silent night

As you can see from the previous post, I haven't been feeling so Christmas-y lately. I've been feeling a little stressed. While normally I would be dancing about in my apron tidying up our apartment and cheerfully preparing Christmas treats while packing for our trip to California (it's my imagination, okay? who cares if this is completely and totally inaccurate?), instead I have found myself wanting nothing more than to curl up in the fetal position with a pan of brownies. I have not packed yet, we leave tomorrow, and I'm feeling the pressure. This morning as I entered the subway station on my way to work, I heard something that changed all of that: rising above the general nastiness of the subway station, a single violin playing Silent Night. For that moment, the weight of my busy week melted away, and I felt.....love. I love my Savior, I love my family, I love my friends. Soaringly beautiful, that love, that music....ahhhh, nice.

cranky

I'm cranky. Today, I consumed 910 calories worth of KFC, to be exact. This is not what made me cranky, but I felt it was worthy of mention. To backtrack, I had my hair cut, and it's.....okay. I did that thing where I went for a haircut fully expecting said haircut to fix whatever inner turmoil I was experiencing (this haircut will make me look like Jennifer Aniston and help me know if I should go back to school. Like that.). So, I spent all day chanting to myself "it's just hair, it's not that important". After work, I went to do some Christmas shopping. Surely this is deserving of some good karma, right? Wrong. As I waited in the rain on the sidewalk for the light to change, a taxi cab drove through the mother of all puddles, and splashed awful muddy nasty gutter water all over my lovely green coat. I paused to recover from the shock, and thought "Hmmmm. Nice point, Heavenly Father. I can see that I am experiencing this so that I can see that while I may really dig my green coat, it is just a thing. It is not my life, my happiness does not come from material things." Then, I moved on to severe crankiness, because my coat got slimed, man!!! That totally stinks. I then rushed to the subway, hoping to get to the cleaners by our apartment in time to drop my coat off. I looked at my watch: 6:45. Dang. The cleaners close at 7:00. I know it maybe will sound a little cheesy, but I said a little prayer that went something like this: "Heavenly Father, I know that this coat is just a thing, but I really want to have it cleaned, and if there's any way to have the cleaners be open, that would be awesome." I got off the subway, walked/ran to the cleaners, which of course was closed, because it was 7:15, when I looked across the street and saw......another dry cleaners!!! All lit up like a beacon!! A shining, good clean laundry smelling beacon!! I ran in, stripped off the coat, handed it over to the blessed dry cleaner guy, and walked home, and looked at my receipt. The thing is, this place is supposed to close at 7:00, too. Thanks, Heavenly Father. I really, really appreciate this.

to cut, or not to cut?

I am going for a hair appointment tomorrow. I know, I know, I said I was growing my hair out, but I miss my short hair, and I keep seeing all these short, swingy, fun cuts out on the street....so far, I'm getting mixed reviews. Some like long better, and some like it short better. Paul is being quite diplomatic and supportive, but has not provided any concrete opinion. Hmmmmm. Ahhh, short swingy cut, how I pine for you. Now, shall I break it off with the current mid-length hair? I mean, it's been good to me, sure, but it takes longer to style, and I don't know if it's meeting my needs. Any opinions?? Short or long??

good bus, bad bus, and waffles

I am always amused at how the way I feel about New York can change in seconds. On a crisp fall day, with the sun shining brightly, and kind people holding doors and smiling on the subway, as I eat a cupcake while finding a really awesome dress on sale, I love New York. On a frigid sleety day when I am loaded down with bags and people are shoving and yelling as a homeless guy pukes on the street, not so much. This week, I had two experiences on the bus, one sweet, and the other, odd.

#1-Riding the bus to work. In between stops, the driver starts honking, and I am wondering,who is the idiot driver causing this outburst? Turns out, the driver is honking at some kids who are running for the bus, to tell them he's going to stop. Stop he does, and lets the kids on, who are all junior high age, and all adorably in some state of disarray so signature to that age.....ahhhh, the days of messed up hair and backwards T shirts. Anyhoo. As a side note, the girl sitting across from me on the bus had on Nike sneakers with a pink stripe, pink socks, a pink backpack and pink leopard print purse, pink cell phone, and pink I-Pod. Awesome.

#2-Coming home from work. As I sit on the bus, I become aware of a very tall European man standing right in front of me. He has the bushiest eyebrows I have ever seen (really! like toothbrush bristles pasted above his eyes!) , and a cup of coffee with a lid. He is talking on a cell phone, and has to get something out of his pocket. He wedges the coffee cup in between his arm (the one attached to the cell phone) and his body, while his free hand searches in his pockets. I watch the coffee sloshing in the cup, praying for no spillage. Ahhh, he finds what he was looking for. Coffee cup gets transferred to the free hand. Wait, it's not a free hand. It's holding something else. As his hand tries to hold the coffee cup and whatever else is in his hand, I watch the coffee slosh higher and higher, closer and closer to lid opening. I shrink back into my seat- I can't watch. I'm mere minutes away from being bathed in coffee. Just as I am about to either faint, scream, or run (all exaggerations, but I think they all really drive the point home) the bus stops. He sits down. Ahhhhh. Thank you.

Last, and in no way related to the above anecdotes, we made waffles for breakfast this morning. We were tag-teaming it pretty well, taking turns removing the waffles from the waffle iron and buttering them when our rhythm got mixed up, and Paul opened the waffle iron too soon. We both lamented the sure to be butchered waffle, and decided that this waffle should be eaten immediately, to put it out of its misery. When the waffle was finished, we opened the waffle iron, and found that the waffle was miraculously saved-not maimed whatsoever. We stood over the waffle iron, awed. "It's like forgiveness!" said Paul, "all the mistakes are gone!" "Right!" I said, "and just like forgiveness, only the waffle iron could fix it. Not like when you try to fix a pancake and it just gets even worse. " Thank you, Paul. Thank you, waffles. Thank you, forgiveness.

food diary

Breakfast: Peanut butter cookie

Lunch: Peanut butter cookie, two slices gouda cheese, toast

Dinner: A little bit of stew

Dessert: Two gingerbread cookies followed by about 1/2 cup of sugar cookie dough followed by 1 1/2 sugar cookies with buttercream frosting.

I don't feel so good. I think my body might be telling me to eat like a grown-up. Dang.

john

It's my little brother John's birthday today. He's twelve years old. Twelve!! I can't believe it. How did that happen? If you thought I was really psyched about birthdays, John is....psyched multiplied by fifty. He is "psyched" personified. He had a sleepover birthday party last night. They went bowling, and Mom made pigs-in-blankets, and they played ping pong, and watched Home Alone 2, and Elf, and my Mom, who has always doubted her talents in the party throwing department, is the new hero of the day. It sounds like this was a rocking party! Hats off to my mom for hosting a gaggle of twelve year old boys. I think one of the kids accidentally knocked over the snack food table, and a lot of stuff was spilled, but a good time was had by all. I just got off the phone with him. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Happy birthday, dude! I can't believe you're twelve!!

John: Thanks! So, Mom says there is a present coming in the mail for me.

Me: Cool! Do you have any idea what it is?

