None of these visions have been mine. Which I find interesting. One of the best things about having a redheaded husband is the likelihood of having redheaded children. Which I am ecstatic about. I even feel sorry for any child we have who doesn't have red hair. I feel sorry for that kid because I'm very bad at hiding how I feel. I'll let you connect the dots on that one. So back to those visions.
My brother called today and let me know that his better half had a dream. In her dream, we had a little redheaded girl. Apparently, if someone dreams that you have a child, then it's some sort of premonition that you are soon to have a child. And they think you're pregnant. Which is not the case. But this isn't the first time I've gotten a call when someone's had a dream. Last year my best friend called to report that she dreamed I was pregnant. She didn't call simply to report her dream, but to see if her dream was right. I've had lots of crazy dreams, but I don't go around calling people to test my nightly prophetic powers. But apparently, when you dream some has or will soon have a baby, it's real. Talk about Old Wives Tales at it's finest.
But I'm hoping there is some prophetic power in these dreams. Namely that when we do have children, that they are blessed with a full shock of red hair. I mean, I've been in love with red hair since, like forever. I remember this one girl from my elementary school had long, lovely, deeply red hair..... and her name was RUBY. Jealous much? You betcha.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Going Ornamental
So, since I have all this free and available time, I ride the internet waves in search of (1) coupons (2) Christmas gift & decorating ideas (3) knitting and other craft projects (4) Facebook stalking and (5) celebrity gossip. The last two are complete time wasters, but I'm so addicted at this point that I just don't know how to work on my computer without checking up on those. It's a sad, sad addiction. One I'm not proud of. But I indulge in anyway. It's good to have addictions that you can indulge in that won't get you arrested or put in jail. Healthy even.... or not.
So the latest idea to spring from the wealth of the internet is Cinnamon Apple Ornaments. Apparently you just mix the two together, they form a dough-like consistency, roll it out, use cookie cutters, let it dry for 5-6 days and viola! Lovely smelling ornaments. I've got everything I need except cookie cutters. Hopefully I will be able to get some tonight and execute this plan! I'm very excited to see how they turn out. I have big plans for them.
Another awesome idea I procured from the web was how to make a small gift box from old Christmas cards (or birthday cards, or wedding cards - which I have a thousand of). I made one last night and LOVED the end result. I also have big plans for those as well. I just need to get my wedding cards from Tallahassee and have a box making party.
I will continue to hunt down creative and cost-efficient gift ideas for all of our friends and family for this holiday season. I'm actually pretty excited about it all. I love having the time and energy to accomplish this. I just hope I can find some great ideas. The last thing I want to do is give people crappy homemade gifts. There's a fine line between "made with love" and "the awesome Christmas gift you're going to get from Leigh Ann and love to death for the rest of your life." Let's hope I achieve the latter. For your sake.
So the latest idea to spring from the wealth of the internet is Cinnamon Apple Ornaments. Apparently you just mix the two together, they form a dough-like consistency, roll it out, use cookie cutters, let it dry for 5-6 days and viola! Lovely smelling ornaments. I've got everything I need except cookie cutters. Hopefully I will be able to get some tonight and execute this plan! I'm very excited to see how they turn out. I have big plans for them.
Another awesome idea I procured from the web was how to make a small gift box from old Christmas cards (or birthday cards, or wedding cards - which I have a thousand of). I made one last night and LOVED the end result. I also have big plans for those as well. I just need to get my wedding cards from Tallahassee and have a box making party.
I will continue to hunt down creative and cost-efficient gift ideas for all of our friends and family for this holiday season. I'm actually pretty excited about it all. I love having the time and energy to accomplish this. I just hope I can find some great ideas. The last thing I want to do is give people crappy homemade gifts. There's a fine line between "made with love" and "the awesome Christmas gift you're going to get from Leigh Ann and love to death for the rest of your life." Let's hope I achieve the latter. For your sake.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Priceless & Disturbing
Happy Meal Goes Six Months Without Mold
Keith Srakocic / AP Photo
Have McDonald’s chefs discovered the secret of immortality? Artist Sally Davies has photographed a Happy Meal every day for the past six months—and so far it hasn’t begun to decay or grown a speck of mold. “The first thing that struck me on day two of the experiment was that it no longer emitted any smell,” says Davies. “And then the second point of note was that on the second day, my dogs stopped circling the shelf it was sitting on trying to see what was up there.” Davies says the food has grown hard and plastic-like, but there’s still no mold. As Salon pointed out when Davies’ project was younger, there are other ancient McDonald’s burgers lying around: One woman has kept hers without mold for 12 years.
Read it at The Daily Mail
Ultimately, says O’Keefe, the McDonald’s haters have gotten their science wrong. "The ingredients are similar to anything you’d see in processed fast food," he says. For better or for worse, McDonald’s is no more a chemical laboratory of secret compounds designed to embalm us from the inside than any other processed food maker. A Happy Meal manages to stay unspoiled because it is fatty, salty and practically empty of nutrients -- which, really, are all good reasons to avoid it anyway.
