IT'S NOT ME, IT'S YOU

curiouser and curiouser

2011-09-15T00:17:00.001-07:00

it's not often that the first thing i do when i hit the office is pen a blog, however, my train ride today has topped them all and i feel compelled to write it all down before i move onto excel and why so and so's claim hasn't yet been paid.

riding 4 trains a day i have had my fair share of sharing a seat with 'the drunk guy' or 'the wasted guy'; sometimes i fear i am a magnet for such people.

what bothers me the most is that despite him acting drunk, he didn't smell like a drunk and he didn't smell like weed, so i was already confused. he was walking past me to another seat, stopped, backed up, put his face very near to mine, and asked if he could sit next to me. i told him he could sit across from me (there were plenty of other open seats to sit in NOT close to me). there was something about him that was off, that immediately put me on my guard.

he didn't speak much english, but my attempts to waive him off with my standard "désolé, je ne parle pas français" did not work. he told me 'for you, i will try my best to speak english'. (great.)

i tried to nonchalantly indicate that i was VERY into my new French Elle magazine in my hands, but he just kept putting his face closer to mine and trying to talk.

(fine. i'll be nice.)

we got through names. yes, i'm from america. he's from rwanda. the handshake (thank God it wasn't the 'kiss hello') he started pushing me for my number and saying i could teach him english and he could teach me french. (um, no) maybe we could stop at the next station and hang out a bit, i could teach him some english? (no) we could just be friends, and he could call me? (no) he could be my boyfriend? (no. as i repeat, again, that i have a husband and 2 children i love very much). when can we see eachother again? (probably never). what is this word 'probably'? (it means no. very much no)

this whole time he is staring at me very intently. (very). you know, the kind that makes you so uncomfortable that you envision clawing the other person's eyes out so they can't look at you anymore? that kind of staring.

at this point i could tell i needed to steer the conversation elsewhere (especially after he grabs my hand and holds it to his face).

so i ask him where he's going (antwerp). where he works (for a university). where he lives... this is where he gets all upset out of nowhere and must assume i am insinuating that he is a refugee. he is no refugee he assures me and crosses his arms and turns his body away from me. do you have family? he gets teary eyed and tells me they were all killed in rwanda. (great.)

now part of me wants to pray for him and part of me wants to jump off at the next stop and take my chances with the next train. i do neither. (God, what am i supposed to do here? this guy is creeping me out. he doesn't speak much english. i don't speak much french. is he really hurting or is he just playing a role? why is he so creepy? whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!!)

drama evaporates after a few (even more akward) silent minutes and he is back to trying to hold my hand and get my number. denied. he starts talking to the guy in the seat next to us. apparently he's missed his stop while chatting me up. (sigh.)

then i can tell he's saying something about me to the other guy. i look at 'other guy' and raise my eyebrows.

"he says you are a... (long pause while he tries to find the right word)... nice, girl.'"(yeah, i bet that's what he said and yes, dammit, i AM a nice girl).

thankfully by then, my stop (my glorious stop) is up next and as i head to the door, he grabs my arm and asks me for my phone number. (nope) my calling card. (nope)

and with a final shake of my head and a smile i walk (run) out the door. i have never been so happy to see Diegem station in all my life.

view from the top

2011-09-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

top of the map, i mean. yes, belgium is pretty far up there. not as far up on the map as my hometown of Chickaloon, Alaska, but still, it ain't no Texas.

so here is a glimpse of our little family 3 months away from completing our first year in our new home.

dutch does have a great natural smile; he just doesn't know quite how to use it in posed pictures.

love that kid!

living the dream

2011-09-02T14:42:00.000-07:00

i've been on medical leave for the past 3 weeks and as it winds down and i face going back to my job, the whole reason we are even able to be here, doing 'the stuff', i am facing a bit of a depression.

let me start at the beginning. when we decided to move here, i had a completely different vision of the life i'd be leading as a missionary. in my version, i'd be working from home, doing the same work i was doing in the states, under the same rad boss i'd been working for. i'd be doing ministry; 'work' was just my side job, my bread and butter job, and i'd have my hands in all sorts of cool ministry opportunities and life changing situations. but the real truth is, i'm not.

i've come to grips with this over the course of the last long 9 months, but honestly, i just thought it'd be different.

in my version, i'd feel like i was touching lives (for the better), making a difference in young people's lives.

in my version, i would be super mom and would bring in the money AND spend the day with my kids, AND bake yummies for my family, AND keep a clean house, AND spread the word of God effectively to Belgians near and far.

the reality is that i work 12 hours a day and i see my family at most, 2 hours a day. i wake up in the middle of the night freaking out about the spreadsheets i didn't finish and hoping i won't get reamed too badly tomorrow for it. the reality is that i rarely get to participate in the team ministry that happens on a daily basis because i am busy telling companies why i won't let them use their funds for a go-kart event and churning out reports on ROI and MQL's.

most days i wonder why i spend so much time on things i don't even really care about, other than the fact that it is the reason we are able to pay our rent and buy groceries each week.

i know God is preparing me for something; something great and amazing. something life changing. i guess i didn't realize how much preparation i still needed.

this isn't a plea for more financial support. this isn't a plea to feel sorry for me for the choices that i've made. i'm not sorry i made them and i know the desires of my heart will be fulfilled; i am just human. impatient, lacking in grace, lacking in understanding, and, well, yes, maybe even selfish.

these past 3 weeks have shown me what it would be like to spend an entire day with my little men. to wake up to their sleepy eyed-faces and the sweet little 'hey mommy' each morning. to make them pancakes and bacon; to feel my heart well with pride and admiration as i watch my husband scour the Word for insight and understanding with a fervor i have yet to grasp myself. to share a meal with my team and spend time with them late at night; to be part of the organic discussions, whether they be spiritual or full of laughter without worrying about having to wake up early to catch the train to the office.

for 3 weeks i was ME. the real me. the fun me. the one who makes jokes and laughs. the one who cuddles with my son when, really, he should have been in bed hours ago. the one who has time to talk about things that really matter. the one who takes time to enjoy an early morning chill in the air. the one who has time to teach my son how to write his letters and welcomes little helpers in the kitchen even though it means a much bigger clean up when its all said and done. the one who dreams big.

i miss that version of ME and i'm finding it difficult to let that version of me go.

the light at the end of the tunnel is that i serve a God who knows the real me. knows my desires, knows my shortcomings, and knows what is around the curve that i, myself, can't quite seem to see around, no matter how hard i crane my neck and squint. He's good like that.

2011-07-05T05:50:00.000-07:00

i find it more than a little unsettling that some unknown colleague's prescription ointment is sitting on the shelf in the shared cafeteria fridge with my raspberries and "bio" yogurt.

that is all.

a tad bit disconcerting

2011-06-17T06:46:00.000-07:00

so in fear (and a little teensy bit hopeful) that i have carpel tunnel syndrome, i've booked an appointment with the local osteopath here in town. (the 'hopeful' bit only relates to the 3 weeks off from work that i would receive as part of the recovery package, but i digress...)

thankfully he speaks some english, but after trying to spell the street on which his office is located nearly 4 times and i still couldn't get it right, he told me to go to his website and i'd find it there. of course it's in French, but thanks to the ever helpful Google Translate, i found the addy and once on the site, i decided to peruse further and see what medical adventure i could be in for.

and then i found this little gem of a page:

i encourage you to scroll quickly past the sketchy image of the open wrist (gah!!) and read the post-surgery notations.

here let me help you:

thanks to my best friend, yes, i mean you Google Translate, i know am now the owner of the knowledge that not only will i lose the use of my hands for a few weeks, i will also lose a son. maybe 2, not sure if it's 1 son per hand or just 1 son in total; i must remember to clarify with the doc.

tranquility

2011-06-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

Battle: Lowrie vs. Public Transport

2010-12-15T04:03:00.000-08:00

My first day to attempt public transportation was not a good one to begin with. It was a frigid 17 degrees and snowing. Armed with the optimism and innocence of Leisel Von Trapp, the enthusiasm of Richard Simmons and my bit of paper with my train & bus information that my dear friend Laeticia helped me assemble the night before, I thought I was prepared.

3 hours later, standing unsheltered in the cold, waiting for a bus that never came and ever so quickly losing what little feeling was left in my fingers and toes, the revelation came – I had grossly underestimated my opponent.

Belgium Public Transport came in swinging and I pretty much just peed my pants and ran back to my corner.

A little post battle summary for you:

2 – the number of times I’ve gotten on the wrong train, turned around and come home and had to ask someone to drive me to the office because I couldn’t navigate myself from my wrong destination to my correct one.

1 – the number of times a bus driver laughed at me when he read the piece of paper I showed him that had the name of my stop because I couldn’t pronounce it. *in his defense written under the name of the stop was ‘tell the bus driver what stop you want and pay what he tells you’. He happened to read this bit out loud as well.

3- the number of times I’ve missed my stop whilst on the bus because I am not familiar enough with the area to press the red ‘stop here’ button to tell the driver to stop.

3 – the number of times I’ve asked the bus driver to tell me when we are at my stop.

0 – the number of times the bus driver has complied with my request.

6 – the number of hours I’ve wasted on an errant train that I should have spent at the office working

9 – the number of times I’ve had to ask someone on the platform to translate what the lady on the loudspeaker just said.

3 – the number of times the train attendant has furrowed his brow at me because I hadn’t yet written in my stops on my key card.

10 – the number of train rides I’ve paid for.

18 – the number of trains rides I’ve taken, erroneous and correct.

It has taken me 2 weeks to get to the point where I don’t sit on the edge of my train seat and press my face against the window every time the train slows down to see if I’m missing my stop. But then again, just yesterday, I rode all the way out to Leuven because the train I normally ride no longer stops at my station. BPT slapped me in the face with a new train schedule as we cruised on past my stop and the helpful train attendant looked at me like I was a stupid American (okay, I am, but still…) and kept saying “Leuven” in her thick Dutch accent, when I asked if the train stopped at Deigem. If nothing else, at least I had multiple confirmations on where I was headed.

I no longer take the bus. I just walk the 1.5km between the office and the train station. This little decision saves me 4 euro and I get to walk off the waffle I bought at Midi Station for breakfast that morning.

This love/hate relationship with my nemesis, can best be summarized by quoting the ever eloquent Andy Bernard - [BPT] may have won the battle, but I will win...the next battle.

Nailed it!

3 weeks in

2010-12-15T04:02:00.000-08:00

We are 3 weeks into our Belgian adventure and we find ourselves still homeless and carless. ‘livin on love’ or some nonsensical saying would be appropriate here, but really, ‘livin on grace’ is more fitting. This is far from the ideal I had put together in my ‘in a perfect world, this is what my move to Belgium will look like’, but despite the night and day difference, (so far) we have had the grace to deal with it, well…gracefully.

The 9^th hour team has been fantastic in their attempt to make our landing a soft and easy one. If it weren’t for them, I think I would have curled up in a ball in the corner and cried my eyes out a mere five days into it. 9^th hour speaks English. 9^th hour gives hugs. 9^th hour doesn’t care if my 1 yr old just sits on the floor and cries non stop. 9^th hour shares their pizza with me, even if I haven’t pitched in euros.

We found temporary housing in the form of two bedrooms at the house next door and negotiated a respectable ‘rent’ for the month of December. It’s okay, but still living out of suitcases, we’ve gone from being very selective in our hunt for a house to “if it’s got a roof and four walls I’ll take it.” Tonight we have arranged to go look at a couple apartments near the train station in the neighboring town called Braine l’Alleud (“brin luh loo” for you people, like me, who can’t read or speak French yet). we have high hopes that at least one of the apartments will work for us and we can sign a contract.

In Belgium, the typical lease agreement is 9 years. Nine. Years. (gasp!) and you have to put down a hefty deposit. You can break that contract, but if you do within the first three years, you lose your deposit. Securing a home is not for the faint of heart.

the deep end

2010-12-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

remember swimming lessons when you were a kid? they start you out in the shallow end, and you practice putting your face in the water. you blow some bubbles, you kick your feet; all whilst holding onto the precious lifesaving side of the pool. at some stage they make you let go of the side and you learn to float on your back while they hold you up. eventually you are turned over and you learn how to use your arms and legs together - and voila! you are a swimmer! a real, true to life swimmer!

nice, yes? let me catch you up on my experience moving to belgium thus far using this same analogy; in six words.

Drop kicked into the deep end.

Let me explain:

Wed - we landed in Brussels after flying overnight from Dallas

Thurs - 4 brutal interviews at the office (for a new position i applied for) (mind you, this was thanksgiving day)

Fri - got the job

Mon - sent to Barcelona for 3 days of meetings

Wed - stuck in Barcelona airport due to bad weather

Thurs - 3am arrival into Brussels and stuck at home due to snow

Fri - first day in the new office & first (failed) attempt at public transportation (in the midst of uncommon low temps and record breaking snowfall)

Did i mention that while I was 'living it up Barcelona-style' for 3 days, zach was ill and stuck in a new country with 2 jet lagged children under the age of 3? his own version of the deep end, i assure you.

it wasn't the soft landing we or the 9th hour team were hoping for nor expecting. no home, no car, at least half of us with the fever and lingering sickness...

==================================================================

i wrote that last bit 2 weeks into our belgian initiation. i'd decided to reserve this post and just mull over it a bit before i threw it out to the world... over the course of the past 5 weeks, we've managed to doggy paddle our way over to the side of the deep end. now, clinging to the side of the pool, 7 weeks later, i have a bit more perspective.

==================================================================

this has been sitting for 6 months now, waiting to be posted. i think it might be okay to post now. what i lovingly refer to as 'the dark days' of our belgian initiation are over and we find ourselves at peace with where we are and what we are doing here. yes, there are days i still reach out for the water wings to help keep me afloat, but those days are few and far between and even when standing on the very tips of my toes keeps my head above the water, i know it will be okay.

welcome to belgium, _________!

minute soup

2010-12-09T06:39:00.000-08:00

yes, i forgot my lunch today. this whole 'go to the office thing and be there all day' thing is really an adjustment. not only do i have to get up early and put on something different than what i slept in, i have to do my hair, put on makeup and get all my stuff ready to go. in the dark.

that is another story for another time. today i am focusing on my inability to pack a decent lunch, or in the case of today, no lunch at all...

after consuming as many espressos as my body would allow, i decided i needed some real food before i get home at 630 tonight. on my way to the espresso machine (again) i looked down the windows overlooking the cafeteria and saw (oh holy night!) pizza boxes.

after making my way through the maze of back stairways i found myself for the first time in the empty cafeteria. thankfully it WAS empty, otherwise i would not have had the balls to look into the pizza boxes left on the tables.

despite my rummaging, the cold stale assortment of european pizzas did not appeal to my high standards (warm and decent looking enough to eat). on my way out however, i did pass by the counter that had a lovely assortment of the european version of 'cup a soup'. i quickly grabbed a packet and scoured two other 'common areas' to find a cup and a spoon. cup - check. spoon - still missing.

and thus... my first blog post from my new job, IN BELGIUM.)

cup of soup is gross (and yet, strangely satisfying) the world 'round.

* note that the packet is called 'minute soup' and that there are instructions for mixing in dutch. good thing i am already familiar with the cup of soup method already. otherwise i'd be up a very hungry creek...

*don't even ask about the odd glances and furrowed brown i was getting from my desk mate as i took multiple pictures of my soup with my iphone. just. don't.

confessions

2010-11-16T11:50:00.001-08:00

#1. sometimes i take longer in the shower than absolutely necessary in attempt to get a few extra 'me' minutes.

#2. if frosting is missing from a piece of cake, it was me.

#3. i still use 2 spaces after a period.

#4. if zach and i had known each other in high school we would not be married right now.

#5. i think i look really cute in hats, but rarely have the balls to wear one.

#6. the hoodie is my absolute favourite piece of clothing. period.

#7. i am not photogenic. i look much cuter in person, preferably viewed in front of a "skinny mirror."

#8. i like spreadsheets. like, a lot.

yes! ha ha!

2010-11-13T18:36:00.000-08:00

10 months later (well almost)

2010-10-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

doesn't he look like a little doll? i mean like a real 'buy it at the store' baby doll? (just agree with me and save us all some conflict and deep discussion...) :)

how does that work again?

