Finally after weeks of indecision, I decided that I wanted to be an active member of What I Wore Wednesday, over at Pleated Poppy. Active as in 2:7 days. As in I would not've been allowed to participate in any extracurricular activity in high school. I'M SORRY LINDSEY CHENEY.
Actually, she should be apologizing to me because what the h, lindsey? Where is What I Wore Wednesday!?!??!?!?!!??! Turns out I'll have to do my own pitiful, pitiful, so so sad version of WIWW (<-- not world war 1 or 3).
Drumroll: (In other words I'm feeling narcissistic and embarrassed that I really think you care about my clothes. I'M TRYING TO BLOG EVERYDAY HERE, PEOPLE.)
Tshirt: Jcrew (my friend thought it was a sparkly buffalo on it which made my sparkle love it)
Jeans: Banana Republic (love because they fit perfectly, love more because they were $12)
Finally Mr Incredible came home:
shoes: awesome pumas
What I didn't wear Wednesday:
And since you waited all so patiently, I'll tell you where I got it. A garage sale. From h&m. But a garage sale. Did that change your minds?
I was totally diggin' that you guys had an opinion on clotheslines yesterday, and diggin' even more that Team Kiera prevailed. As always. You people really showed me that you care about my clothes (or something)
Tomorrow I'll be linking up my blog to What I Wore Wednesday. What I was supposed to do was take pictures of what I wore every day that week, then I'll display it every Wednesday. I think I took two or three outfits. I forgot the other days or maybe was in my pajamas most of the day. Oops. What I don't want to happen is me looking like a goofy ol faux pas, so I am employing your help. Again. Opinions. Remember, I won't be sad or mad or happy no matter what you say about this outfit. I'll either keep, or I won't. It's either cute, or it's really not. I've owned it now for two years and have never worn it.
I'm not going to tell you where it's from because I don't want you to be biased.
Maybe I'll cut off the puff sleeves and make it sleeveless.
Who am I kidding, unless my mom does it for me, it'll never happen.
Sparks aren't flying like I'd expected between me and my sewing machine.
One more thing, if I do wear it ever, it'll be ironed.
Does it make my legs look fat?
You don't have to answer that. But if you want to say something like, "cut out the chocolate, fatty"
Last last thing: I didn't wear it today because it's totally not nursing accessible. It'd be to wear out on a date with Mr Inc, not for a playdate.
I realize that out of every square foot of property I live on, I had to take it in front of my 1:2 missing hubcaps. I'm okay with that.
It has been absolutely beautiful weather here in the Blo these past couple days. 79, clear skies and sunny right now.
Yesterday I was driving with Mr Incredible and we passed someone's big yard with a clothesline. Their clean laundry was blowing and swaying everything breathed summer. I excitedly told Mr Incredible that I was excited about hanging a clothesline (it's been a year since we moved into our house!). He got a 'are you crazy' smirk on his face which naturally made me immediately defensive. "What, Mr Incredible, tell me why you think that is a terrible reason and convince my why using energy from our dryer is so much better." He said that he thinks that clotheslines look WT. I think they look romantic.
The whole sunny day clean cotton feeling quickly dissipated and left me deflated.
