Yoplait

*Due to my extreme retardation I have to go back through and edit several mispellings. Awesome brain, I remember when you worked right.

I am sort of lacking inspiration….well that is not technically true, I have a lot to show you, but I want to wait and do it all at once. I spent my 4-day Thanksgiving Weekend busy as a little bee. I exercised my expert use of several power tools including a miter saw and a drill. I also used a hammer and nails, a screw driver, a paint brush, a level…..I was your regular “Do it Herself”er. Which made me think of my mom’s pink tool box. I am pretty sure it had “Do It Herself” embossed on the case. Inside was a hammer and a box of tiny nails for hanging pictures, pink handled screwdrivers, etc. You get the idea. I think she got it as a present for Christmas one year, but now that I think about it, there is something that rubs me the wrong way about the “Do It Herself” kit. Like someone was saying “here ladies this is all you’ll need, stay out of your husband’s tools because all you’ll be doing is hanging a few pictures or changing a broken outlet cover”. Don’t worry I am not getting all feminist on your asses. Because I also spent a great deal of time this weekend in front of my sewing machine and serger. Can I just say that my serger could possibly be the greatest most amazing item I have ever owned? I serged absolutely everything I worked on this weekend and I can’t be certain, but I am pretty sure I had a goofy smile on my face the entire time as I watched the knife chop off the raggedy edges of the fabric before the foot folded it over and shoved multiple threads through it. It is just wonderful. I am pretty sure Andy was in the room talking to me and I said “this serger is my favorite” and he said “I remember when I was your favorite”. So I had to back-pedal and explain that he was still my absolute favorite person, but the serger is definitely my favorite piece of machinery. It feels a little wrong to degrade my trusty Husqvarna this way. It has been my sidekick since I received it for my 17th birthday. Don’t get me wrong, I still love my Viking and if I could have afforded a Viking serger, I totally would have bought one so they could sit next to one another and sing Swedish folk songs. Anyway, I am really getting off track. You know for someone who feels like they are lacking inspiration I can certainly blabber my way through a couple hundred words (chalk that up to my thesis).
So instead of writing about nothing (see above) I thought I would share some ridiculous things I have said/done the past few days:

  • I called Andy once I got to my car last night to let him know I would not be making a stop at the fabric store on the way home. The first thing out of my mouth was “buurrrr it is really cold in my car”. About two blocks from the house I looked down and realized that the temperature knob in the car was set to 65 degrees (the coldest it gets) and the a/c button was illuminated. I started laughing so hard at myself that I feared peeing my pants. I got into the house and burst into laughter again as I explained to Andy why it was indeed very cold in my car.
  • Not once, but two times this weekend Andy brought me home a root beer from 7/11 when he ran out to get something. In my defense I was in full sewing mode, so my mental power was elsewhere. When I came to the kitchen (both times mind you), to retrieve said root beers after he returned, I stood there for at least a minute scanning the countertops and not finding the bottle. The first time I went to the fridge, then back to the counter before asking him where he set it. It was right in front of me. The second time he was in the kitchen and noticed me looking around. He said “are you serious? it is right here”. Apparently my eyes can no longer decipher brown bottles.
  • I opened my Yoplait yesterday and despite my careful and slow coercion of the foil lid, a tiny bit squirted out and onto my boob. I turned to my coworker behind me and said “Dang it, why does Yoplait have to explode on you when you open it?”. Without skipping a beat he responded “Probably because it is French”. I laughed “It is their version of retaliation, that sounds like a French thing to do…..(imagine my poor French accent) I’ve got it we will make it so a tiny bit of yogurt explodes on the American’s shirt when they open the lid (evil French Laugh)“.

I know there are about a million other instances of silliness, but that is all I seem to be able to think of for now. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and weekend following. I know I really enjoyed hanging out with my in-laws and snuggling under a warm blanket while we all watched an episode of “World’s Dumbest Criminals”. That was our way of resting between dinner and dessert. Hahaha.

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My Pregnant Husband

*First off, I changed my whatchamcallit-web-address-thingy-mbobber. It seemed like it would just update you all where I went, but if I effed something up, sorry about that. Hopefully you guys aren’t lost in space wondering if I died or something. Can someone give me a quick shout out in my comment box letting me know that your dashboard updated with my new web-address-thingy-mbobber.

