nesting weekend

i'm nesting this weekend. and TBS agrees that this is a good idea -- i can tell, because Sex and the City is on for the next 3 hours. so awesome.

my exciting agenda for today includes cleaning the kitchen, cleaning my craft room and then making chicken parmesan and cupcakes. i am also entertaining the idea of a karaoke party tonight where i may seriously rock out some Abba.

we interrupt this blog post with a pure dose of reality:

i just took a good look at my craft room. holy crap do i have an amazing amount of crap. maybe i need to stop nesting so much and start -- um. deconstructing my nest? what's the opposite of nesting? whatever it is, that's what i have to do.

any organization tips out there? because. holy. cow. do i need help.

As if I didn't feel old enough already...

The Pretend Husband woke up Saturday with a pain in his foot. Although he had been drinking with a friend the night before, he couldn't remember falling or kicking anything. The pain continued through the weekend with the PH rebuffing my attempts to get him to see a doctor. At one point, as he winced in pain, I asked him if it was worse than labor pains, but he said he couldn't determine that.

The pain got worse over the next three days until he couldn't stand it any longer and got an appointment with the doctor this morning. And the diagnosis? He has gout.

GOUT! As in, the disease usually only seen in old people or movies about life in the 1800s. I didn't even realize you could get gout anymore. I thought it had gone the way of the mumps or those Victorian-era vapors or something.

But he has it... and to save you a trip to WebMD, I'll tell you that it's a build-up of acid in the joints that causes extreme pain. And the kicker? (pun totally intended) It's actually described on the Internet as just as bad, if not worse than, labor pains (which the PH has mentioned so much I threatened to punch him in the head the next time I have to hear it...)

And the other thing? The pain is made worse by excessive alcohol intake and large amounts of protein. So the steak and beer the PH consumed on Sunday to take his mind off the pain may not have been such a good idea after all.

Things Not to Do On a Date

First off, I know. I'm a serious blog slacker this week and last week. I'm really sorry. I'm making the rounds tonight, however, as I drink my third martini.

(Note from SJ: I started this Friday, but finishing Saturday. In the 24 hour period, I've had four martinis. I consider that a decent average. In fact, I should really make another one.)

My comments will likely get funnier, however -- so there's that.

But I was inspired by a friend of mine and a show that he saw that was seriously disturbing. Except that it wasn't the concert that was disturbing. It was in fact, the serious PDA issue going on.

So we had a discussion about the serious mistakes we've witnessed (or in my case, actually experienced) over the years. It brought me to this here list of skin crawling dating moments -- and just plain "you're doing it wrong" moments in my romantic life.

1) Your tongue is not a weapon.
I hope you've never experienced it -- but sadly, I bet a few of you may know what I'm talking about. Guys, when you stab your tongue so deeply and violently into our mouths that we can no longer breathe, it's not enjoyable. And that gagging noise is me begging for oxygen. Or trying to tell you something but can't form proper sounds because you have stifled me with TOO MUCH tongue. Incidentally, it is *never* okay to lick someone's face. Unless your name is Bailey and you're my springer spaniel.

2) DUDE. Get Your Hands... Off...
There are few things worse than being inappropriately groped in public -- particularly when you're, say, in line at the grocery store. There's a limit to my love. And that limit is in plain sight when I could run into my kindergarten teacher, or worse, my mom.

3) Ouch. Stop. Stabbing me with your chin.
Have you ever met the angry kisser? I have. He used to attack me. I'm not sure if he was so afraid of rejection that his method of attempting to kiss me was to do it machine gun style, but whatever the reason, it was a scary thing. I tended to dodge. I dodged once and nearly got a black eye, however. Note: This is far worse if the dude has sharp, pointy facial hair.

4) The neck grab.
Okay - now, I admit, that I do sometimes like a little -- minor -- forcefulness. Like for instance, we're in a heated debate over the election of 1912 (which, is highly possible. Have you met my husband? History geek. And I love him for it), and in order to shut me up, he decides to kiss me. Okay, so my husband doesn't do this - but I wouldn't mind if he did. However -- what is *not* okay is when the dude wrestles you from behind and puts you in a chokehold. This is least effective when the guy is your height or shorter than you. I'm not sure why they think the Vulcan neck pinch is acceptable and necessary to kiss you.

