Missing Callie

A good dog passed away today. Callie was our family dog for about 20 minutes before kat's lil sis became her master. And the two of them ended up living in more places than I've even visited (what does it say when your furry, four-legged niece is more well-traveled than you are?) I think lil sis said Callie made eight moves in her 11 years before finally settling down in Georgia-- well, as much as she could settle down with two other dogs and two kids in the house!

I was away at college when my family brought Callie home and didn't get to meet her for a few more weeks. But I am still proud of the fact that I was the one who named her, even from afar (and, after, I should add, a two-hour span of her being called "Hailey" before everyone decided the name didn't fit her).

A big, gentle German shepherd, she loved people and most other dogs. I didn't realize how big and powerful she looked until I started taking her for walks in the woods and watched as other people dragged their children and dogs off the side of the trail until we passed. It didn't help that Callie would choose those times to bark ferociously as I tried to both lead her past and yell, "She's gentle, I swear! She just likes to bark!" at the same time.

Kat's lil sis took wonderful care of her-- taking her for hikes in the Colorado mountains, letting her swim in the lake in Connecticut and talking walks along the beach with her in Florida (seriously, I think there are more photos of Callie in picturesque places than there are of me!) And Callie always adapted to it all-- even to the addition of lil sis' husband, two more dogs, one rambunctious toddler and a baby. She will be missed.

And that, my friends, is the last sad news I want to hear for the rest of my pregnancy. I can't handle bad news on top of these flowing hormones. When lil sis called to tell me the news, I think she stopped crying long before I did (in fact, I know she did because I'm still crying as I write this). Only happy news from now on, OK?

Note to self: Make sure this makes it into the baby book

The Pretend Husband and I were walking down an aisle in the supermarket the other night as we chatted and I rubbed my growing belly (Nice try, SJ, but I'm still not saying "uterus"!) He asked me why I was rubbing my belly and I told him it was because it was a bit sore. As I kept walking, I tossed out over my shoulder, "Get used to it. I'm going to be doing a lot more of it as this baby grows."

And then it hit me. There's a baby in there. Right there in the soup aisle was when I finally made the connection between "pregnant" and "baby." It didn't happen anytime earlier in the 15 weeks I've been pregnant. Not when I took a pregnancy test and it came up positive. Not in the 10 weeks since. Not as my clothes have gotten tighter or when I shopped in a maternity store for the first time. Not when I saw the little kid with the big head on the ultrasound. Not when I heard the kiddo's heartbeat for the first time. Not when the PH and I nicknamed the fetus "Herbie" and began talking to him or her through my belly.

Nope, it took the soup aisle and a half-sarcastic comment to get me there. I'm just grateful it happened before the baby actually arrived. What a surprise that would have been!

If you're still sad about any of the celebrities that died last week, you should probably skip this post

I've gone back and forth on whether to write about this topic because of the whole don't-speak-ill-of-the-dead thing and all. But it keeps rewriting itself in my head and I figured the only way to get it to stop is to actually put it down. And I'm curious to hear if people agree, disagree, could care less, think I'm a terrible person, didn't hear this news until just this second, etc.

So, a bunch of celebrities passed away in the past week. It's too bad and it's always sad when someone loses their life. But, honestly? I don't really care. They weren't my friends, I'm in no way related to them and I'm about as far from the person who gives up their day to stand outside Michael Jackson's house and cry while laying flowers at the gate as you can get.

I'm absolutely fascinated by the MJ story in terms of how the media has covered it. I couldn't believe how many people said, "We will all always remember where we were when we heard Michael Jackson died." Really?!? That's how much he means to you? His death is a life-changing event for you? Because it's not for me. I will remember where I was on September 11, I still have a clear memory of watching the Challenger explode and I can recall even the most minute detail from my mom's last day alive. But a washed-up pop icon with a questionable criminal history? Eh.

One article I read last week was titled, "For Generation X, A Really Bad Day." And it quoted a 38-year-old man talking about how MJ's death is a defining moment for Generation X and the moment that finally turned that generation into adults. Really?!? He's 38 years old and just getting around to becoming an adult? His wife must be so proud.

