Namaste

As I was driving today, I realized that when I talk to Logan in the car, I scream at him. 

"DO YOU LIKE THIS SONG, LOGAN?!!?" 

"ARE YOU READY FOR YOGA, LOGAN!???!?!?!" 

"NAMASTE LOGAN!!!!!" 

I don't know why I do this, but the poor kid is probably terrified of me.  Or he won't recognize me at the hospital during our first official meeting.  Actually scratch that - I will probably have screamed so much by that point he'll know for sure that it's me, so maybe it's a good thing I'm breaking him in early. 

Now onto yoga.  If there were yoga tryouts to get into this class, I wouldn't make the cut.  It's embarrassing, actually.  Today when the instructor said that we needed buddies for a certain pose, she made a beeline for me.  I'm thinking it's because she was afraid I was going to hurt the other students - like I'm a liability. 

This is a picture of what I don't look like at yoga.

I was just telling Willis that they do about 100 downward dogs per minute, and he said, "isn't that just standing there on your hands and feet?"  Hmph.  Try doing it with a human in YOUR belly, Willis!!!!!  Since he thinks it's so easy I asked him to do one so I could post the picture, but he said no.   Then he went to go check on the pot roast he prepared for us while I was taking a nap.

Each time the instructor says things like, "if you want to go to the next step, try ___"  or "to go deeper, do ____" I immediately tune her out and know she isn't talking to me.  I also loathe the word "deeper" but that's beside the point.  Today she said to me (after quarantining me from the rest of her students), "I'm glad that you have time to practice before you go into labor - this will really help."  Thanks, lady. 

Off to get ready for the big move which is happening on Monday.  Actually, I'm not really doing anything since they are going to be packing for us, too, but it makes me feel better to just organize and move stuff around a little.  And by organize and move stuff around a little, I mean sit on the couch. 

Namaste everybody!

You would NEVER believe what Little Willis got caught looking at
on the internet.  Dirty Birdy!!!!

Boooo!

Today's post is dedicated to Halloween, but before we get started, I'd like to address the following quote on Bravo from Iman.  It occurs around the 10 second mark - sorry, you have to watch the whole thing to see it.  Is this for real?  Each time I see it (which is about 800 times a day), I get bunchy after I hear her say "E-WAC-EW-A-SHON." 

Now that I have that off my chest, I feel like I can move on to a more important topic - HALLOWEEN! 

I have a very creative artist for a mother, so I always had some pretty unique costumes growing up. This girl never wore one of those cheap, ill-fitting, itchy drug store costumes. No sir. I think I used to secretly long to wear one of those fire hazards in a bag, though. I also used to wish that we were allowed to trick or treat using pillowcases like the hoodlums, but we always had special Halloween bags every year. (I know, I had it rough. It's a wonder I'm still here.) I'm also not sure that I really ever came in contact with hoodlums, or if hoodlums even carried pillowcases, but I still liked the idea for some reason of getting candy in a pillowcase.

I think the best costume she made for me was the Hershey Kiss.  I can't imagine how many rolls of Reynolds Wrap went into this little number, or the amount of time it took. 

Unfortunately, the Hershey Kiss never made it past the front yard.  Shortly after these pictures were taken, my dear brother Aaron (aka Mr. Pumpkin) said that I looked like a baked potato which resulted in me crying and refusing to wear the costume.

I think Statue of Liberty is a close second.  If I remember correctly, this costume was made from some satin sheets I had which weren't working out at the time because I was always sliding out of bed and waking up all static-y.  Apparently my bed was on a tilt?  I also thought it was called Statue of LiVerty.  I loved this costume but also remember wishing the torch (which was a flashlight - pretty clever!) could have a real flame.  Geez, was the girl EVER happy?

Minnie Mouse was another favorite.  How cute are those tights?  I think I had a similar pair a few years ago.  I'm not really sure about that blue bow, but maybe that was an afterthought. 

Carmen Miranda.  I honestly don't think I had any idea who the hell this woman was, but who can resist that head of fruit??

OK, off to get ready for the Salvation Army guys to get here - look at all the stuff we are getting rid of!!  

Trooper

Just got back a little while ago from a sports bar where Willis and I had dinner and watched a little bit of the Bruins game.  And when I say watched a little bit of the Bruins game, I mean I ate and left immediately once I was done because my back started hurting.  (Don't worry, Willis stayed, but I still feel bad.  But obv not bad enough to stay.  He said he likes the walk back from the bar anyway... probably because that is just another 10 minutes of whining he doesn't have to hear...)

