearsal dinner," which no one except my insane mother has mentioned, is supposedly on a Friday. There is a 75% chance that my husband is playing on any given Friday, being a musician and all. Since my mother was the only person talking about it, and my brother and his fiancee never mentioned it to me or my husband, I just assumed that 1) it didn't exist and my mother just made it up like she does so many other things that she tries to accuse me of, or 2) we weren't expected to attend this dinner. Either way, I'm happy.

So this past Friday evening, close to 9pm I get an email from future SIL. Here's what it said, word for word:

Pssssst.....Are you guys invited to the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on Friday 10/3? If you could let me know ASAP that would be great, thanks. -A

OK so let me get this straight- One week before this "rehearsal dinner" I am being asked by the bride if I'm invited. WTF???? Out of all the people, shouldn't she be aware of who's invited to this dinner? Isn't that kind of her job? To make sure people know what they're supposed to be doing as part of her bridal party? In her OWN freaking wedding?

And what's up with the whole Pssssst thing? Is it a secret that we're invited? Or that she doesn't know if we're invited? Or that she's asking us if we're invited? And it's via email, so even if it was a secret, who would know that we told her anyway? I don't understand.

My response?

Hi, A. I'm confused. Are you asking us if we're invited? My mom's mentioned it but I haven't heard anything official so honestly, I'm not sure!

So then, and this is why I now think the girl does the crack, she replies:

sorry tired! I missed typed..I am saying you are invited that you should come...we will feed you afterwards plus might be good to give SB a trial run.

OK so this was apparently her invitation to the rehearsal dinner. One week before the event. Keep in mind I still have no idea where it is or what time. At this point, I start getting every email from her twice, for some bizarre reason that she blames on email problems. Personally, I think it's just because she didn't want to admit that she left out such vital information- like where and when.

Now don't get me wrong. I feel for the girl. She is, after all, marrying my brother- the king of procrastination, apathy and argument. She's obviously taking care of everything herself, because when asked to do something, my brother would undoubtedly put it off, just not care enough to do it at all, or argue the point until she gives up and does it herself or forgets about it. I'm still amazed he got as far as to propose and purchase a ring!

But still. She's lucky that TB just happens to have the night off, so we're able to make the 1-hour trip to PA to her dad's place, which is where the wedding is being held. Hopefully once we're there, she'll be able to tell us what time to arrive the next day so SB can get her hair done, because we still haven't been informed of anything other than the time the ceremony begins.

I wonder why they never considered eloping.

Show Me The Hard!!!

Last night The Band played at the Bay Cafe, probably for the last time this summer. The weather was not very conducive to carefree happy hours at an outdoor bar on the water- it was humid and rainy and just downright yucky. So needless to say, the place was pretty dead compared to usual. Especially since they played inside, and when they do that, there's not much room for people to dance.

But I gathered up a group of my friends, including Maggie, Bucky, LPP, Bucky's ex-boyfriend who recently had surgery to fix a broken ankle and was on crutches, and his friend Chris. Our sitter couldn't get there until about 7pm so we really only made it for the last set. The band sounded great though, and there were some people dancing. A kind of reggae conga line ensued when they played "Is This Love," so I could tell the crowd was appreciative, if sparse.

I got offended when LPP claimed that I had more squishy on top of my hard than he did. Get your mind out of the gutter, we were talking about belly fat and hard abs. I made him poke me in the belly to feel my hard and I felt his. Granted, there was less squishy on top of his hard, but he's a boy so it's to be expected. But I still think my hard was as hard as his hard. But he didn't have to point that out! But I do have some hard and I felt compelled to make sure everyone in the immediate vicinity understood that, so I did spend a good deal of time calling out CAN YOU FEEL MY HARD? COME HERE AND FEEL MY HARD and thrusting people's fingers into my belly. I swear I wasn't drunk. Not even a drop of alcohol. This is why my friends who drink enjoy bringing me out with them- I act drunk even when completely sober. Like when I grabbed Kevin's crutches and leaned into them so that they held up my boobs, each crutch cupping its own broken pocket of fat and walked around the bar like that.



The exciting part of the night came after the gig. My friends and I went to a nearby bar to hang out. I was hoping for some dancing but apparently we didn't go to the right place for this because no one was really dancing. But there was one girl who caught our attention.

She was in her 20's, and looked completely out of it. I don't think she was just hammered, I think she had dabbled a little too much in the drugs. I first noticed her leaning against a railing overlooking some stairs, pulling her shirt up to just below her chest and tucking it in so her entire belly showed. She wasn't fat, but she had a lot of squishy, and not so much hard. But even if she was ripped, it was a weird thing to do in a bar. The next time I noticed her, she had unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, showing a glittery purple g-string (to which I commented loudly- OMG I have that exact same g-string...and I'm wearing it now, look!!...and proceeded to start to unbutton and unzip my own pants to compare).

I'm kidding.

The g-string I was wearing was pink and furry, not purple and glittery.

Kidding.

Really, I wasn't even wearing underwear.

Kidding!

Anyway, back to the story. So once her pants are down and her underwear is hanging out, she walked over to the wall next to where I was perched and proceeded to place both hands on the wall, stick her booty out and make her way up and down the wall like a stripper. It was not very pretty, but it was one of those things that you just had to watch. I couldn't look away, and I had a front row seat!

She danced around for a few minutes, then went back to her 2 guy friends she was hanging out with and started making out with one, so I lost interest.

Next time I noticed her, she was undoing her pants again and pulling them down so they were resting on her hips. Both the front and the back of her underwear were on full display. She was getting a lot of attention from just about everyone in the room. Security stepped in at this point, and I believe they dressed her, took her downstairs, deposited her in a cab and sent her on her way.

