not so pretty in pink

I did not wash them with anything red,
I pulled them right off the bed.
But now they have a pinkish hue,
And as for me, I’m feeling quite blue.
I did not buy sheets that were pink…
This really stinks!


paint panic

I know you have all been on the edge of your swivel chairs, wondering what I did with my free day on this long weekend. Option 4 was the big winner of this contest. Not the most glamorous, but I like to think that I also accomplished a portion of option 1, since I had to buy all the paint.

Don't think I painted my ENTIRE living room - just half of it. I wanted to see if I really really REALLY liked it before painting the whole room. Phase 3 of deciding if I like the color has commenced. From the posterboard test to the square on the wall to an entire wall. Doesn't everyone do that? No? Just me? No wonder Scout looks at me like I have three heads...

So, I am having paint panic. Do I like it? Yes. Do I love it? Not yet. Will I love it? Not sure. I suppose I should finish painting the rest of the room (phase 4 of this obviously life altering decision).

In case you are wondering what it is supposed to look like: this is where I got the idea. On my walls, however, I feel like it looks more pastel-y than in the picture. Although Easter is coming up, that was not the look I was going for. (Yes, I recognize that ending a sentence in a preposition is a first class grammar offense, but I have been inhaling many fumes lately, so that is my excuse.)

More to come on the ongoing paint saga...


friday... before a 3 day weekend

Friday... Yay! And as a super bonus, Monday is a holiday! Many of you out there may already be aware of this, but it was a surprise to me. I only realized 3 days ago that I do not have to work on Monday. A bit ironic, because I was just bemoaning the fact that I wished I had President's Day off work... so many things I wanted to do! And when my friend JT called me this past Monday flaunting her first of two Mondays of not working, I promptly said "Hello, dear friend" and launched into a lecture about how she should at least know what the holiday is if she gets the day off work. She replied, "um - Lincoln's birthday? Washington's birthday? I was out shopping ALL DAY." JT and I lived together for a couple years and as a supportive and loving friend, I would dole out as much haterness as I could in the days that she spent chilling on our couch while I went to my cubicle and slaved away surfed the internet as much as possible in protest of working on a day when many others were getting paid to not work.

So imagine my surprise when I saw the little blue holiday marked on my calendar at work! I was giddy all day on Tuesday in anticipation of this free day. I immediately sent an IM to Scout so I could rub it in his face. You know, cause I love him and all, but really... he has to go to work and I don't... that is worth some gloating!

Now, what should I do with my day? I have so many plans, and so little time...

1. I could shop. The commercials tell me I should shop. Everyone knows that presidents like to shop, and as such, retailers have big SALES to celebrate this holiday. Even our current president thinks I should shop - he is even giving me $600 (Or maybe $1200 if I get the mail first and don't say anything to Scout... but I probably have to split the dough with the other half that qualifies me for the "married" status - especially now that he has read this) to spend however I want! I have yet to receive said money for spending, but if I charge it, and then pay interest on it until I receive my check from the expeditious government processing department, then I could share my economic stimulation with the financial industry, too! It's a win-win! But I don't want to commit to my first idea - I would like to keep my options open...

2. I could park my ass on the couch and finish season six of 24. Which I want to do and don't want to do all at the same time. I love love love Jack Bauer (who doesn't? and if you don't, what is wrong with you?), but if I finish season six, there is nothing to look forward to. Since I have only watched the show on DVD, I always knew that when I finished a season, I could start the next one whenever I started to get the shakes and go through beep...boop...beep...boop withdrawal. But when this one is over, there is nothing to look forward to... it is the end. With the writer's strike (I know it is over, but do you think they are going to write the whole next season in a day?) and Keifer in jail (I know he's out, but I'm making a point here!), it is going to take forEVER to get season seven. And what, you expect me to watch it LIVE? Please. Wait from week to week and actually have a use for the "previouslies" instead of scoffing at them because I just saw that scene seventeen minutes ago? But I can't watch them without Scout, so on to plan B (or plan 3, as it may be)...