I went to the store after work yesterday for two reasons: today we had a pot-luck at work so I needed supplies and I want to avoid all shopping for the next week if at all possible. I used to work at the grocery store in high school. This time of year is a shit storm of craziness. It is like people turn into rabid psycho beasts of anger. Anyhoo, I called Andy after work to get his input on what I should pick up to keep us fed for the next 7 days. His response was “can you get some more microwaveable soft pretzels?” – okay I have to interrupt with the backstory otherwise my reaction might be confusing. Andy is a big judgy-pants when it comes to deliciously overprocessed white flour items such as microwaveable soft pretzels. I on the other hand, love the shit out of them. On a trip to the store a few months ago, I actually stood in the aisle in front of the freezer door looking longingly at the box of soft pretzels for several seconds before deciding my will was strong enough to not get them. As I walked away Andy said ‘I am proud of you’. So Friday night his little sister came over to stay the night, we ran to Target together to grab some last minute baby shower gift items and some snacks and I’ll admit it to you, because you won’t judge, I bought myself a box of microwaveable soft pretzels. But in my defense I only had one that evening and never even looked back the rest of the weekend. – Zoom back to yesterday and Andy’s comment and I was like ‘uh oh, why, did you eat them all?’. And his response was ‘well I was just going to have one, but they were so tasty and I developed the perfect dipping sauce to go with them, so now there is only one left’. I busted up. Who is this man? What did he do with my husband?
Once I was able to move past the soft pretzel request I asked what else he would like. ‘Can you get some more Haagen Dazs Rocky Road?’. I about died. – As you might imagine, due to his vendetta against processed white flours, Andy isn’t a big sweet person. The boy is a steak, green beans and salad freak. His idea of a “treat” is effing imitation crab meat. Now I loves me some ice cream, but I am a chocolate chip kinda girl. Again when his sister and I went to Target, she was jonesing for some Rocky Road. She must have taken two bites and then forgotten it in our fridge. – Zoom back to yesterday. “Did you eat all your sister’s ice cream?” – me. “No not all of it”– pregnant husband. “I thought you hated marshmellow?” – me. “I do, hey can you get the Haagen Dazs Rocky Road without the marshmellows?”. I could not breathe I was laughing so hard. He innocently said “what?”. “It is like I am talking to a pregnant woman or something? I thought I was supposed to do and ask for weird things and it is like you are another person”.  I laughed so much I had myself in a coughing fit.
“Okay so besides soft pretzels and the equivalent of Rocky Road minus the marshmellows, did you want anything else?”. “Oh will you see if they have fried chicken?” – Pregnant Husband. “Fried Chicken?” – Confused woman who can’t stop laughing at her husband. “Yeah you know how it is like the whole chicken, but they fry the pieces, it is usually in the deli.”  “Okay anything else Pregnant Husband?” – me. “Then I guess whatever you want to eat”. I think it is official, I am not the only pregnant person in our household.

So Not On Top of It

So the last time I posted pictures was 19 weeks. Today is 25 weeks, so that makes me a big slacker mcslackerton. I finally remembered my camera and chord, at the same time, so here you go all at once. My first comment after looking over all the pictures at once is ‘why the hell did I not take the time to do something with my hair and put on some G.D. make-up for these?’. So my 26 week resolution will be to make a semi-descent effort to take flattering pictures.
20 weeks: I love how I am off-center here. Awesome job me.

21 Weeks: Taken on Halloween, thus my bright orange shirt. Gotta check out the nice pancake ass I’ve got going on.

22 Weeks 
23 Weeks: For some reason I think I look seriously tired even though I haven’t been feeling tired.
24 Weeks: This is the point that I think I started to actually look pregnant rather than having a beer belly. Yeah I am so punk rock……so sad.
25 Weeks: Wait does it look like I might have an ass here? Or is it just me lying to myself?
(For older Belly Pics go here)

Shower Time

My step-sister-in-law’s baby shower is today. Back in October I decided to be proactive, since I knew there would eventually be a shower, so I started sewing. I also wanted to get her gifts done before nesting for Nugget started getting out of hand. Little did I know how big of a procrastinator I would be in that arena. Bahh!