I think I've hurdled the hump of gardening. I've never been a gardener, but always wished that I was. My dad has a great garden with tomatoes and onions and carrots and strawberries and a peach tree- and that's just mentioning the edible stuff. His flowers and bushes are beautiful and he and my mom put in lots of time and effort for their garden. I always imagined that is how owning a home would be for me too. (cut Somewhere Over the Rainbow) We have deer that eat anything other than hydrangeas and some other flower that I forget, the plants that I try to raise die, and most importantly I've always been afraid of bugs. My summertime punishment growing up was to weed the garden. Being afraid of bugs made that job hell. Deep sea diving with sharks sans cage sounded better. (not that it was an option)
So I'm still on that faux homeschooling mother earth is wondaful mom kick. Which means the girls and I are outside a lot; which means I'm trying to point out the extraordinary in the ordinary; which means I kinda semi have to get down and dirty; which means BUGS. Ants are the only things that are okay. Butterflies are OUT so don't mention it. One is fluttering by you and you think, okay, I'll dodge it and go to the left and vroom it goes to the left and then you're like, oh 'scuse me, I'll go to the right and bam they're aiming for your face then you're like OH SHIT EVERYONE HIT THE DECK and that's when it decides to land on that beautiful butterfly infested lilac bush right outside your front door. They all get scared and you realize you're in butterfly hell because now they're all flying in everywhichway direction and really all butterflies are are really juicy hairy caterpillars that fly. And you know how insects can manage to squeeze through anything well you can only imagine Oh! The Places They'll go! like up or down your pants.
So like I was saying I've had to act brave and courageous around all creatures of God so my girls may not end up as neurotic as I. Lo and behold, it worked! Acting courageous made me courageous. So today I confidently put on my new (read: what I bought last year and never opened) gardening gloves and started pulling weeds like they was nobody biznit.
My next hurdle: Overcoming the inevitable 'initiation to motherhood' pose:
I'm stealing these family photos from her to make sure more people can appreciate this. Because I'm crying laughing and beer literally just came out of my nose looking at these. Meredith, thank you for the good word that you spread throughout the 'net. I wouldn't have laughed yet tonight if it weren't for you.
BUT before you look try to think if you have any awkward family photos. If you do, you too can be featured. Send 'em.
I've only known one person in my entire life who actually thrives with very minimal sleep. 3 to 4 hours a night, precisely. The thought of that makes my legs achey and my eyelids heavy. I know other people who are just fine when they don't get enough. That is commendable to me. Me, however, is an exception. I generally try not think of myself as 'the exception' and more 'the rule.' (<- elizabethtown) Because I'm not exceptional, I am just the same as everyone else. Except when it comes to sleep. I take after my mom and grandmother (okay, so we're back to square one. I'm not exceptional. Even with sleep). They can sleep anytime. Anywhere. My grandmother says she could sleep on a clothesline (I think that's how it goes, I'm so terrible with sayings). So I can sleep no matter what.
The problem is without sleep I am a monster. And that's only a slight exaggeration. For realz.
My babies tend not to sleep all of their seventh month of life. Not sure why. So all night long I'm tossing and turning and just trying to get this baby to sleep. (She's in bed with us because that's how we roll. Literally) Needless to say, I've been a little bit edgy, foggy, grumpy, pissed, confused, hungry hungry hungry (why? why? does it always go back to food for me!?)
Until last night. She slept again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AKA pancakes and David Gray for breakfast, shopping, visitors, cleaning, hotdogs for lunch, no nap while my kids are napping which equals blogging and cookie dough. Because when I'm happy I eat, too.
So I think I'll go tie up the loose ends of my life right now and maybe even work out. Because I have energy again. relief.
I opted out of the blog roll scene for ohsay one week. No bien. I thought it would be a good idea because then I wouldn't have to weed out the blogs that I don't read every day, and I wouldn't have to show everyone what I was reading or not.
Instead my head turned into a fuddled mess every time I came on the computer. "now which blogs was I hoping to read, again?"
So we're back. And my blog roll is growing and growing and I love it and I'm overwhelmed. And I'm not even done adding blogs.
Anyone else overwhelmed by this? In other words, so many blogs, so little time.
I have a simple word equation for you:
high noon cup of tea plus
the warmest virtual feeling of love ever.
This creamer and sugar bowl makes my heart melt a little and my mouth water for Earl Grey tea and lots of sugar cubes. (Actually I love raspberry splenda in my earl grey, but this set mocks anything less than decadent.)
halfpenny vintage is a Chicago based shop that specializes in anything beautiful and vintage. And sometimes vintage's awkward days. They are offering this set to one lucky, lucky reader! Go visit halfpenny vintage and leave a comment to enter. Winner will be announced next Monday. Good luck!