What I want to know is, who was she there with, and why were they not looking out for her? Where were her girlfriends? Or her friends?

Anyway, the night was awesome. I got home around 2am and had to be at work this morning at 8. Yes I am bored out of my mind, and yes I am hoping to sneak back into the assessment for a siesta and yes I'm hoping that the power goes out today and I can leave very soon because yes I am exhausted.

Six Years!!

Yesterday was my six-year wedding anniversary. Very weird. While driving to pick SB up from preschool, my husband commented that six years ago, at that time, we were running around putting out fires before the wedding. I looked at the clock. It was 11:15 am. Our ceremony started at noon. I replied that I didn't know about him, but I was busy putting my dress on at that time. I wasn't putting out any fires. Then after a moment's pause, I said that at this time tomorrow, six years ago, we'd be on our way to Aruba. I liked that memory better than the thought of putting on my dress.

In February, we will have been together for 10 years. A full decade. That blows my mind. In a lot of ways, it seems like we've been together for much longer. But to think that you've been doing something for 10 years, like driving, voting, working full-time...it's just weird. Weird, I tell you!

I turn 30 next month, and I'm having mixed emotions about that. I don't feel almost 30. I still feel about 26. But having a 3 at the beginning of my age puts me outside of my comfort zone. It's not old, by any means, but it's 30. A whole new decade. I'll be in a whole new age class. It will be to my advantage when I run 5Ks, but not so much at other times.

I know it seems like I'm stressing out about it. I'm really not. I'm just thinking. I had said that by the time I was 30 I wanted a master's degree (check) and I wanted to be finished with having kids (uh, check? Maybe? I don't know!). So does that mean I have to set new goals for by the time I'm 40? Wow, 40. Now that's scary.

Saying NO to Drugs

You can probably file this post in the "Stuff People Don't Care About" bin, but I'm writing it anyway. Let's call it therapy.

I have an addictive personality. I've heard people say that before and, more than anything, it kind of annoyed me because I never really understood what it meant. But now I see I am the poster child for it. It's part of the reason I never got into drugs or drinking. When I was younger, I always said it was because I have this fear of substances controlling my mind. I got a lot of weird looks back then. And it's still a fear of mine. I don't like the idea of being drunk, or under the influence of drugs, even over-the-counter stuff, because I feel that I won't be in my own mind. People tell me that alcohol actually removes inhibitions, therefore making you actually more in your own mind because your walls are down. But those are the alcoholics who tell me that.

But a huge reason I've never dabbled in drugs or even gotten drunk is because I'm worried that if I like it, I won't be able to stop. I have zero self control when it comes to certain things. I constantly harass my friends with text messages, emails, phone calls. I just can't leave them alone. If I discover a food I really like (remember the fried egg post?), like my current infatuation: organic pizza bites, I can't limit it. I have to have it all the time. Fried eggs on toast and organic pizza bites actually aren't that bad. But when I was infatuated with Friendly's Fudge Brownie Cyclone? Ohhhh, that wasn't pretty. We're talking 2-3 of these per week. Ugh! My blood was probably sugar water.

Most of the time I can just cope with my addictions. And yes, there are many. But sometimes it gets to me. I get mad at myself for constantly checking my email or having my phone by my side at all times, heaven forbid I miss a call or a text! I've tried to wean myself off certain friends, but find myself unable to do it. I know this all sounds really weird and needy, but it's not like that. It's not like I need anything from them, I just have this burning need to be in constant contact with someone.

I've said before in a post that sometimes the addiction comes in handy. Like when I was addicted to running. I felt weird if I went a day without doing it. And if I didn't get the chance to run, and I was scheduled to run, I'd do it at 9:30pm if need be. I might not have been sleeping very much, but physically I was in the best shape of my life!

But the problem is that I don't know the meaning of the word "moderation." In my mind, if some is good, then more must be better. Or at least feel better. In the short term.

Anyway, there was really no point to this post but to get those thoughts out of my mind. I'm pretty sure this is just how I'm wired and there's really nothing I can do about it. So my friends will just have to be thankful that we're all in the same cell phone network and we all have free in-network texting and phone calls so at least my obsessions don't cost them any money. And they probably get a good laugh every now and then at the off the wall content I send over. I hope.

Stopping to Peepee Like Koko

A beach-going story I forgot to post.

We left for the beach (which is a few hours away) around 9pm. The idea was for SB to sleep in the car on the way there. I'm not sure why we thought she would do this- she never sleeps in the car. Ever. I, on the other hand, pretty much fall asleep any time I'm in a moving vehicle for more than 15 minutes. This only poses a problem during 2 situations: when I'm driving, and when SB is in the car. Because when she's around, no one can sleep. She talks a mile a minute. No matter how late it is or how long the ride is.

Somewhere around 10:30 or 11pm, she announced that she needed to use the potty. By this time it was very dark (obviously) and we were in the middle of nowhere on Rte 50. We drove for several miles hoping to find a potty, but to no avail. Now for those of you who don't know, when a 3-year old wearing her "big girl pants" says she has to go to the potty, you don't mess around and you don't test her. We're lucky enough to have only had one accident (I'm knocking on wood right now) in the month or so that she's been out of diapers and I didn't want the second to be in the car, on the carseat on which she would have to sit for the second half of the trip to the beach.

So we gave up looking for any type of public place that might be open, and pulled over onto a side street. We have a potty seat cover that we keep in the truck, just in case. TB pulled it out and held it a couple of feet off the ground. I pulled SB's pants down and sat her on the seat, holding her feet away from the hole that her little butt was resting on. She didn't really know what to do at this point. So I told her she was going to peepee on the grass like Koko (the dog).