3. I could drive over to Santa Rosa to watch Stage 2 of the
Tour of California. I could rent a Winnebago and get a cute little table and sit on the side of the road with a baguette and a bottle of wine, toasting the peleton as they zoom by in a swift collection of colorful spandex. I like this idea, because I could make a sign. But I am going to the prologue at Stanford University on Sunday, so maybe two days of driving 4+ hours to watch other people exercise is a bit much...

4. I could paint my living room. For the past 14 months, I have been talking about painting the living room. The previous owners had it painted an orangey rust color. A perfectly fine color - I mean, it wasn't chartreuse or cotton candy pink or anything heinous like that - just not a color I want to look at all day. I fell in lust with a beautiful paint color on one of those home shows. You know, the ones where you can renovate a room in half an hour without even getting paint all over your clothes (as long as you have a TV crew on hand). The show was kind enough to post the paint color specifics on their website, so I went down to my local home improvement store and bought a tiny sample. A cute little paint can that fits in the palm of your hand and gives the illusion that painting is a dainty task. I brought my miniature paint can home and painted a couple swatches of posterboard to tape to the wall. (I told you
I always have posterboard on hand - you didn't believe me?) After tilting my head to the left, then to the right, about 115 times from 47 different angles, I decided I like the color. Kind of. And Scout proclaimed that he liked the color enough to paint a section of the wall to see if we REALLY like it before we paint the whole room. So I did. Well, technically I painted a couple sections of a couple walls. To see it in different lights. And next to different things in the room (fireplace, floor, furniture). What I neglected to consider before graffitiing my wall with squares of paint was that I will either have to paint the whole room by the end of the month, or paint it back to the orangey rust color before hosting RunnerGirl's baby shower. So, maybe I will be painting on Monday.

Happy Friday! (or, um, if you are reading this on another day of the week... Happy whatever day today is!)


happy heart day

Happy Valentine's day! Hope you all are enjoying your tiny heart shaped chocolates, noisy ass cards that sing when you open them and little pastel messages inscribed on pressed sugar. Oh, and reminding your loved ones how much they mean to you... right, that part!

Recap from the discussion hubs and I were having last night:
Him: So, what time is the flight tomorrow?
Me: (confusion - looking around, as if the walls are going to illuminate with my trusty planner's contents and tell me why he is leaving on a business trip on a Thursday, and I have no recollection of this... but all I eek out is:) HUH?
Him: Aren't you whisking me away to Paris?
Me: Oh... hey, that's MY line... and no, we aren't going to Paris. I sent my passport in to be renewed, so I am stuck in the country for 6-8 weeks (really, more like 10-12 weeks, but the form says 6-8 so I will give them the benefit of the doubt, even though I have no reason to do so)
Him: Okay, how about Hawaii?

Here is what is going to happen: get home from work, ask each other what we are having for dinner about 3-5 times, finally settle on something glamorous like mac & cheese or pizza. Debate whether we should watch more episodes of season six of 24 or the latest episode of Reno 911 on our tivo. Hey, I'll light a candle - it will be romantic.



Nothing like driving across a bridge and looking to the right only to notice that a replacement bridge is being built. A bit disconcerting - particularly if you have an aversion to bridges, as I do. I try to keep my fear in check so I don't turn into one of those extremists who drive 200 miles out of their way to avoid going over a bridge. But I could feel my fear increasing exponentially as I was gazing at the new pilings and the new bridge (which looked more like a pier, since it just stopped in the middle of the water).

I know that the likelihood of a bridge collapsing while I am on it is pretty slim, but I also know that it CAN happen (just ask the fine folks in Minneapolis). So I take precautions to aid in my survival, should it be necessary. I open my window a crack so that in the event that my car careens off the edge (which would be quite a feat, since I always drive in the middle lane) and I survive the however-many-feet plummet to the icy waters below, I will be able to open my door to escape. Science (in particular, the
Mythbusters show) says that due to the difference of the pressure of water on the outside of a sinking car and the pressure of air on the inside of the car, mere human strength cannot open the door until the pressure is equal (which means: it is filled with water... which would make it tough to breath, I think. So, I want to be prepared. Yes, these are the things I am thinking about when I drive over a bridge... ESPECIALLY when I see new bridges being built to replace the one I am on that very second - and strangely enough, that has happened THREE times recently. Either bridges are all reaching their expiration date as printed on the container, or the Dept. of Transportation had an excess of money in their budget this year. Ummm.... probably the former.