I think what I'm starting to realize throughout this whole prego experience is that I'm not exactly what you would call "a trooper."  In fact, I would say I'm exactly the opposite.  So, a non-trooper.  I feel very comfortable betting my life on the fact that nobody has ever said about me, "that Ali, she really is a trooper.  She toughs it out." 


I don't think I have ever been a "trooper."

 I think going camping with me would be an absolute nightmare.  Which reminds me of the last time I actually went camping.  In college one summer I was a camp counselor in Connecticut, and my cabin was a group of the youngest campers (go Bandits!) who were crying in the wilderness because they were hungry for their hobo dinners and the counselors couldn't get the fire started (I taught sailing for the love of bejeezus, not outdoor skills!  I doubt any of those kids learned how to sail that year, by the way).  Full disclosure I was usually the one crying on the phone to my mom because I was so miserable, but that's a story for another time.  My poor mom. 
 
Anyway, one of the other counselors from another cabin and I hiked back to get some of those starter logs that you just light on fire (why we didn't take one to begin with is beyond me), and when we were about to head back into the woods the counselor stopped and said to me, "you know, we could just get out of here.  Like just leave and never come back.  I know some people that live close by where we could stay."  And I think I was so miserable that for a split hair of a second I actually considered her thought.  OF COURSE we didn't just ditch the poor campers and other counselors in the woods, but it was really tempting. 

In case anyone was wondering, I didn't last the summer.

HELLO EVERYBODY

HELLO EVERYBODY!

We are back from our nice weekend away in Boston.  Actually, we got back on Monday night but I have basically been in bed ever since because I was just...so...tired.  It was such a great time seeing all of our friends and family, and my baby shower was perfect. 

I don't THINK we got bbgs, and I have pictures that show my parents and Willis performing The Inspection (you know, as part of The Plan), but I'm too spooked that the bbgs are just waiting for me to get comfortable before they make their appearance.  So, I think it would jinx it to post pics and say that we didn't bring them home.  Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.

Tonight I'll be headed to my second prenatal yoga class.  The first one was LAUGHABLE - there were women in there with due dates 5 days away doing about 100 downward dogs while I just stayed on my hands and knees intently staring down at my yoga mat.  Baby Logan was just kick kick kicking away, and it made me feel a little better - like, "we're in this together, buddy!"  If only he knew the performance that his mother was putting on...

I feel like I am walking around in a complete fog, and I'm wondering if this is what life is going to be like from now on.  Like I took something to take the edge off.  I have to admit it was pretty nice watching everyone bustle by on their way to work in Boston on Monday morning while Willis and I stared at them through the window of Finagle a Bagel on Boylston St.  Like Willis said, "sure is funny watching people all stressed on their way to work when you don't have to go.  Look at that woman running.  Sucker!"  Poor Willis had to go back to the work the next day, though, and he wasn't laughing then. 

Off to get some stationery for Logan so he can start writing all of his thank you notes!

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have mentioned to my mother that the Park Plaza Hotel (where we are all staying this weekend in Boston) had recent bedbug reports.  I shouldn't have even gone looking for the information to begin with, but I guess I'm just a worrier - that's why my friends call me whiskers!  (That's for all of you Harry Caray / Will Ferrell fans out there...) 
 

 

---

From: Ali
Sent: Wednesday, October 20, 2010 5:04 PM
To: Mom and Dad

Subject:

I couldn’t help it – I looked up the Park Plaza in Boston on the bed bug registry.  Let’s just say that we don’t want to stay on the 5^th floor. 

---

From: Mom and Dad

Sent: Wednesday, October 20, 2010 7:14 PM
To: Ali
Subject: RE:

OMG- what should we do???

m 

---

I've been fretting about this information for the last 12 hours or so, but I feel better now that I have The Plan.  I'm going to fight back.  We thought of switching hotels, but it seems most hotels in Boston have had recent bbg (I can't even type the word anymore it's so NASTY) reports, and we also already paid for the room since we used AmEx points.  I called the front desk and told them not to put either of our rooms on the 5th floor (where it seems the bbgs have taken up residence), but I don't think that is enough.

Here's The Plan.  Please note Willis thinks I am completely neurotic, but this girl is going to do everything she can to not bring bbgs home to live in her heavenly Sterns and Foster bed. 