2010-08-10T14:22:00.000-07:00

how is it in the span of 12 hours i can feel my children sucking my very will to live and alternately find my greatest joy in the same two little people?

it's mind blowing to say the least.

link love

2010-08-09T13:02:00.001-07:00

my dear friend, erin joy, is in need of a good man. a mighty good man. (say it with me now)

check it out and pass it along to the single guys in your life who meet the criteria.

http://dateerinjoy.blogspot.com/

trust me, she. is. amazing. (oh, and she can cook)

inspired by the worst

2010-08-05T13:08:00.000-07:00

So, i pretty much wrote half a blog in the comments section of this hilarious post by VWM, so i am just going to suck it up and make it a post on my blog. sue me, i'm lazy like that.

http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/2010/07/stuff-missionaries-like-2-making-you.html

We were in Ukraine visiting friends (strangers that were to become good friends at this stage) a few years ago and I, being a VERY picky eater (read: if it even looks a tad bit on the sketchy side, i'm OUT) thought I would claim being a very staunch vegan in order to politely refuse any sketchy russian foods placed before me. They are so amazingly hospitable with the very little that they have that I found they were scrambling to find me something to eat so when 'Mama Nila' asked if I perchance ate fish wanting so badly to make me 'eat! eat!' - i answered 'yes'. she runs to the fridge (which was about 2 inches from the kitchen table we were neatly packed up against) and pulls out some weird scary fish 'things' and placed it in front of me. "eat! eat!" it was SO gross looking i almost threw up in my mouth (okay, i did). it was whole little fish (like sardines, only bigger) in a thick fish juice. i think i managed to eat 2 with everyone watching me intently...there was NO getting out of this one. it was THE grossest thing i've ever eaten.

one day i know we will live there and hopefully (dear God) by then i will have this 'iron stomach' she speaks of.

THIS is THE biggest hurdle this missionary faces... and um, it's a BIG one.

4 months and counting

2010-08-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

All of us are wearing the same expression every American wears here, of wonderment mixed with self-satisfaction at having cleverly removed ourselves from the quotidian discomforts and dangers of life in America while at the same time bravely exposing ourselves to the exigencies of foreign money, a difficult language, and curious food, for instance tripe or andouillette

- Diane Johnson (Le Divorce)

it feels like it was 10 years ago that we made the decision to follow God's call to belgium, sold our little house and everything inside it and marched through months and months of preparation. now we are staring down the last 4 months we have left in the US and ahead to a lifetime in europe. i guess its all becoming less of a far off dream and more of 'we are REALLY doing this' now that we are finally in the visa/work permit process of it all.

we can finally start moving on trying to secure the adorable little apartment we've had our eye on since may (i check on it daily), which freaks me out a bit as the deposit is quite a lot of euros (euros!!!) and we, as of right now, have zero euros for such things.

i've started going through the boys rooms and mentally catalouging the items that will be lucky enough to go with us and the items that will be set out in a final effort garage sale to raise some additional funds.

i wonder if dutch will still love his favourites or will he have a whole new batch of favourite toys in 4 months. will tites be walking by then? will he have favourites too?

walking into my closet, i've started to examine each item and wonder - will i really wear this over there? having only 9 bags (under 50lbs) between the 4 of us in which to take all of our worldly possessions really makes one ponder the necessity of each and every item (especially if it is a rather heavy one).

i am a minimalist, so i rather look forward to reducing our stuff and taking just what we need. but as i begin to realize just how minimal this move will make us, i wonder if forced minimalism is as fun to me as chosen minimalism.

don't feel sorry for me. i love this. i asked for this. i have been waiting for the day when this all goes down.

so 4 months to go... and then, magically, i will be posting from my sparse belgian apartment, sipping my espresso, and trying in vain to figure out the train schedule to brussels.

and loving every minute of it.

my new old best friend

2010-06-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

naps. feeding. potty training. full time job. adult meals. toddler meals.

i am going somewhere with this...

i bought this sporty little number years ago when i decided i needed to train for a half marathon. *note: i did train, i just never ran IN the actual race. but now that i am a SAHFTJWM (stay at home full time job working mother), i no longer attempt to run, and mainly try to keep my life and family in some sort of ordered chaos.

i have the stopwatch running to tell me when titus needs to eat and sleep. i have the timer going to remind me (and dutch) when it's 'potty time' and when to pull the dinner from the oven before it becomes too well done. lord knows i don't have the mental capacity at this stage to remember potty time, formula time, to look into the crm reporting issues, and not burn the chicken.

now i know that iphone has 'an app for that' but seeing as we are trying to save money for our move this fall, i've opted not to spend the money on the latest and greatest baby app (okay, i'd really rather spend that money on the delicious new sade album, don't judge me).

my best friend is on his last legs though. the indiglo no longer works and i am forced to use real and actual overhead light at night to gauge whether or not titus is hungry or just awake. the strap is currently being held on by a hair tie wound as many times as i can get it around to keep it on... and soon, very soon, he will pass away and i will be completely and utterly stranded until i get a new one (which will be immediately if not sooner). failure on my part to carry out the task and replace this wrist friend will drop the whole lowrie family into a new level of chaos; i'm just not capable of doing this on my own.

and so, a eulogy of sorts in anticipation of his race well run and the passing of the torch to a new teammate:

dearest marathon wr50m,

you've done well. you've served your purpose and gone above and beyond your calling. thank you for the wonderful years we've spent together; for being there when i needed you most, and sitting silently in the wings when i didn't. you've been a true friend and you will be truly missed.

warmest regards,

i'm not racist...

2010-06-17T10:18:00.001-07:00

a brief glimpse into the sort of banter that goes on between me and zach on a typical saturday evening en route to a nice sophisticated little dinner party:

me: did you just fart?

zach: no!

me: yes you did! that is SO disgusting!

zach: well just roll down the window

me: i can't! we are driving through little mexico; it doesn't smell any better outside

zach: you are SUCH a racist

me: i'm not a racist; i'm a fartist

zach: i can't believe you just said that

me: well, it's true

and subsequently, he will never let me forget.

my very first (and possibly very last) guest blog

2010-06-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

thanks des for the invite (and enjoy italy, you lucky dog)

click here to see it on des' blog.

(^ okay it didn't LOOK that short when i submitted it, i'm just saying)

don't you love how you can end almost anything with "I'm just saying" and you pretty much can get away with it?

=====================================================

jerry had it right. “elaine, i tell you, that 'i'm there for you crap' is a stroke of genius. pure genius.”

i’m a great listener. i’ve been told many times...many. it’s nice to get that kind of compliment from people; and though it makes me feel really good about myself, it’s not really true. i’m going to let you in on a little secret – i am a good listener because most times i have absolutely no idea what to say in response to what you just said. especially when it comes to listening to people who are hurting, upset, angry, disappointed, confused... while you are in tears baring your soul, my heart is simultaneously breaking for you whilst my mind is sorting through and eliminating all the clichés and selfishly wondering if what i finally settle on as good enough to actually voice next is going to be judged and found wanting.

let’s face it, no one, no matter how dire the circumstances of their current trial, needs or wants to hear:

well, you know, sandra, when God closes a door, he always opens a window

God only gives us what He knows we can handle

even if it’s well meaning, i don’t want to hear that crap. and i highly suspect most others don’t either. this sad fact leaves me with nada.

having recently spent quite a bit of time listening to people close to me going through rough times, my fumbling attempts at real wisdom or insight have found me begging the question – is just being there enough?

i am comfortable just being there, i really am. this is a good thing in light of the fact that we move to belgium in less than 6 months where amazing wisdom or not, i will be doing a lot of listening and just being there on account of my “no parlez français”.

the best I can hope for is that if i listen just hard enough, i will open my mouth and the holy spirit will speak through me. and for all those other times, hopefully the fact that I am just there, listening, caring, loving... hopefully THAT is enough.

====================================================================================

**UPDATE: this made it onto brazen careerist as a featured post last week. (i feel kind of excited)

i miss trapper keepers

2010-05-28T11:46:00.000-07:00

don't you?

over much?

2010-05-28T10:37:00.001-07:00

reading over my blogs from the past few months i've come to a very harsh realization -

i over-punctuate.

like, a lot.

which is humorous to me, because my other half (zach) likes to ride closer to the other end of the spectrum and grossly under-punctuates. it's just one extremely long stream of consciousness, and though it's good stuff (really, it is. i'm not just saying that), i have to read it like he is talking to me so that i actually get what he's saying. i tend to get sidetracked with mentally editing (or rather, punctuating) his posts so that i end up reading it more than a few times before i've really soaked it in.

my two biggest transgressions are the ellipse ... and the period. between. each. word. i would have to say i 'over comma' too, but i haven't come to grips with that yet, so i'm just going to pretend that i use the comma just the right amount. (baby steps, right?)

i notice this creeping into my work emails now too. that stinking ellipse. not so much the extra periods... yet.

there is a huge hypocrisy to all this, as i am somewhat of a spelling and grammar nazi. if a person is to say or spell something wrong, you can bet i'm going to notice and chances are, i will say something about it, too. and to make matters worse, as you can clearly see, i have zero respect for the sanctity of the upper case either.

i'm wondering if there is a 12 step program for people like me. i think i might need help.

i just had to throw that out there.

OMG i can smell my eyes burning...

2010-05-05T12:50:00.001-07:00

so.. i had a little surgery performed late last week. they call it Lasik. i call it 'worst 10 minutes of my life.' i've always been a little (A LOT) freaked out by my eyes being touched. after 20 years of touching my own eyes at least twice a day, you'd think i'd be ready for what was coming my way, but nooooo, i was not. i decided to jump on the bandwagon and push my queasiness aside mostly because of our move over to belgium (aka socialized healthcare) and i really don't want to be bothered about trying to get contacts, etc. once i'd run out. at any rate, it was as good excuse as any.

friday morning i find myself heading to dallas. now, another great thing about Lasik, is that you can't wear make-up. so not only am i freaking out, i look like i'm stoned. great.

here is a picture of the $10 valium they prescribed to help keep me calm during the procedure. ten. dollars. seriously?

we get there and my meds are confiscated. 5 minutes later they give me my little pill back and put some drops in my eyes. 1 little pill down and 5 minutes later i find myself laying under a giant laser in a dark room. i thought the valium was supposed to help me stay calm. i'm no scientist, but i'm pretty sure it doesn't take effect after a mere 5 minutes. freak out level: orange.

i won't go into detail into all of it, but here's the worst parts. at least for me. they have to keep your eye open during the 'lasering' - i knew that part. but what i didn't know is that they suction cup your eye open. not just a little open, but like you think your "eyeball is going to pop out of your skull open", and everything kinda goes black.. and then they leave it there. THAT was the worst part. when i saw that suction cup 'thing' coming at my eye, freak out level: red (that's the highest one, right?)

the second freakiest thing was the actual lasering itself. i didn't feel anything, so it's not like it hurt, but the imagination is a wonderful and terrible thing. mine is really really active. after they cut the flaps on my eye (don't ask) and we moved over to the laser bit, the doc says - okay, now DON'T MOVE for 22 seconds. (first thing i want to do is move. move as far away as possible. but then - how far am i really going to get with this plastic cup sucking the life out of my eye anyway..? i stay put. very put.) then she says - you will now hear the laser and smell some burning; that is perfectly normal. don't move.

then i hear what sounds like a freaking dump truck start up and i smell... BURNING. i smell. my. eyes. burning. GAH!!!!

the third and final worst thing about my Lasik experience was getting through the first eye, and realizing that i had to do it all over again with the other one. i'd like to say i was more calm with eye #2, but if my doctor's comment is any indicator, i was not. it went a little something like this:

dr - did you have an epidural when you had your children?

me - yes. how can you tell?

dr - just a hunch.

i'm such a wuss.

now, the best thing about lasik (besides the obvious being able to see like normal people), is the fact that i was on doctor's orders to get as much sleep as possible... to help the healing process. i took these orders very seriously, and proceeded directly to my bed, popped in some ear plugs, and slept for a full 18 hours. it. was. amazing.

i am thankful that my husband loves me for my inner beauty, because i was NOT looking so hot that day, or the following 3 days (the no make up thing, bedhead, goggles, the red eyes...you get the picture). this did not, however, keep him from laughing at me every single time he looked at me wearing my cool protective goggles. nor did it hinder him from making comments like - you look like you just cannot WAIT for your racquetball tournament tomorrow.

i don't blame him... one look in the mirror and i had to agree. all i was missing was tube socks and a wrist guard and i was good to go.

i don't write this to dissuade anyone from getting the procedure. i really am glad i got it and now i see 20/20... which is something i haven't experienced for 90% of my life. i like it. and much like childbirth, i'm sure, years down the road, i won't even remember that awful 10 minutes. fingers crossed...

i feel like i now need to post a picture of myself when i don't look like uber-dork. maybe i'm too insecure about that...

i'm gonna open my eyes... see the world

2010-04-27T11:34:00.001-07:00

out. of. control.

this video makes me laugh. still. after 50+ times. still. funny.

it's like a movie where you watch it so much, you start to have favourite quotes and eventually they just become part of your daily speech. yeah, we've already started saying "i don't even know yet" and "gonna open my eyes...see the world"

i've hyped it up too much. i know that. don't judge me. it's a character flaw. i'm working on it.

more than you know...

2010-04-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

so i'm a big believer that when it's your time, it's your time. note that no one really super close to me has been taken "early" so i can say this with some amount of what might be read as callousness. or more correctly, ignorance. but something happened this week that made my heart drop to the floor and give me a glimpse, however brief, of what it might be like to experience someone dear to me meeting their 'time to go'.

my little sister is a senior dynamic positioning officer on the Transocean Deepwater Horizon. sound familiar? yah, this is the oil rig that exploded into fireball before sinking into oblivion this week in the gulf of mexico.

freak. out.

thankfully, it was her week off and she wasn't scheduled to go back out there until friday, so she was safe. however, removed as she was from the actual event, she is not so removed from the drama that comes with knowing that 11 people she knows and loves are still missing. as you can imagine, spending 24 hours a day for 3 weeks on end, causes you to become quite close to those you share space with on your floating metal island. this is like her second family. my heart aches for her 'other family'.

my sister and i weren't all that close growing up. i would say our best relationship we've ever had is right now. typical of many sisters, apparently. it helps that i now have kids for her to spoil and dote on...and she does it well, even from a distance. we only get to see each other once a year (sometimes less). 'aunt kiki' is the best gift giver i've ever seen... i think it must be her love language. she agonizes over the perfect gift for each of my children (and even me and zach), and i am always in awe of the thought and time she's put into everything she gives.

i don't love her just for her gifts, but i know that's how she shows her love. i guess i show my love by pounding out a few lines of text on an obscure blog... so to that effect, here goes -

dearest katherine mary,

i love you. i am thankful for you. as a person. as a friend. as a sister. as an aunt to my children. you are amazing. wonderful. beautiful. thoughtful. sweet. unique. tough. adventurous. creative. so talented. and funny (yes, its 'williams funny', but it still counts).

and i will never forget the way you rocked the hell out of that swing set in chickaloon with your killer spin moves and caribbean queen playing in the background.

and though i have to plop my translucent post-baby chunky arse down in the beach chair next to your 6 pack abs and killer tan in cabo in june, i'm just happy the chair next to me won't be empty.

and don't worry about it. he'll come when he's supposed to. and he will be worth the wait. don't settle.

love you more than you know

lily

when sheets turn against you...