She seemed ok with this idea, and went for it. In fact, she turned around in the seat so she could watch the stream hit the ground. And for the rest of the trip, she kept talking about how she peepeeed like Koko on the ground.

School Starts...and Vacation Ends

Today was SB's first day of preschool. It was such a bittersweet moment. I'm off work all of this week so both The Man and I were able to drive her to school and pick her up together. The dropoff was amazingly easy. We introduced her to her teacher and sat her down next to another little girl who was playing with dolls and she promptly forgot about us.

On the way home we fantasized about how we were going to spend the morning. Keeping in mind, we only had about 2 hours before we had to leave to go pick SB up. But apparently in those 2 hours I expected to go through all of SB's toys and pack up all the old ones she's outgrown, mow the lawn, go to the mall and Target, write out an entire exercise prescription for someone, run, walk the dog, and do some laundry. Yeah, that's not even wishful thinking, that's downright delusional. But I did get through most of her toys.

When we went to get her, she was bawling. According to her teacher, she just started crying out of nowhere about 15 minutes before we got there. I guess she realized that we weren't there and didn't know what to do with herself. But at least the first two hours were fun for her!

This weekend also marked the end of a very tiresome "vacation" at the beach. Apparently SB did not like sleeping in the hotel because she was up just about every hour of the night, whining. In fact, she probably whined and cried more this weekend than any other full week of her life. It was great.

Besides all the whining and crying, and lack of sleep, the beach trip was actually quite nice. The weather was a bit chilly for sitting on the sand in our bathing suits, but it was perfect for putting our feet in the water so that's what we did. I ran on the beach for the first time in my life- only about 3 miles, probably, but it was a nice, relaxing workout. Except for the 30mph winds, of course.

All in all, it's nice to be back home. And to have some time off before returning to work.

Stupid Is As....I Did

OK so I did something really dumb today. I mean really dumb. I'm almost too embarrassed to admit what I did. Because it's really really really, well, just plain old stupid.

I know you're dying to hear.

Ok. But don't judge me.

Actually, go ahead and judge me. I don't blame you. I'm kind of judging myself right now. Although I am strangely pleased I'm still able to think of "S" titles for my posts on this here 17th day of September!

Ok, no more stalling. Here it is.

I sprayed mace in my fitness center.

Why? Because someone told me to.

In my defense, I didn't spray it at anyone.

Here's what happened:

I was sitting there bored out of my mind. My coworker Chris was sitting next to me eating yogurt. He's actually my director but you'd never know from the way we act. For lack of better things to do, I started rifling through my bag and came across the pepper spray that TB bought me for when I go running by myself outside. (In case you didn't know, we don't live in a very nice neighborhood.) Lately I've been carrying it to work with me since I get to the campus at 5am and there's no one in sight.

Anyway, I decided to show Chris this mace because it's kind of shaped funny. It's not just straight, like an inhaler. It's kind of curved and rounded. And it looks like...you know, a sex toy for women. Which I find amusing, because if someone made that mistake and...you know...started to play, then the end result would not be very pretty, most likely. And that strikes me as funny.

And as soon as I pulled it out, Chris commented about the similarity- before I even said a word. And that is why I love working with Chris. We think alike sometimes.

Anyway for some reason, I guess we were just that bored, he told me to spray it. I told him I never had and he told me to just do it. For some bizarre reason I obeyed and sprayed down towards the floor.

Now the only other time I've sprayed mace, it was a pathetic trickle where you would have to throw the intended victim on the ground, sit on him while straddling his head, pry his eye open and let the pepper liquid drip into his eye in order for it to be somewhat effective.

This time, it was a freakin fire extinguisher with a wild spray that went everywhere, then died down quickly.

Chris and I just sat there.

I asked if it was supposed to smell, because I didn't smell anything. And for some reason, I felt that pepper spray should smell. So I leaned forward into the general area where I had sprayed and took a big whiff. And immediately started coughing and gagging hysterically.

With tears streaming down my face and my throat on fire, I made my way to the opposite end of the gym, where I took cover and attempted to breathe normally.

Slowly, one by one, each person who was in the fitness center at the time started sneezing, coughing, hacking and gagging. Pretty soon, the entire place sounded like a smokers' convention in the middle of allergy season as the stench diffused through the room.

I felt horrible. When people made their way to the desk, towels covering their faces, and asked us desperately what happened, we said that I sprayed my pepper spray accidentally. I apologized a million times. Between coughs.

Sweat+Rotten Fruit+Plastic Bag=Yuck!

Despite being a "fitness professional" who teaches an insane amount of group exercise classes per week, I don't really have any real workout shirts. Usually I just wear yoga pants and T-shirts when I work out or teach class. In fact, my workout/teaching attire comes from the same repertoire of clothes as my comfy lounging at home attire. Except the Looney Tunes boxers with the worn out butt and slit in the crotch usually stay at home.

So when I saw some groovy Nike workout shirts on sale at Kohl's I got pretty excited and treated myself to a nice shiny blue workout shirt. I wore it to teach step in one day and it worked out very nicely. It wicked sweat well. (Try saying that 3 times fast!)

Usually I tend to stay in my sweaty workout clothes until I go home, because in order to conserve laundry detergent, not to mention my dermis and epidermis, I have fallen into the habit of taking showers in the afternoons, after I get home. That way I only have to change clothes one time per day, and I'm only sweaty and stinky at work where no one can smell me over their own sweat stank. So to those of you who I know through work- yes, I actually do shower. I know seeing me walk around all sweaty all the time must spark some curiosity regarding the habits surrounding my personal hygiene, but I promise I get clean at least once per day.