- As soon as we get to the room, we are putting our bags in the bathroom, where they will stay. On the luggage rack, in the shower.


- Willis will be lifting the mattress up and doing a major inspection around the room while I hide in the bathroom with the bags. 


- I'm taking a bunch of big ziplock bags (aren't there sizes that people can store toys in and stuff?) for our dirty clothes (note the clothes are not allowed to touch the floor or any of the chairs in the room).


- We'll do hair checks before we leave like these monkeys do.  I've been studying the video.  They are so thorough!  The only difference - if I do find a bbg on Willis, I won't eat it, and I probably won't sit next to him on the plane, either.  

Smokey the Bear says only YOU can prevent bbg infestations!!!!!! 

Music

Does anyone else have a love/hate relationship with this song?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkjljBNTLs4

Since the "Hits 1" station on Sirius seems to only be capable of playing the same 4 "hits" over and over each month, I have heard that song probably 467 times in the last week.  I find myself waiting on the edge of the seat for the guy to say the "aksjdalsdjaksldj AMERICANO!" part (which is all they say), tapping away until the next time they say it, and then finding myself really annoyed by the end.  But then it's in my head all day and I can't wait until the next time I hear it. 

When Hits 1 just gets too repetitive, I have been known to listen to The Blend, which Willis hates.  The Blend is described as, "Light Hits from the 80's, 90's and today with no rap or hard stuff."  Sometimes he won't realize that it's even on The Blend and will endure a few really awful songs before realizing that I was the last one messing with the radio. 

I am probably the least unhip person that you will ever meet when it comes to music (and it's entirely possible that I'm just generally unhip and not self aware enough to realize it).  Example #1:  Yesterday on the way to the doctor's office, Aaron Neville's "Everybody Plays the Fool" came on (The Blend, obv.) and I turned it up. 

When I was younger, I used to steal CDs from my dad's collection (along with both of my brothers - thanks, Adam, for Steve Miller Band's greatest hits, and Aaron for some Beastie Boys CDs that I hated but thought were cool to have). 

My Dad had a wall of CDs which I took upon myself to turn into my private music store every once in a while (more like regularly because he was always restocking them since his daughter kept stealing all of his CDs).  You might be thinking, "well that's why she's so unhip with music - she got all of her CDs from her dad's collection" but he actually had some pretty good stuff.  I skipped right over the good stuff, though, and went straight for the real winners.  Wilson Phillips.  Example #2 on how I am unhip with music - "Hold On" came on the radio the other day (yes, The Blend) and I was happy.

I pity my friends who received mix tapes from me growing up.  I remember thinking I was so edgy including Lisa Loeb's "Stay" on the mixes, along with a little Eagles' "Hotel California."  It's probably a good thing that we sold our Austin City Limits tickets this year, because even though there were going to be well over 100 bands, basically the only ones I recognized were Blues Traveler and Nora Jones.

Is Logan destined to be a loser?!

Vacation

When your doctor asks, "did you go on vacation recently?" after reviewing your weight difference from the previous month, it probably means that you've gained a few. 

I think we all know that I haven't been on vacation this month. 

After turning 100 shades of crimson followed by outloud laughing, all I could say was, "Halloween candy?"

So, ladies and gentlemen, the eating party is over.  I'm saying goodbye to my beloved Blue Bell ice cream after every meal, along with ordering cheesecake/key lime pie/fudge brownies after every meal we eat out.   I would say goodbye to the Halloween candy, but I polished off that bag last night.

The Halloween sugar cookies I made for the doctor's office staff didn't really help the problem, either.  I think I ate about 46 cookies over the course of 2 days.  You know, to make sure everything still tasted ok.  I also had to inhale half of the cookie dough in raw form to make sure that was ok, too.  (Don't worry, it was store bought so no risk of contaminating Baby Logan with salmonella.  I'm not THAT industrious.) 

The cookies were definitely a hit at the office, but there was one teeny tiny problem with the bag that I was planning on giving to the doc.  You see, when you have cats, they shed.  On everything.  So I had the bag in my hand, ready to give to the doctor when she came in the room, when I noticed a white Sox hair on the left wing of her bat cookie. 

I had Willis inspect it, too, and he was able to move the hair onto the plastic, but it was still in there.  It was like we were playing hot potato with the cookies (which were all broken by this point), and I could hear her outside the door.