Ultimately, says O’Keefe, the McDonald’s haters have gotten their science wrong. "The ingredients are similar to anything you’d see in processed fast food," he says. For better or for worse, McDonald’s is no more a chemical laboratory of secret compounds designed to embalm us from the inside than any other processed food maker. A Happy Meal manages to stay unspoiled because it is fatty, salty and practically empty of nutrients -- which, really, are all good reasons to avoid it anyway.
So proud
I've had a hankering for our family to grace our wall. And just yesterday, my wonderful husband helped make that a reality. He's just the best. Once I found the pictures I wanted to use and had them made, I could put them in the frames we'd purchased for this project. Then I just needed my adoring husband to help me hang them on the wall. Four hours later, it finally happened.
The best part was when he wanted to tear off sheets of paper, tape them together, place the picture frames on top of the taped paper, trace their outline, remove them, tape the taped and traced paper to the wall and then figure out where to put the nails in to make them all even. I was like, why don't we just use a piece of paper as if it was the frame, and tape them to the wall individually to see how we want to place the frames. My idea won out and saved us an additional three hours and future marriage counseling.
Once we placed the pieces of paper where we wanted the frames, Chase then measured everything and somehow figured out how to make them all level. Because the three square frames are hanging on a wire. The two attachments that the wire is connected to were personally attached at random and not measured for accuracy. Which makes me wonder if Chase removed them and then measured and reattached to make them all level. I have no idea how he got the three to all be the same height. I got bored and started watching tv. Four hours later, I look up and viola! Picture perfect. It might take him forever to complete these little projects, but you know that at the end of it, it is done and it is done right.
The best part was when he wanted to tear off sheets of paper, tape them together, place the picture frames on top of the taped paper, trace their outline, remove them, tape the taped and traced paper to the wall and then figure out where to put the nails in to make them all even. I was like, why don't we just use a piece of paper as if it was the frame, and tape them to the wall individually to see how we want to place the frames. My idea won out and saved us an additional three hours and future marriage counseling.
Once we placed the pieces of paper where we wanted the frames, Chase then measured everything and somehow figured out how to make them all level. Because the three square frames are hanging on a wire. The two attachments that the wire is connected to were personally attached at random and not measured for accuracy. Which makes me wonder if Chase removed them and then measured and reattached to make them all level. I have no idea how he got the three to all be the same height. I got bored and started watching tv. Four hours later, I look up and viola! Picture perfect. It might take him forever to complete these little projects, but you know that at the end of it, it is done and it is done right.
Or can you?
It's been ages! Getting married really kills a blogger's motivation because everything that I would write about, I can just tell Chase. It's quicker, I use spell check less and I can get an immediate reaction. Unlike this thing where no one ever comments. You start to feel ignored and unloved. Then like your work has no value. And before you know it, you've quit blogging.
Well, for whatever reason, I've been experiencing a hemorrhage of blogger-moments. These moments are created out of living life with Chase. He's already a part of these moments. So I can't just go and tell him. He's co-creator. I need another outlet.
And so, I have returned.
At least until I get a job or get into grad school. Which ever one happens first (and please God, let one happen. PLEASE).
I am so vain and narcissistic (yep, had to spell check that one). And it feels so good to get that out in the open. What leads to this announcement started in TJ Maxx. While browsing one fine day, I discovered a line of lotions for mothers-to-be. It had a cute picture of a pregnant queen bee on the label and I knew who had I to purchase these lotions for. A dear friend expecting her first in January. My friend knows the ins and outs of a spa & salon. She enjoys the finer things in life. When she received the lotions, she goes "how did you know I wanted lotions for my belly?"
How did I know?! How did I know?! Honey. I am vain and narcissistic. If I'm worried about the possibility of stretch marks in my pregnant future, then I can be rest assured that you are too.
But it's a funny vanity and narcissism. It's funny because it's tinged with laziness. I might be vain but not enough to style or dye my hair. (the greys are becoming more noticeable, but we're not at an intervention stage). I might be narcissistic but not enough to buy trendy clothes. Just too lazy to care about either of those things and many more. But I am vain enough to attempt regular exercise and watch what I eat. It's like there are thresholds of vanity. When they're crossed, I spring into action. 'Till then, it all can just go to the birds.
The more I think about it, the more I tend to think that we all have thresholds of vanity. Some are just noticeably higher (models) or lower (visit a walmart). I hope mine's at a healthy level. Sometimes I think I could beef up my game. Like when my mother yells at me for not bringing any make-up to wear. "I swear, Roger, some mothers have daughters who look like trannies, and I can't get my daughter to wear lip gloss!" In my defense, I do wear some make-up, occasionally. I just forget to pack it for trips sometimes. Okay, I'm really just too lazy to fool with make-up. I snared my man. I can now devote the effort to other things like cooking dinner. Listen, you can't have everything.
P.S. be sure to click on the word "trannies" above. It's worth it.
Well, for whatever reason, I've been experiencing a hemorrhage of blogger-moments. These moments are created out of living life with Chase. He's already a part of these moments. So I can't just go and tell him. He's co-creator. I need another outlet.
And so, I have returned.
At least until I get a job or get into grad school. Which ever one happens first (and please God, let one happen. PLEASE).