John: No! I have no idea what it is. Unless it's church related. Mom, is it church related? Maybe it's a case for my scriptures. Mom, is it a case for my scriptures? Oh, okay. She said it's not church related.

Me: Hmmm. Guess you'll have to wait and see!

John: Mom, is it BYU related? Or UCLA related? Oh, okay. She said it isn't.

Me: (I start to say something but John jumps in again)

John: Oooooh, unless it's Dragon sunglasses. I really want Dragon sunglasses. It could be Dragon sunglasses, but I doubt it. Mom, is it Dragon sunglasses? Oh, okay, not that. She said it isn't.

Me: Hmmm.

John: Mom, if it doesn't come today then do I get to open a Christmas present instead? Oh. okay. She said no. Oooooh! Car magazines! I bet it's car magazines. Mom, is it car magazines? Oh, okay. She says she won't tell me what it is. I bet it's car magazines.

I can't handle how much I love him. I bet my Mom is going to take a really long nap today.

cold+wind=yucky

I do not care for wind. I think it exists only to make me unhappy. Am I being unfair? I mean, I'm sure it's useful for sailing, and flying kites, and of course it is necessary in movies where some awful storm is coming and the grizzled old sea captain licks his finger and sticks it up in the air and says "Arrrr, thar be a storm brewin' ", but really I personally have little use for it. I have my reasons. I really love lip gloss, the sticky kind to be specific, and let me tell you: sticky lip gloss + hair + wind= cranky Andrea. Also, I really really hate cold, and if you add cold to that, well, let us just not go there. Me no likey. The TV weather people have been spreading their croakings of doom for the last couple of days about the terrible wind and cold set to come our way, and this morning I was determined to be ready. Here's what I put on:

tights
socks
pants
tank top
t shirt
turtleneck
sweater
puffy coat
scarf
hat
gloves

I marched outside this morning a prepared woman. A prepared, puffy woman. Thankfully, I have no doctor appointments that would require me to disrobe, since I think that would take me about 45 minutes.

who is the real mom?

So, Julia and I went to the temple last night, and one of the elderly temple workers asked if we were mother and daughter. !!!!!! May I repeat, !!!!! So, naturally we asked who was the mother, and who was the daughter, and at this point reason kicked in and he realized he was maybe one word away from being smacked with a temple bag, and refused any more opinions. So, we were left to debate just who is the mom, and who is the daughter. While I should be so lucky as to look like I'm related to Julia, I'm not really seeing it, and now I feel like my mid life crisis, which was scheduled to begin in twelve years, has been moved up to.....right now. On my agenda:

Buy shiny red sports car
Schedule first botox injection
Dye my hair
Start wearing my clothes too tight
Buy a copy of Teen People to study (important pop culture references)
Start calling Paul "dad" in public (sorry Paul, I have to keep up appearances)

me

my lovely daughter, Julia

happy thanksgiving

Ahhhh, Thanksgiving. I love you. I love your stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and your gravy. I also love the opportunity to think about the good things in my life. Perhaps I should have listed that first, but I really like stuffing. We borrowed a car (thankful!very thankful!) and drove up to Connecticut to spend Thanksgiving with my sister in law Ryanne's family. I have the most awwwwesome sister in law, and she's got a pretty awesome family. We stayed in the sun room, which housed the jacuzzi, as well as an outdoor shower. I guess it's not completely an outdoor shower, but since the room is all windows and the floor is pebbled, I think it counts. So, I'm proud to say that I got in touch with my inner exhibitionist, and thankfully there were no unfortunate incidents involving curtain malfunction. I'm including a picture, but don't get too excited, now. All you can see is my feet and my face. Nothing racy here, man. This is not that kind of blog, okay? I'm also including some Thanksgiving pics along with a couple of other recent photos, and while I'm at it, here are just a few things that make life wonderful, and for which I am most grateful.

Family
Prayer
Laughter
The subway coming right away
Refined white sugar
Good books
Old movies
Forgiveness

the big dinner

the best sister in law ever

my attempt at a self portrait
exhibitionist

trying on my new boots. i don't have a full length mirror, but i figured out that if i stand on my trunk, i can see my feet in the mirror above our dresser. kind of sad, right?

my sweetsweet visiting teacher marci made me this cake. it was almost too pretty to eat. almost.
i like this pose. it reminds me of those pictures you'd get at winter formal.
devastatingly handsome
this picture was taken just before we all jumped in the pond directly behind us. just kidding. that didn't happen. would have been a good story, though, right?

why boys light candles

It's because they are stinky. I gleaned this information from a very reliable source: my husband. Upon returning from work the other night, Paul greeted me, freshly showered, hair still wet. I saw one of my candles burning, and thought "Well, how nice. It smells so great in here! What a thoughtful husband I have!" I said as much to the husband, and he replied "Oh, good. I thought I was stinky because I hadn't showered yet, so I lit the candle to make the apartment not smell like me." Immediately I remembered back to a few days ago when I also returned home to find a candle burning. Hmmmm. I know exactly why it was lit. I think, in the long run, we both win. I get to buy candles, and Paul feels like he can postpone showering. Wait. That doesn't sound like we both win. I think as long as he showers by the time I get home, then we both win. Wait. I think I made it sound like Paul doesn't do anything all day. That's not true. In Paul's defense, since he spends a lot of time stamping out disease and infection, the hospital people let him stay home sometimes.

your opinion, please?

I really, really dig this coat. I am quite tempted to purchase this coat, and have just purchased these boots. Paul does not think that the green coat and the aubergine boots go together. I, however, think it could work. There is another coat in navy that I like as well, but I love the bright green-y color of this one. What do you think?? Go for it, or not?

the science of birthday gifts

Sunday is my birthday. I really like birthdays. I think I mentioned that in a previous post, didn't I? I like the idea that your birthday is one day of the year when you're always right, you can buy whatever you want (within reason, of course), eat whatever you want (which I do anyway, but on my birthday I feel I have a very good reason), and also I really like cake. Paul has gotten me a birthday gift, and now as I type, it is sitting on the floor behind me: a medium sized box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper covered with little girls dressed as ballerinas. He has selected two bows, one red and one white, and placed them right next to each other in the upper left hand corner of the box. I am wondering if these bows are supposed to represent our love for each other, or at least our close proximity to one another? Hmmmm. Now, the important question....what is it?? Paul said that he took a risk when he got this for me. A risk? A birthday seems like a pretty big day to take a risk with present buying, especially given my history of placing far too much importance on a day most people hate. I just looked at it again. It looks like it could be something electronic. I'm not sure I want something electronic. Paul said that I have mentioned wanting this since before we were married. What have I wanted that long? Do you know?? I really can't think of anything, and I'm wondering if I've been able to go six years without purchasing it, is it really that important? Or, is it soooo important that I haven't been able to justify buying it? Wait- I think I just figured it out. Maybe. If it is what I am thinking it is, then I do like it. Oh, I so totally know what it is. That sneaky devil. Okay, I was wrong. I just asked Paul, and while my guess was something he had considered getting me, it is not that. Hmmmm. I really don't know. I thought he got me a Kitchen Aid, which I have long coveted, but he thought that was actually too risky, as it falls into the appliance category. So, what is risky, that I've wanted for at least six years and possibly more, and is not as risky as an appliance? I tried to weasel more information out of him by painting the bleak picture of me weeping next to the unwanted present as he left for work, and this almost did the trick, but then I asked him if it was the Kitchen Aid, he got freaked out that I could get in his head like that, and he's stopped revealing anything. If anything, he's looking more confident. Paul, if you're reading this, here's a list of things I've wanted for over six years:

1. A pony
2. To meet Cary Grant
3. Muscular calves
4. One of those spa treatments where you get all wrapped up in mud, seaweed or some other earthy product. And then they put hot stones on your back. Yeah.
5. A trip to Spain
6. Actually, it might be nice to own Spain

Paul has gotten concerned that the wrapping paper is slightly see-through. He has since draped a T-shirt over the top.