2010-04-20T13:11:00.000-07:00

okay so for those of you who know my husband, who will from hereinafter be referred to as 'han solo,' should not be surprised to learn that when we first got married, he took it upon himself to locate, bid on, and subsequently purchase vintage star wars sheets and comforters (for a single bed, mind you). lucky for him, our efforts at procreation resulted in 2 boys, so we didn't have to switch out his treasures for any of this barbie or dora nonsense.

now that #1 is out of the crib and into a real bed, han solo finally has his chance to pass on the star wars love to his offspring. this 'love' was redefined at around 1:37am central standard time, when we were awakened to the terrified screams of our 2 year old. i ran into his room to see him standing on the floor, legitimately freaked out to the point of trembling, and pointing to his bed saying "doggy! laying on doggy!!!"

i'm like - okay, wha? seriously, bud.. (in my mind of course, not so much out loud)

it doesn't take me long to find the source of his fear. there emblazoned on his very sheets, was the scary figure of one, freakishly scary chewbacca. i'm not surprised he was scared by it... in the right (or wrong, more correctly) light, chewy is a bit of a monster.

because i'm SO resourceful (or maybe because this was the 3rd time in as many hours that i'd already been roused from my bed and i just couldn't be bothered to find a more suitable option), i grabbed his towel and covered up the scary doggy. this seemed to do the trick. dutch, convinced the doggy was now rendered unable to do any damage, climbed back into bed, settled down on top of the towel, and after a quick 'pray to jee-jus' was back to sleep in no time.

we are still using the towel option and he's reminded me at naptime today and again at bedtime that the doggy is covered up. i'm just waiting for that inevitable night where he pulls his comforter down just a leettle bit too far and discovers the other lurking chewy's.

note: as i type this titus is exploring his 'range of motion' on my lap and has just now face planted into the table. this signals the end of my post.

if black is a style, then i am so stylish

2010-04-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

i was in need of a new sweater. not so much because it's cold, but because i still tend to lean quite a bit to the left side of the self esteem scale since i'm still carrying some baby weight (thanks titus). so off to target i ran and picked out a bright pink button up to wear on easter sunday. to my surprise, i got so many compliments on my outfit...mostly the sweater. upon further review, i am pretty sure that this is due to the fact that this is the first item of color i've thrown on my body, other than black, since i got pregnant about a year ago. after this revelation, i decided to see just how deep this addiction runs. peering into my closet, i spy an entire row of black items - dresses, shirts, sweaters (all on matching hangers, natch). oh there's that rare slate colored cardi and that completely random pair of brown leggings thrown into the mix, but they hardly compete with my "ode to black" collection. yep, it's pretty bad.

as a fan of H&M on facebook i was privy to a recent status update that said something to the effect of "what outfit do you have planned for this weekend?" i just sat there reading and re-reading this question - trying to make sense of it. pre-kid liz, who used to plan her outfits weeks in advance and agonize over each detail every morning before i headed out the door would hardly recognize post-kid liz. what am i planning to wear this weekend?! um, whatever is clean and hides everything i'm embarrased about my body right now. and you better believe i'm figuring out what that is, exactly, about 10 minutes before we have to head out the door. and you can put money down that it will, indeed, be black.

when i turned 30 i started to question my style. i took out my nose ring and i put a full stop on the wearing of leggings. do 30 year olds wear that? hot model-esque ones do, but do i? CAN i? i've subsequently taken up the wearing of leggings again, but the nose ring is still noticeably absent. i've taken to wearing flats way more often than my high heels. all this really is inconsequential at this stage in my life, however. my daily attire consists of yoga pants and t-shirts bearing the telltale signs on the left shoulder that yes, i have an infant and he just ate.

i have aspirations of being stylish again. of making my hubs proud to be with me when we go out. of standing out because i am just too cute instead of trying to fade into the background. it's something i'm working towards to be sure.

i have so many creative friends, especially in the realm of style and clothing. they each are so fantastic in their own way and over the course of our friendships i've discovered i can pretty much define the style of each. now me, i'm not as easy to nail down. i feel that i don't have a style, and i really hate that. if pressed to define it, my current style is BLACK.

maybe one day i'll have style again... i know i have a closet of cute (albeit black) clothes begging to be worn. maybe this summer i'll incorporate more color into my wardrobe. maybe i'll just stop at the pink easter sweater and call it a season.

easter happiness

2010-04-07T14:12:00.000-07:00

i live with my in-laws

2010-04-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

i know most women when confronted with the idea of moving in with her mother-in-law for an extended period of time would shudder at the thought, and i have to admit, i did have to think twice about it at first. it's not that i don' t love my husband's parents; they are awesome, but i am a person who likes her space. and sharing a house is a scary thought for someone like me.

but on the flip side, we have a very special situation. kari and lynn aren't your typical in-laws. anyone who knows them, or even knows of them, knows that they are some pretty special people. and i have to say, now living here for going on 5 months; they are not only special, but amazing.

they are such a testament to what a loving family is and should be. i learn so much by watching them love each other, love me, and love my kids. unconditionally.

i never feel judged for my parenting style or that they are just trying to stick it out until we move to belgium. they never heavy sigh when they have to step over the train on the kitchen step, or wince when titus won't stop crying. they don't get mad when i've dried a load of clothes with the ballpoint pen or burned the rice on the stove. it's amazing to me, because, i know i would.

i wasn't sure how i was going to be able to handle a full time job and two kids. but being here with "lolly and duh-duh" (as they are known in our house), i am somehow able to make it through each day and still have my hair.

on those days where i have completely exhausted my supply of grace and patience with my children, lolly comes home brimming over with a whole new supply and loves on them. she cheerfully and willingly makes dinners, gives baths, cleans up (multiple times) after my little matchbox car lover, and holds fussy faces.

dutch, my little outdoorsman, spends most of his mornings outside with duh-duh. they work in the garden, and listen to dave ramsey while they fix the car. they play in the ditch and they go get the mail. duh-duh always knows when the garbage truck is coming down the road and they run to the front of the house to "go see". it allows me to get work done that otherwise i would have to finish at night. it's a blessing.

they love my kids as much as i do. sometimes more i think. and yet, they have struck that very delicate balance of being great grandparents and yet, letting us be the parents. there is no tension or strife here, just love. they respect us as people, as parents and yes, even as friends.

and these people are some of the hardest working people i've ever seen. they rarely ever just sit and "unwind" or lay around on a saturday. duh-duh is always working on some project or another and lolly seems to have endless energy when it comes to taking care of her house and those in it.

i didn't have this kind of relationship with my grandparents, and i am so happy that my children get to; even if just for the short time we have left in the united states.

i know i will miss morning coffee at the kitchen table. miss having them around to talk to and laugh with. miss the advice and wisdom given so gently and without judgement. miss recounting the funny things dutch or titus said or did that day. miss praising the kids unabashedly, because let's face it, these two children are the smartest, cutest and funniest children ever to walk the planet. and in this house, that will never be disputed.

my name is liz, and i live with my in-laws.

3 months later...

2010-03-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

he insisted on going outside with no pants... i choose my battles carefully.

open handed

2010-03-17T19:07:00.000-07:00

its been about 6 months since i had this dream, however, it is only just recently that i am able to speak of it without tears. i know that being pregnant always brings on the most lucid and amazingly realistic dreams, but this one rocked me to my very core. to the point where i woke myself up crying, not sobbing, but that gut wrenching cry that feels like someone is sitting on your chest and you can barely breathe. and despair. despair of the very deepest sort; the kind where you feel that nothing, NOTHING, will ever bring you back from that dark place.

i dreamed that my son died.

we were at youth camp and it was near the beach. i was walking back to the camp from somewhere along a highway and it suddenly hit me that dutch was dead. i didn't see it. i didn't know how exactly. i just knew that he had died. i can't explain the feeling that came over me, but i walked in a daze of sorts back to our house that we share with my in-laws. i determined along the way that i needed a body to mourn; i couldn't grieve without a body. it became essential that i find a body to bring back home with me. through my tears i saw a dead octopus laying on the side of the road and i gently picked it up and carried it, as i would my son's lifeless body, back to the house.

i wanted desperately to find zach and grieve with him, but he was nowhere. i walked in the back door of the house and fell on my knees holding the octopus and crying. i knew how insane it was to substitute this odd creature for my son, but i needed something tangible, something to hold. kari came over and told me over and over 'its okay to grieve'. at some point i decided that my 'son' needed some clothes to wear before he was buried so i went upstairs to his closet to pick something out. i was hit with another wave of complete and utter... how to describe it... desperate sadness. with each little shirt i took down from the hanger, i was hit with memories of my sweet boy and the realization that he was gone. gone. the last thing i remember before i woke up was laying in a heap on the floor of his closet, my heart broken, my mind wondering how this could have happened, and knowing that i would never be the same again.

it was so real that i had a difficult time determining if it was in fact a dream or if i was living the nightmare - even after i awoke. i cried, hard, for most of the night. i couldn't bring myself to close my eyes or go back to sleep; i couldn't go back there. if that was my reality, i didn't want to live.

in the quiet hours spent after waking, amidst sobs, i asked god what this dream meant. it HAD to have meaning, i needed it to have meaning. it did.

he showed me that though i say with my mouth that i have committed my children to him, i had not in my heart released them to his will, regardless of what it may be. i've stood before the church and said with my mouth that i dedicate my children to God, but when it comes down to it, when it REALLY comes down to it; i still hold my children in a very closed hand. he was asking me to open my hand, give them fully and freely to him, trusting that His will is good and perfect even if i can't understand it.

in the months since this dream, i've had to evaluate and re-evaluate if my hand is open or closed. i'd like to say that it's always open, but that would be a lie. i have to choose every morning to open my hand, cherish each and every day with my children, and trust that if this is to be my last day with them that i was blessed to be the protector and mother to these precious souls for as long as i did.

cousins

2010-03-16T20:06:00.000-07:00

love. love. love.

2010-03-16T16:43:00.000-07:00

this is easily dutch's most creepy toy.

it's a head.

just. a. head.

i swear sometimes it's watching me.

challenge

2010-02-16T10:34:00.000-08:00

everyone and their mom at shady grove is on this new hcg diet and quite successfully losing weight. kudos to our ever shrinking congregation (this time in a good way). before i go off on my initial thoughts on how horrible and unnatural this diet is for the human body and risk hurting someone's feelings, i decided to read up on the science behind it. i've also done some 'real life' research and asked a few friends who are on it to explain how it works. having done my preliminary research, i will reserve my opinion until a later date.

HOWEVER, i would, as part of my continuing research like to extend a CHALLENGE:

i contend that these same results can be acheived with good old fashioned diet and exercise. i still have some baby weight to lose and would like to propose a friendly contest.

the contest is simple - i will go head to head with a person on the hcg diet for 60 days... old fashioned vs. new fangled... and see if i can achieve the same amount of weight loss.

the rules are few:

1. contestants must disclose their starting and ending weight

2. contestants must weigh-in every sunday and submit their new weight

3. contestants MUST adhere to the honor system

4. to keep it equal, because no two bodies are the same, weight loss will be determined by % of weight loss and not actual pounds lost (biggest loser style)

5. contestants must be female

6. contestants will weigh-in 6 months following the end of the contest, to determine if the weight has stayed off or been gained back

the winner gets the satisfaction of either proving me right (if i win) or proving me wrong (if i lose). actually, that sounds pretty lame, so i'll add - the winner gets a free dinner at the restaurant of their choice.

so that's it - 60 days, no needle vs. needle, weekly weigh-in, free dinner for the winner and the chance to influence my opinion on the newest fad diet. and of course, i will post the updates, weigh-ins and results as we go.

i'd like to start on Sunday... next Sunday at the very latest.

any takers?

narnia

2010-02-13T08:32:00.001-08:00

... it might have actually only been like this for a few days but I'm pretending i have been lost in narnia looking for mr tumnus.

okay who am i kidding... we all know i'd be chasing down the white witch for some of that turkish delight edmund has been talking up.

2010-02-12T10:35:00.000-08:00

work from home? yes please.

the new archipod home office... check it out

i could get some serious work done in this baby!

i want to ride my bicycle...i want to ride my bike

2010-02-12T07:22:00.000-08:00

oh to live somewhere that is bike friendly... love love love this!

snow day

2010-02-11T08:41:00.000-08:00

this morning we woke up to this

so i got a nice cup of this

all the while wiping this

in an effort to prevent thisbefore i found a few extra minutes to don these

and take more of this

and it's still coming down...

dutch søren

2010-02-07T19:35:00.000-08:00

...a few of my favourite things

2010-02-05T14:06:00.000-08:00

dutch definitely has his favourites... you know, the ones that must be accounted for at all times and should they go missing, especially in times of crisis, the world threatens to end and your sole mission is to seek out said items and restore peace and order to his little universe.

"beek beet" - his blanket.

some days it goes everywhere with us, some days he is content to leave it in his room until naptime. sometimes he drags it along behind him and watches it bump along the floor. he thinks it's the coolest. thing. ever.

his pickup truck.

this was zach's favourite matchbox car when he was dutch's age, so it's pretty cool that dutch has also reserved a special place in his heart for it. it broke in half a few weeks ago, and handyman daddy 'fixed' it. this consisted of wrapping scotch tape around it a few times.

daddy's old matchbox cars.

kari saved these from when zach was little and he brought them out right around the time we sold our house in october. it doesn't matter which one he is playing with, the one that i am trying to put away (even in super stealth mode) is suddenly the one he very passionately wants to play with. this means all 35 of them are out during the day and scattered throughout the house until bedtime when we can round them up and put them back in their place under the stairs.

daddy's wooden train
this was also a favourite toy of zach's when he was little that kari saved for her grandkids. dutch will lay on the floor and play with it for a good 30 minutes (which for a 2 year old, is pretty darn good).

productivity level: zero

2010-02-05T13:38:00.000-08:00

my bedroom, is, in its current state, a disaster area of horrific proportions. as a perfectionist i am finding it REALLY difficult to not freak out about it. mentally catalouging which piles of clothes are clean and which are dirty is quickly losing its charm (as if it had any to begin with) and on the days when i realize zach's underwear drawer is completely empty with no hope of replenishment, i automatically nominate myself for the "worst wife ever" award. i wouldn't get zach's vote, and for this i am thankful; he's been so great about it all. he gently reminds me that being a mom is a full time job and that as long as i am doing that to the best of my ability, he is happy. whatever i feel, it's pretty much all self inflicted.

to be fair, we are painting the room, so it's in a much worse state than usual. i say, we, but really kari & lynn (zach's mom & dad) have been bearing the brunt of the painting duties. i would help, but short of duct taping titus to my body, i am left to try to squeeze in some edging during naptimes when he is not crying to be held.

i am scared to death that i won't be able to cope when i go back to work in 2 weeks. how can i add 40 hours of work (more or less) to this whole scenario and still keep my sanity? i've been in tears over it more than a couple times. zach, ever the good husband, encourages me to not stress about it yet and that i can, and will, do great. even my boss, coming off of a recent maternity leave of her own, has advised me to not get 'too depressed' yet. i like her.

i know it won't always be like this. maybe god is breaking me of my need for everything to look 'just so'... it's pretty deeply ingrained; this could be painful.

2010-02-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

i don't remember all this with dutch. i am reminded by zach all the time that we went through all this same stuff with dutch, but i guess the mind forgets these trying times and that is how people feel compelled to have another one. and another one. and another... myself included. right now is the absolute worst time to ask me if i want to have more kids. i simply cannot answer objectively.

not that i mind so much except that i cannot do anything while i am holding him. nothing. including go to the bathroom - which brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'self control.'

i just sit and rock him and try not to stress out that i am getting absolutely nothing "productive" done all the while remembering the words of my mother (and every other mother out there with children older than mine it seems) - "cherish it; they grow up too quickly"

as a newbie to the 'multiple children' club, i am finding it really REALLY hard to adjust. dutch still has the same needs he did before lil bro came along; sometimes more, it seems. and titus, despite all the sweet and wonderful things that he is and brings to my heart, can also push me to the furthest reaches of frustration. frustration to the point of making a mental note to research partial adoption (where i'd get him back when he was around 3 years old and over all this newborn silliness); vowing to go get my birth control prescription filled the minute i am able to leave the house and wondering how soon i can get my tubes tied.

i know, i sound not a little melodramatic, but i'm just being real. sometimes i KNOW i'm being overly dramatic, but on little-to-no-sleep, one tends to automatically go there.

NOTE: i wrote this on friday... yesterday and today have been amazing (the good kind of amazing); now rethinking the whole partial adoption thing, but still getting my birth control filled tomorrow.

anatomy of a nap

2010-02-05T12:54:00.001-08:00

as the mom of a 2 year old, i am fully aware of the challenges of naptime. i have to admit that my little lad is pretty darn good about getting in his bed and taking his daily nap. i don't have to deal with tantrums and crying and getting on him to stay in his bed; he is quite compliant. however, as he gets older it seems that we keep adding to his essential naptime items. at first it was just his blanket (beek-beet) and water bottle. now, however, if the above items are not in bed with him, my ears are accosted by screams of protest when he realizes one is missing. which means a frantic hunt for missing item x until it is found and secured in his bed with him.

this applies to nighttime as well. it's usually very brief (thank god), but sometimes he decides in the dead of night that he desperately needs a new item. case in point: 330am we are awakened by full on crying because dutch has decided that he needs his tractor. which of course, cannot be found anywhere (especially in the dark). i am then compelled to make promises that the minute he wakes up in the morning we will locate it and mentally red flag it for future locating ease. thankfully he trusts that i will keep my word, and goes back to sleep. rest assured however, the moment he wakes up in the morning, his first words are "find tractor." nothing like a toddler to keep you honest.

really?