Willis:  "You can't really see the hair now that it's on the plastic part." 
me:  "We can't give her hairy cookies!  We have to throw it away.  Hurry!  Just hide it under my sweater."

So Willis shoved the bag under my sweater just in time. 

The problem is, I had given about 10 bags out to all of the various office staff I encountered.  (In retrospect, I should have skipped that mean woman who weighed me, but hindsight is 20/20 as they say...)  So now I'm worried that my doctor now thinks I don't like her since I gave everyone cookies but her. 

On my way out, I shoved the bag (along with the gift bag that was carrying all of the cookies) into the trash can in the exam room.  What if she sees it?  And what if all of the other cookies are infested with cat hair, too?  I am never doing THAT again.

In case you can't believe that I am capable of making cookies, here is proof:

They sort of looked like blobs at first.

More blobs

It turns out you can use the cookie cutters AFTER they bake, too.

Wonder how many cat hairs are there....



Who, me?  Shed?



Doody in a Cup

If you don't like talking about #2, then this blog entry is not for you. 

For those of you still here, please study the picture below. 

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a picture of shit in a cup.  That someone has run over in a parking spot. 

I was dropping off some pants to get hemmed at the tailor today (don't worry, Lisa, not the ones I'm borrowing from you), and when I got out of the car, I was hit in the face with the most overwhelming whiff of poo I think I've ever smelled.  It's kind of hot and sunny here today, too, so that really enhanced the smell. 

Anyway, I noticed the shit cup right away and realized that was the source of the smell.  And I thought to myself, "Who does that?  Who puts shit in a cup and runs over it, or puts a cup of shit somewhere for someone else to run over?"  Please note I didn't think to take a picture until I was in the tailor, and by the time I came out, someone had parked over the cup of shit.  So, I had to wait for a truck to move in order to get the shot.  You're welcome. 

Willis's first reaction was, "why would someone shit in a cup?"  My brother wanted to make sure that it was really poo, and not icing or fudge.  See, I don't think that it's person poo.  I think it's dog poo, and someone was just being a jerk and put it in a place where someone would run over it.  What do you think? 

In other news, how cute is Daisy?

Daisy is keeping her brother warm.



One thousand, three hundred thirty two

As of today, there are 111 days left until my due date. 

By my calculations (which are usually wrong), that means I will pee roughly 1,332 more times until Baby Logan is here.  That's one thousand, three hundred thirty two more times for those of you who missed it.

1,332 





If you count all of the times I am up during the night, I'm averaging at least 12 - if not more - visits a day to the ladies' room (#1, people - don't get too excited).  Or men's rooms, depending on how desperate I am.  Yesterday I kind of peed in my pants in the car, so some of these times aren't even in an actual facility.  True story. 

Willis told me he is never riding in the passenger seat again, but I'm not sure he's ever been in the passenger seat to begin with, so no love lost there.  Maybe I should go ahead and buy that seat protector we were planning on getting for the car seat, because I have a sinking feeling this will not be the last time this happens.  (Sidenote:  Do you think Willis had any idea what he was getting into that rainy night on June 9, 2004?  Me either.) 

On a drier/less disgusting/less TMI note, I'd like to take a minute to introduce you to Little Willis.  Little Willis is keeping us company until Baby Logan arrives.  So far we have discovered that his interests are drinking beer on the baby glider, and having long talks with Sox on the couch.  He's really fitting in well with the family so far.



Takin' the baby glider for a test drive.

 

They talked all night long.  Those scoundrels.

Little Willis made Sox LOL.

 Lastly, in case you are confused, we are trading off calling Baby K a few names while we make up our minds.  This week, he's Logan.  Our lil guy, Logan.

Double the Fun

Willis is terrified of identical twins.  He is also deathly afraid of bees and other stinging insects, but I don't find that as funny since I am, too.

A set of identical twins moved into our building a few months ago.  Each time Willis has an encounter with them, he describes it to me like he has seen a ghost (or two ghosts, for that matter).  I realize that it might seem like he is just intrigued with them as most men are with female twins (ahem, we all know what I'm talking about), but that is not the case.  All identical twins spook him out. 

Willis:  "I pulled in at the same time as The Twins.  And GET THIS - they both pulled their cars into a spot, then reversed, then pulled back in THE EXACT SAME WAY AT THE EXACT SAME TIME."

Me:  "Wow.  Cool."