Rowlf and The Swedish Chef

Ahhhh, thank you SNL, for this silly goodness.

happy birthday, paul!!!

So, I'd like to wish Paul David Boerem a very, very happy birthday....31 years today, he is. ( I think that's how Yoda would say it.) I really, really love birthdays. Paul doesn't love them so much, and never has. I remember his mom telling me how he used to leave his own birthday parties.....a deep and complex soul, even at five years old. Even now, his fears of clowns and people dressed as animals is quite intense, and when that guy dressed as a cow approached him at Stew Leonards during our grocery trip of a couple weeks past, his discomfort and wariness was quite evident. I love birthdays enough for both of us, and I'm embarassed to say that not only can I not sleep on the night before my birthday, I frequently lie awake on the night before Paul's birthday, as well. (yep. The dorky-ness soars to new heights.) So, yesterday I decided to surprise Paul and take the day off of work, which is something I never do, since New York has brought out the workaholic in me.....so, I was totally, totally excited. It's a good thing Paul was working, so he couldn't see my gigantic goofy grin, which alternated with a slightly panicked expression when I thought about not being at work. Now, as I write this email, it is 10:00am, and I am not dressed. My hair is doing that weird fly-away thing, and I need to brush my teeth. I am yucky. I am at home and yucky, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing. As I waited on the couch last night for Paul to get home, I thought about my favorite memories with him. I've got some good ones, but here's one of my favorites:

A few Christmases ago, we flew home to California to be with our families. We had both decided that our plane tickets would be our gifts to each other, and to our familes. This is the same year that my parents purchased a ping pong table for my family. I inherit my love of surprises and perfect presents from my mother, who was bound and determined to have everything just, just right. (as I type this, I miss my mom a whole lot)The ping pong table was being kept at a friend's house, the plan being to have it delivered on Christmas Eve when everyone was in bed asleep. On Christmas Eve, a couple of problems presented themselves:

1. My dad kind of forgot to arrange to have the table delivered. (as I type this, I miss my dad a whole lot)
2. Nobody really wanted to go to bed.

Number one elicited a really awesome response from Mom, who looked a little less than pleased, and number two presented a slight problem. How to have the table delivered if everyone was awake? After a couple of fruitless attempts to get everyone to go to bed, I came up with a plan. I would tell everyone that I had to go back to Paul's parent's house to get a present for him, and Dad was going to take me. Then, we would wait in the garage for the table. Everything worked like a charm. Dad and I waited in the garage, the table was delivered, and Mom looked really happy again, which made Dad really happy. Paul, however, did not look happy. Paul was sitting on the couch in his pajama shirt and jeans, with a baseball cap on, looking seriously disgruntled. I did that thing where I try to look all cute and alluring, and said something romantic like "hey, what's up?". This was met with stony silence, and since normally I'm the one who plays this part, I was a little confused. I mean, we hadn't discussed any such role reversal. I tried again, with a "hey, is something wrong?" and got more stony silence. Hmmmm. So, finally I pulled him aside and got him to talk. "You said we weren't going to get each other presents!!" he said, sounding really, really ticked. "Now I've got to go break into a jewelry store or something so I can get you a present because you love surprises and if I don't have one for you I'm going to be the worst husband in the world!!" This is the part where I started laughing hysterically, and loved him a whole lot. I explained to him our master plan, which relieved him of the problem of how to break into a jewelry store on Christmas Eve. One thing that I know about Paul, and have always known about Paul, is that he wants me to be happy. Even if it means busting into a jewelry store wearing a pajama shirt, jeans and a baseball cap. So, thanks Paul, for doing the laundry, and for watching old movies with me, and for Miss Mamie's mac and cheese, and for emailing me poetry, and for making me laugh, and for being such a greatgreatgreat guy. You're awesome!!

sleepwalking

Actually, I don't really sleepwalk so much as I talk, mumble and do slightly odd things. Last week Paul informed me that he woke up in the middle of the night to me giving him a wet willy....technically I believe it was a dry willy because upon questioning Paul revealed that my finger was not actually wet. Still, kind of weird. I wish I could remember what made me feel like sticking my finger in Paul's ear at three in the morning......I kind of like that I am programmed to be playing pranks on him even in my sleep. I'd like to thank my little brothers, who probably had a lot to do with this.

happy halloween

This weekend, we rented a car and loaded up at Costco and Stew Leonard's.....ahhh, the bliss of bulk grocery shopping. I got an economy size wedge of Gouda cheese, which I would like to cradle lovingly and nibble at constantly, but even in New York I think that might be viewed as strange....also, the city is so dirty that it would be impossible to keep my lovely cheese wedge clean...anyhow. The weekend. We loaded up on groceries, and Paul indulged my hankering to pick out a pumpkin, and I think I got the best one!! (Obscure movie reference: Raising Arizona) On Sunday afternoon, we took a drive to....I'm not really sure where. I think Nyack. All I know is that there was a lake, and really pretty trees. And ducks and geese and swans. Oooh, and deer! We were walking around a nearby cemetery, and all of a sudden like 50 deer came running past me! Okay, really it was like five. They were really close, though!! Side note: when my youngest brother John was quite small, we were at Yellowstone, and he saw some deer, and said "My real deers won't let me pet them. They make me so mad!!" How cute is that? So, when the real deer ran past me, it was quite difficult to not laugh, or to see if they would let me pet them. I didn't, though. On Monday night we carved our pumpkin, and quite an enjoyable time was had, let me tell you!! Paul even let me carve a few things. (He gets really nervous seeing me with a knife or scissors. I don't know why. I'm completely trustworthy.) After finishing, we were so proud of our work that we had a little photo shoot with our pumpkin, who I have named Mose. (runner up name: Malachi.) We tried to make the eyebrows look angry, but really it made it look kind of like an evil bunny, so it's our evil bunny pumpkin, named Mose.

pretty lake

pretty trees
my real deer
the evil bunny pumpkin, Mose
Mose watching Heroes with us

please make me laugh

So, today someone asked me when Paul and I were going to have a baby. I love this question because it implies that I have some sort of control over this. I say, "Hopefully soon...", which is my answer for publication, and then she tells me to relax, because then it will happen. She tells me that she waited a long time to have her second baby, and this worked for her. "How long did it take you?" I ask, and she says "four months." Hmmmm. I don't like to minimize someone else's problems, because obviously to her, this is a long time. Since I don't feel like telling her that I've been trying for four years, I say "Wow, okay, yeah..." and then she spends five more minutes explaining to me exactly what I need to do, and how I need to relax, and that I'll get pregnant in the next two months. I felt slightly annoyed afterwards, which I felt bad about because she's really very sweet, and only meant to help, which led me to wanting nothing more than a very large gooey brownie with some milk. (I medicate with food.) So, now I'm thinking, how can I laugh about this? How can I make this funny, so I'm not annoyed? A very large gooey brownie with milk is certainly very therapeutic, but not terribly funny. Unless the brownie could tell a joke before being consumed. I think normally they say you should picture someone in their underwear, but I don't think that applies to this situation....

