hello, utah

Hello, Utah.

We're going to visit you this week. If you could please make sure that you are not humid in the slightest (and that should not be a problem) I would greatly appreciate it.

Also if you could tell everyone to be extra nice (and that should not be a problem) we will come back to the big city and tell everyone how nice all your people are and who doesn't like a little good PR?

Thanks for having pretty mountains and also for being a home to some of my favorite people.

Tell American Fork I say hi. I was born there, so I think she knows me.

i heart being an aunt

So, have I ever told you how much I love being an aunt?

Well, I love it. My nephew Q is a genius, and he's the handsomest and I think he's already been contacted by Mensa and he's got a modeling contract and a book deal and I LOVE HIM.

I'm going to need to make some room in my heart, though, because MY BROTHER DAVID IS GOING TO BE A DAD!!!

Hooray, babies!!

I heart being an aunt.

an affair to remember (a brief encounter with bacon)

Yesterday I ate bacon, with scrambled eggs and cheese.

It was magical.

I hadn't had bacon with scrambled eggs and cheese for quite some time. Probably because we broke up a little while ago. I mean, we had GREAT chemistry, but I found out that bacon was clogging my arteries, him and his friends eggs and cheese, and I was all like "I love you but you're bad for me" and then bacon was all "You'll be back" and I was like "No way...but probably...."

And that was that.

But yesterday I got home from the gym and I heard the siren call of bacon as it wafted over from Vicky's diner, and all of a sudden it was of the utmost importance that I find myself sitting in front of a sizzling plate of bacon-y love AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

I didn't even look at the menu. No need. I ordered, and sat with a watering mouth as I waited.

It was like I was cheating on my current diet. Like I had left the house and kissed my diet goodbye and promised to be good and then there I was, checking in to the Crazy Eights Motel wearing dark glasses and drooling nervously as I waited for bacon to saunter in.

"Well, hello," bacon said, "I knew you'd be back."

"You smell amazing! How I've missed you....your smell, your sizzle, that cute way you crunch....whatever happened between us?"

"Ah, I believe you left me for tofu and whole wheat bread."

"Right, right....sorry....so, we don't have much time...."

And I picked up my fork.

I stumbled back into the apartment smelling slightly oily, with a grease stain on my collar.

I do hope my current diet doesn't notice.

the nerdy mermaid

Well, here it is. Proof for all the world to see that I, Andrea Boerem, did dress up as a mermaid, ride the subway in said mermaid outfit, and march in the Coney Island Mermaid Parade. I'm the nerdy mermaid in glasses and polka dots. I gotta say, wearing fins made me feel quite mermaid-chic.

One of my fellow mermaids is blessed with a boyfriend who will do just about anything on a dare, and who consented to dress up as our mermaid butler and carry the cookies we baked. I think he kinda makes the group, don't you?

And look at how lovely my fellow mermaids are!! Doesn't Reagan look like Marilyn Monroe?

What an experience! What a very lot of drunk guys yelling "Hey mermaid! Gimme a cookie to go with my beer" there were!

Aaaaaaaaaahhhh. Good memories. Good memories.

p.s. Big thank-you to Jake for taking the pictures. Didn't he do a great job? When you dress up as a mermaid, photo-journalistic integrity is definitely a priority.

i am in love with a future dad

I want to post some pictures from nursery, but the computer gods aren't letting me. I think I'm being punished. So, no pics right now.

Since today is a day for fathers, I want to shout from the rooftops my greatgreat love for my own father, and for my wonderful father-in-law, who are both prime examples of incredible dads.

But really, REALLY, I want to say that I am in love with this guy named Paul and someday he is going to be an amazing dad.

So, HAPPY FATHERS DAY, PAUL!!!

He gets so shy when the spotlight is on him. But I don't care.

I'm in love with a future dad.

hans christian andersen, eat your heart out

Hey, so guess what I'm doing tomorrow?

Oh, you know, wake up, feed the cats, eat some breakfast, and then DRESS UP LIKE A MERMAID AND MARCH IN THE CONEY ISLAND MERMAID PARADE.

In other words, the usual.

My friend Reagan is mildly obsessed with mermaids, and ever since she attended the parade last year, she's been dreaming of having a pair of fins all her own.

So, a few of us are joining her. Since we're not quite as exhibitionist as some, we're going to be 1950's -ish housewife mermaids, and wear aprons over our fins. We're even going to hand out home-baked cookies.

Can. Not. Wait.

donuts are the only answer

Paul's having a bad day.

