Monday Morning Meanderings

Sitting around, waiting for the cable man. I have the 10-12 window and they are supposed to call first. No call. And you know who else hasn't called this morning. The temp agency. Boo.

The cable man (or woman, sorry to be so presumptuous and sexist!) is coming to look at our internet connection. It often goes kaput. The modem starts doing a blinking thing and I'm cut off from the outside world until it decides to stop and work properly. Incidentally, this is usually around sun down. And it usually goes out around 3:30 in the afternoon. As a result the cable dude on the phone thinks it's related to the sun. Like the rays are kryptonite and our wires are Superman. Once the sun goes down, all previous super powers are restored. I'm not sure if they're going to be able to tell squat since it overcast and rainy right now.

Though I'm bummed the agency hasn't called, I must tell you, I have a job interview on Wednesday! I won't go into detail, since it is NEVER a good idea to blog about the workplace, but I will say I am very qualified for this position. I can't help but think this would be a slam dunk if I wasn't pregnant. Now, will that matter? Probably. Alot? Who's to know. I'm now 4.5 months, that means baby is coming in 4.5 months. Do they want to hire someone who will be going on a "leave" in 4 months? Probably not. But it's worth a shot. I've been trying to come up with the perfect verbage for the interview. My dad suggested waving all benefits and that they view the pre-birth time as a "trial period"...which sounds good to me, just not sure how to put that idea out there. I just want to work. And if it's something I think will be interesting and I'm good at, perfect! But I'm having a hard time being optimistic.

But in the meatime, I sit. I sit with Tubbs while he bites on his butt. There is a mosquito situation in the backyard (it's not really a yard, more of a patio) and he's all itchy. J put his medicine on him yesterday, but I think the damage is done. Hopefully it's keeping him from getting MORE bites, but the ones that are there are driving him crazy. And I hate that "chewing on my flesh" noise...it's gets all wet sounding and his tags add a tamborine-like jangle accompaniment and then I yell. Oh, if I itch, I'm allowed to scratch, but not YOU. YOU must suffer with the itchyness. See, I'll be a good mom, I have the "do as I say, not as I do" thing down like a champ.

Tubbs has started his Old Man medicine. Joint relief supplements! Watching him sllooooooowwly go up the stairs and strain was making me sad. So I'm hoping these pills will put a little bounce in his step!. And we got him an orthropedic bed! Which cost $60 and he doesn't like. He still lies on the hard, but already there and free floor. We're hoping he'll warm up to it once it doesn't smell like pet store anymore.

I guess that is all. Oh, I made banana bread! My first ever and I must say it is very yummy. And I'm thinking of driving out to that yarn store, though I don't want to. It's in Essex Junction and that old lady who hit me was from Essex Junction. Maybe I'll just go to Michael's and see what they got. I need some Maroon and Orange. I'm making another white sweater with the left over yarn from the other, but don't have quite enough, so I'm going to supplement with Hokie - ness!

Have a great week everyone!

If I admit I'm idiot will you stroke my ego?

Well it seems that I'm pretty much a moron for not knowing that the purchase at the GAP would be put on that card. But in my defense, I have never gotten a store card before. Thinking back, I did realize it was a credit card, I just thought I would have a choice of when to use it. Live and learn.

I am wearing stretchy maternity pants and I LOVE them.

And I'm afraid I posted two posts so quick that no one saw the sweater I knitted. I need some positive reinforcement to keep me going. Go down there. Look. Say something nice. I'm unmotivated.

Well that was a short trip...

The pixels are barely dry on my previous post and here I come with another whiney complaint. Though I'm not sure this one can really be considered whiney (does whiney have an 'e' in it?)...it's legitimate. Hm, I don't think that's how you spell that word either, perhaps I should have gone slang and said "legit." But I would like to say that though previous post evidence is to the contrary, I can spell unemployment...see...I'll do it again. UNEMPLOYMENT. There, now give me a job.

But I digress...on to the bitching.

I haven't been to the PO Box in a week. I've been procrastinating, but this morning, I decided I'd better go. As I was preparing to leave, I remembered that I have a GAP gift card that my MIL gave me for my birthday. So even though I've been avoiding it, I figured it's finally time to do it...buy THE PANTS. You know, the stretchy kind? With the panel? Because my jeans, though they still fit in the thighs and butt (sorta) are beginning to cinch into my expanding mid-section. I am uncomfortable. And the downtown mall has a Baby Gap, with Maternity Gap in the back. Oh, World of shirts that don't rise over my belly button, here I come!

And there I went.

It went pretty well. A little too well, if you know what I mean.

I don't know if it's the little baby belt/fanny pack pillow thing they have in the dressing room to help you see what you'll look like in 3 months, or the fact that I wear a size 10 in maternity pants, though in regular pants I wear a 12 (that is probably it). But when it's all said and done I have a pair of jeans, 3 pairs of cacky-type pants (for that job I don't have), 2 shirts and 2 tanktops.

I realize that the gift card is not going to cover all this expense, but THEN I remember the AAA Visa gift card I got for xmas! That's $200!! So, I can buy all this crap (that I'll only wear for 4 months) without actually spending ANY money. Brilliant.

So I head to the register. I explain my bizarre methods of payment to the nice girl behind the counter. In total, I have $300...$100 from the Gap gift card and $200 from the Visa (God, now that I'm typing this, I am such a moron). She rings it up - $323. Crap. But the nice girl has a solution!

"If you sign up for a GAP card, you get $15% off."

Perfect! So I sign up for the card. She gets her supervisor to come over to perform the complicated procedure of inducting me into the world of GAP card ownership. Then, she puts a receipt infront of me, showing me where to sign. I sign. Then I hand her my gift cards.

"No, we charged it to your GAP card"

"It's a credit card?"

"Yes, you'll get a bill in a month"

WTF? Did I not just explain to you that I have no job, and I have these great gift cards so I can spend all this money I don't have, without ACTUALLY having to spend any money at all!!!

"Can I use my GAP gift card to pay my GAP credit card?"

"No"

Now, we proceed to try some complicated returns and credit things, but the computer is not being cooperative and after looking over my shoulder at the other pregnant, and somewhat cranky women behind me in line, I say fuck it. I'll pay the stupid bill.

So in the end, I should have just paid the extra $23. Instead, I owe the GAP $278. And I don't have a job.

But I still have my cards, which are worth $300. So, in the end, I'm up $22? Yes? Whatever.

On an up note, walking back home I saw a help wanted sign in a store front window. Where? ANN TAYLOR. I'm trying to convince myself that since I'm pregnant, I would not spend my paycheck on awesome clothes I wouldn't normally be able to afford. I would be immune to the seduction of the employee discount. And being a new mommy, an Ann Taylor wardrobe make no sense anyway, right? Or am I just kidding myself.

It would be like J working at a snowboard company...oh yeah, nevermind.

A venture into positivity

Ok, unemployement and yogurt disappointments aside, things are pretty good around here. The 'not working' has let me relax quite a bit and get some things done that otherwise might have caused me stress, or at least pushed life deeper into the hectic realm. Other than the small issue of "not bringing in any money" I must say I have felt no stress at all. Well, besides the "pushing a person out of my girly area" in 4 months thing. But not to dwell on the physical trauma, it will bring joy and cuteness and perhaps more of these:



My first baby sweater! Or my first item of clothing other than a hat or scarf for that matter. Do you like the little bear? His name is Rufus the Mangnificent. How about his manly grey chest patch...that is my amateur attempt to cover the seam. Without it, it looked like Rufus had just had open heart surgery.

So, you may be thinking, that is one nice looking sweater. Ok! I'll sell you that sweater for...$200!

That is approximately how much I would have to sell it for if I wanted to make minimum wage in the effort. Unlike my knitting whiz sister-in-lawAmy, (go look, super cute!)I am not quick, nor very advanced. And my work has a few, um, unique traits. I figure that sweater took me at least 15 hours...probably more. Especially at the beginning. That criss cross pattern is a first for me and created some difficulty. Also, that yarn was pricey...it was an indulgence on the way out of town, my last visit to Webs. Oh Webs, I miss you, *sigh*.

Speaking of yarn. There is not a yarn store in Burlington. At least not that I can find. I'm sure there is a crafty type Micheals or something out in the burbs in Williston, but you would expect a cute little yarn shop amongst all the boutiques and specialty stores downtown, but no. There is one in Essex, but I would have to DRIVE there. No thanks!

So, THAT is going to become my newest pipe dream. Open a yarn store in Burlington. It does not matter that I know nothing of yarn. And that those ladies who talk of "fiber" annoy the crap out of me. I figure I don't even need a high rent fancy store -front. It can be in the fringe of downtown. Things like yarn don't count on pedestrian traffic. The knitters will find you.

If you build it, they will come.

I will try not to let this place become a dumping ground for my bitching

I'm about to run out the door to go to a Spherion interview, complete with typing test and Excel evalution (ugh, can't they just call Westaff and get the 2 hours of tests I already took over there?). I realized I hadn't eaten much this morning, so I grab a yogurt out the fridge. Normally I get Stoneybrook Farms yogurt, but the Price Chopper yogurt was on sale. So I open it up and dig in. It's good. I couldn't remember if I checked to make sure there was no aspartame in it, so I check out the lable. "Lowfat Yogurt"...99% fat free (that's why I got it too, I don't go for the good stuff when it comes to yogurt, I save the calories for good ice cream)...or at least I thought I did.