The Twins have apartments right next to each other, and one night a few weeks ago when we were walking by he became sidetracked by their garbage cans which were in the hallway.  (In Tejas, there is something called Trash Valet where each night you just put your garbage can outside of your front door and the trash fairy pays a visit.)  Anyway, Willis stopped dead in his tracks and whispered, "Do you think they have the same exact trash?"  Me:  "We are NOT going through their trash."  It turns out they didn't have the EXACT same trash, but we only got a quick peek before I put the kibosh on digging through our neighbors' garbage.

This is not a picture of the twins who live in our building.

This morning after we walked by their apartment, I got another update. 

Willis:  "I saw Those Twins earlier.  They both had on the exact same outfits and were carrying trash bags which were the exact same size right at their sides the exact same way.  [NOTE: the trash fairy only comes on weeknights - everyone deserves a little time off.]  They even both had sweatshirts tied around their waists.  It was bizarre." 

Me:  "Wow.  Bizarre." 

Willis claims his twin fear stems from The Shining.

Bubba knows

These days, it's like baby Santa comes every day!  Our very generous friends and family have started sending The Gifts.  Even though I tried, if you are home all day and get a knock at the door and a big box arrives, you wouldn't be able to not open it either.  (Actually, I didn't really ever try.)  I bust into those boxes like there is a ticking time bomb that I have to turn off.  It sort of reminds me of the Christmas where I opened up all of my gifts and re-wrapped them while my parents were at a holiday party because I just couldn't wait.  I think that was the year my mom had a fever and was delirious when she placed the order at JCrew so she just ordered everything that was circled in the catalog.

Anywaaaay, I am super excited with everything that comes through the door, but I think Bubba knew best what I would need RIGHT AWAY.  No, not the car seat.  And not a onesie, or even a diaper. 

Bubba sent Milk Screens. 

These are going to come in really handy since Willis has been instructed to have a thermos-full of margaritas along with espresso infused prosecco at the hospital for the moment after Baby Evan is born.  Hi Baby Evan - cheers!!!!! 



Bubba Tyll Paradiso has lots of Halloween costumes to choose from.

This wasn't even a costume - he's just pimp like that. 

Bubba has a better life than you and me.

 

Belly Mold (not to be confused with Jell-o mold)



I would like to say a special thank you to Tyll for bring this to my attention.

Are these people for real?  I cannot imagine what I do if I walked into someone's house and saw a painted mold of their prego belly (and boobs) on the wall.  I saw on an old episode of Kendra (Go Kendra!  Go Kendra!) that she was using hers as a centerpiece for Thanksgiving, but at the time I didn't think it was something that was so readily available.  And, since she is an ex Playboy model, it didn't seem all that strange.  The only thing I can imagine this would be good for is if you were going on a serious diet - you could do a before and after mold and proudly display it in your kitchen as a reminder of how things used to be (are you SURE you need that last cookie?).  Oh, and in case you are interested, you can get one of these gems for yourself at http://www.proudbody.com/ .

In other news, I feel like I am getting a glimpse of what it's like to be 80 years old with the amount of supplements, pills, etc. I am taking (no offense, Mom and Dad.... AHAAHA just kidding).  Are you aware you need 1500 mgs of calcium a DAY when you are responsible for growing another human [alien]!?

I highly recommend the passion fruit Tums.  Bedtime snack with a twist!

And in case you weren't convinced about me being 80, here is more proof:

It's too bunchy to wear under your clothes.

Off for a walk on the trail since it's such a nice day!  Last time I attempted this, Baby Evan decided to make my sides feel like they were ripping apart from the rest of my body, and a nice woman stopped to make sure I was ok because she thought I was in labor.  [Google Round Ligament Pain for further reading.]

brown paper bag

Just in case you were wondering, I've gained over 17 pounds.  Baby Evan/Logan weighs 1.  YIKES!  After this discovery I was about to go breathe into a brown paper bag, but I can't seem to peel myself away from the miners coverage.  I guess I shouldn't be that surprised since I'm having dessert with every meal (if I can't have wine I'll have cheesecake!) and eating Halloween candy by the handful.  It's probably good they are individually wrapped, because that slows me down a little.  Maybe I should calm down.

Have to cut it short to get ready for a pediatrician office tour (so cute!), but I thought I'd pass along some pictures of items that are either in my life now, or might be in the future.

Jane Fonda needed a little support. 

I actually own one of these.  The Snoogle.



Is this so you can clean your house at the same time?