Anyway for some reason, I couldn't find my special workout shirt after the one day I wore it, and I don't lose laundry very often! I mean, maybe a sock here and there, but an entire shirt? Gone for several weeks? Weird.

Today it turned up. In my clean laundry pile. With some suspicious stains on it. I swear I don't sweat brown.



I asked my husband what happened to my awesome shirt. He said he found it in the car. In a plastic bag. Wet. Along with a rotten, semi-decomposed lump of what was probably fruit, most likely a nectarine.

Ew.

So he put it in the washing machine ASAP, like a good little husband, but it still didn't get rid of the stains.

I guess I changed after class and put my wet, sweaty clothes in the plastic bag to bring home, along with a nectarine that I hadn't eaten that day. Then put it in the car and forgot about it by the time I got home and left it there. For a few weeks. In the summer.

Gross.

It will probably be a very long time before I buy another awesome workout shirt. Until then I will have to continue to impress the people who take my class with my tie-dye T-shirts that became that way because of the chemicals I use in my face soap.

Really, 30 years old?

Stressful Weekend Recap

So what turned out to be one of my busiest weekends all year is finally over. It's Tuesday, I know, but it took me most of yesterday to recover.

Working here on Saturday morning was completely lame, we had 3 people all day and the last person stayed here until the last possible second which always pisses me off. I spent most of the day expecting to leave early so it was that much more irritating for me this time around.

The Dragonboat team kind of won. Apparently in the last race there was an issue with paddles touching so a penalty was awarded, but it wasn't, but they decided to be co-winners because it was the politically correct thing to do. I went with my friend Bucky (see wedding bag photo below) and she spent the entire time complaining about how hot it was and how much she was sweating. Then she spent the entire ride home telling me that she's going to vom. Where do I find these people? I was a little disappointed to find out that our team (I say our like I'm actually on the team....or like I actually work for the company the members of the team work for...) didn't win the chant competition.

Honestly, the judges must have been on crack. How could this not win??


And they even stretched beforehand! The girl laughing on the left, who you may or may not know, is basically a physical representation of my reaction to the entire notion of pre-chant stretching.



The next day was SB's party. Here are some highlights:

-The moon bounce was a complete success. I now know how to ensure we look like we have tons of friends at the rest of our parties. I also now know that my friends are amazingly flexible:




And some, not so much.......



-Single Friend from old job made an appearance and sparked much debate among current friends of her pregnancy status. She just recently moved in with her boyfriend of 2 years, and has not said a word about being pregnant or trying to get pregnant or anything like that. You be the judge.


-I learned that when wearing party hats, little ones should never sit in your lap. At least not unless you need a discreet way to pick bats out of the cave. Or a not-so-discreet way.


-My Russian Mafia next door neighbor dropped off a bunch of presents for SB, including this creepy doll that SB promptly named "Angoon" and calls her sister. Angoon stands almost as tall as SB and walks on her own without batteries. She creeps me out.

Stressed...and Stalling (again)

September is turning out to be one stressful month, this weekend in particular. Actually, mostly today. I'm at work right now (putting off my workout which I am sooooo not motivated to begin since I ate way too much yesterday and feel like a fat blob right now) until 1pm. Then I have to rush home so the family can leave in time to make a birthday party at 1:45. Then after the party I have to rush downtown to support my friends on the Dragonboat team since today's their big race. Hopefully the race won't be over by the time I get down there. Then after that I get to rush home since TB has a private gig tonight that he has to leave around 5ish for and someone has to be there to watch SB. Then sometime during all this I have to start preparations for SB's birthday party tomorrow. Also, today's my father's birthday (70!!!!!) which means I have to call him, which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't always remind me of the pathetic relationship we have.

So far for her party I have everything except the main meal and other small things that require refrigeration. And the cake, but that's already been ordered. I think we're going to do a deli platter, I just have to go out tomorrow morning and get all the fixins for it. I hate doing stuff last minute like that but I guess with a normal sized refrigerator and our eating habits, it can't be helped.

I had fun yesterday buying a gaggle of party favors. Spongebob Squarepants party hats, Scooby Doo noisemakers, Elmo bouncing balls, paper princess tiaras, and all sorts of goodies. It's not quite a kids' party since there will probably be more adults there than kids, but I did want to give the kids something to play with and take home. Plus there's a moon bounce. I think that's why about half the people are even coming.

This Thursday we leave for the beach, which means Wednesday will be crazy busy for me and SB, especially since that's her ballet/tap lesson night. She just started last week, and yes, it is by far the funniest thing I have seen in my entire life. There will be many posts about this, complete with many pictures and videos. So stay tuned for that.

I need to schedule SB's 3-year old doctor visit, as well as my own 30-year old doctor visit, before we leave, and make sure Koko the dog has reservations at the vet for while we're away.

Then once we get back the craziness begins again with planning for my brother's wedding, which is 10/4 (yes they did that on purpose, the whole 10-4 thing, they are both big fat nerds). SB is a flower girl in his wedding, and - what? I didn't show you the photo? OMG! Well here it is:

Yeah, I actually produced that!

And some time between our return from the beach and my brother's wedding SB starts preschool. Crazy! We're pretty much there with the potty training thing, which is awesome. She's only really had one accident, and it was very obvious from the look on her face that she really thought she had diapers on. So she understands the concept. Now if she could only stop waking up in the middle of the night asking us to use the potty.....But anyway the only thing we need to work on is her sharing. Her favorite phrase now (besides Dancing Potato- where on earth did she get that??) is NO, it's MY turn, even when it's not.