240 calories!!! WTF?

Don't you think it's slightly deceiving to put 'fat free' all over the place, then have THAT many calories? God, if it had fat in it, well, I might as well have a Whopper! Well, maybe a Whopper Jr...

Maybe I'm just being picky because I am currently going through a period of expansion.

The only kind of wine I'm allowed...

It was 2 days after the official "we're moving" decision was made that we found out I was pregnant. After much thought, I devised what I thought was a perfect professional plan for myself. I would temp! I am well over-qualified for admin work, so I didn't think there would be much trouble getting assignments to take up the next 6 months of baby growing. Sure, these jobs wouldn't be resume builders, but I would be bringing in some money and keeping busy. Also, it would afford me a week off to take the web development class in July I signed up for. This class is to advance my grand scheme of becoming a freelance web developer from home! It was all going to work out perfect!

Well, I've been here for over 2 weeks and I haven't heard squat from the temp agency I signed up for. I spent the morning shooting off my resume to some other agencies as well as a few job listings I've come across. Hopefully this will bare some fruit. The full time jobs I have applied for are office/admin 9-5 jobs that should be well within my reach. God, at least give me an interview! If I do get called in, I'm not 100% sure how I will handle the pregnancy issue. Legally, I know they're not allowed to ask, but it seems unethical (or at least deceitful) to not inform them that come November I will be taking um, 'time off'...possibly indefinitely?

This is the reason I hesitate to go after the "good jobs I'm qualified for and would build my career." AKA, jobs in the construction industry doing project administration and the like. I feel guilty in the idea of filling a position when in November, I really have no idea what I am going to do. I know I'll take at least 8 weeks off. But frankly, I'm not sure if I will go back even after 12 or 16. I've never had a baby before. I have NO IDEA what I'm going to do. I have a real hard time imagining handing over my child to strangers just so I can bring in a little money. I'd rather take the financial hit (if we can afford it, that is...if I have to work, I have to work...don't want anyone to starve). It's more important to me to have someone molding and caring for our child who really loves him/her and has a clear vision of what our values and priorities are when it comes to development and behavior. Not to mention, it's very important to me that I breastfeed for at least 6 months. And most importantly, I don't want to miss anything! All the cuteness? All the hugs and kisses? Oh god, I'm tearing up already...hormones.

That said, the current climate in the temp world has me looking around more. I have compiled a pretty signifcant list of general contractors and architects to send my resume to. Though I think that if I get responses, as soon as they find out I'm pregnant, our conversation will be over. But I can't NOT tell them, right? I mean, I can, but come on...when they find out, they'll probably be kinda pissed. And I don't want to work for people who are pissed at me. Help me internet people, what should I do?

And before you say it, there aren't even any retail jobs downtown. They've all been gobbled up by the college kids. Right now, that is. Who knows what may come up in a few weeks after Suzy is discovered stuffing her purse with Old Navy Madras in the break room.

Ok, bitch-fest is now officially over.

On a side note - Damn! it's really raining outside. Early afternoon thunderstorm...cool. Hopefully behind it is cool dry air. And maybe we'll have an extra pretty sunset...

This is where I am

Some of you who frequent another blog I participate in will find this post redundant...but uploading photos is a pain in the ass, so efficiency is king.



Since I still don't have a job, and finally found my computer cable, I figured I get out and take some pictures of our new town. First, I headed down to Church Street to get a Seven Days (local free paper) and sit and knit a while. Well, I had planned on taking pictures, but it was so jam packed with people...I always feel like a weirdo taking photos with strangers in the mix. Perhaps I am too self conscious. For instance, there was a mom who paid "balloon guy" to make crazy knotted balloon hats for her kids. Would have been great pictures (super cute kids), but what if the lady was like " hey, why are you taken pictures of my kids, are you some kind of pervert?!" Though my new zoom lens allows me to be a little sneaky, I still didn't have the nerve.

So, while sipping on my Decaf mocha and knitting in the sidewalk cafe, all I managed to get was a stain on my shirt and a sunburn.

After a while I headed out towards Battery Park, figuring I could take some pictures down there, which I did!

Battery Park Path

The car ferry that departs for New York every hour had just left the dock...

I decided to walk down to the docks, which is the offical "waterfront." There I figured I walk the bikepath back home.

This is looking down towards the waterfront from the path as I walked from Battery Park.

One of the greatest things about Burlington is the Bikepath. It connects one end of the city to the other, with a large stretch of it along the waterfront. J got a old bike from his dad and is in the process of fixing it up. Once he's done, he can bike to work!



The Spirit of Ethan Allen is a big boat that has dinner cruises and hosts other excursions on the lake.

I hopped on the bike path and headed south towards our house. I get off the path at Perkins Pier, which is a dock and small park at the bottom of our street.


Boats docked at Perkins Pier.

There is a small island you can see from the shore. I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know what it is.


J and I walk down here a lot for the sunset...



Now, I'm not trying to be all "Aren't you jealous, look where I live"...remember it's only this nice 4 months out of the year. Also, I didn't include the pictures of the homeless shelter a block up the street, nor the rotting couch someone dumped on the side of our driveway. But the lake and mountains sure are pretty. And lately, the weather is just gorgeous. I'm loving it so far...if the temp agency called with an assignment, then all would be perfect.

Feels like the party's getting started!

Yikes, I'm getting big. Soon, people will start knowing for sure, not just thinking I'm fat. I'm at 16.5 weeks and have gained 5 lbs, but it looks like I've gained at least 10. blah.

In bigger news than my stomach... I felt movement last night! Not a lot and not a crazy kick or anything, but with my hand on my stomach, I felt it! It was almost like a single short muscle spasm...that's how it felt to my hand, not to my stomach. I don't really feel anything by itself, without a hand there. But I was so enthralled that I laid there for probably over an hour waiting for it to happen again. I got some flutters, but nothing substaintial. I took a while to finally settle and go to sleep.

It's kinda crazy...that there is something moving in there, and like, doing stuff.

I am praying that my unemployment boredom will soon come to an end. No, I still haven't heard from the temp agency I signed up with, but I found what could be a FANTASTIC job. It only runs from July to mid-October...um perfect?! Don't know what it pays, though. I'm kinda over qualified, but hopefully the will interview me and I'll have a chance to explain how I just moved here and the timing is just what I'm looking for. Keep your finger crossed for me.

Still no pics...camera chord still MIA...will get to Staples at some point.

I'm having a torrid affair...with a Pontiac.

I have just returned from the body shop and Enterprise rent-a-car with my ADORABLE loaner car...a Pontiac Vibe. I must admit, I was not aware of the existence of theVibe. But it 's quite the zippy little hatchback. Boy is this thing peppy! And it only has a hint of that ugly, bug-like grill of the current Pontiac design. And it's red! It reminds me of my old Honda, The Tomato...I dare say I like it better than the Green Monster that is currently getting an overhaul. Don't get me wrong, the Volvo is a very nice car, it's just so big and heavy. This little vibe is much more my style. I wonder if it's available in 4 wheel drive?

Isn't it cool?

As I was riding to the rental place with my Enterprise rep (Steve? God, I'm so horrible with names) we had an interesting conversation about Vermont drivers. He was saying how bad they are. What would make him say that? "They give each other too much room." He is from New York.

See, I actually enjoy the less hurried, give-you-more-room, style of the common Vermont motorist. MUCH better than the GET OUT OF MY WAY OR I WILL DRIVE UP YOUR BUTT style taken by most in southern New England, including my husband. A trait most likely passed down by his father - a wonderful man, but homicidal maniac behind the wheel. (Ok, maybe not homicidal, but I do recall him once shouting, "why don't you get off the road and go have a stroke" to an old lady who was driving too slow in the left hand lane. All within the confines of the vehicle mind you, not to her face). Yes, Road Rage is being handed down to my unborn child. It's in the genes. (To be fair, J has gotten much much better in the past few years . Mostly likely in order to stop my mantra of "you will not drive like this with a kid in the car.")

Anyway, whether safe driving can be construed as "good" or "bad" is a silly debate. I've concluded that the level of neccessary risk is relative to your geography. People who move here become frustrated because they are used to claiming every inch of asphalt as they can, in the hopes of getting 10 feet closer to their destination than they would otherwise. They come from a place where "commuting" is a MAJOR undertaking and a significant portion of the day. But this is Vermont people! If you're in a traffic jam there is a good chance it ends in 100 yards or so. Unlike Northern Virginia, where the roads are just one big parking lot. Where that 10 feet can make or break your abilitly to get home in time for dinner. You need to check your frenzied urban driving at the state line.

I would also like to put forth a theory that the careful approach is needed here because of the utter lack of descent transportation planning. Lanes you are crusing in inexplicably become "Turn only lanes" with little or no warning. There are left hand turn lanes without arrows, where there is never, NEVER a break in oncoming traffic in order to turn. And don't even get me started on the parking lot designs! They're set up like go-cart tracks...

How do I get out of here. Oh, THERE's the exit, um, but what is this median here for? Oh, I guess I'll have to go around. Do Not Enter. Well, where the fuck do I go? Ooooh, over there. Damn, all these other cars are trying to get there too! Please let me in! Can I turn, please! Well, shit, maybe I'll just go hang out at TGI Fridays until this all settles down. Crap. My Ben and Jerrys is melting.

I wonder what percentage of car accidents in Burlington (oh, and WILLISTON, the home of the WORST parking lots ever) take place in parking lots? Worth looking into. But I'll take the frustrating shopping plazas over white-knuckling it, while an SUV tries to give me enima, in Massachusetts.