2010-02-05T08:38:00.000-08:00

it matters not from whom i received this particular fwd, what matters is that i actually read this one and was irritated enough to 'reply all' in the form of a blog post. i get a lot of fwds in any given day, and i will be honest and admit right up front that i delete them immediately. it doesn't matter how cute the slideshow of kittens promises to be, or how funny some top 10 list teases - DE.LETE.

yesterday, i was having a very rough day and was enticed enough by the subject "fwd: beautiful" and thought, eh why not? here is what pulled up (after i scrolled through the 12 pages of email addresses this was forwarded to, of course)

"BELIEVE ME THIS WORKED ON ME AS SOON AS I GOT IT. SEND IT WITH SINCERITY, FAITH AND BELIEVE... God has seen you struggling (with something), God says it's over. A blessing is coming your way. If you believe in God send to ten people, please don't ignore, you are being tested."

this frustrates me on so many levels, i don't even know where to start.

yes, God sees you struggling "with something", i won't deny that. i'm pretty sure that falls under the whole 'omniscient' gig. however, this "with something" is akin to the accuracy of a pei wei fortune cookie ...something deep, really deep and insightful, along the lines of "something good will happen to you today."

'if you believe in God, send to ten people, please don't ignore, you are being tested'. i have one word for this - BULLSH*T. if this is the true character of our god, i'm not sure i want to be a christian. let me set the record straight - the almighty does not test you in an email forward. nor does sending this email to ten of your friends confirm your salvation, belief in god, or guarantee a blessing of any sort. failure to send this along does not in any way cancel out the blessing of god on your life.

so as my official response... i will bless my friends (all 10 of them) by NOT forwarding this shoddy philosophy on god and his blessings.

2010-01-21T11:12:00.000-08:00

"Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are." - Kurt Cobain

Why can't i remember this sometimes...?

omg that is so 1993

2009-10-01T18:30:00.000-07:00

i recently started taking french. it's every saturday and i love it! it is through the french alliance of dallas (or more properly Alliance Française de Dallas), which i would highly recommend over any community college course you will find out there. i pulled out my french class notebook the other day to study and zach noticed and started teasing me about how i was just like a jr high girl, decorating my notebooks. i will admit, it has some band stickers, and some random sticker i got from some online store i bought something from ages ago - but it's there to cover up the boring "EMC" logo (the company i work for) - it serves a purpose.

if i had to be honest, i'd say it was closer to a high schooler notebook than a junior higher's - there are no "BFF's" scrawled anywhere within its pages, nor is there any sign of me practice writing my name with my crush of the day's last name appended to it.

after 5 years of marriage, i have come to realize that zach teasing me is one of his ways of flirting. and i have also come to realize that he can tease me about just about anything and as long as he ends it with 'but i think it's cute', i am totally okay with it. sometimes he forgets that part and sometimes my feelings get a little hurt, but all in all it's part of our rhythm and i'm cool with that.

even if it is 'cute' - am i the only 31 year old who still decorates her notebooks?

the problem with pregnancy

2009-10-01T12:50:00.000-07:00

is, the more pregnant you are, the more clumsy you become. which in turn causes more things to fall to the ground, which of course, you can no longer reach.

10 more weeks...

the taste of blue

2009-08-21T11:15:00.000-07:00

some days i get so wrapped up in my work that i forget that i have a toddler running around and he is left to his own devices for entertainment. earlier this week after reading that he *should* be able to draw a straight line at this age, i introduced him to crayons. which he then introduced to my white couch. apparently they also looked good enough to eat. and being his mother's son, he immediately brushed his teeth to either a. cover it up or b. get the blue taste out of his mouth. (yes the toothbrush most likely came off the floor).

in other news - the purple is still missing.

fish & boobies

2009-08-12T11:19:00.000-07:00

zach took little man out for a bit this morning so that i could knock out some work unhindered. we are trying to get dutch to use his words so we ask a lot of questions. the post-adventure line of questioning went a little something like this -

me - where did you go?
zach - dutch say 'store'
dutch - sto
me - and what else?
zach - tell mommy what you saw...
dutch - boobies!
zach - NO! you didn't see boobies, you saw fish
dutch - bish!

apparently, they ate some blueberries at the store, and dutch calls them "boobies"... he LOVES blueberries, so I guess that won out over telling me about the fish he saw.

2009-08-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

"i can't remember all the times i tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass"

- counting crows

somewhere in between finishing powerpoint slides for the big meeting, pulling marketing reports, and trying to keep dutch from pulling over the fish bowl in an attempt to give the 'bish' his snacks, it hits me - what the heck am i doing?

i read about my mommy friends, through their status updates on facebook, on their way to take their kids to the zoo at the very moment i am about to tell Dutch "no, i can't read you a book right now, mommy has to work." and i pretty much just break down into tears and hug my little man, determining to read him 2 books when i finish my next slide.

being a mom is hard.

lowrie boys

2009-08-09T17:15:00.000-07:00

that's right, i said 'boys'. plural. i am so excited!!! i always thought i wanted all boys for more than one reason (logical or not, i could justify all of them). but i know my God and sometimes he likes to throw me a curveball and remind me that no matter how much planning i do (which is A LOT; i am very big on 'plans'), He knows what's best for me. i'm okay with that, really i am. so the rare times i see that my thoughts on what i can handle and His thoughts on what i can handle match up - it's just, well, delicious!

i am not the most girly of girls and the thought of dealing with pastel pink, bows, long hair and what to do with it, barbies, pms, shaving (okay puberty in it's entirety)-scares me to no end. it's akin to public speaking on my list of scary things i'd rather not ever do, but will have to and have had to do in my lifetime.

i guess i first got the idea that #2 was a girl when i was reminded of a prophetic word we got in ukraine back before we ever even started trying for little ones: we would have two children; the first would be a teacher and the second an evangelist. not to label my children, or force them into a box, but this word has stuck with me and i am reminded of it each and every time i pray over their sweet little destinies.

in my mind, an evangelist is a man and i was positive God was going to throw my logic on that out the door and gift me with a spitfire little girl bent on evangelizing the hell out of this world (literally).

in light of this i decided that i needed to familiarize myself with all things girly and see if there was anything out there besides pink and bows. to my pleasant surprise, etsy turned out to be the mecca of all things indie and NOT girly. i "hearted" at least 15 sellers and purposefully left my wallet out in the car so that i wouldn't buy anything until we had confirmation on what i already thought i knew for sure. (okay moreso out of fear that zach would very much disapprove and possibly even make me send my purchases back, but still, i DID hold off). encouraged by my discovery, i had the whole 'look' my baby girl would sport, and honestly, i was a tad bit excited. i even bought stuff to make my own baby shoes (which will now be made and given to all my friends who are pregnant with little girls. yay!) there is way cuter stuff for girls than for boys out there. but on the same token, i spent a lot of time and effort choosing clothes for dutch, and i am so happy i get another chance to use them.

dutch, my first, is SUCH an amazing little person already and i can't wait to meet his little brother (name tbd). i like the sound of saying 'my boys' - though i fear there will be times when i can't stand to hear myself say one more time 'boys! stop it!' it's inevitable, right?

all in all, my heart is happy and my boys will be the light of my life.

speaking of, here are a few pictures of my sweet boy.

a rare moment of being still, watching "Me. Mo. Bish! DD!" (Finding Nemo, the fish DVD) in his fav pj's.

horrible resolution, but sometimes the camera phone is all you have. i AM saving up for a Nikon D80. the cybershot isn't cutting it; especially for an ex-photographer.

Hippie or just plain gross?

2009-07-14T11:59:00.000-07:00

my dear friend Girish, who has a penchant for sending me the most random and unsolicited links to some of the weirdest articles written in our day, has succeeded in yet again grossing me out. as a pregnant woman who has indulged many of my 'hippie tendencies' (there are so many more that are not yet in practice, but i digress), i found myself reading about a not-so-new practice of the 'granola type' new mother and decidedly choosing here and now that i would not, could not and shant EVER choose to do what this article talks about. i will walk around barefoot, wear long skirts, try the crystal deodorant (doesn't work), eat all sorts of weird plants and seeds and green drinks, but NEVER will i EVER eat the placenta post-birth. to be quite honest, it had never occurred to me (even though the health benefits are purported to be A-MAZING.)

as a vegan, my food guideline is simply - if it had a face i don't eat it. as my dad likes to point out, i do eat potatoes, and they may not have a face, but they DO have eyes... oh dad, you slay me! i would have to say that since 'it' came from me, and i have a face, logic tells me that based strictly on my veganess - placenta is out of the question. not to mention the real issue - the sheer grossness of it all. oh yeah, and the fact that zach would probably die or worse, stay married and throw up in his mouth a little every time he saw me. nope, i can't do it... i just can't.

thanks Girish, for forcing some perspective and keep those odd articles coming my way...

i just don't know sometimes

2009-06-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

i blame the economy. no, more realistically, i blame pregnancy. i haven't posted for almost 6 months, and i blame the fact that the first 4 months of pregnancy always turn me into a naseous lifeless recluse. this change in status means i don't get out into the world and gather the fodder that gives inspiration to post on my blog. thankfully i am coming out of the darkness; marked most noticeably by seeing less of the inside of the toilet and more of my friends and the outside world.

so in case you didn't catch it - i am pregnant. again. little lowrie #2 is due december 12. that's right, two days after his/her big brother was born. apparently i am only fertile in march (it wasn't for lack of trying in other months, i assure you). i'm tempted to just have this one on the 10th too. i mean come on, both my kids already share a birthday month with jesus christ. maybe we'll have the big birthday bashes on their "half birthday" in june. i'm convinced it's a girl, but we won't find out until end of july/early august. i'm eager to find out if i'm right.

in addition to pushing out another kid, there are a ton of things i have yet to do before this time next year, the highest priority being getting rid of this dang house. sell it, rent it, accidental fire, i don't care...i just want it gone. i don't have the best attitude, i know, and really, this is a great house. i still love living in it, don't get me wrong, but with the past months involving layoffs and paycuts; its become a burden i am just not able to bear much longer.

one year. sounds so short when i say it sometimes. sigh...

dutch and i head up to alaska in a week's time to visit the fam. it will be good to get away and to be able to walk outside without immediately sweating through a shirt. i'm sure the trip up and back will avail itself many wonderful and equally horrid things to blog on. which gives promise that my next posts will be way more interesting and have more bite; these 'catch-up posts' just don't cut it.

until then, "You stay classy, San Diego. I'm Ron Burgundy? "

for the record

2009-01-15T10:03:00.000-08:00

yes, i grew up in wasilla, alaska.

yes, that is sarah palin's hometown.

yes, we went to rival high schools.

no, it was not at the same time.

no, we were not friends.

no, i don' t know her personally.

yes, she attends my parent's church.

no, i've never seen her there when i visit home.

yes, i think tina fey makes a better sarah palin than the real sarah palin.

yes, i am writing this post to avoid working.

yes, i have plenty to keep me busy.

it is what it is

2009-01-15T09:27:00.000-08:00

so after wiping the tears out of my eyes and off my cheeks and examining what's left of my make-up (asking myself why i am so determined to be a minimalist and why can't i be one of those high maintenance types who always carries her make-up bag with her) in the women's bathroom of my office, trying to make myself look like i wasn't just crying and armed with the excuse "it's just allergies; i was NOT crying", i head back to my office.

gah! i hate days like this.

ironically, i sit down and click on penelope trunk's blog - brazen careerist - and read this:

"5. Don’t cry at work

Newsflash. Women cry a lot and men don’t. So let’s just stop telling women to be men at work. No point. People who do best in their careers are people who are their true selves.

And, I have first-hand research on this topic, because I have cried at all levels of my career. To be fair, I cry mostly when I have PMS. But whatever. PMS is just your body telling your brain that you need to start crying about the stuff that you've been ignoring all month.

Here’s the big secret about crying though. Men who are secure with themselves and their position in the world actually deal with women crying just fine. So any guy at work who cannot deal with you crying needs to get some therapy in order to be more self-assured. You, on the other hand, are doing just fine with those workplace tears."

full blog here

thanks, P! i needed that.

sniff.

seriously

2008-12-23T18:37:00.000-08:00

zach makes fun of me for saying it, and i only say it when i am really put out by something. and in this instance, i say to you sir, SERIOUSLY.

i had long been under the suspicion that someone has been stealing our mail periodically, and tonight my suspicions were confirmed. it's not one of those situations where it feels good to tell your spouse 'see, i told you', i'd much rather have just been wrong. our neighbor was nice enough to stop by tonight and tell us that he saw the car who did it and followed him around the neighborhood. apparently we are not this scofflaw's only target, but our entire neighborhood.

who thinks of this stuff? who sits at home and thinks, yes, tonight i will steal mail? tonight the Rosewood Estates will be my mail free for all. (okay i'll admit it IS brilliant, and there is a very small chance of getting caught or even prosecuted if you do and the payoff could be huge, but still...)

not that i care much if someone steals my mr. jim's coupons, my victoria's secret catalogue (another one will come in tomorrow's mail anyway), or even my utility bill... hell he can even pay it if he wants to. but i do care that someone is taking something of mine, ESPECIALLY in this season of the holiday, where i am expecting not only gifts, but cards WITH money in them. GAH!

my indignant husband is outside looking for the scoundrel right this very moment. my hero!

so if any of you see a blue chevy SUV with the license plate: JRD-226, please take a moment to ram him from behind and ask him politely for my missing potterybarn kids magazine.

seriously.

i'm THAT mom

2008-12-23T17:29:00.000-08:00

we've all been there. on a plane, sitting next to, or even within earshot of (which is not an accomplishment given the tight quarters on said aircraft) someone's crying baby. on more than one occasion i've breathed the myriad of 'would someone shut that kid up'-isms, and silently judged the parent erstwhile vowing that when i have kids, MY kid won't be like that. he will be calm, behaved, pleasant. Passengers would quietly marvel at my kid's inherent angelic qualities as he sat on my lap and charmed them all with his coos and fascination with their jewelry, seemingly unaffected by the unfamiliar surroundings.

i've traveled on a plane two times so far with dutch, once with zach and once by myself. except for the occasional fussy bout, he was a champ, and i approached this trip expecting nothing less. 'expecting the best and prepared for the worst' was my motto and despite zach's voiced concerns for what might happen, i always dismissed them and called him a pessimist.

scene 1, act 1
after waiting about an extra hour in the airport due to a delay in our flight, we calmly board the aircraft and find our seats. per uszche in this holiday season, the flight is full and find ourselves seated next to a lovely gentleman, who informed us that he has a 14 month old niece who he adores and is used to being around kids. i breathe a silent prayer of thanks, and we situate ourselves. already feeling confined, dutch begins to move from me to zach, me to zach, me to... well, you get the picture. after about 30 minutes of quiet fussing and a barrage of snacks from the overstuffed diaper bag, little man has had quite enough of this adventure and begins to cry. any of you who know my son and have seen him at his most dramatic moments knows that his cry is not just a cry, but a high pitched wailing of sorts, complete with screams and varying levels of 'loud'.

scene 1, act 2
flash forward one hour and we are still sitting on the plane in the same spot we were in to begin with - at the airport. armed with the knowledge that we are going to be sitting there for what is a minimum of one more hour, i go into survival mode. i am sure by now the people in the front of the plane are beginning to wonder what kind of torture i am submitting my son to to make him cry this hard and this long (is she pulling his fingernails off one by one? maybe she has starved him and he's dying of hunger. honey, get out your phone and call child protective services, this isn't right...) and despite all the well meant nuggets of advice and suggestions from other and more experienced mothers on the plane (oh, honey, we've all been there, don't worry), nothing works to calm this kid down and the crying has reached it's peak and shows no signs of dissipating.

(cue the captain) ladies and gentlemen, it turns out that we will have to replace one of the tires, and we estimate this to take approximately one hour. the man sitting behind us voices what i'm sure every person on the plane was thinking but didn't have the guts to say aloud 'oh jesus christ!'

(cue more crying)

scene 1, act 3
one hour later

(me) aisle seat. seated, defeated, wishing desperately that the guy in front of me would make good on that offer to buy me a shot of tequila. on my lap sits one red-faced, puffy-eyed, shirtless, shoeless toddler, still crying and sucking my will to live down to an all time low.

(zach) a glance over to the middle seat occupied by one zach lowrie, head in his hands, willing our son with every fibre of his being to 'please just shut up' and occasionally sending very apologetic 'please don't hate me' looks to nearby passengers.