strawberry cake/awesome mom

Today in Sunday School, we were discussing the Holy Ghost, and why we need it, how we can recognize it, how it helps us, etc. A friend shared a story that I really loved, about one of her friends, who had two small children, and was throwing a fairly large dinner party. She hauled her kids to the store and load up on groceries, including a strawberry cake, and when they arrived home, the children asked if they could carry the cake into the house. She was fairly frenzied trying to manage getting all the groceries out and told them yes, but to be sure not to drop it. She looked over as her children were carrying the cake, and reminded them again to please not drop it, and then.....they dropped it, and it splattered onto the pavement. She told her children not to move, and she ran into the house, while her children awaited what they were sure would be horrible punishment. She came out with one hand behind her back, approached her children, and pulled out....three forks. Everything stopped, and they sat on the sidewalk and ate the strawberry cake. I really enjoyed this story for a few reasons, first because I love how the Holy Ghost can help us be the best version of ourselves, second because I really, REALLY want to be able to handle stressful situations like this when I'm a mother, and last, because this is a huge reminder to me that in order to be able to do that, I'd better work on it now. My patience has been wearing thin lately, and I feel like I haven't been as kind or easy-going as I like to be......but this made me want to try to be better! Also, it made me want cake.....

Dumbeldore is gay???

So, last night my sister in law (who is in general quite awesome) took me to see JK Rowling at Carnegie Hall. She won a sweepstakes, and got to take a guest, and I was the luckylucky tagalong.....yesssss. So, we joined 2,000+ people and sat in awe as she read an excerpt from Deathly Hallows, and following the reading, she answered questions. One very cute and emotional teenage girl ("I'd like to thank you, JK Rowling, for being such an inspiration to me, I'm a teenage girl and I've got a lot of angst and I'm pretty mad at the world but your books make me less crazy..." okay, I'm embellishing, but you get the idea.) got up and asked if Dumbeldore ever found love and got married. And then JK Rowling said......that she always thought of Dumbeldore as being gay. ????!!!! May I repeat, ????!!!! What do you think about that?? My mind is reeling.....Ryanne said that she'd always suspected it. I did think there was something slightly odd about the intensity of the friendship with Grindelwald.....so now I have a signed copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and a lot to think about.....so, my fellow Harry Potter fans, I'd like to know what you think.....

how to not eat vegetables

Today a friend asked me how I got out of eating vegetables as a kid. I paused, and reflected on my many years spent trying to avoid my greatest enemy. So, in case you don't like vegetables and you need some strategy, or if you're a parent and need some insider information, here you go:

1. Hide them behind the couch. I know, sounds a little out there, but I was four, okay? It seemed to be working fine. I'd tell Dad that if he just closed his eyes I'd eat them, and then I'd go and poke them behind the sofa. This worked great until he opened his eyes while I was in mid-poke. Also, I am a terrible liar, so when he asked me what I was doing, I told him..."umm, I lost something...." Great, Andrea, just great. He was, of course, nice enough to help me look, and pulled the couch away from the wall to reveal a nice little line of peas, carrots and green beans.

2. Toss them underneath your brother's chair. This method requires a little more cunning, stealth and strategy. I think I was in the 8-10 year old range when I employed this technique. You start out eating kind of leisurely, right? Like this is just the greatest dinner, and why rush? And hey, these peas are just so lovely I think I'll save them for last. So, while you share amusing anecdotes from recess and talk about what's happening in Ramona Forever, you casually toss a couple of peas under your brother's chair. Not all of them, just a couple. Stealth, remember? If mom sees a pile of peas under your brother's chair she's totally going to get wise. So, just a couple. Then, start over again, this time tossing them under your other brother's chair. Keep going with as many siblings as you've got, occasionally tossing some really far, like next to the sink. This way, mom thinks, "hmmmm. Some peas must have accidentally fallen on the floor while being served." This worked for a couple of years, until mom's eagle eyes caught me in the middle of a yawn -turned veggie toss.

3. Cut them up really tiny and swallow them with milk. It's time to admit defeat. You've used up all your brilliant ideas, you've tossed and poked and tried hiding them under your mashed potatoes, and now you're caught. You put up a valiant fight, my friend. Even in failure, remember you had a few good years! This was a really decent run, but unfortunately this is the last stop for you. As you sit in front of your plate, all of your yummy food gone, don't lose hope completely. Just cut up those veggies really really teeny and swallow them like pills! You can't even taste them that way, and it's a little rebellious, you know? Kind of revolutionary. Like you're saying "yeah, maybe you can make me eat vegetables, but you'll never make me chew them!!!" (it sounded a lot more inspirational in my head.)

Last, and this has absolutely nothing to do with the above topic, I am an ice cream tunneler. If eating ice cream that has some sort of cookie or swirl or mix-in, I simply must dig it all out before eating the surrounding ice cream. I realized this has perhaps gotten a little out of hand just this evening, when standing with a spoon in front of a half gallon of Turkey Hill Graham Slam. It has this really tasty graham cracker swirl, and when I dug in I totally hit a mother lode of graham-y yumminess. So, I kept digging, and digging, and now there is a perfect hole going all the way down to the bottom of the carton. Now, normally I would just work my way around to even it all out, digging in a couple of other spots so my work would not be so noticeable, but this time to even it out I would have had to eat just about the whole carton, so I opted not to, and while I do feel pleased with my restraint, I'm faced with the knowledge that I am a chronic ice cream tunneler.

Flight of the Conchords- Business Time

May turned me on (no pun intended) to Flight of the Concords, and I am basking in the hillariousness. Warning: This video may make you want to get down to "business". All you'll need is one baggy T-shirt, and a pair of business socks....

funny part II

Andrea: I need ice cream. (I've eaten a lot of ice cream this week, our supply has been depleted, and now I'm suffering withdrawls.)

Paul: Have some hot chocolate. It's like ice cream, but hot....and liquidy.....

funny

Paul: I trust you further than I throw things......yeah, figure that one out.

We're watching the office right now. When Michael called the website his "brain grandchild", I nearly peed my pants with laughter.

about last night....

I woke up at about 3:00 in the morning, and felt a sudden urge to consume ice cream. Since my will power is not the strongest at such an ungodly hour, I obeyed immediately and stood in my unmentionables at the kitchen counter as I consumed the remainder of the party cake ice cream . I felt slightly guilty when I woke up, and was reminded of a poem I used to love, by William Carlos Williams:

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

I love it, and I feel it's pretty applicable to my situation, except for the whole fruit part. Just replace that with ice cream, and you've got it.