He worked last night, and when I woke up this morning, Paul was sitting on the chair in our bedroom, looking like he might puke, or cry, or maybe both.

Maybe I'm exaggerating. But not much.

One of the nurse practitioners is moving back to Israel and leaving Paul with the undesirable task of re-working the entire schedule. Paul tends to be a fatalist, so if things are bad, THEY ARE VERY, VERY BAD AND PROBABLY WON'T GET BETTER EVER EVER.

I, however, am not a fatalist, but an optimist, so with me if things are bad THEY ARE ONLY GOING TO BE BAD FOR A LITTLE WHILE AND YOU'LL BE SO MUCH STRONGER AFTER AND YOU SHOULD PET THE KITTIES AND HAVE A HUG AND EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER.

We go well together.

So, Paul spent most of the morning making noises that sounded a lot like "AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH", while I made noises that sounded a lot like "AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW".

So, we met some friends at The Donut Plant, because I always say nothing pulls you out of a downward spiral like a little refined white sugar. Our friends have this baby named Violet and she's awesome and we're totally best friends and you might be thinking why am I telling you this now but don't worry, you'll see.

So we ate our donuts and Paul started to look a little less like he might die, which made me pretty happy, only I made the mistake of asking him how he was feeling and I got an "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHH"

This was surprising because he had the creme brulee donut and the chocolate blackout donut which is, I think, equal to like a double dose of anti-depressants, so obviously more work was needed and then Paul was all like

"LET ME HOLD THAT BABY" and he said it the way I would imagine you might say "I NEED WATER OR I WILL DIE" and Jen magnanimously handed over Violet, who promptly grabbed Paul's beard and began cooing.

It worked like a charm. After a few minutes of tossing a squealing Violet up in the air and after a large pepperoni and sausage pizza and a trip to Murray's Cheese Shop, things seem to be looking up for Paul.

I'm thinking of asking Jen if we could hire Violet on retainer. You never know when you might need a cute baby to cuddle.

the flip side doesn't work

Today, I acted as tour guide for a choral group from Tampa, Florida. I took them to the Statue of Liberty.

And I have to say they were adorably nerdy. And I also have to say, I LOVE NERDS. I love them. The more awkward, the more better. The more pimples, the more braces, the more Lord of the Rings trivia....it just melts me. I want to pick them up and put them in my pocket.

When Paul got home, I told him all about it.

"They were just so nerdy, especially a couple of the boys...I love them. I think I love them so much because I AM A HUGE NERD."

Paul grinned.

"I don't think that would work on the flip side, would it? Like if I said, I just really love six-foot tall blonds because I AM ONE?"

Cheeky Paul.

No, Paul. that doesn't so much work.

calling all stylish utahns

Okay, I need some help:

I'm throwing my sister a bridal shower. In Utah. In like four weeks.

HEEEEEEELLLLLLP!!!!!!!

Are you from Utah? Are you a genius? Do you have the magical ability to make stuff look like a million bucks when it actually cost next to nothing?

Oh, good. You're exactly who I'm looking for.

Any ideas? We'll probably be inviting around 15-20 people, and there's a good chance it will need to be on a Thursday evening, although a Saturday morning with all its brunch-y potential is much more preferable.

Miriam is incredibly awesome, inspiring, and endlessly sweet, and I'd like to throw her a shower to match her awesomeness. She's a little less modern and a little more romantic, so I'm thinking something kind of homemade and sweet and simple.

I thought a picnic would be awesome, but on a Thursday night I'm not sure that would work,and I thought maybe Ruth's Diner or the Tin Roof Cafe, but I'm not sure if 15-20 is too many people for something like that.

So, if you have any ideas.....I HEART YOU!!! I HEART YOU FOREVER!!! I HEART YOU TIMES FIFTY WITH A CHERRY ON TOP AND A PONY!!!!

Uh.....thanks.

paul and i agree to disagree

Guess what Paul did yesterday?

Go ahead, guess.

You'll never guess. Although I kinda want to know what you're guessing.

Okay, I'll tell you.

He went to a workout class with me.

I KNOW! I didn't think he would, either. Ever since I started going to my friend Sarah's workout studio, I've been telling Paul he should come with me, so he can have a birds-eye view of the torture I willingly submit to on a tri-weekly basis.

I'd be all like "You should totally come with me", and he'd be all like "Yeah, um, sure...maybe....sometime...." which I understood to mean "Not ever ever in a million years but I want you to feel validated".