I am fully aware that my statements about "safe" drivers completely flies in the face of the fact that I got smashed up by some absent-minded geriatric Vermonter last month.

Where's Nate when you need him?

Geeeeeeezzzzzz...Blogger is soooooo sloooooow. I hit the "Create the Post" button, waited...waited...um, waited...went to the kitchen heated up some leftover dip...and finally! A dialog box to type in. I can only imagine what's going to happen when I hit "Publish Post." (Spellcheck is having the same problem...so this post will contain many, many spelling errors..because, well, I can't spell...at all).

Moving on...

Unpacking is slowing reaching its final stages. Right now the biggest dillema other than closet space is how to handle the carpet color in the guest room. It's maroon...kinda a purpley maroon. Actually, it's not too far off from the VT "Chicago Maroon" so I toyed with the idea of making it a Hokie themed guest room. But after considering what it would actually look like, and whether it would be welcoming to our guests, I thought better of it. Perhaps if it was our second guest room, or perhaps a basement bar room? But I swear, nothing goes with that color. Except white. So i put our bright white down blanket on the bed and it looks ok. But then Tubbs decided that this is his favorite new spot to hang out. He can sprawl out at the top of the bed, rest his chin on his paws and stair out the window. As I type now he is there, observing all that is new and exciting on our busy little corner. I suppose I could just shut the door, but he's really so happy. I would take a picture but I still haven't found that damn cable to get pictures off my camera. I guess it's time to find the computer/camera/gadet store...aka Radio Shack.

Yesterday I went to the DMV to get my new Vermont drivers license. I was there for 3 hours!! This is partly due to their stupid policy of only taking cash, checks or money orders. So mid-transaction, I head to the shopping center next door to find an ATM. When I locate it, there is a line. The line is completely comprised of other DMV patrons who neglected to bring the $115 it ended up costing to be deemed worthy to drive legally in a vehicle now sporting the bright green plates of the Green Mountain State. But everything worked out ok. I have my license (honestly, theWORST picture I yet to have on a form of identifcation) and my pretty new plates. I'm thinking of trading them in for some vanity plates. I was thinking GO HOKIES, but then J suggested VT HOKIE which is cool because of the whole double meaning thing. I would think these may be available...can't imagine there are a ton of Hokies around.

Which brings me to my next idea. A Burlington chapter of the VT Alumni Association! We could head it up, no? As long as the members understand that it will mostly revolve around football. That is if there are any members. J saw a VT sticker on a vehicle in his office parking lot, but doesn't know who it belongs to. There must be a few Hokies around here...yes?

Long post. I need a job. And some people to talk to.

Greetings from Burlington

Well, we made it. And I finally got this stupid computer working so I can tell you all about it. First, hiring movers is definitely the way to go...that is if you're a millionaire, or lucky enough to have a 3rd party pay for it (we, unfortunately, fit into the latter category). Three guys just whizzed right in, newsprint and boxes were assembled jammed and neatly taped, and bam! All done. Leaving me in a empty echoey house with Tubbselweeds* the size of well, actual tumbleweeds. After a day and a half of vacuuming dog hair, painting and figuring out how the hell to make the baseboard covers look normal (which, by the way, I had no luck with) Tubbs and I hit the road and headed off to our new, yet to be seen, abode.

I love it. Its a big (big compared to our house in Northampton) old rickety and slanty, but incredibly charming and airy house. It has wood floors, a stained glass window and 3, count 'em, 3 whole bedrooms! Sadly, what it has in spaciousness, it lacks in storage. There is not a single closet downstairs. Not one. Which with our boxes of crap has lead to an unpacking stalemate. Sure, we must keep that tub of Lego and that box of 20 yet-to-be-developed disposable cameras from our wedding, but where do we put them?! I'll tell you where, in a big pile in that corner over there. Yes, perfect. Or even better, Lets make our precious 3rd bedroom into a music instrument, golf club, disposable camera, Lego storage area! What? A baby is going to live there? Oh, yeah. Time to rethink. So it's not a storage room, merely a staging area.

Js folks came up and helped out. They were a God send. After weeks of packing and cleaning, the process of unpacking and cleaning even more was too much. The extra hands were just what the doctor ordered. Js mom cheerfully unloaded boxes while J and his Dad quickly found a project that would require many trips to Home Depot and debates regarding proper fastening techniques. The big round shower curtain holder that hangs above our clawfoot tub (where I will be soaking luxuriously nightly) no longer falls down. Which is wonderful if, by chance, you don't want water all over the walls, or to display your naked body to the dog.

I could go on, but this is getting pretty long, so I'll save it for another post. I have a long list of things to accomplish today. Unfortunately an important one requires talking to people in Cali...so I have to wait untill 1 for that one. But I have successfully lined up some renters insurance and an appointment at a Body Shop where they will fix my Old Lady induced damage. Now its off the to bank, the dmv, and the grocery store. Out of these 3 destinations, I only know the location of one of them. Ah, the joys of a new town!

*I don't think this really needs much explaination but Tubbsleweeds are Tubbs dog hair balls that blow across the floor... in the manner of a tumbleweed. Aren't we precious.

Table 11 baby...

I'm not in Vermont yet. I am still here on Williams Street sitting amongst a conglomeration of boxes, bags and dog hair. I know I said I wasn't going to update until I was up in the new abode, but I have one more day of internet access, so here I am. Also, when I get there I'll be talking about the move, and I wanted to share a little bit about my weekend.

As some of you already know, last weekend J and I went to Boston for a wedding. We've known the groom (Johnny!!) since Freshman year of college. In the 8 years that followed he was roommate to either J or I, or both of us. He found a super cool chick and they got married!!! I will be taking some credit for the pairing...Allow me to share:

• At J's and my wedding (what is the proper way to say that? Come on you English majors, school me), Js friend A-Girl and my friend P-boy meet.


• A-Girl and P-boy begin to date and A-Girl moves to DC to be with P-boy.


• P-boy and Johnny are in the same circle of friends.


• A-Girl's best friend G-Girl visits and meets Johnny.


• G-Girl and Johnny hit it off and begin dating.


• Johnny moves to Boston to be with G-Girl.


• Johnny and G-Girl got married last weekend!!!

So, yes, I expect many thanks and accolades, as it is clear without J and I's existence the 2 would never have met. And P diddy, I don't want to hear you try to trump my clear and concise pathology with your own...Nacho's interference is primary and therefore more causational (is that a word?) But if I hog all the credit for Johnny's happy outcome, I suppose I must take responsibility for the A-Girl P-boy result as well...um, not as happy.....I dare say somewhat tragic. But this site is to air my own dirty laundry, not the innocent unmentionables of others, so ZIP! My lips are sealed.

Well, the wedding was truly beautiful. And it had the bonus of gathering some of my most favorite people in the world in one location. Both Pdiddy and Mrs. T were there and reinforced my belief that I am blessed with some fo the best friends a girl can have. Though our time together was a little more tame than usual, as a pregnant Nacho does not get to partake in cocktails, there were many laughs and lots of hugs...Perhaps a few tears. (Tame on my end...I sipped appreciatively on my Shirley Temple while Pdiddy, Mrs. T and J slammed 'carbombs' at The Black Rose. )

I discovered my boogie is somewhat attached to the booze and my dancing shoes did not get much action. I realized how much wine is a social lubricant for me...sobering. Well I was already sober, but you know what I mean. But don't worry, it was still a blast. I wish I had some pics, but I left the camera in a cab...good job Nacho! As if the weekend wasn't expensive enough....argh.

Even though I didn't experience the kind of hangover I am accustomed to, I am now dealing with a "Friend Hangover"...it's the melancholy feeling that always follows good times with good friends that you don't get to see very often. It's a combination of heartfelt appreciation and regret. Appreciation for having people so wonderful in your life, but regrets that the limited time together could have been spent with more gusto...or more awareness...or something. Or maybe just that you wish there was more time. Or in this case, less distance. But there is always the next time to look forward to...and the hope that there will always be a next time.

Ok, enough of the sentimental crap. My ladies rock, and the dudes aren't too shabby either! nuff said.

Quote of the Weekend

"White creamy stuff? I can't get enough."
-P Diddy

(Get-your-mind-out-of-the-gutter-clarification: In response to Js aversion to products with such attributes...in particular, salad dressing)

Hello...goodbye!

Wanted to let everyone know that this may be my last post for a while. J is coming home tonight and we're going to be packing up the computer...so I will have no access for a couple weeks. Not that it's been a flurry of activity here. I thought that once I stopped working my creative juices and need for outside interaction would bolster my blogging, but no. Sadly, I think my updates have been fewer and farther between than ever. Probably most because one can only say so much about boxes, paint and dust.

I'm beginning to feel a little preganant. It hasn't completely sunk in yet, which is weird, I figured it would have by now. But my stomach is definitely sticking out...way more than last week. This has me a little worried since I just dropped some money on a new outfit for a wedding. I've been trying it on everyday to make sure we're still in business...so far so good, but it is starting to cinch a little. This wedding will most likely be the one and only time I'll ever get to wear it. And perhaps be my last non-blimplike appearance at an event! It's also the single greatest reason I have for not giving into my Whopper with Cheese cravings. I haven't had a Whopper in like, 8 years or something, and all of a sudden I'm having to convince myself NOT head to the drive through. Mmmmmm, Whopper...with Cheese. If I give in, I'll do the Jr. Whopper though. Smaller portion, same fat saturated yumminess!