5) The Stone Lipped Man.
Have you met him? He's a really super awesomely nice guy. But somehow, he managed to turn 26 without ever learning how to kiss. I was about 22. We dated a few times, and he refused to make a move. Finally, one night after cooking me dinner, he attempted to kiss me. Only he somehow replaced his lips when I wasn't looking with cold, hard marble. It was just. I mean. No. Not good.

6) Sand paper face.
Before every date, I make a point to shave my legs. Even now, when my dates are going to Home Depot with my husband -- still I shave my legs. But goodness. Those make out sessions with guys who don't shave -- OUCH. I like having skin on my face. And I like kissing you. Don't make me choose.

7) The questionable move.
Maybe I don't speak for all women, but I know I speak for most of the ones I know: don't make us make the first move. It can be subtle. We don't need a hollywood kiss. Just maybe -- the brush of your lips across the cheek. A forehead kiss. Something sweet, romantic and subtle enough to let us know that you're into us. There's nothing worse than those limbo dates. And trust me - we do analyze these moments for hours on end. No pressure.

I'm sure I missed some things... and I would be willing to bet that our reading public has some good stories. So, let's hear them. Worse dating faux pas? Anybody? Is this thing on?

Well, at least SJ will have someone to wait with at the ER...

I don't know if it's from getting older or hanging out with SJ too much or what, but my lack of coordination has been increasing lately (although it probably says something that I just searched our blog for "fell off chair" and three posts came up, including this oh-so-coordinated moment when I fell off my office chair).

Well, yesterday was a good example of why I maybe need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap and made to sit on the couch with SJ instead of, say, playing soccer or, you know, walking. It started when I not once, but twice, smashed my ankle against a chair while trying to stand up. The Pretend Husband just shook his head as I writhed in pain.

But it was even better (and in public!) when I lost all coordination at my soccer game last night. The first incident was while I was on the field and got tripped by a woman from the other team. It was one of those slow-motion times when you try to catch yourself, almost do, start to fall over again, writhe around trying to keep yourself from falling, start to stand up and then fall flat on your face (or, in my case, right on the ball). It felt like it took a full 20 seconds for all this to happen, although I'm sure it wasn't quite that much of a show. 

Then, while standing on the side of the field, the ball was kicked toward me and instead of scooping it up like a normal person, I took a step back to get out of the way. Except my soccer bag was right behind me and I fell backward over onto my butt. Well, except there was a huge net behind me that caught me and left me in an awkward crouch flailing around trying to stand back up. It would have been fine with me if no one noticed, but of course everyone was looking toward the ball at the time (and the dude from the other team coming over to get the ball had to ask me if I was OK, drawing even more attention to the flopping fish of a woman trying to de-tangle herself from the net).

I sat on my office chair verrrrrry carefully this morning and plan on staying here, without trying to walk or move around, for the rest of the day. I think it's safest for us all that way.

Today is a good day.

I'm going to take a break from my blog-coma to just share my thoughts about today.

I don't work in a very politically charged environment. It seems more of a keep it up your sleeve kind of office. But today, for a moment, a handful of us gathered in the large conference room to watch the inauguration on CNN live.

For 30 minutes, a handful of like-minded but very different people sat in awe, watching a truly historic moment. I've seen the facebook updates all day long -- some people arguing that despite the historical significance, he has no magic wand. And while that's true, I think something should be said for such an amazing rally of people who seem just a bit more hopeful and a bit happier.

It's amazing to watch, and I'm happy to sit back and watch stoic people smile, and watch cynical people crack - just enough - to think, well, maybe.

While I was watching, I heard from a friend who's traveling in Europe. Where he was in Brussels, people were gathered around a TV to watch.

I'm happy to have seen it. I hope for the best. I feel today, more than most days, that there is always hope for change, because change is inevitable. It will happen. It's just a matter of keeping up with the tide.

Hugs and kisses to you, Interweb.

Love,
sj