Was Michael Jackson a star? Yup. He did a lot for the music industry in his day and he was a heck of an entertainer. Was he also just a person with a whole lot of issues? Yes he was, and that's the part that seems to be getting lost in the shuffle. His death is sad, yes, and particularly terrible for its effect on his children (although I also question the effect his apparently daily drug use had on them...) but it's not the end of the world, the worst thing that's ever happened to me or a reason for the media to hype it into more than what it is. Let's all keep it in perspective, shall we?

When technology intrudes...

The Pretend Husband and I needed new phones right around the time the iPhone dropped to $100 (still more than I've ever paid for a phone...) He got one because he needs it for work and I got one because... I'm awesome, I guess. I think there was some sort of reasoning that I could use it to help the PH with his work, but I ignored that crazy talk because I was too busy picking out which apps to put on the phone.

I love it. I get email on it. I have a variety of games. My calendar and address book are stored on it. I will probably never have "just a phone" again. And I guess I talk about my love for the iPhone a lot because a friend said to me, "I've never seen you this excited about technology."

But I worry. Just a bit. I worry that it may be detrimental to my marriage. Especially when, instead of talking to one another, the PH and I lay in bed each playing a game or fiddling with our phones. Or, like last night, when the PH sent me an email from his phone in the dining room to my phone in our bedroom to tell me he would be coming to bed soon. Then, when I didn't respond immediately, he yelled up the stairs for me to check my email. Which means he could have just yelled up that he would be coming to bed in a minute. But that didn't stop me from sending an email to say I'd be waiting.

My cheeks are burning as I type this...

In lieu of amusing you today, I'm going to confess something completely and utterly embarrassing (which, come to think of it, probably will amuse you). Did you ever have a dream (perhaps even a dream where you are-- ahem-- getting intimate...) about somebody that you would never, ever think about-- ahem-- getting intimate with in real life?

But you have that dream and the next time you see them, either in real life (or say... on the news), you're completely embarrassed and can't even look them in the eye (or even look at them on the screen...)? Yeah, I had one of those last night. And I soooo don't want to admit who it was because I do find it incredibly embarrassing. But, I can't think of anything else to write about today, so I will share. It was...

Barack Obama

Augh! I can't even type it without my face turning totally red. I'm not even sure why I'm so mortified by this confession of mine (except who dreams about getting lucky with politicians--  and does not having this dream about a rock star or a model make me old?!?), but I do know one thing. I will feel so much better if you tell me something embarrassing about yourself. (And if you do happen to know Michelle Obama, could you tell her I apologize for dream macking on her husband? Thanks.)

Please assure me bad things only come in twos and not threes...

This morning, on my way to work, about 13 seconds after I thought, “Man, what a great day I’m having. I’m so lucky to have such a good life,” a rock was kicked up by the van in front of me and hit my windshield, causing a pretty big ding in the glass. (Yes, I’m a dork for having my own little hallelujah sessions and I can’t even get too mad about the van because it was a Red Cross van delivering blood so how evil would I be for being angry at it, right?)

Then, I got to my office, went to turn on my light… and not only blew out the light bulb and kicked off the battery backup on my computer, but I blew a fuse.

I should not be allowed anywhere near small children today.

(Dudes, just to be clear, this doesn’t even come close to qualifying as a bad day. I just thought it was funny that the two events happened within 30 minutes of each other. And it’s made me be a little more cautious today. But I forgot to mention that when I went to find a replacement light bulb in the office storage closet, I instead found a box of chocolates that looked as thought it had been there since Valentine’s Day… 2005. But it still had a few pieces left, so score!)

If anyone from Child Protective Services is reading this, I swear it's not indicative of my ability to care for children...

I made chocolate chip cookies the other night and, of course, one of my favorite parts of the process is where I get to snack on the raw dough. As I did, I started thinking about other types of baked goods that are delicious even in raw form and thought about how fun it would be to let my kids lick the spoon while we baked together.

But then I remembered a blog I read where the writer posted a photo of her kid licking the batter off a spoon and people fah-reaked the heck out. OMG! Salmonella! Your child is going to die!

C'mon, really? Is this something we should be worrying ourselves silly about? You, how many times did you end up in the hospital near death as a child because your mom let you lick the spoon that may or may not had some raw egg residue on it? Oh, that many? Really? Wow.