Anyway, after my brother's wedding I get about 2 weeks of calm before we have to start planning for TB to take a trip to TN with a band he was hired to play with, then come home and leave almost immediately for a trip to NO with me. And The Band. Which is how I will spend my 30th birthday.

Then we get a few weeks before the Thanksgiving/Christmas craziness starts. Whew!

Suuuuuper Bmore Mama!!!!

I finally figured out why my office (at home) always looks like a tornado struck while my desk at work is usually immaculate. I get distracted very easily when in the comforts of my own home, equipped with computer, scanner and memorabilia from my youth.

Like just now I was cleaning out the disaster zone I call a closet when I came across something I made back in high school. Instead of reminiscing for a moment then putting it in its rightful place what do I do? Scan it then blog about it, what else?


OK, let me explain.

I spent just about my entire teenage existence being completely infatuated with an a cappella group called Rockapella. We're talking psycho fanatic. I had a geocities page (remember geocities? Does that still exist?) dedicated to them. I watched Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego, a kids' geographic game show on which they were the "house band" every single day and even taped it. I cried the first time I missed it. Oh- and I was in middle or high school at the time. I was a member of their fan club and knew everything about them.

Oddly enough, all the original members (original meaning the ones who were actively in the group when I first discovered them) were left-handed. So I spent hours every day practicing writing with my left hand. I read that one member enjoyed mushrooms and onions on his pizza so I would always order the same, even though I have always hated mushrooms. Scott Leonard, my favorite (and the driver in the scenario above) wore his watch on his right arm, with the face on the palm side of his wrist. So I, of course, started doing the same.

Sean Altman, one of the members, used to have a very distinct hairdo:

He had his dark curly natural hair on top, then the bottom half was bleached blond and braided.

Oh yes. I did that to myself. Not to my entire head, but I drove myself to a hair salon and told the woman that I wanted one section of my hair bleached then braided. She looked at me like I was sprouting a second head as I spoke. There was much debate about how much she should charge for that. And she did convince me to choose a section at the bottom where it would go mostly unnoticed.

I'm telling you, I was OBSESSED. I didn't want to be like them, I wanted to BE them. The craziness just goes on and on. I could literally go on for hours recounting all the wacky stuff I did just to either be like them find out more about them. Very pathetic. If I had dedicated even a tenth of the time I spent focused on them to pursuing some kind of hobby or sport I'd be a millionaire by now due to my unparalleled skill.

But no, all I have to show for my decade of infatuation is this photo. In case you couldn't figure it out, that's me in the muscles and spandex. And Rockapella in the car. And of all the predicaments to put them in, I chose a sinking car? I won't even venture into the land of wondering what psychological explanation there is for the fact that the group was totaly helpless and at my mercy. I think I'm going to frame it. Man, I was ripped!

Someone Get This Girl a Drink! Or an Iron!

They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company he or she keeps. I certainly hope that's not the case. This is one of my best friends.


She was hammered at a wedding recently and found her way up to the bridal suite during the reception, climbed into the dress bag and put the bride's veil on her head.

The funniest part is that I wasn't at this wedding. So she was proud enough to go out of her way to show me this picture. Which I quickly set as the background on my computer at work. In tile format:

She probably won't appreciate that I put this on the Internet since she got pretty pissed off at me when she sent me a photo of a zit on her face and it somehow made its way to my flickr site. But she should know me well enough to expect it by now. She would do the same for me.

Suck It and Lick It

My conversation with SB this morning:

SB (whining): I want a candy cane.

Me (being an awesome parent): No, it's not time for a candy cane.

SB (still whining): Pleeeeeeeeease can I have a candy cane, Mommy?

Me (sick of hearing her beg for one since she saw them last night): OK, here.

I unwrap the end of one and give it to SB to hold where it's still wrapped.

SB: CRUNCH

Me: No, SB, you don't bite it. You suck it and lick it. Like a lollipop.

SB (looking at me): CRUNCH CRUNCH

Me (thinking about 15 more years of dental visits): NO! Don't bite it! Suck! Lick! Don't bite!

SB (walking away): CRUNCH CRUNCH

Me (calling after her): Keep sucking, SB. Don't bite it so hard.

Suddenly I feel very dirty.

Spells Out "Divorce"

My Office.

Uh-oh....

Soooo Not the Cleavers

I come from a dysfunctional family. I was completely ignorant to this until I was pretty much an adult. I never knew it wasn't normal that my father lived with us on and off pretty much throughout my entire childhood. When I asked why Daddy lived in Illinois while we lived in Maryland, the answer was always "so he can be closer to his work." I had no clue that my parents were even divorced until my father announced that he was marrying the woman who is now my stepmother. This was when I was about 14 or 15, and apparently by that time they had been divorced for years. It was just that no one felt the need to tell me. I thought it was just normal big brother behavior to bully your little sister to the point that she has to go to the hospital to rule out broken bones because she was pushed into the wall, or be treated for hyperventilation because she was punched in the stomach. Don't all mothers fall asleep on the living room couch at 6pm due to the side effects of migraine medication, leaving their elementary school-aged children to entertain themselves for the evening? And don't all fathers have children at age 58 with their third wives? And don't all boys grow up to spend much of their 20's avoiding their fathers' phone calls and emails because they are angry but don't know how to verbalize or repair their feelings of abandonment? They don't? Really.....?