Kitties

I have just returned from Walmart (and why haven't I been shopping at Walmart this whole time?  So cheap!) where I picked up some more big plastic bins.  We are moving in a few weeks, and I am going to be REALLY organized at our new place.  Or at least have it appear that way.  I'll have a garage for the first time in my adult life, and what better way to get organized than to store a bunch of shit you don't use in plastic bins in your garage?

I also picked up 5 more mulled cider candles.  After I made him smell it (the candle, people - the candle), the re-stocking guy told me they only get them around this time.  This is seriously the best smelling candle in the world, so I got scared and decided that 5 was a good number for backup.  Plus they were only $3.  Who cares if they only last 18 minutes - $3 is $3.

Now for a few pictures of Sox and Daisy Kilham for your enjoyment. 


Sox just had to see for himself - he couldn't believe he was getting a brother.



Stand-off

There is a stand-off going on right now in Austin Texas.  It's between the below load of laundry and me.  The towels are clean, I just don't want to fold them.  So it has been sitting in that laundry basket for the last few days.  The last time this happened it lasted almost a month until I finally gave in and lost the battle.  (Hi Mom, aren't you proud?!)  I think the basket and golf shoes have become friends, too, so it would almost be cruel to separate them at this point.  (Yes I am aware I need to get out more.)

I don't know why I hate folding towels so much (or any laundry for that matter), because almost every time I complete the task I think, "well that wasn't so bad, was it?" 

If it were up to me, I'd just leave clean clothes in the dryer and use that as my chest of drawers.  I don't see any shame in getting dressed in the laundry room.  In fact, a few weeks ago I did this for several days until Willis had to wash some of his clothes, so mine had to get out of the way (see Exhibit A).  If Willis's clothes could just stay clean, my plan would have worked great.  Just whittle away the clean clothes until the dryer is empty, wash/dry clothes, repeat. 



Exhibit A

 I feel like this housewife gig is really going well so far, don't you?

It Depends

Had a very nice time visiting Barton Creek Resort and Spa this weekend, where it just so happened American Idol tryouts were also going on.  I kept walking by where I knew the judges were sitting just to get a peek at JLo's booty, but they had pretty tight security.

It occurred to me this weekend that much of my time these days is spent either in the bathroom or trying to find one since I constantly have to pee.  (Don't worry, I won't get into #2 talk unless I'm really out of things to write about... But boy do I love a little #2 talk...)  If I'm in public I'm on the hunt for a bathroom, and if I don't have to go yet, I'm worried about where the closest one is.  I now know where the majority of public bathrooms are in the Austin area, and which ones to avoid.  (Mental note - there is no bathroom on the part of the Greenbelt trail near where we live, and on the weekends there are too many people around to pop a squat.)  In fact, I had a pleasant discovery the other day in the Target bathroom when I realized it smells like Trix cereal.  I'm definitely looking forward to my next trip to Target. 

I think Lisa Marie Nowak had the right idea.  Not about the potential harm she was going to cause to others, but about the diaper.  Why isn't it PC as adults to wear diapers?  I realize that some people really don't have a choice - which I am sure is a terrible way to live.  I'm talking about wearing diapers to things like concerts, sporting events, the mall, your living room, etc.  Places where it's annoying to have to stop what you are doing to go.  If it was cool to just sport a diaper every once in a while, think of all the things you wouldn't miss.  "Ooooh, I really don't want to go now, what if they play ___song?"  And think about the lines for the the ladies bathroom at bars where you are either BFF with the girls around you or plotting against them.  It wouldn't exist. 


Willis said he would be agreeable to this idea if there was some sort of pump you could have that would suck all the wet out.  But, I'm not really sure where it would go.   

We're working on it. 

This lady didn't have to stop hula hooping when she had to go since she had on a diaper. 

Decisions, Decisions

No less than 20 minutes of my day today was spent in the candy isle at Target, agonizing over which assorted bag to buy.  (Baby Logan/Evan has really developed quite the sweet tooth, and I need to be prepared in case the only kid that lives in our building shows up early for Halloween.)  I finally went with the Hershey Kiss/Mr. Goodbar/Hershey Bar/Krackel (who I want to marry)/Reese Cup/Special Dark combo.  I was initially turned off by this combination, because they HAD to throw that Special Dark in there.  Who eats those?  I actually feel kind of bad for Special Dark. 

Really, Special Dark?  Nobody likes you. 