And then, yesterday, he was like "Maybe I'll go with you today" and I was like "YES! COME WITH ME! IT WILL BE AWESOME!!! OHMYGOSH IT'S SO HARD!!! LET'S TALK ABOUT OUR FEELINGS!!!" (I get over-enthusiastic. I blame it on my lady-parts.)

So, he went with me, discovered that it was, indeed, super duper difficult, and announced that he had no use whatsoever for "those" types of exercises.

By "those" he means all the toe-pointing, draw a circle with your foot, hold your leg out at an angle and lift it slightly like a million times in a row exercises.

"When do you ever need to know how to do that? What purpose do those exercises serve?" he asked.

"They make my butt look nice" I said.

"But why? I NEVER NEED TO KNOW HOW TO DRAW A CIRCLE IN THE AIR WITH MY FOOT" he ranted, "but when do I need to run around people? Every day. When do I want to punch someone? Every. Other. Minute." He spoke slowly, reverently, with tremendous emphasis.

"I just want my butt to look nice" I said.

Paul glanced appreciatively at my derriere and, with that, we agreed to disagree.

cats aren't perfect

There's something wrong with our cats.

They won't stop making more fur and then shedding that fur.

This could be a problem. Except for they are just SO DARN CUTE. And except for we love them forever and think they are superior to all other cats.

Except for the fur thing.

Good grief, cats. We've got tumbleweeds rolling around our apartment. Paul's walking around with the Dirt Devil at his hip like it's a gun.

It's kinda sexy.

I guess I have our cats to thank.

paul's shopping list

"I'm going to Target" I said. "There's a list on the table. Write down what you need."

And so, Paul wrote down what he needed:

Nipple rings, blue or pink (if available)

Thong underwear, green or black (if available)

That Paul's a funny guy.

yippee- i-o-ki-yay

A week ago, I submitted a story for an online competition.

And today, I got an email telling me that my story has been shortlisted, and will go live on the website on July 1st. I think prizes are awarded sometime in August.

And I'm excited.

I told Paul and then we spent a few minutes running around in circles grinning. The website, called Smories, is based in the U.K. and specializes in stories geared towards children. You can view the stories for the previous competition by going to
http://www.smories.com/.

My story is about a girl named Harriet, who takes a pea as a pet. Maybe I'll post it. You'll be able to see it on the Smories website on July 1st.

Yippee!

Also, happy Friday. It's hot as blazes out here. Also that.

a conversation while watching so you think you can dance

Paul: Sometimes when I'm really happy I jump up so high I almost hit the ceiling.

Andrea: Yeah. Me, sometimes when I'm happy I do a triple-back-hand-jump-stand. And also it's hard because I'm just so pretty.

Paul: Yeah. I'm so pretty, too.

Andrea: It's just that we're both so pretty.

a body is a nice thing to have

I don't always feel that way.

I mean, don't get me wrong, this whole being alive and kicking thing is nice and all, but lately I've kind of been feeling a little mad at my body.

That kind of comes with the territory when you're dealing with infertility. My body doesn't do what it's supposed to, which is produce offspring. Spawn. Chillins. Childstuffs. Kiddy-pies.

And while I've tried to remind myself of the many other wonderful things the good Lord has blessed me with, as the years wear on and my womb remains a barren wasteland, I find myself getting kinda cranky with my body.

When I say cranky, I MEAN cranky. I'm all like "Uh, Body? Are you kidding me? I SERIOUSLY CAN'T WEAR MY PANTS?" and my body's all like "Uh, Andrea, remember when you pumped me all full of hormones and then ate twenty pints of Ben and Jerry's?" and then I'm all like "Oh...right, so....never mind."

But the cranky me hasn't been hanging around as much since, lately, I've been exercising.

Originally I began exercising because I just really, really wanted to be able to fit into my pants. Maybe I told you it was because I want to be healthy, and healthy is good, but so is wearing your pants.

More than that, though, I just felt like I had to DO SOMETHING. With capital letters. Accomplish something. Have something to show.

And so I've been exercising. And at first I think I expected my body to immediately shrink to a svelte, rock-hard celebrity-esque silhouette. Which didn't so much happen.

I'm actually kind of awful at this whole exercise thing. I'm clumsy and I sweat profusely and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts.

But one day as I engaged in my bi-weekly battle with the treadmill, I was filled with this overwhelming and immediate, all-consuming gratitude for a body with the capacity for work, for action.

And isn't that just a ridiculous sort of miracle, that I have a body that can move and bend and sweat, however awkwardly?

I still can't wear my pants. I still don't have kids. But my body is building a strength already known to my mind and soul.

Thanks, body. Sorry I yelled at you.