(cue the captain) ladies and gentlemen, it seems that the staff has surpassed their allowable limit to fly and the flight has been canceled.

scene 2, act 1
we deplane and find ourselves at the smallest baggage carousel i have ever witnessed. our son has found his sanity (as well as his shirt and his shoes) and is as happy as a clam in his stroller as we wait for our baggage. since no one is there to claim their bags (they are all waiting in line at the ticket counter to get their free hotel voucher for the overnight stay they are about to endure), the bags pile up and in no time we experience a bag jam. this is of no particular consequence to me as i was fine waiting for my bag and was enjoying the return of my hearing after the previous 2 hours of toddler screams, EXCEPT that i was witness to what i can only describe as an idiot move by a nearby woman and it made enough of an impression on me that i immediately vowed to blog about it.

girded by her self-righteousness, this woman busied herself chewing out one of the only two baggage handlers who had showed up to help alleviate the bag jam. other passengers were pulling bags off the carousel and apparently she was very ruffled that her friend was 'forced' to be one of those do-gooders. for a good 5 minutes, she barraged him with reasons as to why she felt that he was not performing his job to par and who was going to pay for the medical bills if a passenger helping (ie. her friend) was to get hurt, all the while forcing MORE passengers to begin helping pull luggage off the carousel because the one guy who was authorized to actually do it was being waylaid by some stupid woman. yes, i said stupid. i understand she was fussy, we all were, but seriously, can you let the man do his job before you tear into him? she strikes me as the same kind of person who would kill an abortion doctor, and find herself perfectly justified in doing so.

as much as i wanted to tell her as much, and free the baggage handler from the situation, i held my tongue; pretty sure that i'd already made enough enemies for one night.

scene 3, act 1
back at home 6 hours after having left for the airport, we find that ourselves with our sweet little man, full of smiles and 'this's' and 'that's' (his favourite two words, to be used interchangeably), content to push his little trolley around the house; no sign of the monster we'd seen just mere hours previous.

blackout

mental note: in lieu of the applesauce, cheerios and sippy cup, pack the children's benadryl, a flask of a very potent liquor, and enough cash to buy everyone on the plane an apologetic drink of their choice.

people. they're the worst!

2008-12-16T10:30:00.000-08:00

it's that time of year. again. time to board yet another airplane and head home for the holidays. it wouldn't be so bad, except that there happen to be large numbers of these "other people" on the plane, in the airports, and yes, sitting right next to me. based on my last flight home from las vegas, below are just a few of said "other people" i know i will be forced to tolerate and maybe, (maybe) even interact with:

the nazi stewardess

you've seen her in Meet the Parents. well she's back. this time she moves an entire group of 50 people over 8" to ensure they are boarding on the 'general boarding' side of the sign. the time and effort she puts into getting an already confused mass of grumpy people to move over a few inches to make sure that the VIP boarding line is open to the ZERO people in that lane is astounding and to be honest, quite wasteful. you can be assured this will be the same stewardess to reject your request for an additional mini bag of peanuts or a full can of coke. not to be confused with...

the overhelper

this is the stewardess who stands at the door of the aircraft and feels that the standard 'hi, welcome aboard' greeting is simply not enough. she asks to see your boarding pass and in a hushed voice kindly lets you know that 'ah yes, you are in 32F... that is going to be just a hair past row 31, but if you hit row 33, you've gone too far." um, thanks.

the sidler (aka eager beaver)

it has long been believed that being one of the first to board the aircraft is a luxury. everyone knows this and some pay good money to be the first in line. then there are the cheapskates; the ones who feel it is imperative that they board before everyone else, and have thusly devised a strategy for getting themselves in place to do just that. in most cases this is a couple, but it is not uncommon to see single traveler attempts as well. they casually walk up to the forming line and instead of getting in a straight line (like they teach you to do in kindergarten), they post themselves right next to you. as the line begins to move forward you notice his rolling duffel creeping into your personal space and before you know it, is now taking up the space directly in front of you. he deftly follows the bag, momentarily breaking his monotonous conversation with his companion to drop something resembling a quick apology to you for bumping you and stepping on your toes as if this is a perfectly natural way of forming a line. his wife follows suite and as you watch them hand their tickets to the gate agent, suddenly you are hit with the realization that you have been sidled.

the 'the smart car is smaller than my carry-on' guy

10 minutes of shoving, squishing, repositioning, grunting and sweating WILL indeed get your single ginormous bag successfully into the entire space meant for 6 carry-ons. meanwhile the entire rest of the list of passengers behind you are forced to wait for you to get out of the way and are now tasked with frantically seeking out open space in other overhead compartments nowhere near their assigned seat. Your bag, my good sir, is luggage. LUGGAGE! Pay the $15 and CHECK IT!

bluetooth guy

he's on his phone in line, he's on his phone down the jetway, and yes, he's on his phone trying to shove his bag in the overhead. and no, he's not talking on his actual phone, he is using his bluetooth. inside voice is a foreign concept to your neighbor, and as he sits down you find yourself lucky enough to hear all about the "acquisition" and all the details thereof. you breathe a silent 'thank YOU' when he tells his phone friend that he is on the plane and about to take off so he has to go. this of course, takes another 5 minutes of pleasantries, as he explains where he is headed, how long it will take him to get there and of course he'll call when he lands. sidelong glances over the course of the flight prove that he does not take off the bluetooth, but keeps it on his ear as if in anticipation of an in-flight call. you can rest assured that the moment the plane touches ground, he is back on the phone, checking messages, letting everyone in his contact list know that he has just landed and his plans for the remainder of the day.

'to go' guy

somehow you got screwed with the middle seat on an overbooked flight, and even though the aisle seat next to you is still vacant mere seconds before they are ready to close the doors; reason and experience have taught you that you are never that lucky.

you see a large person emerge from the doorway and before you can fully process what is taking place, you see the overhelper has just pointed him in your direction. he plops down next to you and begins unwrapping his to-go order. this is not your typical to-go meal, but rather something akin to 'the works hotdog' complete with onions, jalepenos, chili, and relish. The smell worsens and sickens the more he unwraps and you begin mentally counting down the nanoseconds until you can get off this thing, your eyes scanning the seat pocket in front of you for something, anything, that resembles a recepticle for holding what you can feel rising into your throat. and as you fumble to turn the air nozzle above you on full force, you can pretty much assume by the large gut nearly touching the tray (in it's locked and fully upright position) and the heavy breathing from his long jaunt down the jetway that this is a man not above "letting one slip." just wait for it, you'll know when it's happened. trust me.

God bless america.

what the

2008-12-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

so i found a friend yesterday. i guess it is significant more that it has caused me to reach back into the recesses of my memory and bring up good times in highschool-land than anything else. i had some good friends in high school, but there were a few that i will always remember no matter how much time has passed since the glory days of palmer high (go moose!). they are fond memories of a time passed and i wonder on occassion where they are and what they are up to. katie metzler (now kruger) is one of them... reconnected in 2006. andrew harrison... reconnected <18 hours ago.

if our high school career was a sitcom and i was the starring role (natch), andrew would have been cast as the younger, akward, yet extremely talented and witty sophmore. always ready with the perfectly timed one liners that would make you almost pee your pants.

andrew was the type of guy who was friends with everyone, choosing music and theatre over the over-hyped sports teams. when you were friends with andrew, you didn't really have to find something to 'do', he alone was enough.

along with katie metzler and john davidson, andrew was one of my favourite people. and we were all friends. not secret crush friends, not if we hang out long enough maybe we'll hook up friends. simply good friends. i know that is rare, but we had it.

when i left for college, he made me a tape. not a mix tape, mind you, a tape of songs that he had written for me. not love songs, andrew harrison songs. songs reminiscent of adam sandler with funny lyrics and different voices; i loved it! yes, i still have it.

trying to catch up on 12 years of post high school life is tough on instant messenger, but thankfully we pushed through, and i've rediscovered my old friend. a little older, a little beat down by a job that doesn't fit him, still creating music, still so talented, and i know... just given the chance, still able to make me pee my pants.

thanks facebook, i owe you one

don't blink

2008-12-10T11:35:00.000-08:00

i woke up this morning to a smiley, sleepy-eyed one year old. what once was just my little bundle of joy, is now a full on little person; complete with a full head of hair and a real life personality. not sure when this happened, but i do know it came too quickly. who would have thought that one year would bring forth such a character? certainly not i. of course, i should have seen it coming, he takes after daddy in so many ways; it's only natural he would inherit the same charming, playful, and laid back ways.

somehow over the course of one year, saying 'my kid' no longer sounds weird, referring to myself in the third person as 'mommy' is second nature, and every invitation to hang out with friends is followed up with the question "is this a kid or no kid thing?"

being a williams, it's only natural that i recount all of the the little 'dutchisms' that i treasure; the things that make him the one and only, dutch soren lowrie. things like knowing that no matter how many times i put his socks on they will be off in a matter of minutes, that a bath cures a bad mood, that he is addicted to cheddar bunnies, that when he puts his head close to mine he is asking me to tell him a 'secret', that he will inhale squeal whenever he sees jack, that he loves it when i sing coldplay songs to him even though i sound nothing like chris martin and i usually end up making up my own words, that he likes to look at his hands when he is trying to crawl really fast, that i cease to exist for a few moments when kacy bruton enters the room, that if it can move across the floor you can believe he is going to push that sucker into the wall, that no meal goes without at least one attempt to throw something to the floor, that he will flash his best smile when he knows he is about to get into trouble, that if it's on the floor you will find it in his mouth within minutes, that when he reaches for me it is the single most best feeling in the whole world.

happy birthday, my sweet boy!

lots of love from your overly sappy mommy

dutch?

2008-12-03T18:21:00.000-08:00

you tell me...

back to balanced

2008-11-20T09:58:00.000-08:00

my phone, my company supplied and paid for cell phone, accidentally fell into the swimming pool on labor day. much to my chagrin, it was forever destroyed and as i was not due for an upgrade or a free replacement anytime in the near or distant future, i was left with the option to rummage through the old phone bin at the office to find a 'free' replacement phone. i was somewhat successful in finding the (brick) style 8525. i'm sure it was the 'it' phone in its day.. touch screen, slide out qwerty keyboard, windows mobile compatibility.

personally, i hate it. hate. it.

this is what i have been using for the past 3 months, and it has nearly destroyed me.

it is bulky, did not tell me when i had a voicemail until hours later, the touch screen did not work half of the time, and sometimes it would ring and sometimes not so much. this tiny hiccup in my ordered life caused major upheavel. i know it's not healthy to form attachments to bits of technology, but it left me feeling unbalanced and under connected to the world as i know it. not even the recent disconnect of our cable tv cold turkey has been as shocking and unbalancing as losing my blackjack.

yesterday that all changed. my replacement phone (the one i paid for with my own monies), my beloved blackjack (II), arrived via fedex to my front steps. with esther's help, i have it programmed and ready to go, and i'm back in the game, jack! my fingers automatically know where to press to get what i want. texting while driving is no longer a life endangering task... my fingers are my eyes; no need to look at the screen. and yes, when you call me, i will be able to answer it.

when is my next meeting today? let me just check my blackjack

how would i get to said meeting? oh, let me just check on my blackjack which just happens to have interactive google maps installed

did he email me that contract yet? oh yes, here it is, on my blackjack

what you want to see the latest picture of my kid? why don't you go ahead and look... on my blackjack

yes, i feel zen. balanced. the yin to my yang is back.

yeah, its no iphone, but who needs an iphone, when you have... a blackjack (II)!!

what can brown do for you?

2008-11-18T12:52:00.000-08:00

so our great nation is facing somewhat of a crisis, and i have already read way too many blogs on politics (1. 1 is plenty) and my office is somewhat depressed and holding its breath waiting to see if we've all made it through the 'necessary cutbacks'. in light of this and in an effort to bring giggles to the masses, i feel that there is no better time than now to post it. a significant enough amount of time has passed since this picture was taken. i don't know why i have this penchant for dressing as the most unattractive characters i can think of for costume parties. no, i am never the hot nurse or the cute devil or princess leia. nope, i am zorro or...the ups guy. (one year i was margot tenenbaum, and i DID manage to pull that off).

my sole consolation is that my husband can always "one up" me... he was a toilet one year. yes, i said a toilet.

anyway, here is my tribute to the guys who deliver our packages (props to leah for supporting the rival FEDEX)

yes, that is indeed a drawn in mini "stache" and goatee. i had sideburns at one point, but i think in the midst of the forray, they were rubbed off. no ups guy is complete without the mullet ponytail... that's right, mullet pony. woop woop!

fun with real wigs

2008-11-07T12:47:00.001-08:00

so now that i'm a mom, and i get to work from home sometimes, i no longer spend my lunch breaks walking through Saks or eating at some trendy cafe with co-workers. no, sir, i spend my lunch breaks with my kid. i took today's lunch break up a notch, as we discovered the joy of the wig/baby combination.

ch, ch, ch, chia!

2008-11-06T10:14:00.000-08:00

apparently i have grossed out a number of people by consuming chia seeds in my oj over the past few months and thus wanted to use this forum as a means of educating said peeps as to the benefits of the chia seed. and to confirm, that yes, left too long in soil and watered on a regular basis, they will turn into an actual chia pet. to that effect, here are the facts:

"Chia seed oil is a naturally vegan health food that has many positive properties. The oil comes from the Chia seed, commonly used on the novelty item, the "Chia Pet." It has tremendous nutritional value for those who choose to eat the seeds or drink the oil that comes from the seeds. Chia seed has been known for its healthful properties for centuries, when it was used as a staple food by Native Americans of the Mexico and the American Southwest. It was used by the ancient Aztecs as a high energy endurance food when natives needed to travel long distances on very little food.

Vegan chia seed can be used as a unique part of any dietary plan. Chia seed helps build muscles and other tissues and is known to aid in human digestion and digestive problems. One of the best properties of chia seed is that it contains a high amount of oil. In fact, it is known to be the richest vegan source for the essential omega-3 fatty acid, alpha linolenic acid. Chia seed contains up to three to ten times the omega-3 content of most normal grains and contains at least twice the content of protein in most grains. Omega-3 oil, along with other essential fatty acids, help absorb fat soluble vitamins, including vitamin A, D, E and K.

Vegan chia seed oil is also found to be an excellent source of linoleic acid, which is an essential fatty acid the body can`t manufacture on its own. Unsaturated fatty acids are important for the respiratory process of vital organs and help make it easier for oxygen to be transported by the blood stream to all organs, tissues and cells. These essential fatty acids aid in the maintenance and lubrication of all the body`s cells and are able to combine with cholesterol and proteins to form the membranes that make up the structure of our cells.

Chia seed oil and the omega-3 fatty acids found within it are helpful to maintain our glandular activity, especially the activity of the thyroid gland and the adrenal glands. They supply nutrition to the skin cells and are important in the maintenance of healthy mucus membranes. In addition, they nourish the nerves. These unsaturated fatty acids cooperate with vitamin D in allowing calcium to become available to the body, helping phosphorus as well, and promoting the conversion of carotene into vitamin A. Fatty acids help to achieve the normal function of the reproductive system as well.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has given a positive health claim with regard to omega-3 fatty acids, stating that there exists supportive but not conclusive data which reveals that consuming omega-3 fatty acids helps reduce the risk of heart disease in those who consume it regularly."

oh yeah, and they also help you poo.

hugs!

packing match

2008-10-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

you know that mirena commercial where that cute red haired lady is talking about all the stuff she has to do... 'change jobs, learn french, move...to memphis, finish a book, finish a SENTENCE!" yes, that's me right now.

not without some form of forced family fun (minus daddy) however, we visited the pumpkin patch on saturday and had a great time and despite the beating of a schedule i have today, i have decided to take a time out and post some pictures of our little man at his first pumpkin patch.

marian and em, and jen and her two kiddos, ryan and jack, came with. now, ryan dearden is just about the cutest thing i've ever seen, and she showed up wearing of all things a black tutu over her pants and had told jen the night before that she was getting her stuff ready to head to the 'packing match' which of course translates to 'pumpkin patch'.

in the words of rachel zoe "i die!" (translastion: so cute i could just die!)

my 5 minutes is up and thus, back to work... and thanks marian for taking some since this mom forgot her camera.