OK, you're not a good example. Let's take me, for example. It never happened to me. I ate all sorts of things as a kid and did all sorts of things and got (mildly) injured in all sorts of manners (we joke that my parents could only afford to send two of their three kids to college, so it was survival of the fittest to see who survived childhood and got to go). And, eh. 

Let the kids have a little batter, I say. It's not like any of us know anyone who died from it. Oh wait, you do? Three people? Remind me never to use you as an example again.

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

Still pondering how many jobs I might have right now. In the meantime, you should go vote...

I have exercised my right to vote every time I've been eligible. Because I believe I shouldn't comment about how the government runs unless I've supported it or tried to change it. And while I don't post political signs in my yard, or argue politics or try to sway people to the candidates I support, I'm proud to cast my vote.

This morning, I was joined at the polls by more people than I've ever seen. Standing in a busy parking lot waiting to walk into the town hall of my new (old) town, I thought, "I'm proud to be an American," perhaps more proud now than I've ever been. It's just nice to see so many people care about what happens today.

I don't care who you want to be president. I don't care what your beliefs are or whether they are the same as mine. But I do care whether you participate. So, if you do nothing else today...

Be at peace, Gramma.

I will miss you more than words can say.

Gramma "Babci" Julia
December 27, 1914 - October 17, 2008

Random items in between packing boxes

Ok, you all are a weird bunch! Your comments on my post about my brother's offer to marry my husband were hysterical! I threw the idea out there because I thought it was a funny offer and didn't have anything else to say that day, but didn't realize you guys would embrace it so heartily. I should have known though, because you must have the same weird sense of humor (that's "humour" for you, Mollymoo!) SJ and I do to enjoy Funny Gals. Thanks for all the laughs in the middle of a stressful time (but we're moving this weekend, so perhaps the stress will lessen after that? Maybe? Please?)

And, on a more serious note, I'm going to encourage everyone to get certified in CPR. I did it last night (after years of putting it off) and am feeling pretty awesome about it. For one thing, it's so much easier than in the past-- there's very little to remember-- and dude, how awesome would it be to save someone's life? I know I would be calling them every other day like, "Hey, remember the time I saved your life? Yeah, how about meeting me for lunch? You pay. Why? Oh, a little thing called I saved your life." Which would be especially weird if I didn't know them prior to the lifesaving heroics I performed to (you guessed it) save their life.

But seriously, it took a four-hour class in first aid and CPR to get this handy-dandy little card saying I am practically a superhero (or, perhaps it says making out with a CPR dummy for a few hours last night makes me something of an expert-- I haven't really read the fine print). And you know how when you were little and you got a bike for Christmas, you couldn't wait to ride it so you rode circles around the kitchen all day while the snow fell outside? (No? Just me?) Well, anyway, that's how I feel about CPR. I know it-- now someone needs to give me a reason to put my "skillz" to work. I may just have to head over to the mall and prowl the food court, scoping out the unhealthiest eaters in the hopes the big one hits while I'm watching. Or, you know, I could just go shoe shopping instead.

Hey, I believe too!

I'm going to follow SJ's lead and list the 10 things I believe in (soooo not stealing her idea, that's why they call it a writing "prompt" because it "prompted" me to think about it too...) Oh, and she took a couple of the things I truly believe (like living with no regrets), but I'm challenging myself to come up with all original beliefs for this one.

Ok, so I believe...

1. I believe that life isn't always fair and sometimes bad things do happen to good people. And I believe in saying "That sucks" instead of some sugary "Into every life a little rain must fall" or "What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

2. I believe in the power of a few kind words or some random compliments (cashiers everywhere have been recipients of this...)

3. I believe I'm turning into my mother and I also believe that it's an awesome thing.

4. I believe I married the nicest guy I ever dated (and I believe that trumps being taller than him!)

5. I believe in laughter, that it is a greater unifier and healer. And I believe no one should pass on the chance to make someone laugh.

6. I believe I will never feel the age on my birthday cake, but will always feel like a teenager in an adult's body.

7. I believe in cranking up the radio and singing at the top of your lungs, regardless of who stares from the next car over.

8. I believe in the beauty of nature, in a star-filled night sky, the sun scattered arounded a wooded area and the view from the top of a mountain.