Sesame Street News Flash: Rapunzel

I was watching a clip from SNL that spoofed Rowlf and the Swedish Chef, and got to thinking about some of my favorite Sesame Street skits....fast breaking news flash was always so awesomely silly. Ahhhhh, good times watching Sesame street while making forts in the family room out of pillows and blankets.....sweet, sweet nostalgia.....

flawed

I think we can all agree this is pretty bad.....

Now, isn't this better?

So, I just read a post on a friend's blog, with an excerpt from Joel Stein's Time essay titled "You are not my friend", and pretty much I heart it forever, with a heart shaped exclamation point......it's talking about how we always present our most airbrushed selves to the blogging world, and I ate it up with a spoon, I tell you....and, it got me thinking. This is true, really. When posting a picture, I do generally try to make sure it's fairly flattering, and even when posting something that is meant to look candid, I'm still trying to make sure that Paul and I look polished, and that I'm not slouching, and that I'm not turned the wrong way so my nose looks huge. Immediately after I read the aforementioned post that I am now in love with, I had this surge of do-gooderness, and I thought, "I know!!! I'll post a totally unflattering, very real picture of myself to show that I'm not afraid of real life!!! This will inspire millions and surely be mentioned in my behind-the-music!!" Then, I thought...."Well, do I really want to do that?? I mean, there are some really unflattering pictures of me out there....maybe something that's only mildly yucky?? Maybe some iffy lighting, or I'm making a face that I could call weird, but that in actuality is charming and quirky. Yeah, maybe that...." And, there I go again. So, I bit the bullet, and downloaded a picture of myself that is, I feel, completely unflattering. There are a few things going on here:

1. The mid-sentence picture. Who among us has not cringed at the photo snapped while speaking? While in the moment we were perhaps being most charming and well versed in whatever subject being discussed, in the picture it merely comes across as kind of ticked-off.

2. Growing-out hair. I feel that we should have some sort of limitation or rule on being photographed when in the process of growing out one's hair. This an arduous process, to be undertaken only by those who feel they can walk past cute swingy short cuts without ducking into the nearest Aveda. I am proud to say I have not yet succumbed, but I fear one glimpse at this picture may have many wondering why....

3. The slouch. I would like to formally apologize to my mother, who did always remind me to sit up straight, for disregarding her teaching and slouching with wild abandon, as seen above. It just felt so good.....but I'm a changed woman now. I swear, Mom, I won't do it again. On camera.

There. I think that just about covers it. I am flawed, for all the world to see. I included the charmingly quirky picture, just to make myself feel better.

The Office

I loved that picture of the old lady from the Titanic. That's funny stuff. Just wanted to put that out there.

stickler

Someone misquoted I Love Lucy at work the other day. I got mad. Okay, maybe not mad, but really really annoyed. Know why?? Because I have memorized way more I Love Lucy episodes than I would ever like to admit in court. Also, I would like to never have to be in court. For the record. Anyways, I'm a stickler for I Love Lucy. And some other things too, but right now I'm going to focus on Lucy. I think I Love Lucy is pretty much the funniest show on the planet. I feel like there is an episode of I Love Lucy for just about every situation that can arise in life. Are you having trouble adjusting to life with a newly pregnant wife? Does your husband watch sports all the time? Do you have little sales resistance? Are you mad because your band leader husband won't let you be in his show? I could go on and on. I won't though, because I'd like to spare you the full extent of my geekiness. I somehow duped the nicest and coolest and smartest and best looking guy I knew into marrying me and then said...."Ummm, yeah, so I like to memorize episodes of I Love Lucy....so, we cool?" It's just that I feel like sitcoms these days are mere suggestions of what true comedy should be, and instead of originality actual humor I am being fed something that is actually not humor at all, but something yucky that the producer people try to hide with some only mildly appealing stuff, like when my mom tried to get me to eat vegetables by hiding them in other things, like potatoes. But guess what!!! I wasn't fooled then, and I'm not fooled now!! I STILL don't like vegetables, and I STILL don't like yucky sitcoms!!! ( the nice ones I like, though. But still not vegetables.) Anyways, back to work. Someone was quoting "Vitameatavegamin", which just happens to be one of my all time favorite episodes, and she said "and it's good for you, too!" Well, I'll have you know its SUPPOSED to be "It's so tasty, too! Tastes just like candy.", but you may remember from previous posts that I'm a chicken, and so I of course said nothing, but sat in my little stickler world, repeating the REAL words in my mind and celebrating my inner stickler.

Disclaimer: I'd just like to say that I have nothing but respect for people who like vegetables. I hope someday to be able to join you. I hope you realize I was only trying to make a point.

Good news, and the Death of a Sweater

So, Paul got the loan repayment program!! Basically this means that the big hospital money people give us money if Paul works in the hospital for two years. Yay! I love the big hospital money people. Or, maybe technically they are the government hospital money people. I wonder if this makes Paul a democrat.

Now, for some sad news. Last week, my pink cashmere hoodie died. Upon autopsy I discovered it had developed a hole in the elbow. This went undetected for quite some time, and by the time of discovery, sadly it was beyond repair. This is tragic!!! It should have lived so much longer.....I mean, I could wear it with anything! Almost anything. It didn't really look good with my butterfly skirt, but it looked good with so many things!!! I got it on sale at Banana Republic, one of those magical days when you find stuff on the clearance rack that fits and is actually cute.....(I just sniffed for dramatic effect) it lived for almost four years, you know. I think that's a pretty good run, for a pink cashmere hoodie that went everywhere. It went with me to a Death Cab for Cutie concert, and to Paul's graduation (see above picture), and to......the car show......okay, running out of specific instances, but I think you get my drift. This totally stinks, I mean, it was just getting cold. Nice timing, pink cashmere sweater. Thanks a lot. Hmmm. I think I've moved from grief to anger. What comes next?

scene from a marriage, part II

Paul: I think I'm hungry.

Andrea: You just ate all that pizza.

Paul: Oh, wait. Actually I think I'm full.

odd dream

I dreamt last night that the 1 train was a roller coaster, and as it came out of the tunnel (is it before or after 125th street?) we plummeted down and my tummy got that really awesome dropping feeling that I love so much. Then, I was in a restaurant and needed to use the bathroom. The ladies room was occupied, so I went into the men's room, and in the process of bending over to pull up my jeans, I dropped something into the toilet. I reached in to get it (!!!) and a hand REACHED OUT OF THE TOILET AND GRABBED MY HAND!!!! (!!!!) I recovered from the shock one would naturally experience after having an encounter with a toilet dwelling hand, and went out to sit down, where Kelsey Grammar (from Frasier) and Debbie Reynolds were taking turns serenading the restaurant goers. I don't remember what song Kelsey was singing, but he did look rather blissed out. I vaguely recall that the song Debbie Reynolds sang was about poop. I really need to stop eating ice cream so late at night......

nanny bourne

I was riding the bus home from work today, and we passed a movie theater. I glanced up at the marquis; The Nanny Diaries, and the latest Bourne movie were both listed. Have you ever seen two words and just mixed them all up in your head without even trying? With the way the names were placed on the marquis, or perhaps just because I was quite tired, what I saw was Nanny Bourne. I thought, "hmmmm. That's not right." Then I paused and reflected on what Jason Bourne would look like as a nanny.