4 floors of awkward

2008-10-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

so the little tv screen in the elevator was out (again) this morning. anyone who has ever had a little tv screen in their elevator at work will appreciate the focal point it provides on a daily basis and the ensuing mental and social hysteria when it (gasp!) goes out.

as an introvert, i am not given often to making chit chat with my fellow passengers. on my side i am only on the 4th floor, against me is the fact that everyone knows that the only 'outsider' company resides on the 4th floor and they are not really 'into' talking to anyone at my company.

on occasion, however, bolstered by the "i'm an executive" starbucks cup in my hand and the trendy laptop bag slung over my shoulder, sans company logo (because i am too cool to use the free one they give to everyone on their first day), i will actually make the first move and initiate some sort of generic greeting. this is rare. very rare. this is due to the fact that i have had one too many awkward elevator moments and have therefore set some ground rules for myself when confronted with anything other than a solo ride in the building elevator.

ground floor small talk run out... while waiting for the next available elevator on the ground floor, the two parties stand side by side in awkward silence after exchanging pleasantries, each secretly willing the next damn elevator to get here already.

solution: ground level wait chit chat can usually be assuaged with a quick witted 'i hate my job' worker bee type comment. other employee will usually acquiesce with a chuckle and a reply involving something about it being Monday or almost Friday. having aligned ourselves into the same peon status, we can comfortably share the elevator and even end the ride with a 'have a good day' sign off.

boisterous group tmi... the concept of inside voices and the appropriate use thereof is foreign to such groups. typically this the return leg on a round trip group visit to the smoking area. in our short time together, i am privy to personal information and step off on my floor with the newfound knowledge that 'kevin and stacy are in marriage counseling' and 'little conrad has adhd, but we are getting a second opinion'.

solution: if a group of 3 or more people are waiting for the elevator, i walk past the elevator station looking for all intents and purposes like i am decidedly walking to the bathrooms with no interest in needing a lift to my floor. this involves a u-turn after i hear them get on their elevator, and scores me a quiet (and stale smoke-free) solo ride in the next available.

slow closing doors... my co-passenger gets off the elevator at their appropriate floor and instead of the doors closing promptly and whisking me away to my floor, i am forced to watch said passenger clumsily search for and pull out their access badge and fumble with the office door handle for a good 10 seconds, as i aggressively push the 'close doors' button. the closing of the elevator doors is never without 'failed smile' from the other passenger still trying to get into the door where they've worked every day for years.

solution: unfortunately there is no solution for this problem. it's one of those 'take it as it comes' kind of situations. makes me happy the access door nearest my office is away from elevator passenger view. then i am not forced to give a failed smile of my own.

the lunch rush... poor timing on my part will land me smack dab in the middle of no less than 2-3 hungry fellow workers who have just frequented the ground floor cafeteria. the building likes to call it the cafe, but we all know if you slapped a Luby's sign on the door, no one would know the difference. (except maybe the odd shortage of 'older' patrons). overpriced meatloaf and green beans smell leaking from its styrofoam container permeates our tiny shared space and i am usually concentrating so hard on not gagging that there is no time to notice awkward moment potential.

solution: if anyone enters the elevator bearing anything resembling food of any form besides a cup of coffee, pretend i've just forgotten something and walk briskly out of the elevator and wait for the next one. this involves awareness at all times, and calls upon my acting skills (poor as they are). sometimes i am not aware enough, and plan b calls for me to hold my breath the entire ride, erstwhile checking my watch to see if i am going to break any records for 'breath holding while in an elevator'.

accidental on purpose 'door close' button push... that last minute person trying to catch a ride in your elevator as the doors close, even though there are two other perfectly available and just as fast as mine elevators in the area. without making eye contact, i hit the 'doors close' button and hope my reaction time was faster than theirs. a hand or foot into the ever decreasing opening, and the doors open up again and i force a smile as the rest of their body follows and cite their 'whew almost didn't make it' line like i understand why it was sooo important for them to catch this very exact elevator.

solution: 'hold the elevator' requests are usually followed by a split second decision to hit 'close doors' a few additional times to ensure they are indeed closing. should i fail to successfully close the doors, i employ the failsafe "sorry about that, i always accidentally hit the 'close doors' button instead of the 'open doors' button. i'm so embarrassed" paired with a charming self deprecating smile. this usually wins over the tardy occupant and we are on good terms for the rest of the ride.

the possible transvestite... on occasion there enters a woman that very strongly and strangely resembles a man. it then becomes my duty to assess as quickly as my 4 floor ride will afford me, any telltale signs of the true gender of the person standing to my left. a combination of alternating sidelong glances and squinting into the semi reflective elevator doors usually does the trick (the hands, always look at the hands... they will usually tell you the answer you seek). much worse than the awkwardness of sharing a ride with a suspected transvestite, is getting caught trying to discover the truth about the situation. awkward x 1 million!

solution: get to your office as quickly as possible and twitter than you have confirmed yet another transvestite in your building.

needless to say, the presence of a working tv screen makes elevator life so much easier on everyone involved. in 4 floors i can learn the word of the day used in a sentence, the latest box scores, and see an advert for korean airlines. all in complete silence.

technology is good.

what happens in vegas...probably doesn't happen at Excalibur

2008-10-07T08:29:00.000-07:00

last week i was asked (told) to work the booth at one of our events in vegas. i was happy to cover for my co-worker who will be on her honeymoon that week, and i mean, come on, it IS vegas, so i can't really complain.

now before you get all excited to post a comment about how much fun i will have, let me help you better understand the nature of this event. first of all, it is not some fun kind of show - like a 'drinks on us!' bartender symposium or a 'sex in the city trunk show' - but rather, wait for it... The Society of Exploratory Geophysicists Conference.

hmmm... 4 days of exploratory geophysicists sporting their registration badges dangling haphazardly around their necks, carrying their styrofoam cups of sub par conference coffee in one hand, and the free neon tote bags with the logo of a neighboring booth emblazoned on the front stuffed full of free crap in the other, stopping by our booth to score our version of more and different giveaway crap to shove into their tote (man purse) and to ask as they push their glasses back up their noses with the back of their stale coffee holding hand - so what do you guys do?

they'd better have free drinks of all sorts back in the vendor tent.

the actual conference is at the mandalay bay hotel, which is really nice. unfortunately, my company wasn't able to get a block of rooms at the mandalay bay, nor the neighboring luxor (and i am making a big assumption that they did TRY to get rooms at these better hotels). so we got the excalibur. it can't be that bad, right? i mean it IS on the strip so it has to have some redeeming qualities. after sending in my info for the rooming list, i scrambled to look up the place i will spend 4 lovely november evenings all by myself. my fears were confirmed when the page loaded and i see the excalibur tagline - Looking for a Las Vegas hotel that’s fun, not fancy? Then you belong in a Castle – Excalibur, where you rule. (gah!!!)

fun, not fancy? really? REALLY?!

i am not being entirely fair...excalibur is not without merit; they boast some of the finest attractions on the strip to include (in no particular order):

louie anderson's side splitting comedy routine. wait, who?

the spongebob squarepants 4D ride. i only know one adult that would be interested in this ride. that's right, john savill, i mean you.

thunder from down under. don't worry, i have my very own thunder at home and won't need to supplement while i am away. plus i bet they don't even talk, and the accent is the best part.

the midway. like the fair and chuck e. cheese's all rolled into one, only a bit cleaner and fewer rugrats. maybe i can win myself a $.25 stuffed toy if i keep playing that roller ball game for a few hours. score!!!

it can't be more than a day's walk or so to a cooler hotel on the strip, like bellagio or ceasar's palace. and i'm sure after standing on my feet from 8a-4p daily for 4 days in the same 8'x8' space, i will be more than willing to hoof it up the strip to see some cool water shows and pretend i am brad pitt and i just knocked off the bellagio for millions. maybe i'll even throw out a witty one liner, see if i can get a chuckle or two.

i've never

2008-10-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

so this reminds me of that game we used to play called 'i've never'. someone names something that they did (true or not) and everyone who has 'ever done' it has to take a drink (okay so i guess that falls under the category of 'drinking games' but one could always just have the players stand up or raise their hands in lieu of drinking) anyhoo... so much fun! okay so becki made me do this, and my conference call is over so i can afford to take a time out to bold some stuff i've done.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

who has an emc toothbrush?

2008-10-02T08:13:00.000-07:00

that's right, sucka, i do!

wee morning hours

2008-10-02T07:38:00.001-07:00

i probably should just twitter this, because its short. but i wanted to share that i am going to buy a jogging stroller today after work and i am SO excited! i found one on craigslist that looks to be perfect with the minor exception that it is not a maclaren (but really, i don't NEED a maclaren, nor can we afford a maclaren). otherwise, it looks perfect. i am convinced i am getting a good deal on it, but will hold out on that ruling until i see it 'for reals'. dutch and i take walks every morning now and it has been really great. today was an usually early morn for the little guy and after breakfast we headed out for our walk. this morning was chilly enough to bundle him in his cousin grayson's cool sweatpants (or as zach calls them 'sporting pants') and a hoodie (with the hood up, of course), and his little man socks that look just like daddy's. he was sooo cute, and i told him as much as we headed out. so when we started this whole new habit, i was using the umbrella stroller. you know, the one with the plastic wheels. gah! those of you who live in GP know that the streets and sidewalks (where there actually ARE sidewalks) is so not pedestrian friendly, and the little chicco had some issues with the top notch effort at what seems to be at first glance a sidewalk. so we switched to the britax stroller, which has 2 plastic wheels and 2 real wheels. much better, but still... don't get me wrong, i LOVE my britax (it looks cool AND is functional... what what!) but i am convinced i need a jogger. anyway, hopefully this time tomorrow i will have had my first morning walk with the wee one in our new (used) jogging stroller.

score

2008-10-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

so its about 230 and i was so tired of working (plus i knew i had a late night ahead of me assembling invitations (for work), which i rather enjoy, so i'm not complaining. more establishing that i am not a slacker; i just get a bulk of my work done at unconventional hours. but i digress...) 230, tired of working...right... dutch had played with and pushed around every possible object in the house that did not give a substantial amount of resistance, and "ooh'd" with his face and hands pressed up against the patio window at jack outside until he had no 'ooh's' left, and was at that point of boredom where he just grabs my pants under the table and gives me the whiney 'moooom, pay attention to me' face. which is usually my signal to pack him up and head to whole foods for a change of scene. i was whole fooded out and decided we would head to half price books for a looksee at the kids section. fast forward 15 min and on our way back to the kids section, i pass a nondiscript little book cart pushed to the side. as i squeeze by it, i notice something VERY familiar.

three. vintage. nancy drew. books. gasp!!!

flashback to my youth living in the middle of nowhere, alaska. once or twice a week my mom would take us kids to the itty bitty middle of nowhere public library and we were allowed to roam free and choose as many books as the library would allow us to check out at a time. we didn't have cable, nor did we have any malls or a hurricane harbor/six flags to frequent, and as a result i grew to love reading. passionately. i only recently told my mom that i used to stay up and read under my covers until the wee hours of the morning. if my flashlight gave out (which happened quite often), back up plan was to move to the hallway and sit by the nightlight (one of those motion sensor types where you have to stand right in front of the sensor before it turned on) and just pray mom and dad were in bed for good and not given to making a quick round of 'check on the kids.' sometimes if i didn't feel like scrunching down on the floor and holding my free hand in front of said nightlight , i would go sit in the bathroom and read, hoping that my occassional and carefully timed flushes would lead my mom to think i was just in there 'doing business' and heading dutifully back to bed. apparently it worked.

my first and favourite section at the library included an entire collection of nancy drew mysteries. not the cheapo paperbacks you see today with the uber cheesy cartoon characters. these were vintage hardback nancy drew's. the ones with the yellowing pages, the simple black pen drawings, and that old book smell. i read them over and over and over, keeping a very careful rotation of titles so that i wouldn't find myself reading the same one i'd read just last week. i have a gift (or disability) of being able to forget most of the details of a story very shortly after its been read, which means i am able to read and re-read the same book over and over again and still get the same rush that i got the first time i read it. sure i remember some things, like the basic plot and the characters, etc. but that's about it. zach teases me about my affinity for reading the same books in our bookshelf over and over. it's like watching a favourite movie; you just never get tired of it and actually look forward to your favourite bits.

back to half price books... i've spied these same exact books i grew to love as a child; same hardback cover, same yellowing pages and pen drawings, same old book smell. it was a moment of glory! i snatched them up and after completing my mission of finding dutch some books of his own with 'real' pictures and not drawings (supposed to help them learn better) we headed to pay for our new (used) treasures.

my treasures now sit on our bookshelf, proudly displayed in the living room and i simply cannot wait until bedtime when i get to open one and read it. thanks half price books, you rock!!

workalicious

2008-09-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

blame blayne. i have this irresistible desire to add 'licious' to random words, and i know, I KNOW, only gay over-tan male designer types are allowed to use it. that aside, today's soundtrack has been quite an interesting array; all over the place really. let me explain... most days as life 'happens' i am mentally cataloguing the bands that would be playing in the background in the movie of my life. i guess i started this in college and have never really stopped. not every moment has a song or a band, just certain ones and usually quite random. some days have one song, some days, like today, have 10+.

today started out as a ella day. (ella and frank are usually almost always accompanied by a chill in the air and a nice pumpkin spice latte, but since i am on a cleanse and it is still 80 outside, it is good to see it can still be an ella/frank day in spite of the conditions). that lasted until about 10 this morning, whence i discovered that the invitations that were printed up and i was to assemble are not going to assemble without looking quite shoddy. cue third eye blind. a few hours of brainstorming and trying things in-house, aaand crisis averted. cue 'here it goes again' - ok go! taking a break from corporate america, i read des' and zach's very sobering blogs. cue jimmy eat world. and here i sit... jimmy eat world while i kill ants on my desk and throw around the idea of heading home early.

another glimpse into my life as an employee at a corporate america conglomerate

2008-09-21T19:19:00.000-07:00

"Guest failover clustering (configuring failover clustering in SQL Server 2008) is not supported in a Hyper-V environment"

note: this is an email sent to me on a SUNDAY night, while i am working. it is my belief that my employer knows no concept of 'weekends' and all that a weekend entails.

go cowboys!

Pumpkin Spice

2008-09-09T07:42:00.000-07:00

it's not truly fall until Starbuck's re-releases their autumn favourite - THE Pumpkin Spice Latte. and guess. what. was on. the menu board this very morn. you guessed it - TPSL. so i've pretty much stopped drinking coffee, but there are a few mornings where i am inexplicably drawn to the drive thru that just happens to be en route to the office. when i do find myself in the DTL (drive thru lane) i am sure to buy just a 'short' and refuse any yummy pastries they might offer as the 'perfect compliment' to my tiny drink.

today is the perfect day for TPSL debut, as it is relatively cool outside(okay so that's a stretch...it's not hot, at least give me that), the sky threatens to rain and i swore i saw a yellow leaf in at least one neighbor's yard.

complimenting this nice introduction into fall morning, is an excitement for what is coming next for the lowrie family. i don't know what it is supposed to look like, and Lord knows the picture has changed considerably since this time last week, but i cling to knowing that no matter what, it will be good. the time has come for us to move out of our comfort zone yet again and make some faith based decisions. those kinds of decisions are more fun to talk about when it's been a year since you made one and you can look back and see the fruit of that decision. it's difficult to sort through logic, doubt, attractive offers, and what if's and come out on the other side knowing that you've heard from God and made the right decision.

one decision i feel confident in sharing with the 3 people who actually read my blog is that we've decided to put our house up for sale. my hope is to have it up and listed and in selling condition by the end of this month. i know, i know. the market is horrible for sellers, and we live in a construction zone thanks to 161 going up - but if God wants our house to sell, all of that won't really matter. we've never sold a house before, so this is going to be quite the wild ride. thankfully i don't have 10 years of memories tied up into the house so it won't be an emotional thing, just a business transaction.

anyhoo, if anyone knows of someone who is just dying to live in GP, we just might have the house for you!

ps. i know, there are more than 3 people who read my blog. thanks to all 5 of you. :)

cute, funny, minimalist...helvetica?!

2008-08-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

recycle baby

2008-08-19T10:11:00.001-07:00

so the title might be a bit misleading, but i wanted to make sure that everyone i know (or at least the 5 people who actually read this blog) knows about this great program from one of my favourite baby websites.

i know as friends we all love to use and reuse and share all sorts of baby stuff, however, there comes a time that the item has just reached it's end of life. i usually take something like that to goodwill or salvation army. but here is another alternative - recycling (in the true sense of the word). check it out:

"Babies grow up quickly and your beloved car seats, strollers, swings and highchairs end up as junk, collecting dust in the garage. Sadly, many of these items are thrown away, ending up in landfills. Well, not anymore. That’s why we’ve launched BabyEarth RENEW, a hassle-free baby gear recycling program.