Now that we're all adults (except my little half-brother Charlie, who is now 12) we've settled into a type of what we consider normalcy. We are not a close family but there is an underlying unspoken love. No, it's more like respect. Or maybe it's just lack of judgment? Ok it's more like toleration of each other. My older brother and I live less than 10 minutes away from each other but don't really talk to or see each other except on holidays or birthdays. My mom makes the rounds and comes to visit and invites us over to visit, and undoubtedly cares for her children, but we're all pretty ignorant to each other's personal lives save for my mother's medical concerns. (She has multiple myeloma, a rare form of cancer that eats away at her bones, and was misdiagnosed for about 2 years, so despite its slow-moving tendencies, it was pretty advanced by the time it was discovered. She's been undergoing treatment for about 3 years now and we are all very concerned about her.) So on the outside we appear to be a pretty normal family but we all know better. We're just not all that close, and we don't really know how to communicate with each other. And some of us (me) don't really want to.

We all deal with things in different ways. My mother is a very private person. Hence the whole Let's Not Tell Our Daughter About The Divorce thing. When she was 4 or 5, she and her sister were sent away to a private boarding school in England that was run by nuns. So in her defense, she doesn't know what a normal childhood is, especially an American one. We never had heart to hearts. I was never told about the birds and the bees. I was never warned to stay off drugs or to use birth control or not have unprotected sex. In fact I'm pretty sure my mother has never said the word sex in my presence. When my grandmother (with whom I shared an incredible bond) died, my mother sent me to school that morning. I was alone with my grandmother when she passed and was a complete wreck but my mother sent me to school as if nothing had happened, with no explanation as to why she would do that to me. We simply didn't talk about things in our family.

So now I just don't really like to share personal information with my family. It makes me uncomfortable. I put off telling either parent that I was pregnant until it was practically and obviously awkward. TB and I got engaged days before I flew to Florida to spend a weekend with my father and his family on their boat but I left the ring at home and didn't tell them until later. That's just how I work now.

So when I got an email from my father inviting my brother, his fiancee, and my family down to their house 4 hours away in Southern Virginia because his two brothers happen to both be coming there at the same time, I was uncomfortable, to say the least. My dad settled down in So. VA when my stepbrother was in college. I'm pretty sure they chose that area because of its relative proximity to my stepbrother's college. It's interesting that he now lives somewhere in Baltimore. So all their adult children live in Baltimore and they are isolated 4 hours away with no family nearby. I'm not sure how that's working out for them. They pressure us to come visit all the time, but it's just not practical to make that trip with a baby or a toddler, so we've only been once or twice in the 5 or 6 years they've lived there. So that alone is enough to make me uncomfortable about responding to the email.

But it also happens to be the same day that we're holding SB's birthday party. And I didn't invite my dad. And my brother and his fiancee were planning on coming to our party.

I know that after all I just explained about my family's estranged relationships it might still seem weird that I didn't invite SB's own grandfather to her party. But it was just too much for me to handle. We would have to coordinate my mother coming early and my father coming later, because my mother is not comfortable around my father and his new family. Understandably so since my older brother and I kind of suspect my dad cheated on my mom with the stepmom. And my half-brother has some kind of issue, which we're not sure about since no one really talks and I don't really care enough to ask. So let's just say that even though he's 12, he needs to be watched pretty closely while he's at our place. So it would have been a headache. And totally not worth the trip for them. They came last year and I felt bad because I was busy being a host so I couldn't really talk to them and they didn't know anyone so it was weird.

But despite my seemingly apathetic attitude toward my father and his family, I still feel bad. So now I have to figure out how to tell them that my brother and I can't visit them because we're having his only granddaughter's 3rd birthday party, which he wasn't invited to. So how have I been dealing with this inevitable confrontation? By completely avoiding it. The email's still sitting in my inbox. I'll probably just put it off until my father calls or sends another email then stutter around about how it's a last-minute party and I have to work the next day and TB has to work the night before so we couldn't make it down to VA anyway, blah blah blah.

I know. I never said I was proud of any of this.

Seriously?

OK Why am I here? There's a freakin monsoon outside (OK, a tropical storm) named Hanna and a nice warm EMPTY bed at my house. It's 12:17 and I was given the go-ahead to close early today, but my gym is packed with people socializing. There is one lady on a treadmill and one guy moaning as he lifts weights that are obviously too heavy for him since his form is pathetic and he is using more momentum than strength. Then there is a little clique of two girls and a guy sitting around the chest fly machine talking about playing Rock Star on the Wii or whatever other newfangled gaming device that I will never own.

Why are they doing that here? Can't they go down the road to Don Pablo's to have this conversation over chips with queso blanco and margaritas? Wouldn't that be more fun anyway? Sometimes I honestly think that people believe that they will be fitter and healthier just by going to the gym. Not necessarily by working out. But simply by showing up. I'm burning more calories typing this rant than they are right now. I really want to kick them out, but noooooooo I'm the nice girl who stayed open during gusty winds and heavy rain. Dumbass.

One of the girls even made the comment that she hasn't been here since February. What the HELL possessed her to choose today, of all days to jump start her fitness regime? Would it really affect her that much to wait until Monday? And she came in here and said to me, "I was really hoping you would be closed." That makes two of us lady, and we would be if you hadn't showed up!

And none of the people here are regular Saturday people.

Bah, I'm in a terrible mood right now. I have a headache and I'm exhausted from my workout this morning, which involved attempting a full-body lifting workout since I slacked on Friday and didn't do jack. Yet I still have to run later today and I'm not sure exactly when I will have the time to do that since I can't run outside since I'd probably get blown away, and I can't run on the treadmill while SB naps. And TB has a private gig downtown tonight that he has to leave butt-early for, but not before going to the dealership to pick up and pay $700 for the truck that died last night---

HOLY CRAP SOMEONE IMPORTANT HATES ME, A COMPLETELY NEW PERSON JUST CAME IN TO WORK OUT AND IT'S 12:30 WHY OH WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME? I COULD HAVE CLOSED AT 10. I SHOULD HAVE CLOSED AT 10. I OFFICIALLY HATE WORKING SATURDAYS NOW. NEXT TIME I'M KICKING EVERYONE OUT AS SOON AS I GET THE OK TO CLOSE.