sick

Well, since my last post, things have backfired a little bit. While my passion for junk food remains intact, it appears that my strategy for consuming said junk food was rather lacking. On Saturday, Sunday and Monday, I ate virtually nothing but sugar, and this did quite a number on my immune system, which then decided to take a week off. I have spent the last week encouraging it to come back. I really didn't mean to offend it- I mean, if it wanted some protein or vitamins so badly, couldn't it just have written me a note? It just seems like retaliating with such a vicious cold and flu virus is a bit drastic. There's no need to overreact, I was planning on eating some bran cereal for breakfast on Tuesday, really I was. Okay, fine, perhaps my body was trying to tell me with the shaky hands and slightly ill feeling that I really didn't need the fourth cupcake or the second package of sugar babies, and I'll be honest, I didn't listen. I'm just saying I'd appreciate it if our bodies could come up with a more straightforward way of warning us that we're about to become sick. A nice note, or a phone call, or maybe a little bell that goes off when it's time to scale back. What I'm trying to say here is "Immune system, please come back. Let's work on this. Maybe over a bowl of bran cereal?"

narrowing the gap

Hmmm. We look a little cranky. I've been a little cranky this week. I've been reading a book lately that focuses on how we can become closer to Heavenly Father. ( That's not what made me cranky, though.) The author makes some very bold statements that I totally dig- I really like being encouraged to find ways I can improve. (Still not what made me cranky.) One chapter talked about the gap between what we believe, and how we act, and how we can narrow the gap....she said something that I've heard before, about how the more we try to narrow the gap, the more conscious we become of there being a gap, and the less acceptable to us that becomes. (Here comes what made me cranky.) I really tried this week to live with integrity, to do what I said I would do, to do what I believe is right, and at the end of the week......I fell short. I fell SO short!! I stank!! (at narrowing the gap, not physically. I don't think, anyway.) I felt so disappointed. I was trying!!! I was really trying, and I still messed up!!! Then again, I appreciate these experiences because they help me to be more understanding with those around me....we're all doing our best. I really believe that. I like the idea that we should do our best, work our hardest to show the Lord we are mindful of Him, and then trust Him to make up the difference. So, I'd just like to say, thanks, Heavenly Father, for being patient with me. I'm trying.

The Fine Art of Junk Food Consumption

I love junk food. Ever since I can remember, I have loved junk food. I have fond memories of my first grape soda (mentioned in a previous post), the first time I had Kraft macaroni and cheese (at Tiffany Effland's house after school), and the love affair only blossomed with the onset of junior high and high school. In junior high, my lunch of choice was three Snickers bars and an RC Cola. In high school, my tastes became more mature and eclectic, and I moved on to those tasty soft chocolate chip cookies with a thing of cream cheese to smear on top. I also loved the chocolate chip cookie dough frozen yogurt (I saved all the cookie dough bits for the very end), and who doesn't love those individual pizzas? Now that I am (I suppose) a grown-up, I have to curb my junk food loving tendencies a bit and eat things like bran cereal, but I think that junk food knows it will always have a special place in my heart. Now that my deep and abiding love of junk food has been appropriately introduced, I would like to move on to the real reason for this post: the strategy of successful junk food eating. This is something requiring careful thought, consideration and planning. A careful balance must be maintained, with equal parts chocolate, fruity, cupcakes/baked goods, ice cream, and salty/deep fried. My personal technique involves eating a little of every group, not enough to over-do it. I have heard of some people doing revolutionary things like eating carrots in between to cleanse the pallet and creat delusions of health amidst the gluttony, but we all know my relationship with vegetables....anyhow today, together with three friends, I achieved junk food nirvana. First, we went to Economy Candy where I loaded up on some essentials: Pop Rocks, Sugar Babies, Nerds, Mars bars (mmmm, British candy!!), Cadbury Dairy Milk, an economy size bag of Swedish fish (just large enough for me to cradle gently in my arms and coo lovingly at), Tootsie Rolls, and an Abba Zabba for Paul. I tried to hit all the major candy groups, but really Economy Candy has such an extensive selection that several trips would be required to fully appreciate the available bounty: oldies but goodies (nerds, razzles, push pops, sugar babies), connoisseur (dark chocolate, French candy, German candy), chocolates, jelly belly, I'm sure I'm leaving a good deal out, but you get the idea. Then we went to Sugar Sweet Sunshine for cupcakes where I devoured a lemon cupcake and a sexy red velvet cupcake (the actual name of the cupcake! It was sexy, too.), and I took a couple to go. Then we went to the Chip Shop for fish n chips and enjoyed some of their deep fried candy bars (Mars, Reeses, Twinkie). Unfortunately since I had devoured two cupcakes already (poor planning on my part) when we reached the Chip Shop, I couldn't really do justice to my meal and had to bring it home, so perhaps not complete nirvana, but pretty close. Nirvana is good, right?? I think Nirvana is good. If it's actually bad, then replace nirvana with euphoria. It's just that I think nirvana sounds a little cooler. Like I was eating junk food in Tibet.

Elf

This clip always makes me smile/laugh/almost pee my pants.I want to do all of these things before I leave New York. For reals.

the long weekend

I love how giddy I feel the Friday before a long weekend. I especially love seeing all my co-workers be giddy too....it's nice to see some sweet silliness. I have that lighter than air, deleriously happy feeling that reminds me so much of being in elementary school. I have long felt like I have an inner six-year old, the part of me that wants to throw temper tantrums when my bus takes too long to come, and when a friend comes to visit and then has to leave, and when something delightful and usually quite simple makes me feel that all is right with the world. Grape soda, cheeseburgers, leaving work early, going home to California....I just want to kick up my heels with glee.

On my way home, whilst savoring my gleeful six year old feelings, I sat next to a lady who was talking on her cell phone. This is normally something that would spark an inner diatribe since I really don't like when people do that (although I am generally too chicken to actually say anything about it), but today I felt nothing but goodwill toward all men. And women talking on cell phones. I glanced over and smiled. The woman, who had just hung up, took this as a cue that I was a friendly person who might like to chat, and said something to me. Over the roar of the bus, it sounded a lot like this: "Arrgghhup tthhhhiioaw hmmm?" I'm chicken, remember? That means I'm also too chicken to say "I'm sorry, I missed that. Could you please repeat?" Instead, I nodded sweetly and like I completely understood what she had said. She responded "Ummndito mmmbbli husbands mkkhop, maybe just mine." Again, I nodded sweetly and as she got off the bus, the four words that I had actually understood "husbands....maybe just mine.." came back to me, and I realized that I had perhaps just agreed with something that I really don't agree with. What if she had said "I really think I hate all husbands, but maybe just mine?" or what if she said "Are all husbands part werewolf? Maybe just mine." Either way, I don't agree.

