Tuesday, March 31, 2009

So Much for That Graceful Aging Thing

Let me tell you what depresses me! This weekend, while hanging out with Dave and his golf team (college), Dave and I were telling stories. And I told the story of the time that Dave and I were in the car, driving to Columbus, and I started singing "Check baby, check baby, 1 2 3 4." Do you remember the song? Wreckx-N-Effect?? Anyone?!? Yes, I know! The song is called "Rumpshaker," and what the heck was I doing singing that song I will never know. But it popped in my head that day in the car. So I finish the whole countdown and Dave turns to me and says "If you have to check the damn thing ten times, the SOB* is broken." Which made me laugh so hard that I cried for the next few miles

*abbreviation used to prevent offending blog readers.

So I tell the story, and these guys look at me as if waiting for the punchline. They had NO IDEA what the song was. And then, as if in unison, two guys get their laptops out and start searching for it on Google. It was so sad, because I didn't think the song was THAT old. Except that, yes, it was from college, and yes, that was a few years (13) ago. And YES, these guys were like 6 or 7 years old. But still!

All those times I got carded recently? Down the drain, I tell you. Those guys just stared at me. Tell me again, Kim, about the time the dinosaurs rocked the greek mixer. Whatever. That song was played at every event! That and Salt-N-Pepa, which reminds me of one night at the TKE house, but that's a story for another day.

I'm off to search for lines on my face.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Princess Palmer

Let me tell you about my niece, Palmer. She is such a hoot! She'll be three on June 2nd, but she already acts like a little adult. She has the most gorgeous hair...a brilliant, beautiful red that a lot of women would kill for.

Palmer recently discovered Barbie when her daddy brought a DVD home for her. And, like so many others before her, Palmer suddenly wished for the long, blonde hair that is Barbie's trademark. As my sister-in-law said, that damn Barbie ruins everything. I chuckled when I heard her say that, but I am sad that Palmer is already deciding at such a young age that something about her should be changed. And even though she also will probably forget she said that just as fast, it still makes me nervous. I remember longing for the same hair long ago, and even today, still have wistful moments when I wish for something other than what I have. But, this post is about Palmer.

Palmer, my incredibly independent niece. My sweet, persnickety, Dora-loving, hilariously-funny, soprano-voiced niece. The one who sings "Crinkle, Crinkle Little Star." Petite, serious, porcelain-faced, chocolate-milk loving little girl. Grumpy at times, always particular. She has had a personality as large as life from day one. She makes me laugh all the time. She is funny, most of the time intentionally, already demonstrating a phenomenal sense of humor. Her imagination is huge, and, I hope, still relatively untapped. I can only imagine what live has in store for her. Or, more accurately, what Palmer has in store for life!

Saturday, March 28, 2009


This weekend marks the first tournament in Dave's spring season, which means no trip to Cleveland for me. I met him and the guys for dinner tonight in Mt Vernon, then drove to my brother and sister-in-law's house to prepare food for my Dad's birthday dinner tomorrow. Potato salad tonight, pies tomorrow. I'm embracing my inner domestic goddess. In fact, I think I could be a good 1950's housewife. I love the fabulous dresses, I look good in pancake make-up and matte red lipstick, and I can down the vodka like nobody's business. Get me some valium and I'm there!

I picked up the Pearl Jam re-release last night on a shopping spree. Spree is defined very loosely...it also included two shirts,
MAC primer, and a new journal. The CD? It's awesome. Incredible tracks, new music. The only thing that sucked was that the CD player in my car stopped working, so I had to wait until today to listen to it. I really need to get that thing fixed.

March Madness moves on and my bracket is in flames. That's not so awful; it happens every year. What stinks is that the person who picked Siena over my Buckeyes also made a few other picks which trumped mine. Retribution will be swift. It's one thing to win one game but to absolutely trounce my bracket on your own? Unacceptable.

The birthday week is almost over. It will soon be followed by the treadmill week, then the step up the cardio week and so on, to counteract the massive amount of sweets I've eaten. My new boss turned 50 on Wednesday and, suffice it to say, I made a piggy of myself that day as well. There was just so much to eat. Except coffee cake.