A friend of ours just had a baby girl! Haven't seen her yet, and I'm not sure we'll get a chance before leaving town. I hope we squeeze it in. Another friend who is pregnant just found out she's having a girl. All these girls make be think our odds are better for having a boy, but that doesn't really make sense. I'm sure J would be happy to believe that logic. Two more months until we find out.

Well, I guess that's all for now. Next time I write, it will be from Vermont!

WHAM! then BAM! WTF...Ma'am?

Well I'm back! I took some pictures, but I did not get the accessories required to get them from the camera to the computer. But I can describe them. You might expect pastoral landscapes of white farmhouses and red barns, or perhaps picturesque lakeshore views? Nope. Try crumpled side door of Volvo.

An 80 year old lady hit me at a 4-way stop...twice. TWICE!! The first time she kinda t-boned me in the side passenger door. I hit the breaks when I felt the impact, then WHAM! she hit me again on the back bumper. Don't worry, I'm fine and luckily Tubbs wasn't in the car. The lady was completely freaked out and I felt kinda bad for her. Anyway, now I'm dealing with insurance adjusters on top of all the other crap I've got on my plate. Fun!!

In some good news, it seems that the Kay Jewlers Mother's Day commercial has been shelved, or at least I don't see it anymore. It has been replaced by the slightly less annoying "Peek-A-WOO" Kay Jewler commercial. Isn't it funny how all the Mother's Day commercials are geared towards husbands and not kids...I guess you gotta go where the money is.

I know I haven't been doing this lately but...

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

"Well, it's that time of year, we just got super busy.
All the old people are back from Florida. They're hitting shit left and right."

-State Farm Insurance Adjuster ...20 minutes ago.

Headin' out

I'm on my way out the door to head up to Burlington for the next few days. There is still plenty to do around here, but I am unmotivated, so what better time to drive 3 hours with the dog and keep my husband company? And while he's a work, I can go shopping for a smokin' dress for the wedding we have to go to in a couple weeks. Yay! I'm bringing my camera this time so I'm also hoping to get out and explore a little more and take some nice pictures...though I still can't find the card reader or cable in order to download. Maybe I should put that on my shopping list too.

Well, I better hurry, Tubbs is whining and pacing and knocking stuff over since he saw me put his dog food in the car.

More proof I've been watching too much TV

Katy's comment about crying at commercials got me thinking. I, too, have shed tears at sappy commercials, but strangely not lately. If anything, commercials have begun to really annoy me. I suppose I've always had somewhat of a critical eye when it comes to such things. J can always expect some unsolicited commentary along the lines "what ad wizard came up with that one." Which is probably more annoying than the commercials.

Allow me to share the TV ads that are currently stuck in my craw:

KFC...I've started calling people 'side hogs' just to see if I come off as obnoxious and bitchy as the girl in this commercial.

Remax...How far did that guy have to relocate to buy that treehouse? I can't imagine they are available in most American communities. You know, I've always dreamed of living in a house made out of recycled newspaper and hub caps. I'll wait for your call.

Beneful...dude, you're the one who bought the dog food, you know it's dog food, even if it has peas in it.

And the one I dislike the most, and luckily the one that will only be on for another week is...

Kay Jewlers Mother's Day commercial. This is the one where the lady who played Bobcat Goldweith's girlfriend in one of the Police Academy movies is a mom and her husband opens the garage and there are like, 13 kids who launch into a "you're an awesome mom" song. Complete with precocious little girl on lead vocals and maracas. What gets me most is that those kids sound like they're in a freaking studio. I believe they are harmonizing. It is obviously voiceover and way out of the abilities of the average family band...they ain't the Osmonds. And even if by some miracle these kids did pull it off, there is no way this little performance could have happened with out ALOT of practice...which mom MUST have heard...in the garage. And the song, I don't know, just BOTHERS me. I cringe. Make it stop. Oh, and just so you know, a little diddy isn't good enough for Mommy, be sure to stop by Kay Jewlers and get her some DIAMONDS, ok?

If you haven't had the pleasure of seeing one or all of the above commercials, just tune to TLC and watch the Baby Story, What Not to Wear, 10 Years Younger daily shmorgesborg.

What has made me cry in the past week...

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Global Warming Documentary on HBO

Oprah

The above were mostly just tearing up a bit (well, except the Traveling Pants. Not a very good movie, but still, kids with lukemia, what can you do). But the winner for blubbery, ugly cry is...

A Baby Story on TLC

I'm not sure if it's coming from a happy place or a terrified place. Probably both. One thing it's taught me is that the majority of nurses need to shut the fuck up!! I swear, if there is some middle aged woman in there with me YELLING at me to push, push push, I will clock her. And she better not have that patronizing, 'oooohhh, your doing so grrrrreeeeat' sing songy, kindergarten teacher voice. I hate to say it, but it's made me understand the virtue of 'silent birth'...but not for me, I'll be screaming, just everyone else needs to be quiet, unless they have something really important to say...like, well, anything I can think of that's "important" is scary, so lets just say everyone shut up, ok?

No, hormones are having no effect on me whatsoever.

So much to do, so much time

I have come to the conclusion that I quit my job prematurely. I have plenty of stuff to do around here, but more time to do it than it really requires. Everything would have worked out perfectly if we had gotten a lease for May 1st, but we didn't. June 1st. That's 4 more weeks of sitting in this house...painting, packing and purging. There isn't really 4 weeks worth of that to do.

If I was still struggling with pregnancy induced comas, perhaps I could see needing the extra time. But as I creep ever closer to the second trimester I find my energy level stabelizing. I can make through and entire afternoon without a nap!

I plan to gobble up some of this time by going up to Burlington. In Burlington I can see J! and go shopping! Well, I must take it easy on the shopping since, as I stated, I have no income to contribute at the moment, but we are going to a wedding and I am in the need of a cute and sassy little number. Don't know if my belly will be bigger by then? It's the last weekend in May. I'll be around 13-14 weeks. Will I have to accommodate a bulge? I suppose I should wait to purchase something to be sure it fits.

I find myself wanting a belly. It seems that it will solidify the fact that I am pregnant. So far I haven't gained any weight, but I can no longer suck in my stomach. And my boobs are bigger. And hurt. Like, A LOT.

In non-boob related news, my mother has taken quite nicely to the Grandmother role. My sister has welcomed a new member to the family as well! Currently, the little one is staying at my Mom's house. My sister is excited to be a new Mama. My kid will have a little competition in the cute department, that's for sure. Hardly fair.


Nugget. 9 week old Chihuahua Pekingnese mix.

I am the Owner of the World's Smallest Ponytail

Things are progressing. I have finished painting the backsplash in the kitchen so our renters don't have to look at the Colonial Blue vine and magenta flowered wallpaper. I know it is not advisable to paint wallpaper...but believe me, it's much better.

In other news, I have cut my hair. Perhaps 'cut' isn't the right word. More like chopped...hacked...WHACKED. For those of you who didn't know, my hair was about... um, I don't know...long? like to mid-arm...2-3 feet? Not that you would know it. I never wore it down because it was kinda unhealthy and always tangled. I've been avoiding a 'salon' because they always make me look like a Ms. America contestant...or a news reporter. I have very thick hair and they always poof it up and I look ridiculous. But between not being able to upkeep on the grey because Nice and Easy is not the best idea in the first trimester, and not having my hair cut in 2 years, I was looking a little ragged...and kinda old. I was feeling frumpy.

My coworkers gave me a Chamber of Commerce gift certificate as a going away present so I figured, what the hell, and called the fancy salon downtown (if you check out the link, be sure your volume is down, they have music...crazy jazz flute music.) So I told Sarah, cute and young stylist (whew!) that I wanted to cover the grey if it was possible that it not touch my scalp too much and a new cut. She said she could to foils (that aluminum foil stuff...I felt so fancy) and would be sure to be careful.

Then she asked about the cut.

"I've been threatening to go short for a while"

"How short?"

"I still wnat to be able to pull it into a ponytail"

"Like a bob?"

"Yeah, but with layers, kinda funky."

"I think jaw length would look good on you."

I was sold. Tell me I'll look good, and I'll do whatever you say. After all, she's the professional. So she takes a rubberband, puts my hair in a low ponytail, and SNIP! gone. Then there was the coloring, then the shampooing, and then more cutting. She thinned out my hair so I wouldn't have a mushroom, did that cool attack the end ends with scissors thing I've seen on Blow Out. My hair was still wet, but I liked it...then she started blow drying.

She used a big ass round brush. My funky little do was transformed into a brunette hat. I kept thinking of that scene from Steel Magnolias when Sally Fields looks at herself in the mirror and says "it DOES look like a brown football helmet."

I mean, it looked good....if you're Katie Couric. Not really me. But it's a good cut and I think I can work with it. As soon as I got home, I wet it down a little to get rid of the poof. I haven't taken a shower yet, so we'll see what happens when the natural curl of my hair is released.

Ok, you probably want a pic. But the chord to the camera is lost in packing hell, so I had to take one with a web cam. Here it is. Do you like my blue mug?! A mug to cover my mug.



I will kill anyone who says Soccer Mom.