9. I believe in the kind of friends who will share the same amount of tears as laughter with you, and still send you home feeling like you still had the best time ever.

10. I believe a bowl of ice cream can cure just about anything.

it's a rainy day.

i was sitting here, on my couch, on my second glass of red wine after a frustrating day.

and then i got a phone call. it was the third phone call of its kind that i've gotten in 10 years. my good friend jen - my friend whom i often refer to as my "twin" - called me to tell me, in a very calm mindset and voice -- that her mom had died.

her mom. her 51-year-old beautiful and healthy mother that was her best friend. died. they're not sure yet of the details, but as she told me the few details she had, i was astounded at her calmness. i guess when a kind of tragedy like that happens, you become calm. you focus on the immediate.

i tried to offer what i could. company at any hour of the day. a bottle of wine. a steak (because don't you cook when people die?) a chocolate cake. anything she needed. but she wasn't ready for that yet. i told her to call me back at 1 a.m. and was totally serious. because no one should be alone in this world.

but i can't offer anything that she needs right now. all i can do is think about her and her dad and what they have in front of them.

and i think about my grandmother, still hanging on in a nursing home. she told me today that she wants to die. as much as i want to selfishly keep her, i understand. but i won't be ready when she goes.

i don't know how to let people go.

i am a relatively introverted person and have a few close friends. the people i let in, i want there. so when they leave, i find it difficult to manage.

so if you are one of those people who i've let in (and if you're reading this, you're likely one of those people), know that i find it difficult to let you go. so please don't go anywhere.

current itunes song: "so sorry" by feist

this isn't getting any easier....

so as you all know, my grams is whittling down to nothing. one of the strongest women i know (the other, most likely, my other grandmother) can no longer get out of bed on her own.

it's hard to watch, but i've tried to visit her as much as i can. i'm not sure that she knows me anymore, but she smiles and nods at me. she also waves her hand at me when i ask her if she's comfortable or if i can get her anything.

a couple of weekends ago, i was hanging out with my cousins (whom i rarely see) at my grandmother's apartment. she lives with my parents, which, growing up, was always fun. she'd baby sit us, check up on us, let us watch tv with her, scold us when we needed it, offer us advice when we didn't want it (but needed it anyway).

i was going through my limited polish vocabulary with her. she smiled and laughed as i struggled over words like "zimny" (cold) and "swinia" (pig). i told her - "you taught me that, grams!"

and in her infinite though perhaps clouded wisdom, she responded with "I taught you everything."




and that, my bloggy friends, is quite true.

current itunes song: "silent house" by the dixie chicks

not so funny.

sorry. this isn't a funny post, mostly because i don't have a whole lot of funny going on these days. in fact, i must warn you that the humor you may find in this post is the gruesome kind of humor that some people find offensive.

tomorrow morning i'll be attending a memorial service for my aunt who recently passed away (Tuesday). i have really mixed feelings about this whole thing -- mostly because i did not have a close relationship with her for the past few years. i should have mended things before she died, but i didn't. i'm not sure how i feel about it either.

but she is my second aunt (and my mom's second sister) to die from cancer in three years. to which i say: leave my family the f^#k alone, cancer.

however, because i am one of those people that deals really badly with death, i have been trying my hardest to think of other things. funnier things, really.

it started at work today when i was trying to leave early to get to my mom's house in order to prep for the service. i spoke with a cousin last night who told me that they were looking to us to bring baked goods to the after service reception.

which led me to think: what kind of cupcakes do you serve at a funeral?

one of my good friends told me "black. just burn them. it'll be fine." (when i said, "but my aunt is going to be cremated" he responded with: "even more fitting.")

another suggested: "funfetti, naturally."

after a host of inappropriate jokes with my colleagues, at one point, for the first time in WEEKS, i was laughing so hard i cried. i have done my share of crying for the past month for a variety of reasons, so to cry from laughing was rather therapeutic.

and goodness knows i could use some therapy.

current itunes song: "the man that got away" by judy garland

i am such a stereotype

i've started to recognize myself more and more at the mall, when i'm at work, on television commercials, and even within the blogosphere.

what i mean by this is: i am such a freakin' stereo type. i am a 30 year old woman who works outside the city, uses her macbook when there, and drives her volkswagen to work while listening to her ipod. i get my news online and wear plastic frame "nerdy" glasses and lots of black clothing (because it's easier to match when i wake up at ungodly hours to get to my job outside of the city).