 I appliqued a pinwheel and some circles on a couple of onesies. I used the same fabrics as the quilt. You know because she is going to only wrap her daughter up in the blanket when she is wearing one of these two onesies. Whatever, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Anyway I hope that she loves the gifts and isn’t too disappointed that I didn’t get her something off of her registery. I am sure there are some chicks who would be like that, but I think SSIL will appreciate the hand-made-ness. Who knows?

Worlds Apart

I’ve mentioned a time or two that I have a handful of friends on my FB list that probably need to be expunged. You know the ones I am talking about. Maybe you were in girl scouts with them 20-freaking-years ago and for some reason she friend requested you and you said yes. Turns out she is now married to your ex-boyfriend (let’s just say that relationship didn’t end on the best note) and she now has a ginger kid. I can be honest with you right? He is hideous. Listen, there are instances of fucking adorable ginger kids. My favorite of all time is my pseudo-nephew, Hunter.

Well he doesn’t look that ginger here, but you can clearly see his adorableness. Nuf said. “Get that cake, fight terrorism with your patriotic cake little man!’. He was born on the 4th of July. He likes to cuddle with me and I am pretty certain despite both his parent’s being Republican, he is a Libertarian. All of these things add to his awesomeness.

Anyway so we have ex-girl-scout “friend” from 20-years-ago, married to my ex-boyfriend, and together they have offspring. I tried to make a real effort to be nice and shit, so when she posted a picture of said kid at halloween, I commented “cute costume”. I can’t lie, even in FB comments, if I said “he’s adorable” it would hurt my heart. So okay, I am a little bit evil on the insides, no surprise there right? Technically I am a lot evil, because the first thing I thought about when seeing their kid was ‘wow did I dodged a bullet with that breakup!’. Seriously, who thinks that about someone’s child? Evil people, that’s who. And as someone who is pregnant right now, I should probably not be that evil. Because let’s face it, Nugget could come out looking all quasimoto and shit and you know what I am going to think? I am going to think that he hung the freaking stars. He will be the cutest thing in the world to me and you guys will be like ‘she totally deserved to have that ugly kid, she’s evil on the inside’.
Example numero dos, let’s say that someone friend requested you that went to your high school. You were never friends, but apparently the fact that you were two of 20 people to graduate in the same class makes you somehow close now. You don’t want to be a bitch, so you accept. As time goes on in the FB world, you realize there is no reason you are friends with these people. But can you un-friend them? No, that would be mean! What if they found out and it hurt their feelings? Sure you don’t actually have the teeniest interest in their life, but does that give you leave to potentially hurt their feelings? What if they get all vengeful towards you for choosing to no longer take interest in their posts about how they “love hot chocolate on cold mornings” (no shit sherlock?)? You can’t take that chance. So besides being a little bit evil on the inside, I am overly sensitive to the possible feelings of others on the outside. They probably wouldn’t even notice if I dropped them from my FB list of friends.
So as you might have grasped, I don’t have anything in common with these two particular ladies, but recently Ex-girl-scout posted the link to her blog on FB. I was like ‘hmmm, maybe there is more to this girl, I should check it out’. Turns out she is a pretty typical SAHM blogger. Posts pictures of her ginger kid and writes updates about how he’s so much fun. Nothing that is that terrible to read, but let’s face it, if there isn’t controversy and/or cursing, I have the attention span of a four-year-old. Then today High-School “friend” posted a link to her blog on FB. Again, I thought I should check it out. Same kinda thing: her kids are the best, she likes cookies and finds inspiration for financial hardships in the bible. BORING. I thought for a second about leaving both of them comments, to show them some support or whatever. Obviously they are searching for attention since they post on their FB “check out my blog!”. So I thought about commenting, but then I realized if I did that, it would not only lead them back here, but it would also make them believe that I will be returning to their dribble about keeping on top of chores and getting their hair dyed to celebrate the change in seasons. I have to admit, my first thought when heading over to their blogs was ‘hey maybe we have something in common’. Baha Bahahaha. My brain cracks me up sometimes.

Don’t Beat a Dead Horse…..even if you want to.