The Official End of Winter

Well it's happened! Most people mark the end of winter by warming temperatures, the appearance of blossoms or such archaic tools as calendars, but for me, nothing says Spring as the timely removal of winter sediment from brown and dingy gutters. Yes, today I was honored with the loud booming noise of the street sweeper. Like a much needed exfoiliant, it spins and scrubs, removing many months worth of dirt and grime. Oh, the pure grey of the asphalt. And I find myself wanting it to rain, as if the final rinse will make it complete. How I wish to see April showers flow mudless in the gutter!

Tubbs is not as excited by the visit from the DPW. Well, perhaps he is excited. Excited in the way that he barks incessantly every time it makes a pass. Which causes me to yell at him. Yes, I say "Shut up" to the dog. I know it's not polite, but I figure he doesn't really get that. Sometimes I say "Please be quiet!", but it has the same effect. None. So 'shut up' is usually the default... because it has less syllables.

Update on the packing. It's more done. Does that make sense? Well, more of it has been done. Yes, that sounds better. Yesterday I emptied the kitchen island drawers and the side table? um, side board?...ok,the white thing by the stairs. Today it's the bathroom drawers and kitchen cabinets. But somehow, the more I do, the more chaotic the place looks. Thank god I'm not nesting yet, or this might drive me insane. Or perhaps I would be done by now. Which clearly would be a indication of insanity. So it's actually good that so much is left to do, no? Yes, I will go along with that.

Postscript: Oh! I must tell you. Though my news is exciting, my friend Sexy has perhaps what could be even more exciting news...truely every girls dream. Please wish her a heart-felt congratualtions! Click here.

A turkey won't be the only thing coming out of the oven this Thanksgiving

Oh, my poor neglected blog. So sorry I haven't been attentive as of late. I can blame it on the move, the packing, the organizing, but the truth is...I'm tired. Extremely tired, which is making me a little lazy. Well, maybe not lazy, I'm busy...um, when I'm not napping. Yes, in between my comatose spells on the couch I am a flurry of activity.

God, I'm exhausted. And I've been feeling a little sick. And I've been knitting up a storm. Um, and my boobs are bigger....

Why should you care? What does this all mean. Well, you've probably already guessed it, I'm pregnant! 8 weeks! I thought about keeping it secret until 3 months, as tradition calls for, but pretty much everybody already knows, so now you do too.

We found out 2 days after J gave 2 weeks notice at his old job. So the joyous smiles were coupled with slightly furrowed brows as we realized that our already big change was now exponentially more complicated and huge! But wonderful! Extremely wonderful! Yay!

So, no more drink, no more smoke, and a lot more ice cream. I figure the calories I used to consume in red wine are kinda like a credit...sitting there waiting to be spent. And pregnant lady is not supposed to lose weight, so bring on the Ben and Jerry's. Don't worry, I'm not going to use pregnancy as an excuse to eat everything under the sun and get all fat and bloated. Well, there's no gaurantee against the fat and bloated thing, but I'm going to keep it under control as much as I can. So far, no gain. Though I look a little pudgy around the middle, the number on the scale is the same. We'll see how long that lasts.

So there it is! A Thankgiving baby! Everyone is telling me to pray for a Sagittarius, not a Scorpio, especially if it's a girl. But I know a Scorpio lady (Hi Auntie!) and she's awesome.

So be prepared for a lot of baby talk and TMI to come. It's my blog and I'll bore if I want to.

Volvos are so punk rock

Boy, reading my last post I kinda sound like a bitch. Well, I guess I was a little fed up at that point. I have a feeling the Quote of the Week is going to fall by the wayside. I'm a little overwhelmed. I am up to my eyeballs in bank statements and IRA printouts. I am slowly going through about 4 years worth of paper that banks, governments and various financial institutions are nice enough to send us to let us know what is happening, and we are nice enough to ignore and put in a pile. Well, that pile ain't moving with us! So I have visited the office supply store and gotten some folders and paper clips...look out, Nacho's gettin' orgaznized!

Oh! and I almost forgot to tell you...guess who I saw coming out of the Office Supply store? Well, those of you who know where I live, probably know I live in the same town as a couple famous folks. Well, one couple of famous folks in particular. Well as I stepped out of my super yuppy Volvo station wagon, out of the glass door walksThurston Moore. And where is he going? To his own same year, same model Volvo station wagon (only white, mine is blue/green). Ha! I feel so much better about my mom-mobile knowing hipster rockers like Thurston Moore are driving the same.

I've seen Thurston at the grocery store, post office, airport (with wife Kim Gordon) and now Whalen's Office Supply. When we first moved here I said we would all become best friends. You know, dinner parties, Coco's birthday picnics, exchanging recipes for spicy Thai dishes. Sigh. Now I guess I'm off to befriend Trey Anastasio...some hipsters may not approve, but works for me. Or perhaps these dudes need a 4th for golf. I'm sure J can make time.

Quote of the Week #10 (I hate moving)

I'm am frazzeled people. So I don't have time for this crap. And to top it off, I picked a freakin' LIVEJOURNAL user as the winner last week. What was I thinking?!Therefore I did not contact the winner from last week, and therefore, I do not have a word for this week.

So I'm making this shit up right this second.

I will pick a theme and see what comes up...and that is it. Good or bad, we'll see what turns up. And that theme is:

I HATE MOVING

Time to do some searching etc, list making. God, I hate moving.
http://alchemistjames.livejournal.com/

First, I hate moving and second, I hate moving.
http://blog.myspace.com/14463682

UGGGHH!! I hate moving!!! I have a nice mountain growing.
http://mom2cbt.blogspot.com

I hate moving. I like to stay in one place and be settled and get everything the way I like. ... I hate moving! I feel like I've been screwed. If God really wanted me to be here why is he having me move again so soon.
http://norcal707.livejournal.com/


I hate moving! Packing usually gives me a migraine, but fortunately this time I had a very nice...um...shall we say DISTRACTION...mmm...Irishman...tasty...
http://blog.myspace.com/ruadhreul

I hate moving my stuff from one house to another, i hate i hate i hate
http://egyblog2005.blogspot.com

I hate, I mean beyond hate, loathe, despise, moving! Hate it! And I hate moving with someone that doesn't move like I like to move.
http://blog.myspace.com/anniekh

Purely for her ability to turn it around and be positive (and because everyone else is myspace or lj) I give you:

THE QUOTE OF THE WEEK

I hate moving. I'm covered in bruises and my muscles are sore (even my forearms which is a very odd feeling). However, we're starting to get settled and our place is really cute!
http://thepinkkitty.blogspot.com

Honorable Mention

moving sucks. bigtime. ...
http://blog.myspace.com/bstothep

My stomach says hello...

God, I just INHALED a chicken parm sandwich from Spoleto's. Ugh...too much food.

Anyway, how is everyone out there? Good? Good. I'm good too.

Tomorrow is my last day of work. Though I agreed to come back a few days next week to help train my replacement. Always fun.

No, the paper clips don't go there, they go THERE.

Oh, what will they do without me?

I am stressed because the Casa La Nacho is not rented yet. I need to find someone to pay our mortgage soon. My stomach juices are beginning to eat away at the lining and soon I will be leaking acid out my intestines. Some girl is coming to look on Saturday, so let's hope it meets her approval. She has a dog AND a cat, and we said ok to that, so maybe she's desperate! A lot of landlords aren't cool about pets. But I am...but not because I'm desperate. No not me. Not at all. Cat pee?Love it. Oh the distinct smell of ammonia and animal waste! Hair matted into my new carpet? No, problem.

My stomach just let out one of those hiss gurgle noises.

My bedmate and protector

I couldn't get to sleep last night. Which is a huge change. Lately I've been going to bed at 8:30. But I managed to stay up for Sopranos and even Big Love and still wasn't sleepy. I tossed and turned until about 1:30. YAAAAaaawwwwn. I am beat.

Probably because last night was the first without J. Though Tdog was happy to take up the space. J took his pillows with him, which had Tdog a little perplexed. He kept doing that spin around in a circle thing up by where the pillows usually are, as if his repeated foot traffic would make them miraculously appear.

Also, on Saturday I watched the Exorcism of Emily Rose. Not a particularly great movie, but definitely has some creep factor. Not the movie to watch right before you are about to spend 2 weeks all by yourself. The wind slammed the screen door as I was walking up the stairs to bed and it scared the shit out of me! I slept with the door locked. Though if demons wanted to possess me, I don't think that would have helped.

I'm so glad I have Tdog. Though he's not really scary or protective, he's got a big dog bark. Not bite, just bark...and lots of butt wiggles.

The beginning of the end beginning!

I just got off the phone with J. He was calling from somewhere on the side of the road near White River Junction, VT. He got pulled over. He is patiently...well, ok, not so patiently awaiting the trooper to return to his window with a ticket. Not exactly a great way to start.

J starts his new job tomorrow. I'm still back here finishing up work (Friday is my last full day) and trying to tie up the many loose ends. It was sad to see J walk out the door...I won't see him for 2 weeks. So it's just me and Tdog.

There is so much to do! Not just all the packing and throwing out of useless accumulated crap, but contacting all the people/companies/debtors/magazine places to tell them where we will be if they want to still get money from us. Insurance, cellphones, banks! Life is so full of crap to keep track of. It's a wonder anyone ever moves at all.

The most important thing is finding someone to rent our house. Because we can't afford to pay for it AND rent a new plact in VT. Not that we've found a place to rent. That's kinda up there on the list too.