Yankees vs Red Sox

Last night I went to the Yankees vs Red Sox game. Good game with some CRAZY side action. Here are some highlights:

1. Drunk guys yelling at other drunk guys
2. Drunk girls yelling at drunk guys
3. Drunk guys hitting on drunk girls
4. At least 10 of said drunk guys getting hauled out of the game by cops
5. Drunk guys and girls chanting "Let's go Yankees!!! Boston Sucks!!!"
6. Guy sitting next to us trying for like an hour to get the peanut guy to come up to our section

The chanting is what has really stayed with me. Oh my goodness, the chanting. After hearing it shouted repeatedly for almost 4 hours, I think I may hear it ringing in my ears until the day I die. If I am ever recruited by an international intelligence agency and captured by the enemy, I don't think they'll break me. All they'll get is "Let's go, Yankees!!! Boston Sucks!!!". That's just how programmed into my brain that chant has become. Also, it seems to be customary should one of your fellow baseball fans shout/wear/think/do something that you find to be slightly against your way of thinking, to stand up, point your finger and start yelling obscenities and possibly throw some popcorn, too. Wowee. What insanity!!! Unfortunately for me, I think the only thing that can de-program a powerful chant such as the above is an even more powerful chant like the Macarena. Either way, I lose.

I'm a Model in the Philippines

So I work with this really awesome woman who grew up in the Philippines, and one day I'm sitting next to her when she grabs my arm and says " You should go to the Philippines!! The boys there love girls with white skin and hairy arms!! You'd be a movie star!!" Awesome. And to think, I was going to Nair my arms......

Silly

Okay, so yesterday Paul and I had a fun, impromptu day...the weather was amazing, so we made the trek to Times Square and got cheap tickets to Les Miserables....okay, side note: I lovelovelove Les Miserables. I love it so much I want to marry it, but I'm already married. I love the book, and I got the soundtrack for a Christmas present when I was in junior high, so my love affair with Les Miserables is epic. Just like Les Miserables, right. Okay, back to yesterday: we got tickets, and got cheesecake at Junior's, after which we went to Central Park to pass some time before the show. It seems that the combination of nummy cheesecakey goodness and lovely 70 degree weather brought out our silly side, and we decided to put our acting skills to the test, as evidenced below. Then we went to the show, and I cried through just about the whole thing, but I did that thing where you kind of just cry inside and try to keep the tears welling up in your eyes from spilling out, because you don't want to leave the theater looking like a raccoon.

charming

in love

excited


angry?

wow, really excited

feeling fish-like

SYTYCD -Sabra and Neil - top 6 - Jazz

Well, here I sit, Kleenex box in hand, mourning the end of yet another season of So You Think You Can Dance. Every year I love sitting down with a vat of ice cream to watch a bunch of very physically fit people get down and funky. I'm espcially psyched out of my mind (obscure Elf reference, please note) that Sabra won. Yay, Sabra!!! Nice biceps, Sabra!! (I need to work out.) Here's one of my favorite dances this season.

Tag, I'm it

I know, I know, I blogged already today, but I realized that I was tagged by my good friend Christina a while back and I never responded. Since I'd like to have a reptutation for good blogging etiquette, here's my list:

Jobs I have had:
1. Register girl/pizza maker at RoundTable Pizza (I learned how to make a great pie, and met my husband. Not bad all around, for a first gig.)
2. Activist (I stood outside and tried to get people to sign petitions. Yep, I stank. Also, I don't think I really knew what I was asking people to sign. That probably helps.)
3. Chiropractic assistant ( I learned how to do massage, lured my husband into marrying me with promises of deep tissue bliss, and then, well, stopped doing massage. Sorry, Paul.)
4. Customer service for dental insurance (prerequisite mind numbing job one must have prior to thinking "maybe I could do something more with my life.....")
5. Office manager for urologist (yeah, it is weird.)

Movies I can watch over and over:
1. Elf
2. Steel Magnolias
3. Sense and Sensibility (or Pride and Prejudice)
4. O Brother Where Art Thou
5. Ferris Bueller's Day Off/Tommy Boy
6. Spiderman 2
7. Arsenic and Old Lace/His Girl Friday/It Happened One Night
8. Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea
***I agonized over this list. This is really hard, to just narrow it down to a few. I'd like to apologize to all the other worthy films I haven't mentioned. I mean, I'm sorry, Princess Bride, I just thought you knew it was a given that you're a very important part of my life!!****

Places I have lived:
1. Simi Valley, CA
2. Ogden, UT
3. New York, NY

TV shows I watch:
1. So You Think You Can Dance
2. Heroes
3. PBS documentaries
4. I Love Lucy (this is what good comedy sitcoms are all about, in my humble opinion.)

Foods I like
1. Cheese (aged Gouda is my current favorite)
2. Brownies (a little gooey)
3. Mars bar (deep fried, especially....mmmmm...)
4. Italian
5. Indian
6. Cupcakes
7. Pudding

I'd rather be:
1. Eating In n Out hamburgers
2. Eating In n Out hamburgers in California with my family
3. Reading a really great book on the beach
4. Laughing
5. Talking to Paul

Websites I visit daily:
1. Email
2. Blogs of friends
3. The New Yorker, for the Shouts and Murmurs, but not daily. I just felt it needed a mention.

A category I'm adding-
Favorite movie quotes:
1. "I don't want to be a pie!!" (Chicken Run)
2. "Say, any of you boys smithies? Or otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts?" ( O Brother Where Art Thou)
3. "I'm sorry that I ruined your lives, and crammed eleven cookies in the VCR. Love, Buddy." (Elf)
4. "This place is just like Santa's workshop, except it smells like mushrooms and everyone looks like they want to hurt me." (Elf)
5. "It rains nine months out of the year in Seattle." ( Sleepless in Seattle. I don't know why, but I just laugh like crazy every time I hear that line. Go figure.)

The Empire has Struck

Well, Friday was my turn to plan our weekly date. Renting a movie now seems like a fall-back, ("or we could....rent a movie....") but when I was growing up, renting a movie was the absolute ultimate in excitement. We would go to Albertson's, and rent a VCR, and pick out a Disney movie, ("Swiss Family Robinson" was a favorite) and we'd get TV dinners. My favorite was always macaroni and cheese. It came in this little aluminum container, and it took like five hours to make, (it seemed) and since for me macaroni and cheese was pretty much the best thing in the world, it never really seemed like enough. I remember using my spoon to scrape out every last remnant of cheesy goodness....good times. So, on Friday night, Paul and I got to relive some of the magic of childhood past. We feasted on microwave chicken pot pie and macaroni and cheese, followed by a dessert of microwave popcorn which we ate whilst watching The Empire Strikes Back, which I had never seen. DEFINITELY my favorite Star Wars flick, and it was great fun to hear Paul describe all the Star Wars toys he used to play with as a kid. You're really never too old to pretend you're fighting someone with a light saber, even if that someone is your wife. We also rented Willow, but since we're old now, we couldn't stay awake to watch both movies.....how embarrassing!! We couldn't even stay awake for all of The Empire Strikes Back!! We had to finish it last night!!! When did we get so old and tired??!!!!! I'm using a lot of exclamation points!!! Anyhoo, a great time was had by all. Well, by me and Paul. (No more rhymes now, I mean it!!! Anybody want a peanut??)