Let me tell you the coffee cake story. It's a good one.

Wednesday morning, my co-worker and mentor (and all-around funny girl), Virginia, was carrying a coffee cake from the parking garage to our department for the birthday foodfest. She loaded herself down and set off for the stairwell. At the door, disaster struck. The load shifted and the dish with the coffee cake plummeted to its demise. That dish broke into a jillion pieces. I would have loved to have overheard the streak of words coming out of her mouth when it happened. She brushed the shards to the side in one pile, and called building services to let them know. On Friday, it was still there. Like a little memorial. Here lies Ginny's suicidal coffee cake.

Tomorrow I'll be writing about my niece, Palmer. She just discovered Barbie, and I'll say this...that damn doll ruins everything.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Happy Birthday!!!

My husband, Dave, has a big birthday today! He's 40!!!

His boss was nice enough to let him out of work early today so he can drive down and have dinner with me. I'm so glad I get to see him on his actual birthday.

Honey, I love you! I hope your birthday is exactly what you want it to be. I cannot wait until I see you tonight.


A Lesson in Making Grocery Lists UPDATED

Last night's rundown:

Go to Giant Eagle to order birthday cake for Saturday, pick up cake for Thursday, get supplies for potluck at work. Get soaked in pouring rain walking from car to door and back again because umbrella is missing.

Drive home.

Realize I forgot ice cream for Thursday's cake. Stop at Kroger. Get soaked again walking from car to store and back.

Drive home.

Realize I forgot key ingredient for potluck recipe. Drive back to Kroger. Get soaked walking to door. Get heckled by Kroger greeter who comments that I was just there.

Stop, give fish-eye to greeter, thank him for pointing that out. Get ingredient, walk back to car in rain. Get in car, shut door, rain stops. Notice umbrella is under a bag in the backseat.

I am awesome, am I not?

UPDATED: And speaking of my awesomeness, how about the fact that the title should have read A Lesson in Grammar, since I had such an obvious error. It has been corrected, and thank you to that one person who pointed it out. For those of you that noticed and just laughed, I can appreciate that too!

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Just For This Moment

Last night, after work, as I was heading to the driving range to hit a few balls, I passed the funniest sign I've seen in a while.

Okay, I understand that a lot of you may need a moment to digest that last statement and stifle the laughter. Yes, it is true I have very little athletic ability. I'm happy if I can stay upright walking down the hall. So the thought of me swinging a blunt instrument to create a flying projectile that could end up God knows where might be a little overwhelming. Chuckle away, but I'm only giving you ten more seconds. Okay, STOP!

Okay, the sign! It was attached to a construction zone on Sunbury Road and said "No Electrocution Zone." I thought I read it wrong, so I did the Scooby-Doo "WHAT?!?" head-shake. But I read it correctly the first time.

So it begs the question, exactly where is the "Electrocution Zone?" Is it negotiated into the workers' contracts that certain areas be deemed as electrocution-free zones. What happens if you get electrocuted in a "No Electrocution Zone?" Are you ticketed? Some kind of citation.

But I do get the meaning. The point is that if you put the message up where people will read it, it makes them be more careful. A self-fulfilling prophecy. If you say it, over and over, it will happen. It's a good lesson. Learn to live in the moment. Conscious of what is happening.

And take it a step further. I've been inspired by some other bloggers recently who are finding the good things that happen every day. Seizing on moments of joy and laughter, love, even absurdity. The things that happen on your daily journey that make you stop, or provoke a response. So, I am going to remember the great moments throughout my day, and replay them at night when the day is through.

I had some great moments yesterday. A phone conversation with Dave that made us both laugh when I told him I didn't want to hit golf balls from the grass because I didn't want my brand-new super cute golf shoes to get dirty. A moment at work when I smiled after helping someone who just needed help, and I had the privilege of being that person. Reliving memories with an old and dear friend. Awesome onion straws at dinner. Asparagus that was cooked perfectly. Going to bed smiling, and waking up with the smile still there.