I'll let you know how it's going...since I'm all by my lonesome maybe I'll post more? I know I'll be watching a lot more cheesy movies. J usually turns his nose up at such things. Heaven something movie with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffallo here I come! Mark Rufalo? Mark Rafolo, Ruffulo? Sorry Mark, you're a cutie, but I don't know how to spell your name. And I don't have the patience to open another window and google it. Since I know someone who checks in here is a fellow Mark Rooooffalooooo admirer, perhaps I will be enlightened in the comments.

Quote of the Week #9 (interface)

Ok, this one will be short and sweet.

Finding this weeks quote was a huge struggle. First, the word came in a little late so all my searching was compressed into a short amount of time. And I've been a little under the weather lately so my patience when clicking through the expansive world of blogs has been less than rock solid. Especially when nearly every instance of the word interface looks like this:

It come in two configuration: a internal PX-750A which features a E-IDE (ATAPI) interface and the external PX-750UF which has a dual interface with Hi-Speed USB and IEEE 1394 and has transfer rates of 480 Mbps (USB) or 400 Mbps ...
http://reviews.mobilewhack.com/

Interfaces are all about software and applicatons and web based blah, blah, blah...

There's a mass email floating around called 30 Lines to Make You Smile that a TON of people thought was funny enough to put on their blogs. It has this little nugget.

The original point and click interface was a Smith and Wesson.

Amusing? meh.

Not much more to say. I am tired. Have a fabulous weekend.

THE QUOTE OF THE WEEK
this new interface sucks big donkey di**s. it's like a christian dating service in here.
http://people.tribe.net/evilponygirl

Honorable Mention
Try not to click - a mouse-based user interface that uses no clicks (click here for the second last time).
http://www.dld06.com/

Homeless

I'm back. Didn't know I was gone? I was. But now I'm here again. Hi.

We went up to Burlington to check out the house situation. Sadly, the situation is grim. It is very expensive. Everything in our price range is either falling over or in an ugly 70's style brick condo building. So far the ugly 70's style condo is in the lead. If we buy it you can come visit and we can do the hustle in front of the Very Brady stairs! You know, the kind with no risers, just treads. Which, by the way, will freak the dog out. See-through stairs are not part of his repertoire.

As a result, we are think more seriously about renting. If we pay in rent what we could afford in mortgage, we could get a pretty nice place near town. But since we have been homeowners for 3 years, it feels like throwing money out the window. But, we will still be paying mortgage on our house here, so in financial terms it will be like we never left! Even though we would not be increasing our real estate empire, the empire would remain comfortable in the status quo. And we would have a place to live, which is good. Instead of all the uncertainty and bank approval and mortgage crap, which is boring and stressful.

But who knows. We change our minds every 10 seconds. We even had a long discussion about a house that would be perfect. That is if we spent the next 3 years and $100K of income chipping away at the rot and ugliness. Oh, I wish I had my camera, I could show you the upstairs bathroom. Maybe I'll run home at lunch. Honestly, even Tom Silva would cringe.

But it was the only one that wasn't immitating a carnival funhouse. Look, when I stand in this corner, I can touch the ceiling!

Quote of the Week #8 (chubby)

Thank you to Sexy, for providing the word for this week, "chubby". She came in from the reserves (she was the first winner ever!) because last weeks winner was a no show. Thanks a bunch whatever your name is...that's right, no link. That's what you get. Not that you care. Because you obviously don't.

Moving on...

Chubby is a girl word. It is used primarily by girls to describe one of two things. Other girls and babies.

One particular kind of girl who uses this word is mom. And they're hungry for flesh. There are far too many Mommys blogging about eating their young. Seriously. It seems having a baby causes a surge in cannibalistic urges:

Four and a half months old Anna now weighs about 7.5 kilos and has rolls of fat on her wrists! I just want to eat her up.
http://caromarco.blogspot.com/

There are lots of chubby cheeks, fingers and toes that moms call yummy and wish to eat. Maybe when I am a mom I will understand, but let's hope not.

A lot of ladies use the word to describe themselves.

I don't have pictures of myself, but I will post a description: I'm short, chubby, my bones are huge, my medium length, semi wavy hair is brown, my eyes are brown too, but a shade or two darker then my hair. I'm a bit chubby,...
http://community.livejournal.com/nine_muses_/

Yes, we know. You already said that…I overlooked it and kept reading. Now I think I'll stop.

Someone asked for a pic, ahem. I know you're not talking about a pic of my chubby body, so that means you want a pic of the lovely YELLOW room.
http://twinboys.blogspot.com/

I'm pretty sure someone was a disappointed by her logic.

Chubby is a word that means fat. It does. Maybe not really fat, but definitely not thin. It's sorta the nice way to say fat, because fat isn't a very nice word. People who are trying to be extra nice put "a little" in front of it. But we still know what you mean. Fat.

They were being really mean to her because she's a little chubby so her mom just decided to drive her.
http://journals.aol.com/quartrlyfecrysis/OrJustTheStirringInMySoul/

They were making fun of her because she's fat. Saying so doesn't make you a bad person. Well, maybe it does, but just a little.

Then there are the people who use it hoping it will soften the judgmental statement they are making about, oh let's say...a small child.

I will say that my niece is so chubby that she has bends where there aren't any joints.
http://thehose.blogspot.com/

Though it's not all negative. Some girls use it endearingly when they have strange lesbian crushes on their classmates:

its not that i have the feelings towards gurls, but i jus like her swit chubby face. i cant concentrate during english just now. im feeling so damn happy, like izni all over the class.
http://wetty-popping.blogspot.com/

Um, I think you should start concentrating in English class...like today.

It was inevitable that I would find this particular use of the word chubby. And of course, it's a dude:

Click on the photo's to the left to biggify them and really get a chubby. Oops, said that out loud didn't I?
http://getstewed.blogspot.com/

I must warn you, I have a sitemeter that will tell me if you click to see what is causing him to pitch a tent. I see you! Perverts.

Before I announce the winner, I want to share something I found on the search for the word chubby. At first I thought it might be a contender, after all babies are getting eaten by tigers. But then I kept reading, and reading...and um, reading.

I present The Longest Sentence in the Blogosphere (containing the word chubby)

Occasionally when pondering this I think of all the unfortunate prehistoric babies born to cavemothers who did not have the gene that finds disproportionately huge heads and big eyes and chubby knees distractingly endearingly adorable, and so left their infant on the ground where a tiger ate it and stopped that particular genetic lineage in its tracks, so that we might arrive at today, where almost all of the members of our species find babies inexplicably cute- so much so that we transfer our identification of "cuteness" traits over to irrelevant animals and objects, and also find baby ducks and tiny shoes and miniature cans of soda cute, even though they are not critical to our survival as a species.
http://emmycantbemeeko.livejournal.com

And because making fun of formerly super hot Jordan Catalano makes the painful truth of his new found skeez factor easier to accept:

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

If you saw a chubby guy wearing a priests collar and too much eyeliner last night, chances are that was Jared Leto
http://pencopal.blogspot.com

Honorable Mention

Osama got a bit chubby, eh? And flashing the bling around?
http://icestationtango.blogspot.com/

The solution to our Turbo Tax dilemma

The House of Nacho Master Assembly is pleased to propose the TUBBS IS A SPONGE BILL, establishing a new ordinance imposing a Mooch Tax on all canine residents. The Assembly hopes that revenue produced will help alleviate the burden of current homeowners who have been solely responsible for taxes levied by both the state and federal governments.

ARTICLE IX. MOOCH TAX

Sec. 70-431. Definitions.

The following words, terms and phrases, when used in this article, shall have the meanings ascribed to them in this section, except where the context clearly indicates a different meaning:

Tubbs means a dog who currently has primary residence at House of Nacho.

Master means any earner of income used in the operations and maintenance of the House, and any of their duly authorized agents.

Sec. 70-432. Levy of tax.

There is hereby imposed and levied a tax on Tubbs for:

a. Every meal served, sold or delivered by a Master to Tubbs. The rate of such tax shall be 4 1/2 percent of the amount paid for the meal.

b. Each instance of pooping, regardless of location. The rate of such tax shall be 10 cents per instance. A penalty of $100 shall be imposed for indoor pooping. This penalty shall be doubled for poop of a loose or less-than-solid nature

c. All occasions where a Master is compelled to get off the couch due to whining, scratching or staring by Tubbs to fill water bowls, allow access to the outdoors, or dislodge a toy from under the coffee table/bed. The rate of such tax shall be $1 per instance. Rate shall double if Master is watching any form of Reality TV or Virginia Tech Football.

d. Each individual bark, even if in quick succession, shall be taxed at the rate of $1 per bark. Rate will be doubled when the source and motivation for such barking cannot be determined.

e. Every discovery of a 'wet spot' on any and all furniture created by the licking of Tubbs feet and /or butt. The rate of such tax shal be $10 per instance. A penalty of $100 shall be imposed if the wet spot is located on the bedsheets in the area a Master sleeps.

Sec. 70-433. Exemptions and Limits

The tax imposed under this article shall not be levied if any of the following criteria are met:
a. Tubbs obtains gainful employment where contributions to the House revenue can me made.
b. Tubbs begins to obey all commands regarding his bodily movements and overall level of spaz.
c. Tubbs manipulates Master with cuteness and love.

As if I'm not already stressed...

Ok, I'll say it here. Perhaps with some sort of internet karma it will make me more accountable. I am putting it out here as fact, and only I can control the integrity and truth of the following statement:

I quit smoking.