I couldn’t really come up with a good analogy for what I want to say, but “don’t beat a dead horse” was the first thing that came to mind. Let me esplain somthin’ first. When I decided I wanted to become an architect at the tender age of 7, I was avidly insistent that I would never, Ever, EVEN IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT, do any computer drafting. I was going to go Old-School, I was going to be sitting in a studio at the top of an industrial building with my slide-ruler and pencil sharpener, maybe I would have upgraded to an electric eraser, but that was like the technological limit. In my defense, I was young and stupid, not to mention the fact that my reference when it came to being an architect came from reading about people who died before my Dad was born. So I honestly thought it would be possible to not use a computer. Little did I know people were drafting in AutoCAD back when I was still spitting up on myself. Basically I am telling you this because I kind of get that whole r√©sistance √† Techology (Note: my culture-infused blogging). If you’ve got the pull to not touch a computer in this day and age and you still make a decent living as an architect, you deserve a flipping award in my book. But there is also a difference between resisting computer drafting and being able to open and print a freakin’ pdf on your lonesome. To me there is a distinct difference between being Old-School and being Obsolete.
As you might have guessed I work with a dude walking that line of distinction. I realize I am the youngest person here, which gives the appearance of me being all low on the totem and shit. And I’ve got the best skills when it comes to this here computer-machine. When my fingers engage with my keyboard and mouse, magic happens. I am like Johnny, my computer is my fiddle and ain’t no Devil comin’ here to take my soul…..although I really couldn’t do much with a gold computer….whoa gettin’ off the tracks….anyway like I said, I realize I am a youngin’, but we’re not talking inexperience. I have 7 years of school, comin’ up 8 years of working in an office (almost 3 at this firm), and I am licensed. Which means I don’t sit in the corner and draw stair details all day no mo’. I done my time peeps, I earned my keep. I feel like that entitles me to not be bothered by piddly shit like printing a file for some dude who probably started working back when ladies weren’t allowed to wear pants. Whoa….calm down there Natalie-devil. Flames is comin’ out of my nose.
So I am usually someone who will help a brotha out. I am not a mega-bitch or anything. But let’s look at how this situation has started grindin’ my last nerve. Couple weeks ago, said old-dude comes over with a sticky note and asks if I can print the two files listed on said sticky note for him, when I get a chance. It wasn’t too busy of a day, so sure. I send it off to the printer and go about life, no skin off my back. Next day, foagy returns and says ‘can you print those again fur me pleeeeeesse?’. Sure, but is this going to turn into a trend?- thinks me. Couple days pass, man-child returns with a sheet of paper with a list of other files to print off. By this time, I am full swing working on a deadline. Kind of an annoying interruption, but whatever it will take less time to just print them than put up a fight. Then today, he comes over again with another piece of paper, at this point I want to set his little pieces of paper on fire while he is holding them. Still I keep my trap shut and just send it off. But obviously the fuming in my brain hasn’t ceased.
So here’s where the twist in my panties is. First off, there are four architects in this office. I was the second one hired. Which means for 8 glorious months it was me and the big man = bliss. Then we started getting a little busy, along came numero 3, who technically was more experienced than me, but he was awesome, so I was cool with him comin’ in and shovin’ me down a notch. Me and numero 3 is like two peas in a pod…a pretty quiet pod because we don’t need to chatter on and on to get along. We both bring something to the table. I bring the speedy fingers and tech.-knowledge and he brings the specification and construction experience to help edumacate me some mores. Gotta keep learnin’ people, don’t let yer brains get all mushy-like. A year or so later old-dude enters the scene. He didn’t come in as a boss-figure, per se. It is kind of hard to explain this part. Basically we had a main-design-guru out in our Florida office. His job was to go out and schmooze the new clients, show them pretty pictures and get them interested in hiring us. Then they hire us, then people like numero 3 and I come up with the real design. They wanted to add that sort of capacity out here in our Colorado office, so old-dude was brought in. Shortly after that the dude in Florida retired, making numero 4 in our office the head of architectural design/marketing for the entire company. So technically he is pretty high up, but he isn’t my superior because we do different things, if that makes sense. I still work under the guy who hired me, who rocks FYI. Sure there are days when I think back to how awesome it was when just the twos of us ran about the country kickin’ ass and takin’ names, but I am flexible, I can adapt.
So he’s not really my boss, but I am still respectful enough to realize that he is higher up on the company ladder. But, now you also realize that I am not the only person on this earth (i.e. in this office) who he could go to to print his files. In fact, there is this guy here, he is known as the I.T. guy, you know the person you go to when you need to learn how to open a file, select one of three printers, and click “print”. So in my mind, I shouldn’t have ever been involved in old-dude’s sticky note requests. The fact that he has come time and again is starting to make me feel like he thinks very little of me. I mean, is it because I am a chick? Or is that just me being overly sensitive?
Well what am I going to do about it? The thing that came to mind was that old saying about “teach a man to fish….blah blah”. I am trying to decide if I e-mail him the link (strange how he can read and write e-mails, but can’t print a pdf….I digress) to the folder with all the files in it that he keeps asking me to print and say something like ‘I’ve noticed you’ve needed a lot of these files, here is where they are located so you can print them whenever you need them. I can show you how if you have questions’, if that will come off totally bitchy and stuck-up? Maybe he doesn’t realize how easy it is to print them? Maybe if I show him, he will never bug me again about it? But there is this side of me that doesn’t want him to feel bad about himself. As much as I want to light him on fire with my evil eyes, I also don’t ever want to make him feel like I am looking down on him, which I obviously am, but I don’t want him to have hurt feelings by knowing that. Dichotomy? I think so. The good news is he is out of the office for the rest of the week. Meaning if I send the e-mail while he is away, then he won’t be able to just walk over and be like ‘I must be bugging the crap out of you’. I won’t be able to lie if he says that, or at least my eyes won’t lie. So I think I need to do it.