And now sharing these things with you.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Why Yes, I Am A Sexy Scientist, Thank You Very Much

I was recently compared to the lead character on the TV show, Bones. At first, I wasn't sure what to think about that, because if you've seen the show, she's kind of quirky. Not that quirky is a bad thing! But after further reflection, I've decided to take it as a compliment. First of all, she's incredibly smart. She's also strikingly beautiful. And sexy in a scientific way. Not that I, for an instant, consider myself either of those things. But I don't mind at all being compared to someone like her, even if she's a fictional character. In fact, it really made my day.

And we all have quirks. Little things we do or say. Rituals that get us through the day. For instance, when I think of the word laundry in my head, I think of it in a British accent. I have no idea why. Somebody, at some point, must have said it to me that way and it lodged in my mind. Dave has a friend from Australia and I love the way he says my husband's name. When I write Dave's full name on something, I think of the way Sean pronounces it. That's a little quirky.

I was writing Dave's name on a form this week, and when the woman who took it glanced down, she asked me if I knew my husband had two first names.

Ummm, yes? Funny enough, we had to disclose our last names to each other when we applied for the marriage license. I'm thinking we need to give our kids last names as firsts to counteract.

Ooops, left turn there.

I'm sure there are more quirks that I have. I'm not going to put too much thought into it, though. I'm just going to assume the person meant the comparison positively, and I'll embrace it.

What kind of quirks do you have?

Somebody's Disappointed

Two blogs in 5 hours! Who knew?

I was just looking at my analytics for the blog. I don't normally have keyword activity, but some poor soul typed "pssst table-dance" into Google and somehow found my blog! I am giggling uncontrollably here.

Listen, kind reader who I am sure did not want to end up here, I apologize!! I am so sorry this happened.

Now I'm off to try it myself.

UPDATE: My blog is listed third down from the top. Amazing! I can't buy this kind of exposure. Of course, what are the chances anyone else will do that?!?

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Son, She Said, Have I Got a Little Story For You

As per usual, lots of things to catch up on. But first, for those of you paying attention, you may recognize the title of this blog as a line of lyrics from Pearl Jam. I'm so excited that they are re-releasing their album, Ten, this week. It's 2 CDs and a DVD with extra tracks. Pearl Jam got me through college...I remember listening to them all the time. Parsing songs with my friend, Kerrie. Joking about my upcoming marriage to Eddie Vedder, which obviously didn't happen.

And as I was typing this, my actual husband told me he doesn't like Pearl Jam. I need a moment to catch my breath and recover from the stroke he just gave me.

Okay, better now!

Anyway, I'm pumped for the purchase. And speaking of the early to mid-90's, I just reconnected via Facebook with a great friend from college. Amazingly, we are now in the same geographic area, shop at the same grocery, travel the same roads, etc. Small world getting smaller. Anyway, after a week of saying hi and swapping messages and funny comments, we started chatting and, surprisingly, it was like the 13 year absence didn't exist. When you are blessed with a good friend, there is a natural ebb and flow. Easy conversations, a shared sense of humor, similarities that go beyond coincidence. I'm so glad we've crossed paths again. The conversations we have had recently made me remember how much fun we've had in our past. I hope that continues. We always need friends, don't we. Even if that friend picked Siena over my beloved Buckeyes in their bracket, then had the nerve to actually be correct in the pick. Painful! And, if you're reading this, I look forward to paying off that bet.

Dave has a big birthday this week! He turns 40 on Thursday, and, unlike me, seems to be handling it with grace and ease. I'm sure I'll cry for a week before mine, but that is a ways off. That's the bonus of marrying someone much, much older! Okay, it's only 5 1/2 years older, but still.

Speaking of birthdays, my blogger friend, Julie, has a birthday tomorrow. Be sure to stop by and wish her a Happy Birthday!!! Julie is one of the funniest people I have ever met. If you aren't familiar with her blog, please take some time to read it. Her take on life is refreshing, humorous, and, at times, poignant, but always spot-on! Happy Birthday, Julie! I hope your birthday is fabulous. And if you can stretch your celebrations into a week, then I will be truly impressed.