It's about time, no? It's been 4 days. I had a ½ piece of Nicorrette gum on Friday. It hasn't been too bad, the cravings come and go. But for some reason, nicotine withdrawal gives me cotton mouth. Like super spongy, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth cotton mouth. And I'm crabby. My patience is zilch. I don't even have the ability to write what I want...about how I was supposed to have quit before the wedding, how I'm worried about being a bitch...I can't think or settle enough to formulate the words and thoughts.

Just want the buzz/whizz of withdrawal to subside so I can feel normal again.

It will be good to move to "The Healthiest City in America" with the cigarettes in my past. Plus, standing outside in –20 degree weather in February just to feed an addiction doesn't sound like fun. Not that I was a chain smoker or anything. I was a 1-2 a day person, but if I didn't have that 1 or 2...ugh. I felt like I feel now. And without a concerted effort, it is easy to give in.

I also had a list of excuses, or at least acceptable scenarios for smoking...red wine, on the phone, bad day at work...um, because I felt like it?

But not now. Bye Bye my little butts!

I only wish I could say the same to the big one I'm sitting on.

Quote of the Week #7 (potato-like)

Ok, what the hell is up with Blogger. Forbidden, my ass. Do that to me again and I'll kick your potato-like butts...stupid blogger people. Making me depend on them for technology I can't fix with duct tape.

Potato-like. To possess or display characteristics of a potato. Are bloggers observant of the distinct potato-ness of things? At least anybody besides last week's winner?

Luckily, some are.

First, there are multiple entries about the mashed cauliflower substance made popular by the Aitkens cult:

Cooking Know-How For a smoother potato-like texture, puree cooked cauliflower and dressing together in food processor or with immersion blender until very smooth.
http://cosmosgatekeeper.multiply.com/

Often the word 'like' is not used as a direct suffix to potato, but often to create a simile:

Then, I just went off on the net, in this careless sort of day when I had no outting planned, and started researching dental chair potato like a maniac
http://valladares-mont.livejournal.com/

um, ok. Good luck with that.

The hunt also educated me to aspects of living in Finland. #31 on the list of "You Know You Have Been In Finland Too Long, When..." is:

31. When you're hungry you can peel a boiled potato like lightning.
http://reindeerrambler.livejournal.com/4949.html

Not exactly David Letterman material. The rest of the list is funnier if you want to check it out.

Now for the winner!

I chose this quote only for use of the words 'potato like' but for the different ways one can interpret the word 'balls'.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK
Big fish with small potato like balls. The resulting mouth full of tiny bones made enjoying this dish difficult.
http://mookblogings.blogspot.com/

And, like, Honorable Mention! lol

ok so i started this potato like a yr ago lol...but i figured we'd start it up again so here-pass the potato...please! lol
http://blog.myspace.com/gabbyr511

Are you wearing your safety glasses? No? I don't care, yay!

I know you're worried. Everyone is. It is the single most frequent question I have been asked since giving my 2 weeks notice.

What is going to happen to the Safety Committee?

I was volunteered (by all the other people that didn't want to do it) to co-chair this committee. Our first meeting was last week. This particular entity has not existed for 5 years. The company president made a big brew-ha-ha about it after someone fell off a ladder. So, poof! now there is a Safety Committee.

So, it is our job to take all the old safety – policy – equipment – earplug - stuff and update it. Fun! I am the only one on the committee with a computer. So who gets to do all the work? Me. Agendas, minutes, recommendations, telephone calls, purchasing, employee manuals…OSHA, OSHA, OSHA!

Um, Gesundheit.

But no more. No more, I tell you! This compulsory membership that forces me to pretend to care about people lifting with their legs and not their backs will soon be over.

Three weeks, my friends. Three weeks.

We are moving! I am excited and terrified!

It is a whirlwind in my brain. Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched. I can feel this will be good for us. There is just so much to be done. Where will we live? Where will I work? What about all our crap?

What about the house?

As a lot of you know, we just completed a pretty major renovation of our home, so it makes absolutely no sense to sell it. So we have to rent it. To strangers. Who may or may not know that there is a no chocolate pudding rule in all areas with the new white berber carpet. Who may use candles irresponsibly.
Who may think the Clematis that is perhaps the most beautiful example I have ever seen, is a weed and yank it out of the ground. Who may not love our little house like we do.

We have inhaled plaster and lathe and blown black snot for the betterment of our home. It has kept us safe and warm and now we must leave it behind. I take some comfort knowing that it will still be ours, even if people who don't quite appreciate it the same way, are the ones who get to live there.

Of course, the biggest fear is that no one will want to live there. And it will sit empty, demanding mortgage payments and insurance premiums from our dwindling bank accounts. Because even though we love our house, and see it's potential as a contributing member of the family, we also realize that it could also be a mooch. And just sit there, do nothing, and cost us precious income.


And Tdog’s already got that job.

Quote of the Week #6 (sublime)

A huge thanks to Chickie for this weeks word, 'sublime'. She stepped in from the reserves when last weeks winner failed to show (she was the winner in week #2 before all this word nonsense started). Thanks Chickie!

How many bloggers utilize the word sublime in a given week? Not a whole lot. Maybe that's because it is a 5 cent word in land of 1 cent bloggers. Therefore, those who turn up tend to have writing skills a notch higher than usual...or at least better vocabularies. But now worries, it was still enough to do the job.

The overwhelming majority of posts have to do with music or food.

I actually have the middle-aged hippie woman who lived in my first apartment building here in Chicago to thank for introducing me to this sublime and affordable coffee
http://www.consumatron.com/

Wow sublime and affordable, sign me up.

Then there were the bloggers that had, you know, experiences.

I sat there, entranced in this sublime misery wondering at the world - in full awe of the mystery of being human, of existing at all, and feeling united in heart with all those around me.
http://writeretc.com/blog/wp-content

Sublime is a pretty strong word. When you envoke it, it should be describing something awe-inspiring and beautiful. Like, for instance, an appliance repairman.

Frustrated by an annoying leak from the bottom of the door on your Frigidaire dishwasher, model number starting with PLD? Sublime Master Willie has the fix.
http://fixitnow.com/

But the winner this week, I must say, fits right into the subject matter of this week's ramblings, and has even inspired me...

Cabernet
A Haiku by Nacho

Cradled in my palm
My sips melt the winter chill
And sense of balance

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

But now, years later, it seems to me that haiku is the perfect vehicle to encapsulate all aspects of red wine, from the mysteriously sublime to the numbingly mundane.
http://redwinehaiku.blogspot.com/

Honorable Mention

Could the real power and force in international relations (and global diplomacy) soon rest with the sublime beauty of football and not in the limp fabric of a sky blue beret?
http://kerroncross.blogspot.com/

Can't tell if I'm comin' or goin'

We arrived at our hotel, just outside the city around Noon. Though I'm a little woozy from the previous nights indulgences (see post below), I try to muster some enthusiasm. We unload the bags and the dog and go into our bed-with-a-kitchen room. If J ends up getting and taking this job, this will be our home for a month. Ah, I can already smell the Ramen and Hot Pockets.

We have an appointment at 2 to meet a realtor on the corner of Church and Main. Where is the corner of Church and Main? We have no idea. We don’t even have a map. Regardless, we put T in his big plastic box and head out towards the city.

The thing that strikes me as we drive into Burlington is how picturesque it is. Truly beautiful. Could I imagine living in this Victorian City on the Lake?



Hell yeah.

Of course there are other factors, such as, well, it would help if J actually got offered a job. And the real estate is super pricey. But if all the chips fall in a particular way, perhaps it will be home soon. But, then again, perhaps not. This is probably frustrating to those of you who want to know for sure.

What to do, what to do. We aren't in a position to make a decision yet. We don't know if Burlington wants us...or rather J, so therefore, me too...by default. And let me tell you, it can have me. Any place with a 4 block pedestrian outdoor shop/restaurant/bar thoroughfare and dogs on every corner, can have it's way with me.


It's a mixed bag of emotions. Both fear and excitement come into play. I won't bore you with a PROs and CONs list, but I'll tell you, it's neck and neck.

Stay tuned...

The big winner of the night? Not my liver.

The fights don't start until 10, so I figure the boys are coming over around 9. My limited experience with UFC centers around the reality show, because though I don't like organized ass beatings, I enjoy some drama. But this pay-per-view thing is only the fighting part, not the peeing on someone's pillow part. Therefore, not as interesting.

J informs me the guys will be arriving at 7, so they can go out for beer and wings. Well, that sounds like fun! But after a conversation that went something like this

Me: You don't want me to go?

J: I don't want you to want to go.

the No Girls mandate was established.

So what did I decide to do? Um, drink enough wine to make a complete ass out of myself. Well, that wasn't the plan, but that is what happened.

I go to dinner with a friend, during the course of which I have two glasses of wine. When I get home the boys are still out. I pour another glass of wine while I go over my options and blab on the phone with Sexy about the new season of Real World and the subtle power struggles of The Gauntlet 2 (Impeach Kina!). With the option of being sequestered in the bedroom for the night, or going out solo, I head out to see a band playing at a local bar.

Jump ahead.

On the walk home from downtown I feel ok. Sure a little buzzed, but nothing ridiculous. However, every step I take closer to home, the more drunk I begin to feel. I start getting concerned. As I approach my house, my anxiety hightens. Inside are 3 complete strangers (and one of Js coworkers, gulp) all hyped up on UFC testosterone and here comes the wife! She's home! and she's shitfaced!