The program is simple. If you’re done with your car seat, stroller or high chair, send it to us. We’ll make sure everything is properly disassembled and all usable parts are sent to accredited recycling centers. For example, fabrics will be shipped to developing countries, and metal, plastic and foam will be used for construction projects. In the spirit of renewing, if the item is in excellent condition it will be donated to and enjoyed by another family who needs it.

How it works
You pay shipping costs. We take care of the rest.

Special Gift! In honor of proving you’re a smarty pants, we’ll email you a $5 off coupon to use the next time you shop with us.Just type your email address here then print this packing slip and include it with your recycled item. When we receive your item, we'll email the coupon to you.

Ship to:
BabyEarthRENEW
Recycling Program
21 Cypress Blvd Ste. 1120
Round Rock, Texas 78665

What we accept:
Strollers
Car Seats
SwingsJumpers
High Chairs
Diaper Bags

http://www.babyearth.com/renew

dutch. denver. devil wears a tsa uniform.

2008-08-12T18:21:00.001-07:00

this weekend dutch and i embarked on our long awaited trip to denver together. zach wasn't able to make the trip so it was just me and little man. now, i realize, as a mom traveling solo with a little one, there is a certain amount of inconvenience involved in this process. mostly for other people, and i had done all i could do to pack minimally and make the process as easy as it could be. all prayed up for favor with any and all nearby passengers, we headed to the airport on friday. my theory was, if i don't get stressed out, dutch won't get stressed out. and i have to say, my little angel did great!

i was pleasantly surprised when we got to the security line and the tsa lady got up from her post and called a co-worker over to help me take apart my travel system stroller and car seat in order to get it all through the x-ray machine. she also helped me reassemble everything on the other side. and she called me 'honey'. anytime a black woman calls me "honey" i feel happy.

once on the plane, we were surrounded by lovely ladies who chatted me up whilst letting dutch climb all over them and pull on their various pieces of jewelry. everyone commented on how good my little man was on the plane as they disembarked and i beamed with pride.

denver was awesome. my best friend from high school, katie, whom i hadn't seen in over 2 years since our high school reunion, is still as amazing and wonderful as ever. it was like no time had passed. i love friends like that. they are few and therefore even more special to me. aaron, her new husband of one week, was equally amazing; such a sweetheart, and he and dutch bonded immediately. he builds custom motorcycles in his spare time, and after having looked at two such bikes, i just know he will be madly successful once he gets his business off the ground.

we decided to ride together out to yuma (aka BFE, Colorado) for the wedding reception we were attending on Saturday. dutch did so well the entire time, despite staying up late, missing naps, and sleeping in two different hotel rooms in strange cribs in as many nights. this kid was born to travel.

the time came to come back to dallas all too soon and we headed back to the airport to return my car. to my surprise, avis offered to drive us straight to the airport in the car so that we didn't have to try and navigate the rental car bus, which i thought was really really nice of them.

now comes the part that has instilled a loathing of sorts for denver tsa uniformed women. denver has a very good and efficient set up for getting a ton of people through the security line quickly, and before my turn, i was very impressed. knowing what to expect this time, i had taken dutch's shoes off and put them in my bag, pulled out all my "liquids in the baggy", and unbuckled dutch from his seat to make a quick exchange. as i struggle one handed to pull apart my travel system meanwhile informing the guy behind me that he is more than welcome to go past me, i see the security agent in her ill fitting tsa uniform glaring at me. great! i put all my stuff in the little bins and take the car seat off the stroller and take dutch out. somehow, i am able to get the car seat onto the conveyor belt one handed and inform the lady that the stroller won't fit through the x-ray machine (i know this because it didn't fit in dallas either, they had to push it through and scan it with the wand). apparently this lady did not believe me and told me to 'put. it. on. the. belt.' sure, okay.

the car seat was having issues getting through the machine and the lady tells me i have to fix it so that it will go through. this is a two handed effort and so having no alternative, i have to set dutch on the nasty airport floor where people with naked sweaty feet have been walking all day long. i quickly fix the car seat and see it safely through the machine, and quickly pick up the kid thankful that he hadn't had time to crawl anywhere.

back to the stroller. also a two handed effort. put the kid back on the floor and collapse the stroller and try to put it on the belt in a position that it might magically fit. pick up the kid off the floor again, as the lady informs me that the pint size hoodie in the bottom of the stroller needs to be taken out and put on the machine separately. which of course, requires me to take it off the belt and with two hands mind you, open it back up, take out the potentially life threatening hoodie and re-collapse the stroller. as i throw it on the belt i see in my peripheral dutch zero in on a rebel goldfish cracker lying under the x-ray machine and start crawling towards it.

pick up the kid and turn to see that yes, i was right, there is no way the stroller is going to fit through the machine. the tsa lady glaringly says to me with a sigh 'put it back together and push it through'. yeah, remember me telling you not less than 3 minutes ago that it wouldn't fit. as i put the kid back on the floor and open up the stroller for the nth time, i mentally tick off the various diseases he is probably picking up right now. syphilis - check. hepatitis a, b AND c - check, check and check. west nile - check. finally we get through the line and i am left with a pile of stuff to pick up and put together. thank God we are done, right? ha!

the lady holds up my diaper bag and asks if it's mine (as if the business man behind me might be the owner instead) and begins to rummage through it, taking out everything i had so painstakingly put in there so that it would all fit. she finally finds the object of her search, a jar of earth's best bananas. yes, i was planning on a hostile take over of the plane using a jar of baby food, thank God you uncovered my plan before i hurt anyone.

satisfied with her find, she glares at me one more time for good measure before shoving everything back into the bag 'willy nilly' and proceeds to try and hand it to me as i am trying to put my shoes back on, hold onto dutch and grab my car seat all at the same time. if looks could kill, there would be a dead woman in an ill fitting tsa uniform laying on the floor in the denver airport.

the worst behind us, we made it to our gate only to find that our flight was running 1.5 hours late. we hung out and dutch crawled on the carpet picking up the rest of the diseases he hadn't already caught in the security line. he was enthralled with the moving walkway and that may have been the saving grace of the entire wait. two hours later, when my little traveler had reached his limit, we were reduced to walking circles in the terminal waiting to board.

once on the plane, we are informed that we are going to wait for another late plane to arrive so we can take on more passengers. having tired completely of his toys, i am forced to use my creativity and viola, find gold in the form of a plastic barf bag in the back of one of the seats. they should sell these things at babies r' us, he LOVED it! 45 minutes of barf bag fun, and the other passengers board and we are off to dallas. finally.

we got home at 1230 the next morning and i cannot tell you how happy i was to walk in our back door and put my sweet little man in his own crib. despite our rough ending, this trip was awesome, and well worth the time, money and mental effort i put into it. i foresee many other such trips in the future.

le bistro

2008-08-06T07:22:00.000-07:00

most mornings i wake up and it feels the same as every other day. but there are those rare mornings where i wake up and the day just feels different. good different. it usually takes me a few hours to pinpoint what the'feel' of these sorts of days. today it only took two hours, and i have determined that today feels like a belgium day. having not yet been to belgium, i guess i should more correctly deem this a 'european' feel. the sky is cloudy, the heat has yet to beat down on us, and the air just smells, um, european...? i look forward to days like this as they fuel my escapism bent. i can imagine myself sitting in a little bistro somewhere sipping my espresso, soaking in the more laid back culture europeans seem to have perfected.

the countdown to our belgium trip in october has begun, and lends itself to more and more ponderings in the quiet moments of my busy life to wondering what it will be like. it's nice to have things such as these to look forward to. i can't allow myself to think two years into the future when our entire world will be turned upside down and i'll be ordering my espresso in fluent french instead of broken french out of my french/english dictionary. for now i'll be content to escape two months into the future and all that this belgium trip brings to the table.

i know my ideals are just that - ideal. i know life in belgium won't always be laid back and chilling at the outdoor cafe. but for now i will enjoy the images my mind brings forth and pray that i will cherish the things about my life as it is right now, as i'm sure my time at the french cafe in the future will be spent reminicing about my life as it is in the here and now and all the wonderful and special things it holds.

rant much?

2008-08-05T07:57:00.000-07:00

so reading over my past few blogs, i have come to realize that i do indeed like to rant about my job and the various trials that seem to inevitably come with the territory. i rarely, if ever, relay the more upbeat and possibly even 'good' things about my job (there aren't many, but i should probably still appreciate them).

so this is a good blog about my job.

as i write this, i wonder if maybe what i am about to write is an indicator of my ineptness to do my job well, however, these circumstances were well out of my control, and i had done all that i could do on my end to make them successful. that said, here is why i am able to find happiness over the course of the next two weeks:

my event in oklahoma city this week - canceled.
my event in tulsa next week - canceled.

yes, i still have to go to houston the following week, but, 1 out of 4 ain't bad.

to add to the greatness that is a break from corporate travel, our company is undergoing some serious framework changes, and i greet this with morbid curiousity. my favourite thing currently is to speculate on how the changes will affect me and how much (if any) severance i might be given, if my position were to be eliminated. if, if, if... nothing is concrete yet, and i have been assured that my job is safe...for now. it is fun to observe how many people panic, how many actually jump ship, hear the whispers in the hallway, and listen to employees do their own speculating.

it's a different atmosphere than the norm, and i for one, like it.

so far

2008-07-23T09:26:00.000-07:00

so far today, i have met dan hopkin's taller twin in the form of a bellboy and greg carter's red haired twin in the form of an IT developer. not just twin-like in looks, but in mannerisms and speaking as well. though no one probably cares, least of all dan and greg, i will still blog it. when in okc, you have to hold tightly to whatever entertainment comes your way.

good times.

rage against the world

2008-07-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

so i haven't even had time yet to blog the uneventful yet somehow very tiring trip to tulsa last week, and yet here i am, again, alone in yet another hotel room in oklahoma city. week 3 of 7.

of course i can't sleep. of course there is absolutely nothing on tv. and God forbid that the room actually be a comfortable temperature. i am currently on a 30 min cycle of turning the thermostat up...and down...up...and down. i have settled the tv on a combo of Frasier and King of Queens, depending on which one is on another commercial break. of course the tv volume can't be set at a comfortable level either. there are two levels, so loud my neighbor can hear kevin james and his crazy antics, or super soft, so soft i am kicking myself for not having yet perfected the art of lip reading. apparently my neighbor has the same tv in his room. he is currently watching some war movie on HBO (just in case you were wondering). I already checked it out, it's not worth watching.

i shouldn't be frustrated that i am here. i knew it was coming. but yesterday there came a glimmer of hope that i wouldn't have to come. i fell asleep soooo happy that i would be able to tuck my baby in tonight and not have to spend my entire wednesday at the registration table outside some hotel conference room staring at yet another 'executive deli' lunch set-up. but i awoke to an email telling me otherwise and being as i am already not so much of a morning person, this new and exciting information did not bode well for my mood the rest of the day.

big deal, right? i know...just deal with it. and i did. i did not take it out on zach, i did not take it out on the jackass drivers on the road on the way to work, i just dealt. i hoped my frustration could be swollowed down with the emotional crutch that is the occassional starbucks coffee (double tall decaf soy toffee nut). it took the edge off, and i was left with a numbness and a sense of being cheated somehow. like i'd been given a gift, only to have it snatched out of my hand just as i was daydreaming about how much i would use this gift and all the things i appreciate about said gift. gone.

okay, so it's not like being told i have cancer. i just need to vent and having done so, i feel better. guess i should go to sleep. king of queens is over now anyway, and i refuse to watch the local news, leno, or reno 911. great choices, OKC, really, you've outdone yourself.

blame thrower

2008-07-18T08:45:00.000-07:00

so i am in the long and lovely process of shedding my extra baby weight. like most new moms i step on the scale with both dread and anticipation. unlike most new moms i do it A LOT. it started with the 4am feeding, on the way back from the kitchen with baby's bottle i would detour into the bathroom and step on the scale, watch the little "0" scroll across the screen until a number larger than i ever wanted to see pops up. despite the number, it made me feel good, there was always progress compared to the 4am detour the day before, and for some reason, my body is it's lightest at 4am. now that there is no 4am feeding, the 630am weigh-in is not so gentle on my ego. my progess has somewhat plateaued and i am looking to blame anyone or anything other than myself. today i blame the scale. mostly for displaying numbers that make me want to cry, move to tibet and become a monk who doesn't have to fit into his 'going out jeans', fasts for days on end and drinks delicate wines (minus the wine bit, i would get a wine headache), but also for leading me into a false sense of weight loss security. it defies logic.

exhibit a.
630am - weigh-in...0...0....0...1xx. (you didn't actually think i would type in the number did you?)

631am - severe depression threatens to take over my entire day

1018am - on a trip from the kitchen to the bedroom, i pass by the scale and decide to get a 'second opinion'

1020am - weigh=in...0...0...0...1xx (-3)

1021am - rationale session begins... so i've somehow lost 3 pounds by sitting on my ass, typing on my computer, and participating in a conference call. hmmm...

1055am - rationale session ends. i decide to just be happy that i did not gain 3 pounds by sitting on my ass, typing on my computer, and participating in a conference call.

1100am - pep talk to myself begins...remember your philosophy: 9 months to put it on, 9 months to get it off. you still have 2 months left, and you can SO do this. yes, you will have to actually get up in the mornings and run, but you are doing well with your eating and adding the excercise will make you feel great, and better yet, you will LOOK great too.

thanks, me, i needed that.

just when you think you've got it down...

2008-07-14T08:08:00.000-07:00

so we've done the whole 'kid' thing for just over 7 months now. we've got our routine down, little man sleeps through the night (most times), 3 naps a day, we get smiles and giggles and even some 'words'. we are essentially forced early risers, which has brought forth alternating weekday morning jogs and weekend family strolls in the park. it's nice. it's really truly very nice and good.

saturday we were reminded once again that having a baby is always full of fun surprises and a parent (or parents in this case) must always be on their toes. case in point:

peanut (dutch) was getting bored in his johnny jump up, and i decided to take him into his room to roll around the floor and squeal (his second favourite thing to do currently). i noticed a strange yet somewhat familiar aroma as i carried him back to his room, and laid him down on his nice white blanket. vowing to check the diaper bin as soon as he was situated, i noticed a brown smear down the lower half of my arm and hand. immediately, i knew what it was and check peanut's diaper for 'issues'. i didn't even have to turn him over as i saw a streak down his leg and then to my horror i saw it all over his feet (the feet that were kicking pleasantly on the white blanket and the carpet). to further my horror i realized that he had completed his transaction probably half and hour ago and had been jumping around in the stuff on the floor ever since. i yelled for zach to check the johnny jump up and the floor beneath it as i ran to wash my arm off (first things first...).my suspicions were confirmed when i heard zach yell out SICK, IT'S EVERYWHERE!

so zach takes care of the floor and the jumper as i try to get my child off the floor and onto a towel on his changing table without getting it on me or anything else. complete failure. he kicks the towel with his poo feet and begins to rub it into the white changing pad cover. i throw him in the bathtub and hope to God everything disintegrates in the water so I don't have to touch it or smell it.

i hand him over to zach post bath so that i can concentrate on cleaning the carpet and the changing pad cover, and as i finish up i hear... SICK! HE PEED ON ME! and i turn to see a growing pee spot on the towel and a grinning peanut.

thankful that all bodily functions have shown their faces and been taken care of, we settle down to begin the bedtime routine. as i sit reading the opposites book, i hear, BLEH, and out comes spit up. a lot of it. on my clothes, on his clothes... GAH!! at this stage i am out of words and i deal with the situation with a quiet efficiency, though i do stop to announce to zach the irony of all of this happening within one hour, and mention again how gross it is.

NOW, offically, all bodily functions are accounted for, and we can rest easy that we've encountered everything he can dish out and handled it with, well, hmmm. when there just aren't words, there's always Seinfeld.

"Congratulations, Elaine, on a job...done." - J.Peterman

Thanks JP, couldn't have said it better myself.

it's business time...