Ugh. Why don't people have consideration for others? I know we're supposed to be open until 1pm but I would feel really bad coming in to a fitness center at 12:30, being the ONLY PERSON working out (yes, everyone else just left) and knowing that the staff person is only staying for me. Even if they weren't only staying for me I would never go into a fitness center to begin my workout a half hour before they close.

Coincidentally, this is the same guy that I posted a pic of a few weeks ago just standing behind the bike and watching tv. Not even working out. And he is doing that right now. He just walked out of the locker room, did 2 pull-ups and is now standing in the middle of the gym with his arms crossed watching tennis. TENNIS! I should turn the channel to the local news station that is talking all about how everything is closing because of the weather so he realizes that I should get home before my car is engulfed in torrential downpour or blown away or something and I'm stranded here for life.

I would be totally pissed if that happened.

SB's Special Sauce

Last night The Band played at the Can Company in Baltimore. This is an outdoor gig where a strip of restaurants have outdoor seating that may or may not exist on other nights and bands set up to entertain the guests as they eat. In the past, SB and I usually dined at one of these restaurants to guarantee ourselves a table. But this year, since SB has been interested in running around and dancing, I got Subway beforehand to save a few bucks and not be chained to the table.

Bad idea. For some reason, this time the band set up closer to the seating area. So unlike in the past, when we could have sat on the curb of the closed-off road between the band and the restaurants, there was nowhere for us to sit if we weren't patrons of the restaurants. Oops.

We ate our sandwiches next to the band as they set up, then I parked myself in front of Ray Lewis' Rib Shack and let SB go to town with a few other girls her age, dancing and running and screaming like little girls tend to do.

The first part of the evening was great. SB got a butterfly painted on her face, the weather was humid but not horrible, and I had a front row seat to all the action. The drama started once the gig ended.

I brought SB to Coldstone Creamery, which was just around the corner, to use the potty and get some ice cream before the ride home. She said she had to go, and she got annoyed when someone beat her to the 1-person restroom, but ended up producing nothing. (Bear with me, there's a reason I'm telling you this) We sat on the bench in front of the store to wait for my husband, who was supposed to meet us there with the truck.

After about 10 minutes of waiting, he shows up looking very pissed off, and informs me that the truck is broken down and AAA is on their way. They had tried to jump start the truck, but the battery wasn't holding the charge. SB and I were to ride home with the Sax Player while TB waits for the tow truck.

So we dump SB (already in her car seat) and myself into the Sax Player's Jetta and start home in the rain. Halfway into the ride, SB informs me that she needs to use her potty. Uh-oh. I ask if she can hold it until we get home and she saying yes. But she keeps telling me she has to use the potty. Then she tells me she has to poop. If we were in our own car I wouldn't have freaked out but we were in someone else's car. The last thing I needed was to thank the guy for going out of his way to drive us home by having my child urinate or defecate in his car.

I spent most of the ride trying to distract her with photos on my cell phone, but about 10 minutes away from home she started writhing around in pain and crying, saying that her tummy hurts and begging for apple juice.

Of course, TB had her cup of apple juice. And he was still in the city, waiting for the tow truck.

I have to give her credit: she didn't have any accidents. Until we got home.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway I rushed her into the house, telling Sax Player that I would help unload TB's equipment as soon as I got SB off the potty. I sat her down on the potty and gave her some apple juice (that Sax Player actually found in the car- turns out we had it the whole time, I just didn't know). She gulped it down like she had been in the Sahara for the past 2 weeks.

Then promptly threw up. All over herself, the bathroom and me.

I'm pretty sensitive to certain smells, and the rancid smell of puke is one that I can't take very well. So I try to clean her up, gagging the entire time myself. I get her mostly clean - keep in mind she's still sitting on the potty, producing nothing - and run out of the room to get another washcloth. As I head back into the bathroom, I hear her vomit again.

This time it was much more. I did my best to clean her up and ended up stripping her and putting her in the tub; something neither of us really wanted to do. By this time it was about 10pm, about an hour after her usual bedtime. I cleaned her off as quickly as possible, put her jammies on and put her to bed.

Meanwhile, Sax Player had completely unloaded the car, said an awkward goodbye to me while I tried to rub vomit off my arms. I felt bad not offering him any gas money for his troubles, but I didn't have any cash and I was covered in puke.

Luckily the tow truck driver was nice enough to drop TB off at home so we didn't need to stress out about that.

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I have noticed that all of my posts so far in September begin with the letter "S" so I am keeping the trend going. Let's see if I'm creative enough to keep it up for the rest of the month.

Single Momhood

Since my husband and I pretty much work opposite hours, and are no more than mere Strangers In The Night (exchanging glances...Strangers In The Night...what were the chances?...), I often consider myself pretty much a single mom during the week. It's a very lonely existence and I have to be careful to bide my time and not depend on friends too much so they don't get sick of me and SB pretty much imposing on their personal lives. So I need to maintain a certain sense of humor and find amusement in the little things in life.

Like this:

Such studious children. That's totally how my kids will be. Once they can read. And once the little one is real. If there is going to be another little one.