As I approach the house I hear T bark in the back yard. I'm saved! I head down our side alley and to the gate. I think, "I'll just hang out here, take a few deep breathes, compose myself and head in the side door and up the stairs, without having to talk to anybody." Well, T's barking caught J's ear and he pops out the side door. Then I try to talk, and walk, but nothing is working.

Those of you who know me well have probably seen me under the influence. I am usually (I stress usually) not a sloppy fall down drunk. Sure I get overly chatty and spill my drink. I also have inclinations towards sharing my religious and political beliefs, but I stay upright. Well, not this time. For some reason my balance went the way of the my better judgement, nowhere to be found.

J comes out and I begin apologizing because I realize how drunk I am. Luckily he loves me enough to help me inside and gets me going up the stairs. Where I fall down. But I get up and proceed to the bedroom.

Boom! J hears a thud and announces to his comrades he better go check on his drunk ass wife. Which he does, only to find me lying on the bedroom floor. But I'm ok. Not passed out or anything, just completely unable to keep everything sturdy.

Yes I am a joy to be married to. I can only hope there are not stories circulating Js place of business about me and my inability to hold my liquor.

But I had my punishment:

We awake at 8am to drive 3 hours. I tend to get car sick. Not fun. Then once we arrive, I sit in the back seat while a realtor drives us around on a 'tour'...ugh. But the city was pretty, even though I wanted to puke. But I didn't.

The End

Smacked! Ouch. Twice? Ouch.

Before I get into my trip up north, I want to let you know...I've been smacked. When I was typing the last entry from the hotel lobby, I checked out my site meter and yikes! where the hell are all these people coming from? No, I haven't suddenly become popular or interesting, the lovely Princess Pottymouth at I talk Too Much reviewed my blog.

I submitted it, and I've been wincing ever since. These gals are snarky and tell it like it is, so when you ask for their opinion, you gotta be willing to take it. Out of 5 smacks, I got a lonely 2. From reading previous reviews, I take this to mean something between "a waste of time" and "doesn't completely suck." Still happy there was no talk of wanting to stab their eyeballs, nor any name calling, so all in all, I'll call it a success. At least in the way that I got them to come see me after love LOVING their website for so long (ok, I realize that sounds a little like ass kissing, but it's true). Because, as it says over there, making fun of other people is funny...even if it's me.

Luckily she didn't really rip into me, just didn't seem impressed. And my posts haven't been all that entertaining as of late. I went and read all that is currently scrollable, and it's kinda lame. Princess didn't go into my archives, not that there are some kind of pulitzer prize winning entries there either, but I'd like to think there is at least some 3 smack stuff in there? Hey, how can you not appreciate the in depth analysis of my dog, and then there is the unseen class wars occuring at Six Flags?

She had a couple suggestions that I will attempt to employ. First is trying to get my profile linked again. For any of you who were here when it was that picture of the plate of nachos, that stupid pic took forever to load. Then, like an idiot, I went into the template (also known as the land of random symblos and numbers) to delete just the pic, but poof! the whole thing went away. Anyway, now you can't get any info on who I am. Not that I'm sharing a whole lot. Perhaps I'll just link to my first post. It says a little.

Another is the Quote of the Week thing. If I decide to keep it going (which is questionable since this weeks winner does not seem to be playing along) I'll put a explaination somewhere so people who fall upon it understand. For those who are new, it's just a Blog Quote. Each week the winner is picked by searching for a specific word in blogs which is designated by the previous weeks winner (i. e. last week was 'petty'). The idea is that eventually we will have a string of blogs all somewhat randomly connected...a ribbon through the blogosphere...or river...isn't it beautiful? Though if this weeks winner doesn't give me her word soon, this river may have to course into the somewhat putrid waters of MySpace and bother the Honorable Mention...ick.

Sorry about this enty, I'm not a huge fan of when people blog about their blog. And of course I never do that. Not ever No. Never.

Stay tuned for stories of my inappropriate intoxication and visit to the Queen City of Vermont.

I'm not here!

Well, I'm here. But 'here' isn't the usual place. Just a quick hello from Burlington, VT! I am sitting in the lobby of our Marriot, next to a roaring fire, trying to figure out where to eat. I pick up J from his job interview (gasp!) in a couple hours. More on that if it becomes anything worth writing about.

But I must say, I really like it here. As we drove in towards the city, and topped a hill, the expansive lake laid before us, blue and inviting. The Adirondacks across in New York offer a gorgeous backdrop to Lake Champlain. Burlington itself has the bustle of a city, with a laid back pace of a small town Main Street. But it is cold. And a little on the pricey side. We'll be living in a matchbox if we move here.

But we'll see...

Yay, I'm not at work! But I'll be back tomorrow.

Quote of the Week #5 (petty)

The good thing about the word petty (courtesy of Samson, last week's winner) is that when most people use it in a blog entry, they're bitchin'. And bitchin' makes for some entertaining blogging. Well, sometimes. That is if you ever get around to the bitching part:

Life has been so full of petty annoyances lately that I do not even know where to begin, so I just won't. I know that doesn't make for good blog reading.
http://trampolinetricks.blogspot.com

No it doesn't.

I waded through some talk of Tom Petty and that racecar guy Petty, but most of it was politics. People calling their governors, town council, sheriff and, of course, George and the Gang, petty. There are soooo many griping-about-politics blogs out there. I guess people need an outlet for their disillusionment, but LORD it is boring.

But people bitch about other stuff too. Like what? Well...

The ladies:

Not that I'm saying that women are inherently mean.... Oh, who am I kidding. Women ARE mean. And petty and spiteful and hormonal and territorial and a whole list of other things
http://onefortheroad1187.blogspot.com

Learnin’:

Hmm. School & assignments & quizzes & presentations seem so petty.. So insignificant in the grander scheme of things. Anyone agree with me?
http://stillwaters2.blogspot.com/

Co-worker hygiene:

I'm going to be at another hospital, a small one where the people should be nicer. I feel petty saying that, but it's the truth and it's how I feel. When people hate their jobs and don't wash their hands and don't care about who they might injure or affect, it really makes me mad.
http://mustangsallymd.blogspot.com/

People who take the Knitting Olympics too seriously:

Can you freakin' believe it? How petty is that? Jane KNIT A LACE STOLE IN 16 DAYS and then some asshat has to go make her feel bad about her accomplishment because it wasn't finished and blocked by the closing ceremonies.
http://jillz.typepad.com/purl_up_with_a_good_yarn/

And on and on…

But on top of the heap, I give you

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

Yeah, the $10 gift card looked pretty lame and petty by comparison. So...blah. People suck. I'm broke, and I don't like babies.
http://silverwind126.livejournal.com

Honorable Mention

There is a crisis in the world of mixology, one that threatens the industry entire. Fixing it will require the whiny hectoring of an incredibly petty man. I am that man.
http://blog.myspace.com/aus10michael

I tried to contact the winner, but she's a livejournal user, and only allows other livejournal people to comment or contact her. I am not a livejournal user, so...if anyone has a solution to this dilemma, please comment below. I could give the honor to the honorable mention, but I'm afraid he'll think it’s some sort of lame default award. Which, of course, it is.

Update: Since silverwind didn't respond with a word, and MySpace is also some sort of cool kids only club, I have extended an invitation to the Week #2 winner at http://skitteringthoughts.blogspot.com to provide a word. She won before I started doing the word thing...let's hope she appears.

I'm the bitch in the balcony

I'm sure Ms. Ryan was nice and interesting on Oprah yesterday. I wouldn't know because her mouth was too distracting. There must be some botox action going on there too, because her face was as smooth and shiny as Pink and Pretty Barbie, with the frozen expression to match. That is except for when those big swollen lips pulled back over her teeth in a strained attempt to smile. She looked like she was having an allergic reaction...or morphing into an Olsen Twin.

Ok, enough celeb bashing. I can be a bitch, but it takes a bigger bitch than me to do it well. I don't even have the balls to get into it with some Meg Ryan fan from the Netherlands who questions my photo choice in, what I can only assume, some lame attempt to say she doesn't look weird...oh, a year ago sure, but not now. No, instead I play nice. You know, sometimes the high road seems more like some Edward Scissorhands plastic tree lined avenue. Sure it's nice and safe, but it's fake.

Last night I saw Good Night, and Good Luck. It was pretty good. Not as good as Capote and Brokeback Mountain. So far, my personal choice for Best Film is Brokeback...though I still haven't seen Crash (which I hear is awesome) and Munich (which I hear is long and kinda boring).

In aha! Bonus! news, Jenny and I got to sit in the balcony last night. When Jenny asked "do they ever seat people in the balcony?" the old lady working the ticket booth said "Only members, but wait by the office door and I'll be right there." So we waited and stood amazed as she unclipped the velvet rope and allowed our admittance into the privileged and elevated seating. Yay! and we were all alone.

Quote of Last Night
After I comment how we are the only people in the balcony.

“What a waste. We aren't even going to be making out.”

-Jenny

Asking the tough questions...

The Oprah promo airing for today's show starts with "What happened to Meg Ryan?" Then they run sound bites of her talking about her marriage to Dennis Quaid and her Chinese baby adoption. But what I want to know is, "What happened to Meg Ryan’s face!?" They showed clips of the interview and her trout pout has her looking like she's gearing up to play The Joker in the next installment of the Batman movies.

Do you think Oprah will have the balls to ask? Oh, I hope so.