2008-07-10T09:02:00.001-07:00

not the flight of the conchord's 'business time', though i'm pretty sure zach would be down with that kind of business when he gets home tonight. ahem...

no, just regular old stinky business trip time. i traveled quite a bit before i got pregnant and so it's been around 9 months, eh, maybe even a year, since i've had to actually go away on a business trip. tuesday was my first overnight business trip away from the baby. the first of 6. yes, you read it right, the next 6 weeks i will be out of town on business EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT and all day wednesday.

this week it was austin. i'm glad i started with austin, because i feel a connection to that city. whenever i visit, i determine that we will move there because it just makes me happy. i love cities like that. usually those cities are overseas, but there are a few US cities that i've fallen in love with. austin, definitely.

not that i had much time to do anything except sit. lots of sitting. sitting at the registration desk, sitting through the seminar (okay just parts of it, not all of it), sitting at the airport, and sitting on the plane back to dallas.

it's amazing how lonely it gets, and fast, when you are used to being around people all the time (and by people i mean, baby, husband, roommate) and then there is just this hotel room and me. i thought i might actually enjoy some time to myself, but this is forced self time, and it just doesn't quite have the sweetness to it that "nonworkrelated" self time possesses.

i did have two roommates in my room, but i did not discover them until the wee hours of the morning whilst getting ready for my day. i promptly squashed them with my shoe and one went down the toilet and one was left to suffer in the trashcan. yes, they were roaches. GUH! i expected a tad bit of sympathy or at least an 'oh geez, that is awful, how can we fix that?' when i informed the front desk, but "kim" merely looked up and said 'OK' and then went back to shuffling her papers in a very dismissive 'you're still here?' manner. i held back my bitchy side (plus i didn't really have time to chase down my thoughts and form a cohesive and tactful yet somewhat explicit retort) and now am planning to put down my thoughts in a professional and dignified manner when Embassy Suites sends me the 'how was your stay' survey they always send. i certainly will not be giving them the '10' the note in my suite so kindly asked me to give them on said survey.

up next, tulsa.

this one deserves it's very own post

2008-06-27T10:36:00.000-07:00

this picture reminds me of all the sweet, innocent and beautiful things about a child.

half birthday, half a month late

2008-06-27T10:27:00.000-07:00

i know you love them. i know i love them... pictures of my kid a whole half a year old.

"well i feel like they're talking in a language i don't speak, and their talking it to me..." - Coldplay

2008-06-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd give you a glimpse into a day in the life of the work inbox of lowrie_liz:

"Looking for an encryption and compression tool to assist with the transfer of data between the various Law Enforcement Offices and the client. Client is implementing a CUA/Centera system to store all the data."

"... use Nexus site for all campaigns. I was told by Patrick that all Nexus content would ultimately be migrated to the new portal."

"This service offering establishes a Microsoft BI solution that dramatically improves decision making by providing real-time visibility into storage infrastructures. IT staff can view combined SAN inventory with performance metrics and allocate storage to business units while proactively planning for additional space before problems surface. This MSP solution aligns with the EMC ControlCenter family of products and services provided by EMC ITSM Consulting."

I would love to interpret for you but I have no idea myself. Oh technology, you slay me!

gross factor

2008-06-25T11:40:00.000-07:00

gross factor scale
1 - gross but i can deal
10 - so gross it caused me to throw up in my mouth

1 jar of earth's best pureed spinach and potatoes
gross factor = 3

1 jar of earth's best pureed spinach and potatoes puked up into my hand via baby
gross factor = 11

i can't talk about it. i have a hand to sanitize and a hurley t-shirt, size 6 months, to get spinach stains out of.

elegance, redefined

2008-06-25T10:21:00.000-07:00

now that we've settled in our sweet little house, the one that we bought because it didn't have many problems that we would have to fix ourselves, we've experienced the minor inconveniences listed in the homeowner's handbook under the category of "fixing broken things". It's inevitable, right? Like the water heater that broke 12 hours before we got home from Ukraine and all we wanted was a nice hot shower and a warm bed that did not smell of potatoes after flying for 20+ hours. Or the oven that somehow secretes hot air up through some vent and has turned the knob above it forever brown. Such things we usually employ the knowing mind of one Mr. Lynn Lowrie.

However, on one Sunday in the not too distant past, when the week of severe winds hit our neighborhood, we stumbled upon our very first do it yourself, really all by yourself project. I had been anticipating this event for about a month as I watched our backyard fence slowly peel itself away from the posts and flap freely in the breezes. In my mind's eye, I always saw it rip off and proceed to blow right onto our back patio, rusty nails sticking out everywhere and breaking the glass on our back door. I'd already mentally picked out the replacement doors, which were SO much better than the ones we have now. No one can say I am not a planner. Though I'm pretty sure no one ever says that I am a fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal either. Back to our fence... I wake up from a nice little Sunday nap and walk to the back patio just in time to see the final nail in the flapping portion of our fence give way. I watch it fall in almost slow motion and hit the grass with a soft 'plop' in a very safe and non dramatic fashion.

Excited to assess the situation, I go outside and notice that Jack is just staring at the opening in the fence like he just doesn't know what to do with himself. He must have realized it was Sunday because he didn't waste another moment exerting the effort to actually go through the gaping hole, he just went back to sleep in his spot on the patio. A quick glimpse at the house behind ours, sans fence, and I am relieved that I live on my side of the fence. VERY relieved.

Cue Zach Lowrie, homeowner and groggy from a nice long nap. We decide to hurry up and 'fix' the fence before Dutch wakes up. I won't go into detail about all of the solutions we tried to get our fence back to its quasi-normal status but I will tell you it involved all of the following: scrounging for nails longer than 1/2 inch, a trip to the parent's house to find said nails, random peices of wood, frustration, wind gusts, bent nails, rusty nails, wood too old and hardend by nature to actually accept a nail, clotheline, a trip behind the fence over dead limbs and brush (put there to deter trespassers), and no less than 3 misquito bites, 2 splinters and 1 scratched shin.

After all was said and done, we had one newly constructed portion of a backyard fence and a resolve to see how much it would cost to hire someone else to put up a new one. You can see our proud handiwork below.

side note: i had decided to move forth in my efforts to be more 'green' and had purchased clothesline just one day prior to hang my clothes outside to dry in true green fashion (or is that white trash... I can't decide). It was put to much better use keeping our fence together.

side side note: destiny's comment has inspired me to change the title of this blog. Thanks Des!

mayonaise

2008-06-03T12:06:00.000-07:00

I'm probably not the only one, but some songs hold very clear memories for me. Hearing one of these songs in the most random of places (gym, grocery store, etc) takes me back to a moment in time. As long as these songs are around to remind me, I don't think I will ever forget these times in my life.

I've started a list, and though it is not exhaustive, it is a good start, and I'm sure I will add to it. I may even post album covers when I find time.

The Offspring "Smash" (entire album)
AASG (pronounced ah-sawg) and spending the night in my best friend, Skuzz's suburban. Of course, me, Skuzz and Rita were too cool to spend the night on the floor inside Houston High School so we camped out in the parking lot and woke up numerous times to turn on the car and get the heater going. We played this album nonstop the entire weekend, our throats were sore from singing along. If you've ever heard Offspring, you'll know why. The first time I heard "Keep 'em Seperated" I was in Kevin Woolsey's Chevy truck. No, I did not like him, we were just friends.

Mayonaise - Smashing Pumkins "Siamese Dream"
Today - Smashing Pumpkins "Siamese Dream"
Naked - Goo Goo Dolls "Dizzy Up the Girl"
Driving to high school in my Bronco II my senior year. This mix tape played non stop that year.

Third Eye Blind "Third Eye Blind" (entire album)
Driving to my job at Burger King in Wimberely in my red Neon with no AC. Yes, you read correctly, Burger King. I was THE drive thru girl.

Coldplay "Parachutes" (entire album)
Living with Missie on campus in the ghetto at CFNI. Of course we weren't allowed to play secular music, but we thought that was asking way too much and played whatever we wanted. The small groups that met in our apartment were a little offended at the poster of Bob Dylan that met them when they entered. Maybe that's why both of us only lasted one semester there.

Gonna Make You Sweat - C+C Music Factory "Gonna Make You Sweat"
Every single junior high dance I ever went to. The last one of which I wore a white dress with a hankerchief hem. With all the black lights I was lit up like a glow stick.

If God Will Send His Angels - U2
My very first apartment the summer after my sophmore year in college. Me and 3 other girls shared a 2 bedroom and we slept on the floor with blankets because we had no money for mattresses or beds. It didn't matter to me, I was living on my own and having a blast!

Let You Down - Dave Matthews "Crash"
Driving to my job at Gloria Jean's Coffee Bean in the Barton Creek Mall in my black Pontiac. No AC. I had driving clothes and work clothes becuase by the time I got to the mall, I was soaked.

The Mezzanine Floor - Delirious "Mezzamorphis"
Soul Survivor in Manchester with Allie the summer after I graduated from college. I lived with Allie and her family that summer and after this trip I moved to Dallas. It was such a great summer.

Buffalo Soldier - Bob Marley "Legend"
Driving on the road to Hana in Maui with the fam. All 6 of us crammed into a white Chevy Malibu for the 7 hour drive forced to listen to my Bob Marley mix tape. This was our last and best trip to Hawaii as a family.

Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics "You Gotta Go There to Come Back"
Silence is Easy - Star Sailor "Silence is Easy"
Listening to the British radio station online my first year at Geniant.

Porcelain - Moby "Play"
Waking up at the crack of dawn to this song every morning in my apartment in ghetto Irving. I would ride my bike to my job as a Fitness Desk chick at the Four Seasons every morning. I'd rented this apartment online not knowing the area in which it was located. After a neighbor tried to break in, I moved out.

Beach Boys "Endless Summer" (entire album)
My most favourite birthday gift ever growing up. In 5th grade my parents bought me a pink double cassette 'boom box' and the Beach Boys tape. I played it until it broke.

Kent "Isola" (entire album)
Driving to Galveston to see my sister in Chris Byrne's truck. Yes, I got a speeding ticket. What was supposed to take 5 hours took 8. Zach and I had just started dating. Little did he know this speeding ticket prone girl was going to be his wife 2 years later.

Sparks - Coldplay "Parachutes"
Dancing with Zach at our wedding reception in the living room of David and Lorri's house. Though there were a ton of people there, at that moment, we were the only two people in the room. Magical!

Mann's Chinese - Naked "Naked"
Raining on the Sky - Naked "Naked"
Blaring these two songs every morning with my roommate, Katie, in Smith Hall. I have no idea where on earth she got this CD. They are a one hit wonder and don't even pull up in itunes. Later when I'd moved to Dallas, I'd searched for about 6 months before I found a used copy at CD World. Yes, I still have it. It's on my ipod.

sometimes it's ok

2008-06-03T09:09:00.000-07:00

My son, my sweet little man, had been putting himself to sleep for the past few months, but upon our arrival back from our trip to Alaska, we find ourselves back at square one and rocking the little fellow to sleep at bedtime. Naps, he is great, but bedtime is another story. I took it upon myself to while Daddy is at youth camp this week, to try and retrain this sanity saving behaviour.

Last night was Day 1. Due to circumstances out of my control, we were in the car on our way home around 7 and he fell asleep. I would normally have woken him up and kept him awake until his bedtime, but I am a sucker for those little arms that wrap around my neck and the fuzzy little head that rests so perfectly in that crook betwixt my next and shoulder when he is super sleepy and I just held him for a bit before putting him in his bed for a short nap.

He woke up shortly thereafter (to my relief) and we ate and played and took a bath in the big rubber ducky bathtub and then it was time for bed. Dutch has perfected the 'tummy to back" roll but has yet to master the "back to front roll". Ordinarily this would be okay, but he is a tummy sleeper, and laying on his back only makes him more mad once he gets all riled up. So I usually sit in the rocking chair next to his bed and through an opening where the bumper doesn't quite meet the slats watch his little diaper move around until it disappears, and I know he has rolled over. Then I get up and roll him back onto his tummy. It's a nightly ritual.

It's 10pm.

Fast forward 15 minutes and yes, little man is riled! I've had to roll him over a couple times and steeled my will not to pick him up. I knew he was tired and if he would just settle down, he'd go right to sleep. Well 30 more minutes of this and his puffy sad little eyes looking at me melted my 'steel will' and I picked him up and we went to lay in my bed for a bit to watch tv.

2 Points- Dutch

As my happy little monkey cooed and talked and chewed on his little toes, I soaked in every single second of it. These little people are such miracles! One episode of a Will and Grace rerun later, I decide we will try it again. Lots of kisses and then back into his crib. Minutes later, my sweet boy is fast asleep, signature 'butt in the air' position.

It's 11pm.

Sigh.

I guess sometimes they just need a bit of extra lovin.

our late night bonding

sunday, bloody sunday

2008-06-02T13:44:00.000-07:00

So I woke up on Sunday and felt something I haven't felt in a long long time.

Joy. Pure joy.

Not to say that I am not happy most days, but usually when I wake up there is already a million things to do and a million more things I have on my mind that I have to do and worry about. A million things that I don't like about my life and how I can make them change on my own, and fast!

Sunday I didn't. Sunday was different. The sun was streaming in the windows, our house was clean (just don't look in my closet), my baby was all smiles, I wasn't tired and we were not in a hurry. It was so nice. I just laid there for about 20 minutes and thought about all the wonderful things that make my life happy and worthwhile (pretty much all the things I take for granted most days). My amazing husband, my crazy kid, all our incredible friends, and yes, even our stinky dog.

I know its probably not the best thing to publicly say that I don't experience joy all the time, especially as a Christian, but let's face it, sometimes there is just so much on your plate that joy is just not readily available. I'm just being honest.

I thank God for days like Sunday.

high maintanence yes?

2008-06-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

So, I went to lunch with Marian today. We went a little early to avoid the lunch rush and desiring something on the healthier side, we ended up at La Madeleine. Yes, I am one of 'those people' who have a definite idea of what I want and how I want it, however, I don't feel that it is above and beyond the norm.

So, back to the 'lunch line' at LM. I order a Caesar salad with no dressing and no Parmesan cheese. I think this rattled the salad chick as she asked me 3 times if I wanted cheese and started to put my lettuce into the Caesar salad bowl (to mix it with the entire CUP of dressing that I just had asked her not to include). I don't think I was glaring, but she looked up and realized that she was putting dressing on my no dressing salad. After a sigh, she puts my pile of lettuce on the plate and starts to put cheese on top, but stopped herself just in time.

Then I ordered the Strawberries Romanoff, with the romanoff on the side. Easy, right? Weeeeeell, she puts a pile of strawberries in the cup and hands it to me, and I look down to see brown strawberries. Now, I know I am not going to get 8 perfect strawberries, but even Marian had a look on her face like.. that doesn't look so good. So I asked for another set of strawberries. I could tell the girl was like "Geez, this chick is SO high maintenance", and maybe if I was in her shoes, I would think the same thing about me. However, I feel that, if I am paying $5 for 8 strawberries, they should at least be edible. Am I out of line?

I know I am not the typical 'order off the menu as it is' kind of girl, and I have come to accept that about myself. But I feel in this case, I was not asking her to go out back and grow me some organic, fresh strawberries, hand pick them and bring them to me, I was merely asking for a set of edible non-molding strawberries. I think I got about 6 edible ones on the second try and decided I'd put her through enough hell, so I moved on and paid.

So now I have to decide... food snob or high maintenance? I just don't know.

B! R! A! D!...gooooo Brad!

2008-05-06T08:29:00.000-07:00

So someone finally did it! I shouldn't be surprised that it ended up being Brad Shull...he is a fantastic photographer. He was able to get Little Man to smile AND take a picture at the same time. And this wasn't the 'surprised, eyes wide open' smile we get on camera at home; this was an honest to goodness smile! Thanks Brad!

Side note: I have determined that Dutch looks just like Zach when he was that age and I look a lot like my mom when she was my age. Funny how that works out.

rice cereal...woop woop

2008-05-04T18:53:00.000-07:00

heading into 5 months old and we are approaching the introduction of solid foods. now having done this about two weeks or so, i have learned a few lessons on feeding little man Dutch Lowrie:

1. someone gets very upset if he doesn't get to hold his own spoon. so now we have Dutch's spoon and mommy's spoon.

2. someone will gag himself with his own spoon if not put into his hand properly

3. someone hates bibs. all bibs.

4. keep a wet washcloth nearby at all times. it gets very messy very quickly. very.

he is doing well, and i think we will stick to rice cereal for a time before we move on to foods that stain. I am trying to put my aversion to messy kid eaters to the side (or at least curb it) but believe me, when he is old enough to eat all by himself, we will be teaching him the glory that is eating with some sense of not getting it EVERYWHERE. we'll see how that goes. :)

i am determined to make his baby foods at home and not buy the junk at the store in the jar. i think i will do okay until we start on meats. as someone who has a strong issue with foods touching on her plate and anything even remotely resembling a cassarole (foods touching in a dish covered in cheese...how do you know what's in there?!!! ack!) i forsee some tense moments pureeing turkey and peas together for little man to eat. like i said, we'll see how that goes.

Chatting with Mr.Elephant

2008-05-04T18:45:00.000-07:00