Whose Nipples Are These?

Peeps, there are some seriously hilarious aspects of being pregnant. I realize I still have a ways to go before the majority of them are revealed to me, but this latest development had me giggling. I try to be pretty candid with you all, sorry if there are any dudes still brave enough to read along, mostly because I do think everyone should embrace the funny aspects of life. It makes me sad to read stuff written by pregnant women that talk about the woes of being pregnant. Swollen ankles, sore back, etc. I can honestly say this is one of the coolest experiences I have ever had.

Four years ago when I was still pretty solid on the fact that I would NEVER have children, the reasons included: I didn’t want to be tied down, I want to be able to travel the world, I don’t want to be thrown up on, etc. I had a zillion reasons why I didn’t want to have them. When my ideas about motherhood and children changed (most likely a result of my biological clock giving me a big punch in my ovaries), I realized the problem wasn’t about having kids, it was my viewpoint.

Once I realized how much I wanted to have kids all those reasons I didn’t quickly turned around. I realized I wouldn’t be tied down unless I thought of it that way. Sure, my life is about to be drastically different, but when I thought of spending the next couple decades doing the exact same things I have been, that seemed to be less adventurous to me. At least I know that my life is about to be really unpredictable. When it comes to travel, sure the international aspect might die down a little, but it isn’t like I am able to afford to go on 5 trips a year anyway. Right now it is looking like once every other year for something major, and there is no reason that Nugget can’t be easily incorporated into that plan. In fact, my immediate plan is to travel as much as possible with this kid. I have heard the earlier you do it, the more they get used to it. I have already started scouting out ways to bring him on my business trips. As for the other reasons, well, to be honest, it would still be really awesome to never get thrown up on, but I know that is not going to happen.

I was traveling last week for work and after jumping out stepping cautiously out of the shower, I busted up. First of all, my belly is starting to get round, but more in like the Santa Clause way then the cute skinny pregnant girl way. Again I will never be the skinny pregnant girl with the perfectly round belly. But the second thing, was my nipples. I am not sure who stole mine, but these replacements took me by surprise, to say the least. I think I already mentioned how much they’ve grown, if not, there ya go. But now they are getting ridiculously dark. After laughing about it at my midwife, she explained a theory about how they get darker so that the baby can see them. Apparently babies can’t distinguish a whole lot at first, but they do recognize contrasts. So your nipples become like landing beacons for the baby, like they are saying ‘hey kid, over here’. Pretty hilarious.

Oh I do have one piece of advice to pass along. One thing you should never do while happy and pregnant is watch “Super Nanny”. I made the dreaded mistake of doing that the other day and almost flipped the F out. I think I have been dreading having teenagers anyway, but this just quadruple-confirmed why military school doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea for Nugget when he hits his teens. I wanted to punch these teenagers through the tv. What I should have done was turn the TV off and gone back into my blissful daydreams about parenthood. So FYI, stay in La-La land as long as possible. I know I am happier here.