Someone better get me a beer quicker than you can say "Mr Incredible's new shoes."
Because every time I pass them I shudder.
Just because they're Adidas doesn't mean they're stylish. This is called victimizing the brand name shopper. Shame on you, Adidas.
The worst part of this entire fiasco? I did this to him. See, he needs a pair of white sneakers for his nursing program. Because nurses wear white shoes so body matters can show up clearly on them. Mr I was about to buy shoes himself. That in itself is against the laws of nature and the laws in this home. Add 'white' and 'sneakers' to that list and you can call me Johnny-on-it.
Two choices. K-swiss, or Adidas. Weighing options, weighing options- Adidas. I seriously didn't think they'd look that bad though.
*** I just told him to read what I've written so far and he said, "how bad do they look?" then clicked over to the photos. I suppose this is my opportunity to show the world***
In his defense, he realizes this. The first day he came out doing the Newsboys heel click and asking "what is it that reminds me of being a little boy again?"
But this. This has to stop. When you take them off, Mr Incredible, they must be parallel with each other. Or else it would be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Obama was in Buffalo yesterday, much to my surprise after he'd already came, visited, then left. Frankly I don't know what he was doing here, but I know the important specifics. a) A girl who got to speak with him told him that he was "a hotty with a body." Representin', I'll tell ya. Buffalo, woot woot.
And most importantly- food b) he went to Duff's wings and ordered 10 extra crispy medium wings. If I could edit people's behavior, I wouldn't know where to begin with this, Mr President. First of all, Duff's is dandy and all, but when you come to Buffalo and want wings, you go to the Anchor Bar. That's a given. The person who mislead you to this wings' joint (on the outskirts of Blo, nonetheless) should most definitely be fired. Secondly, no one orders their wings extra crispy. This ain't Kentucky Fried Chicken, this is Buffalo, New York. (Bad news, that's not my joke. Good news, that's not my joke.) credit
I've said before how we really, really don't watch much tv. Really not at all. Mr Incredible and I love The Mentalist, Castle and The Amazing Race, and he loves hockey and football, but other than that very rare.
So what is it with feeling like canceling our cable is going to be a sentence? Isn't it kind of crazy that having cable is just what you do? It's NUTS. It's give or take $60. Sixty dollars a month. That is ballpark $700 dollars a year. (!!!!) Basically we pay about $3 an episode for our favorites. But even not really because off season, reruns, etc. AND you can nearly find any show on hulu if you wait 24 hours (except the Mentalist)
So why am I getting cold feet?
When I called to cancel the lady said that for $11 a month we can just get the basic channels. That seems to cure my hesitance, but do I really want to pay $11 more (than I have to) a month? I know, it's the all or nothing in me. It's seems obvious to do that, right? (When I can't get ahold of Mr Incredible for more than 5 minutes, I reach out to you, blog readers. Delight in that.)
There are some words that actually make me crazy. Some crazy to say, some to hear, and most when people say them wrong. For instance. I am to the point where I can barely stand to use a stapler anymore and will succumb to only paperclips. For the rest of the day after the use of a stapler I have to use much restraint to not smash my face into a window just thinking of the word. Stap-ler. That is how it's spelled and that's how my brain feels it should be said. Instead of staple-r. A stap LER? That makes me so mad I lose my peripheral vision.
There is this other word that I've been trying to remember all morning and day and night that I cannot stand hearing or saying. It's actually literally making me crazy. It's a common word and either starts with a 'd' or and 'f' and has one 'r' but everyone automatically adds an extra one where it doesn't belong including me and I loathe it. It's something like 'friendly' or 'framework' and there is really very little choice but to use the word because it is so common. But I can't think of it. I've been picking my brain all day to remember it and my brain is raw.