Next on the agenda was the candle isle, which consisted of another 15 minutes smelling every candle, struggling between the cinnamon and pumpkin spice.  To be fair, part of this time was spent by me shooting dirty looks to a woman who was being mean to her kids, so let's call it 12 minutes on candles.  Pumpkin spice came out on top, by the way.

It's amazing to me how it can take me insane amounts of time to decide on something as trivial as candles and candy, when life changing or expensive decisions I will happily make in a second.  Move 2,000 miles away to Texas?  Why not!  Test drive?  Who needs a test drive - we'll take it.

Right now in the Kilham household there is a scientific experiment going on.  At the grocery the other day [domestic goddess] I was like a deer in headlights trying to decide between tissue brands.  Should I spend the extra 40 cents on Kleenex brand, when the HEB brand looks just as good AND has a cowboy picture on it?  So, I decided to get both.  Willis's allergies have been acting up so he has been my subject.  I've asked him to alternate between boxes every time he has to blow his nose.  He said he's leaning towards the HEB brand, but I think that's just because he likes the picture of the cowboy on it.

Willis (aka good sport of the year) with the Kilham scientific experiment. 

Bon Appetit

I was really proud of myself earlier this afternoon because I went to Whole Foods and got all of the fixings for a nice chili - you know, to celebrate the cold front we are having here in Tejas. 

The only thing Willis had to do was chop the onion and garlic, as I am still not very skilled with sharp objects... 

Once I read over the recipe, though, I realized that I accidentally got tomato SAUCE instead of tomato PASTE.  I decided to just add 2 cans of tomato sauce to compensate.  (Turns out we had an extra one hiding in the cabinet that's probably 2 years old, but canned goods last a long time, right?  25 cent luff you long time!)  I'm sure it will be just the same, even though Willis informed me that they are "actually quite different." 

After tasting it, it was pretty bland - even with special chili seasoning... so, I added some salt.  WAY too much salt.  So, I added in an extra 2 cups of water to try and dilute it...

Willis:  "You know that once you cook off all that water it will be just as salty, right?"
Me:  "No." 

Really looking forward to a delicious dinner!

Hair

I would consider myself very low maintenance when it comes to hair.  Since moving to Texas, nine times out of ten I don't even take a dryer to it - I just slick it back into a bun.  I'm not sure it's the most becoming 'do in the world, but hair drying to me ranks up there with cleaning... I find it almost unbearable.

I stopped by a random hair place in a strip mall last week for a trim (see first paragraph), since it had been months and months since my last cut.  I didn't want ANY funny business - no layers, nothing - just a trim.  Each time I'm in the haircut hot seat I feel like I'm bullied into a cut I don't want, similar to going to My Nails in Boston for a brow wax (you're on the table with a hot wax stick waving an inch above your face while they keep saying, "Uppah Lih?  Uppah Lih?" until you have to physically restrain them from waxing your upper lip). 

But, I digress.

Once again, even though in my head I said that I would be firm about TRIM ONLY, I had no choice but to go ahead with Margot's plan.  "I can under-cut it so it curls under on it's own!"  Go for it, Margot.  "How about a few layers to frame your face?"  That sounds great, Margot.  Once again I was defeated. 

I used to be a much bigger risk-taker with my hair.  When I first lived in Boston I decided that I wanted the cut that Gwyneth Paltrow had in my favorite movie at the time, Sliding Doors.  Picture in hand, I had the owner of Leeba Salon on Comm Ave go to town.  I thought it looked pretty good when I left the salon, but the next morning when I tried to do it on my own, it was HEINOUS.  I couldn't even put it behind my ear, and it was really puffy around my face and poodle-like in the back.  I looked like a man.  From all angles. 

The next day, I marched back into the salon sporting my heinous cut and holding the picture, and made a teeny tiny scene.  Saleeba was with a client, but I couldn't wait. 

Me, standing in the front of the salon, looking ridiculous in every way and for all to see:  "THIS [angrily pointing to my hair], is NOT THIS!!!!" [holding up the Gwynny pic]

Saleeba excused himself from his client and took me aside.  I was expecting an apology, but got nothing of the sort.  He said something along the lines of,  "I can cut your hair any way you like, but you will never look like Gwyneth Paltrow."

Ouch!  I got schooled! 

I don't think I have to tell you that I never went back to Leeba Salon, and I spent the next year plotting revenge against Saleeba while growing out my hair. 


I don't think it's a coincidence that my mother thought Catherine and I were dating during this time.