I am officially sick and tired of driving. I have driven 1100 miles in 3 days. Oh, let me put the comma in there so you don't think it was a typo: 1,100 miles. One thousand one hundred miles.

Here are some highlights of the time spent with my ass in a seat, traveling companion at my side:

  • I drove the first 3 hours while Scout read his book. I know, wild and crazy road trip! We forgot to bring our markers to make signs to passerby "Honk if you're horny".
  • The radio choices in the miles between the cities that had more than one exit were: country, christian, country christian, and one lone pop station. After selecting our option (pop), I was delighted (delighted? did I turn into an old bitty on this trip? who says that anymore?) to hear Jon Bon Jovi crackling through the airwaves. I would have blasted it, but Scout is not a fan of blasting music, and constantly warns me about ruining my hearing (he must be in on the conspiracy with my parents, who have been warning me about that same thing since I was 13... hello? people? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!), so in lieu of blasting Jon Bon's dulcet tones, I took a break from my knitting, repurposed my knitting needle as a microphone (works just as well as a curling iron or brush, FYI, ladies) and started singing along. And when I say singing, I mean belting. Wooo-ooooaaaah... we're halfway (really only about a third) the-ere... Wooo-ooooaaaah... livin' on a prayer... Scout winced for the entire song, and during a break in the singing (when I was reenacting a guitar solo), he wished me hoarseness. Unfortunately for him, that did nothing but strengthen my resolve. Take my hand and we'll make it I swe-ear...

  • My car has a tape deck player in it (I know, right? Scout thinks it is the last car out there with a tape deck - he is all snooty now that he has his new car!), and lo and behold, there was a tape in it. So we hit the "tape" button (click, click, whir) and listened to the high quality sound of Billy Joel's Stormfront. For those of you familiar with this album, it has the song that will get stuck in your head for days, "We Didn't Start the Fire"... it was always burning, since the world's been turning... Sorry, back to the story. As soon as it came on, Scout started to sing the words. I feel like "sing" isn't the right word for that song - you are essentially trying to whoosh all the words out and gasp for air between verses. Anyway, I was completely enthralled with this (skill? talent?) that I had not seen before... seven years - I thought I knew everything about him? So I rewound and made him start from the beginning, and he did very well! I got a crush on him all over again. I know, my standards are unreasonably high.
  • Next trip, we are totally bringing our mix tapes... have to dig them out of the time capsule buried in our backyard. Kidding! They are in a tape deck organizer next to my nightstand... kidding again! I'm not THAT weird. But I am weird enough to still have most of them. Hey, they could be antiques someday!

  • Upon departure from our driveway, I started the timer on my watch. So I could know how long it takes to get there. As a rough estimate, I think I looked at my watch about seventy three... make it seventy four times during our trip. Then forgot to look at until halfway through dinner after we had already checked into our hotel, unloaded our car and driven to Scout's aunt and uncle's house. Seriously, I should put a post-it on my steering wheel to remind me to check my watch when we arrive!

  • Last time we drove to Oregon (a month ago), my faithful car sustained a massive injury to the windshield, and started cracking so bad (you could actually hear it crack and spread) that we decided it should be replaced immediately - safety first, kids! Can you see where this is going? Anyone? If you guessed "got hit with another rock and need ANOTHER new windshield", you are correct! Oh, the glass guys are going to love us. I like to consider it supporting the economy. Except that I can think of about 1,100 things I would rather buy than a new windshield.

So, after 1,100 miles and 18+ hours in the car (you could figure out our average speed if you paid attention during math class in high school), I was so happy to finally be home... only to get in my car the next day to drive to San Francisco for work. I should have called in sick... carsick, that is.