First things first. Hello 3 column minima template sans ShabbyBlog background. Welcome. I'll be honest. I never really ever actually notice anyone else's template/background/layout unless it's really rockin'. AAalmost never. So I really don't expect that you've ever noticed mine. BUT isn't it beautiful? My technologically, beautiful, smart smart savvy smart cousin figured out my html hell I was in. I am SO excited. When I asked Mr Incredible to look at my "new blog" he said, "was. it. the. chad?"? Um no. New layout. Not blog post title. But you might have never seen the old one. And that's cool (kinda).
So speaking of Mr Incredible and all his incredible-ness, he is starting an accelerated (I told you he's above average) school program. Basically it's four years of school all crammed into one. And he'll be working all the while. Ahmazing. (orange you glad I didn't say incredible?) Fifty. four. credit. hours. In the next 365 days.
And of course, since this is my blog and solely about me-ow I'll tell you how this directly effects me.
K, I'm not really sure. But I'll be damned if I don't have three meals a day served every single day of the next 365. For some reason the only way I can think to contribute is with food. And cleaned and ironed clothes. (have I ever told you how much I luuurve to iron???) Any other suggestions? Should I be doing more? Less (never)?
I've lost a total of three (or was it four?) followers in the past 2 weeks. I realize that people who "follow" don't necessarily read. I also understand that people want to weed out the blogs that they don't actually read. It doesn't make the sting go away though.
I've been thinking a lot about unfollowing blogs that I don't read. I would rather not have a blog roll and instead have my own reliable list of blogs I enjoy. After losing "so many" (<- relative) followers though, I'm not sure I want to put anyone else through the disappointment. Frankly, it sucks.
For my birthday/ mother's day, Mr Incredible decided on getting me a sick camera for me. He's letting me choose which one, which is a badgood idea. I have complete cold feet from it because they are so expensive and I'm overwhelmed. Because I know me, it'll probably be another year. or three.
I was on the phone this morning talking to my friend about it when the doorbell rang. It was literally like a bad tv show how perfectly it worked out. In the mail was this:
I thought that the box was from a giveaway I'd one with some ghetto Sherrie's Berries packaging (not that the giveaway I won was ghetto, or that Sherries Berries is ghetto, just all of it summed up together), but alas! it was not. There were true sherrie's chocolate covered berries in the box!
At this point I thought it was surely from his grandmother or mom, because they're cool like that and are always on top of holidays. Wrong again!
cory= Mr Incredible, just incase that threw you off.
If you're thinking that's nice and cute and wonderful but my husband/significant other does this on a weekly basis, think again. I want to say something like this has NEVER happened, but I'll be safer with very rarely. He's just not into the mushy gushy stuff and that's cool. Most of the time. This made me so happy I was literally almost speechless. I felt like I should cry, but I didn't, mostly because I don't cry happysad tears.
I know you're wondering, what can you take from this post?
I have very little happysad emotion in me
Saving $40 on shipping charges to have it come three days early will win my heart over doubly. I love saving money, Mr Incredible not so much. So that right there spelled l-o-v-e
Those last five pounds can wait
You have it right there in writing: I am the Best Mother Ever
One last thing: Let's just clear the air. It's not that Mr Incredible isn't lovey dovey, it's that he is painfully practical. Less Shakespeare, more Bob the Builder. Not in terms of learning levels, though.
I need a computer dweeb, quick. Dweeb is not offensive, it's endearing. Now someone go get me a computer dweeb.
If you've been obsessively checking my blog in the past 24 hours like I obsessively check some of yours, you know that the blog templates have been beaten and thrown to the ground. Then rebeaten then trampled on. And guess what? Naught without labor. Or naught with labor. Because it's NOT doing what I tell it to and shabbyblog I swear to the stars if you don't let me take your backgrounds off my blog I will singlehandedly html you until you cry.
So. Can someone help me? I'm a technological idiot. Or can you direct me to where to go!? I'm pulling out my hair when I should be writing sweet posts about doll heads and iced coffee.