I like Paul

Okay, so I'm still new at this blogging thing, and I can't figure out how to cut and paste what I wrote at the bottom to put it here, and I'm lazy because it's a million degrees in here. I apologize in advance for all the scrolling muscles you have to use.

cute

cute + andrea

cute paul expression + andrea

Hmmm..... did I mention how much I like Paul? Well, I do. Personal opinions about the validity of hairstyling competitions aside, I really have nothing but positive things to say about the guy. I think he has pretty positive feelings about me, too. I'm not saying this without any evidence, either- I just don't think that you don a Statue of Liberty foam headband and black socks and sandals for someone you have only lukewarm feelings for. Paul, you'll let me know if I'm reading that wrong, won't you? Unfortunately, like so many worthwhile subjects (the lochness monster, the chupacabra, bigfoot), Paul is fairly difficult to capture on camera, so I have to build up my digital portfolio of Paul pics....ooooh, I like that alliteration. So, I now find myself facing a problem: do I make you all want to puke your guts out with just how much I totally, really love Paul? Are you going to be grossed out if I blab on and on about how he brings home mac and cheese from Miss Mamie's, and does the laundry, and makes dinner, and has nice long talks with me about our feelings even though it's really not his favorite thing? I really don't want to disgust you, it's just that I like Paul. Here are some favorite Paul quotes:

"You just stop being such a cutiecutehead.....girl...."

"Know what will make you feel better? Scratching my back."

"Don't doubt me." (usually I raise one eyebrow after this one.)

"You're so pretty. Do you need to wash your face before bed?" (then I tell him I just washed my face.) "What?? No way. I couldn't tell! You don't need any makeup at all." (this one always goes over well.)

Thanks, Paul. You completely rock. Sorry if I made anyone puke.

Nice quote

"Every noble impulse, every unselfish expression of love, every brave suffering for the right; every surrender of self to something higher than self; every loyalty to an ideal; every unselfish devotion to principle; every helpfulness to humanity; every act of self control; every fine courage of the soul, undefeated by pretense or policy; but by being, doing and living of good for the very good's sake-that is spirituality."

-David O. McKay

Wow, right? I found a lot to think about in this quote, lots I'd like to work on....what do you think? I especially like "every fine courage of the soul".....yeah, that's nice.

Squirrels are the enemy

I wish to educate you all on a subject which I feel to be most important and which I feel is, by and large, neglected: Pooping Squirrel Awareness. Because of their bushy tails, charming nut eating habits, and large doe-y eyes, squirrels have a reputation for being harmless. This is absolutely not true. Let me, if you will, relate a personal experience. About a year or so ago, Paul and I were enjoying a relaxing afternoon in Central Park. We had just had some outrageously good soul food, and we were reclining on a blanket when we heard some frisky squirrels being, well, squirrelly, in the trees above. No sooner did we hear the squirrels make their presence known than did I feel a drop of....something....directly above my upper lip. Upon further examination, my worst fears were realized. The squirrel had, indeed, pooped on me. After making lots and lots of really high pitched squeally girl noises mixed with some choice words directed at the squirrel ( I think I used the term "stupidsquirrelhead" quite a few times), I doused myself with hand sanitizer and vowed never to think squirrels were cute again. They say time heals all wounds, and by and large I have found this to be true, but if we are to truly learn, we must retain some memory, yes? Some kernel of knowledge must be gained? So, when I was walking home from work last evening, and a frisky squirrel darted across my path making those stupid squirrel noises that I'm supposed to find cute, I reflected on my past experience and thought it warranted sharing. If I can help at least one person to not be pooped on by a squirrel, I'll have accomplished my goal. Thank you.

HairWorld: The Pursuit of Excellence | Preview | PBS

Hairworld: Great Debate, 2007 Andrea vs Paul

Some of you may have heard that about once a year, Paul and I have a Great Debate. The debate is never scheduled, and is generally about some obscure or silly topic that really shouldn't provoke such strong feelings. For example: The Great Pancake Debate of 2004. This debate was sparked by my preference for a slightly underdone pancake and centered around Paul's feelings of superiority in the field of pancake making due to his many stints as Head Pancake Chef during several Boy Scout outings. This particular debate lasted well over two hours, ending in our eventual collapse into laughter. I mean, it was just so silly, really. Last night, as we watched the PBS documentary Hairworld: The Pursuit of Excellence, the debate ensued. Is styling hair worthy to be in the same class as competitions such as the World Series, or Olympics or the Superbowl? Andrea pro, Paul con. We had a spirited discussion complete with some very intellectual phrases like "you've got to be kidding me", and I'm proud to say that I ended the discussion with a well timed and thought provoking "whatever". I think that won me the debate, personally, (This actually might not be true, but it's my blog.)

Scene from a marriage

Paul: It's really hot. Is it really hot in here?
Andrea: Yep.
Paul: We should go get ice cream. Want to go get ice cream?
Andrea: No......
Paul: What do you want to get, then?
Andrea: Central air.

I'm a Sunday dork

I really, really dig Sunday. I think that means I'm a real grown-up now. I always used to look at my mom and dad with a sort of puzzled admiration/frustration (admiration when I was trying hard to be good, frustration when they wouldn't let me do something I wanted to do), and wondered when that happened- when one started getting really, really into Sunday being a special day. I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line the ads in the Sunday paper stopped being the main attraction, and I started really looking forward to some time for reflection, prayer, time to talk to my family, tease my brothers about getting married, think about how I can change and improve, and think about what I'm doing that's good.....I love it!!! I totallycompletelyreally love it. I am now a huge, huge Sunday Dork. I don't even care who knows it. What did it? I mean, I AM nearly 28 years old, but I don't think that's what did it.....maybe part of it is living in New York, being surrounded by crazy, loud, extreme things constantly. I love having a day devoted to quiet moments, time to appreciate the things that mean the most to me. It seems that every time I talk to my dad I always find myself very near to tears, overwhelmed with the simple, pure love he has for his family. He is always so eager to express love and gratitude and pride in his family's achievements, and I feel so very near to what I think heaven must be like when he talks about family. See??? I'm so grown up now. I'm going to go give Paul a raspberry now.

Blogging is fun

I've just set up this blog, right? I've been talking about this for months, making all kinds of empty promises, and last night, around 11:00pm, I threw caution to the wind and set up a blog. That's right, I am now the proud parent of.... a blog. How do you think I felt, setting up this blog? Elated, thrilled at all of my new blogging possibilities? No, instead, I felt........terror. I sat at the computer, frozen. All the delightful thoughts that had been chasing around my brain for the last few months were gone and I found myself consumed by a slightly queasy, uncomfortably warm feeling (which could very well be due to the 200% humidity and lack of air conditioning). I thought to myself that I hadn't a thing to write about. The thing is, this is absolutely untrue. I saw a blond pig-tailed girl roller skating yesterday- I could write about that, right? I saw a wheelchair bound woman barreling down the street, blowing a deafeningly loud whistle at all in her path-surely this is post-worthy....and yet, nothing inspired. Unable to take the yucky clammy warm feeling brought 0n by blog induced stress and lack of air conditioning, I left the apartment to run some errands and while pondering what to blog about I had this epiphany: blogging is fun! Blogging is supposed to be enjoyable! No blogging police is going to arrest me if I should fail to solve the worlds problems, and if I'm reading them right, I don't think my friends will stop talking to me if I don't write Pulitzer Prize winning stuff here. Right, guys?? Guys??? What if there really is a blogging police??? On the other hand, I've heard that conspiracy theory blogs do quite well.....