Today I was at Target buying $47.85 worth of potty training essentials -extra fitted sheets for the mattress, extra "big girl pants" (it's been 2 days in the big girl pants and so far not one accident! Am I awesome or what? Yes, it's totally me, not her)- and socks for SB and nothing for me when I realized all I had eaten all day was a south beach bar at 4am, eggs and potatoes at 8am and a yogurt and nectarine at noonish. The approximate time of this realization was 7:30pm, and my next stop was......Giant. All of a sudden I was famished. Yes, that was the order: Huh...no food in a while...then hunger. Not the other way around. Not to mention that Giant is the absolute worst place for me to be when I'm starving. Or even remotely hungry. Or bored.

But I had the shopping list from TB on my phone so I had to go. It wasn't too bad, this was the only real damage:

I'm not sure what exactly was so appealing to me about 2 sugar cookies sandwiched around cake frosting then rolled around in sprinkles. (And I'm really not sure why my hand looks like a freakin baseball mitt) It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now that the moment is over, I might be regretting inhaling it after dinner. I blame my parents for this horrible sweet tooth. If there's a cheating gene, there has to be a sweets-craving gene.

And now it's time for SB's bath, despite her claims that "It's never time for bath time!"

Secret Indulgences

I consider myself a fairly intelligent person. I did well in school, earned a graduate degree by going to school full-time while working full-time yet maintaining a 3.8 gpa, was raised by a strict mother. I'm pretty well-read and although I hate politics, I have a decent amount of common sense. I know grammar good and spell allrite.

I don't really dig a lot of the popular bubble gum shows out there like The Hills, Gossip Girl, the Real World (is that still on?) and all those reality shows, for the most part. For some reason I've started receiving Us Weekly in the mail every week (which terrifies my husband because he keeps thinking we're going to get charged for it) but I didn't order it so I'm not paying. I think it said somewhere on it that it was a gift for filling out some questionnaire online. I don't really read about the drama going on with the celebrities, but just kind of look at the pretty pictures and throw it out.

It's not that I feel like I'm above that stuff. And I'm certainly not judging the people that are into it. I have some friends whose entire lives are based around celebrity gossip and tv shows. I just have better things to do with my time, especially since SB's been around.

In fact, I don't even watch a lot of tv, if you don't count SB's kiddie shows, because I generally don't really pay attention to them. Dora kind of creeps me out, Diego is whiny, Word World bores me to death, and Sponge Bob Squarepants...well that's actually a pretty cool show.

But I have my secret indulgences in the pop culture world. For example, I am completely obsessed with America's Next Top Model. I tivo it every week and even though it's recorded, I won't answer my phone while I'm watching it. Or go to the bathroom. I don't know why I still watch it, because every single "cycle", as they call it, my pick comes in second place. It's frustrating! I also watch America's Best Dance Crew as if my life depended on it. I actually knew someone (brother of a friend) who was in the first season but I didn't start watching it until the second season. I think I might have cried a little at the finale. Not because I was upset with who won, although I was rooting for Fanny Pak until they got booted off, but because I thought the dancing was that beautiful. Yeah, it's that bad.

I also have a secret obsession with Britney Spears. Not the recently rehabbed and making a comeback Britney. I mean old HOT Britney. This is pretty embarrassing to admit, but when I was running a LOT on the treadmill I would watch her videos for the entire run (which lasted anywhere from 30-80 minutes). Originally it was a special of her greatest hits taped from television. But I soon got bored with that and tired of having to fast forward through stupid commercials so I actually bought some DVDs. Yeah, I'm the proud owner of 3 Britney Spears DVDs. Two concerts and one Greatest Hits. So I pretty much know all the words to all of her songs up until My Prerogative.

As the wife of a musician, and someone with a fairly respectable history with music (I played the piano since I was 3, played the guitar and drums in high school, and seriously considered being a music major in college before choosing the ever-so-handy Mass Communications degree instead), I must clarify that I see Britney as an entertainer, not a musician. Although not to the standards set by my favorite artists (Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington), Brit's songs are entertaining, the dancing is impressive and the body was fantastic. Good motivation for someone who's running, especially when she has 75 lbs of baby weight to lose!

Stalling...

It's 5:10am and I'm stalling. I'm having a little trouble mustering up the motivation to work out today. I had a looong weekend (4 days!) and didn't work out for 3 of them.

Friday night I went out with some friends and partied like I wasn't about to turn 30 next month. Which, for me, means I had 2 drinks. Which probably didn't even have any alcohol in them. I bellied up to the bar and just asked the bartender for "something fruity enough that I can't taste the alcohol." I am sooooo wild, I know. I did get to dance, which was fun. No krumping though. Have I blogged about krumping? I have a how-to video but I'm still trying to master the stomp, which is apparently the bread and butter of krump. SB has completely mastered the stomp and uses it quite frequently. I'm a little jealous.

I ran on Friday so that I would feel skinny on my downtown adventure, and that was the last workout of the entire weekend. So yesterday when I tried to run in the morning, then teach a core strength class, then teach step, I was dying. I wasn't feeling too great over most of the weekend anyway. I think going off the pill made my hormones go wild because I felt very crampy in my back, hips and even down my left thigh. It actually hurt just to walk. So during step class I still wasn't feeling too on top of my game and ended up taking a riser out of each side about 35 minutes into the class. I know, what's the point- there were only 10 minutes left! But I was dying. I've never done that before and I got some concerned looks from the regulars, which made me feel loved. Weird, though, how 3 days of hardly lifting a finger has an effect on a person's energy level!

OK I know this wasn't too thrilling or exciting but I should get to lifting now. Maybe I'll think of something more interesting to post later in the day.