in short, i look like the stereotypical demographic that every marketer tries to appeal to. according to my co-workers, and a few friends from high school, i'm starting to most closely resemble lisa loeb.

this became apparent to me yesterday when i updated my profile and just to see how many folks like me there are out there, i clicked on some of my music interests, and much to my surprise, saw several different versions of me looking back.

am i so cliche? sheesh i should hope not. but just in case, i'm wearing bright colors tomorrow. and contacts. and i'll leave my mac at home. and i will *not* shop at whole foods during lunch time. (but i may run there today to pick up some organic yogurt and granola.... and maybe some free-range chicken breasts.)

And the big news is....

... the Pretend Husband was hungry!

And he says he's never going to do anything nice for me again because I blow it out of proportion. And more people read the blog than comment (you know who you are!) because we had a couple of phone calls and comments this weekend wondering why the fancy dinner out and the PH's response was, "Why is it such a big deal that I wanted to spend some time with my wife?"

I do think it was nice of him to make a reservation and take me out to dinner, but I always want to point out that it's a place the PH is always asking to go and I always say no because we're trying to be frugal. While I probably would have said no to a request to go out to dinner, it was impossible to turn down an invitation that had a reservation and everything.

So yeah, dinner with my husband. No big announcements. We save those for Taco Bell.

I may have some exciting news...

The Pretend Husband just called me and, out of the blue, told me we have dinner reservations tonight. Going out to dinner. Just the two of us. At the fancy schmancy restaurant where we had our first date.

I'm touched, but also a little suspicious. It sounds like the kind of thing you do when you have big news to share, or a proposal to make or something.

We already got engaged. We bought a house. We had our wedding.

Do you think he's going to tell me I'm pregnant?

Gather 'around the fire, children. We have something to say...

When we were little, Santa left large, unwrapped gifts around the tree, while the gifts from our parents were the wrapped ones. As we got older, Santa divided presents into piles for each of the kids.

One tradition in my family was tons of stocking gifts. Apparently, we had some unusual stocking stuffers, which included rolls of film, batteries and almost always a jar of peanuts. (The Pretend Husband and I have continued this tradition and know our Christmas shopping isn’t done until we’ve bought peanuts for each other).

One year, my dad made a turkey for our holiday meal. But he made ONLY a turkey. No sides, no stuffing, no gravy, no dessert. He’s made up for it since, but I’ll never forget looking down at a plate with only a slice of turkey on it.

This year, the PH and I will spend Christmas morning alone together. It will be a rare moment of peace in our hectic lives. While we are enjoying plenty of time with both sides of the family, the time with just the two of us is really special.

Whatever your traditions, SJ and I wish you the happiest of Christmases. May the day be filled with love, laughter, family, friends, good food and moments of peace and relaxation.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

No mention of the "W" word!

I got a call at work around 4 yesterday asking if the Pretend Husband and I wanted to meet some friends for wings and drinks at a local sports bar. I flew into action arranging my end of things (which meant trying to track the PH down and leaving frantic messages like, "Please call me back ASAP! We're going to happy hour. Meet me there!")

Somehow, the plan came together and six of us got together to eat buffalo wings, drink some beer (or actually, soda, cause I'm old like that), laugh at the two gay men flirting and grabbing each other's butts outside the huge window next to our table and guess the age of the woman on the phone outside the window. Sounds boring, but it was a great time.

As I looked across the table at my friends, I felt a little sad. One of the couples is newly pregnant and I feel like our time sitting in a sports bar talking and laughing is limited. I don't think an hour's notice is going to cut it anymore. This time next year, getting together is going to include advance planning, babysitters and more coordination to get everyone in one place.

The couple assures me nothing is going to change, but I don't believe that. It has to change. I look at how much things changed for us when we got a dog to take care of, so I have to imagine a kid is going to be like that and more.

But that's OK. (What's not OK is the new lines on my face and how OLD I look compared to photos from college, but that's another story!) We're growing up... whether we're ready for it or not. And, for now, I'm going to enjoy those last-minute rushes to get everyone to the bar in time to get the happy hour prices.