I am so vain and narcissistic (yep, had to spell check that one). And it feels so good to get that out in the open. What leads to this announcement started in TJ Maxx. While browsing one fine day, I discovered a line of lotions for mothers-to-be. It had a cute picture of a pregnant queen bee on the label and I knew who had I to purchase these lotions for. A dear friend expecting her first in January. My friend knows the ins and outs of a spa & salon. She enjoys the finer things in life. When she received the lotions, she goes "how did you know I wanted lotions for my belly?"
How did I know?! How did I know?! Honey. I am vain and narcissistic. If I'm worried about the possibility of stretch marks in my pregnant future, then I can be rest assured that you are too.
But it's a funny vanity and narcissism. It's funny because it's tinged with laziness. I might be vain but not enough to style or dye my hair. (the greys are becoming more noticeable, but we're not at an intervention stage). I might be narcissistic but not enough to buy trendy clothes. Just too lazy to care about either of those things and many more. But I am vain enough to attempt regular exercise and watch what I eat. It's like there are thresholds of vanity. When they're crossed, I spring into action. 'Till then, it all can just go to the birds.
The more I think about it, the more I tend to think that we all have thresholds of vanity. Some are just noticeably higher (models) or lower (visit a walmart). I hope mine's at a healthy level. Sometimes I think I could beef up my game. Like when my mother yells at me for not bringing any make-up to wear. "I swear, Roger, some mothers have daughters who look like trannies, and I can't get my daughter to wear lip gloss!" In my defense, I do wear some make-up, occasionally. I just forget to pack it for trips sometimes. Okay, I'm really just too lazy to fool with make-up. I snared my man. I can now devote the effort to other things like cooking dinner. Listen, you can't have everything.
P.S. be sure to click on the word "trannies" above. It's worth it.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
First day of volunteering in Orlando
Got my volunteering gig on today. I felt like Bill Cosby on an episode of "kids say the darnedest thing".
I'm volunteering at a day school for infants to five years. I'm with the older kids since they seem to ideally have the largest vocabulary and therefore understanding them might be easiest. Until I met this kid on the play ground. He goes: "what's your name?" So I answer him and ask him what his name is. He responds that he doesn't remember. And I tell him that's a problem. Then he runs off. I see him approach another kid and he asks that kid to tell him what his name is. Not the other kid's name, but his name. He goes through five kids before he finds one who can tell him what his name is. Then he drags that kid over to me to announce his name.
I thought that was the most amusing thing I've seen in a long time. I'm guessing little Silas has a speech impediment and he has trouble saying his name so he found someone else to say it for him. But who knows? He could just be a weird bird.
And what five year old isn't a weird bird? There was another kid who started crying when I wouldn't throw the ball directly at his head. I'm serious, he started wailing when I declared that I wasn't going to hit him in the head with the ball. I would be happy to continue throwing the ball back and forth, but I wasn't going to peg him in the noggin. But now that I think about it, nearly every kid on the playground started crying at one point or another. One kid was going for the record and tried to scream and cry the entire time we were out there. Slow learner didn't realize that everyone was ignoring him and the crying wasn't getting him any attention what-so-ever.
Despite the tears and ball-missiles aimed at my head, I had a great time with the kids. They're a rowdy crew, but five year olds still want to cuddle up beside you during story time and they want to impress you with their coloring skills. Overall, I find them charming and I'm delighted when nap time comes and everyone gets their cot and takes time to rest. And then I leave. To have lunch with my hubby. And I rejoin the world of adults.
I'm volunteering at a day school for infants to five years. I'm with the older kids since they seem to ideally have the largest vocabulary and therefore understanding them might be easiest. Until I met this kid on the play ground. He goes: "what's your name?" So I answer him and ask him what his name is. He responds that he doesn't remember. And I tell him that's a problem. Then he runs off. I see him approach another kid and he asks that kid to tell him what his name is. Not the other kid's name, but his name. He goes through five kids before he finds one who can tell him what his name is. Then he drags that kid over to me to announce his name.
I thought that was the most amusing thing I've seen in a long time. I'm guessing little Silas has a speech impediment and he has trouble saying his name so he found someone else to say it for him. But who knows? He could just be a weird bird.
And what five year old isn't a weird bird? There was another kid who started crying when I wouldn't throw the ball directly at his head. I'm serious, he started wailing when I declared that I wasn't going to hit him in the head with the ball. I would be happy to continue throwing the ball back and forth, but I wasn't going to peg him in the noggin. But now that I think about it, nearly every kid on the playground started crying at one point or another. One kid was going for the record and tried to scream and cry the entire time we were out there. Slow learner didn't realize that everyone was ignoring him and the crying wasn't getting him any attention what-so-ever.
Despite the tears and ball-missiles aimed at my head, I had a great time with the kids. They're a rowdy crew, but five year olds still want to cuddle up beside you during story time and they want to impress you with their coloring skills. Overall, I find them charming and I'm delighted when nap time comes and everyone gets their cot and takes time to rest. And then I leave. To have lunch with my hubby. And I rejoin the world of adults.
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