My dad's birthday is next Sunday, so I'm sure by the end of this week, I'll have eaten enough cake to fulfill Marie Antoinette's wish that started the French Revolution.

Speaking of cakes (and good segues, thankyouverymuch), I have signed up for a cake decorating class on Wednesday nights in April. My mom used to do this, and I have always thought it would be fun. Fingers crossed that I have the skills.

Hmmmm, what else.

I know a lot of people have been asking about Dave. He has not yet found a job in the Columbus area, but we are hopeful. It's been hard, but we are dealing with it. And we always appreciate the tips. If you hear of something, please let us know. It's obviously a bad market, and we are lucky that we are both securely employed. We have the ability to be patient.

My job is still just fabulous. I really enjoy what I do. I basically have conversations all day long. That is such a perfect job for a big mouth like me. I love to talk! And I do it so well. The clients I talk to are also great. They are friendly, and some of them are hilarious. Not a day goes by that I'm not completely cracking up on at least 2-3 calls during a day. Sometimes I wonder if my bosses are thinking I'm on a personal call. My favorites are the ones who call in and immediately tell me how warm it is in Florida or Georgia or Arizona or wherever it is they are calling from. Although March in Ohio can suck, we've had some mild and, dare I say, beautifully warm and sunny days. Spring fever abounds.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Egyptians > Andy Warhol

Dear Hyatt on Capital Square,


Your friend for the next advertising cycle,


P.S. The
Egyptian Mummy looks much cooler when it's 6 stories high!

Saturday, March 7, 2009


Hi there! Yes, I'm talking to you, the good people at Edy's. Listen, we all know times are tough. I get that the cost of ingredients is constantly going up. But your new ice cream container, the one that is now one pint less than before? It's pathetic. And you know that, don't you. You're not stupid. And you also know that because I'm addicted to your Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream, I will willingly fork over the money like I'm trading cash for smack in a back alley. Well, no more, my ice cream purveying friends! I'm putting myself in ice cream rehab. I will no longer be a pawn in your game.

Okay, who's next?

Ah yes, I see you hiding over there in the corner, Hyatt on Capital Square. Listen, I'm all for advertising events. But I have been staring at that creepy-ass banner of Andy Warhol for eight weeks now! Eight!! And that event ended February 15th, according to said banner. Every morning, as I travel down 3rd Avenue from 670, that scary-looking man with dead eyes is looking at me, sending chills skittering up and down my spine. That's not a good way to start the day. Now, I know time gets away from us all, but you're a hotel. You have special software that keeps track of dates. Now why is it that you can keep track of what time someone makes a call from their room, yet you can't seem to remember that a banner needs to come down from the side of your building? It's three weeks overdue! Haven't we all suffered enough?!?

This is good...let's keep going.

This is an open statement to all of those people who are pulling ALL of their money out of their banks because they think President Obama is going to take it. He's not, you bunch of reactionary twits. He's also not going to seize money from "Republican Banks," nor will he "turn us all Muslim." Ignorance is not bliss, and all you're doing is lengthening the recovery time for this economic crisis. And if you take your money from the bank, hide it in your home, and it gets stolen, please don't cry on the news about it. NOBODY will feel sorry for you. If you are going to do stupid things, you have to expect really rotten outcomes. That's because you clearly need to learn a lesson, and it needs to be appropriately painful so you get it. Like we don't have enough problems already without this.

And last, but not least, it's time you and I had a little chat, whatever your name is who was just on The Bachelor. I don't watch it, so I'm going off what I read and saw online. Let's forget the fact that you have to be a pretty big narcissist to be on the show in the first place. Putting your three year old son on the show with you is awful. What, exactly, is wrong with you?!? And that whole debacle with the two women? Shameful. And as an aside to the second choice, whatever your name is: If he cheated with you, he'll cheat on you. But good luck. It seems pretty apparent that you two deserve each other.

Now can someone get that kid's mom on the phone and tell her to take some control. For crying out loud, he'll be in therapy at age 5 at the rate he's going.