Cheesy Pajamas

Don't you just love cheesy family pictures? That's me in the red hat with my sister and her two daughters. We're wearing fleece hats we bought at an Arts and Crafts fair. I'm hoping that font is so small you can't read it. If you can, please don't tell anyone that I wore (and still have) a fleece hat I actually paid ten dollars for at an Arts and Crafts fair.

Anyway. My family SO dominates in the hoaky photos department.

Case in point: Every Christmas Eve we all open one present, and it's the same every year: Pajamas to wear that night and all the next day. I say that because it literally takes all day to open our presents (my mom goes overboard on the gifting, plus we take turns opening our gifts...so as the family gets bigger, Christmas gets longer...as in we opened until 7 pm this year).

I digress.

Back to the pajamas. So somewhere down the line, we decided that we should take a "Jammie Picture" every year, showcasing our new pj's. Heh. The name "Jammie Picture" is even cheesy. Now you might think this picture would be cute. Only partly true. There are two of these pictures, and yes, one is cute. However, the second one? Is so entirely retarded.

Some nerd in our family (not me, I swear. I'm the youngest of three sisters, and am trying my hardest, despite getting older, to stay the coolest. For example? They both scrapbook. Me? SO TOO COOL to scrapbook. [sorry if anyone reading this partakes in this rather expensive and extremely time consuming hobby. If it's any consolation, I like looking at them...I just don't have the patience for it.])

Oops. Digressed again. So some nerd in our family decided one Christmas that it would be funny to pose normal for one "Jammie Picture" and then pose goofy for another. For the record, I was initially SO incredibly against this idea. However, I hate to be a party pooper, so I decided that I could maintain my coolness by having the best goofy look.

Last year, I pretended to punch Jeff in the face while he choked me.

The year before that I drew a really big mole on my face with eyeliner.

The year before that I laid on the floor pretending to be dead.

Seriously, I am amazed at how good I am at pretending to not be cool. You'd almost (I said almost) think that I actually enjoyed these cheesy "Jammie Pictures". Please, my friends. Do not be fooled. I do not enjoy these pictures, and worry not, nothing can take away my coolness. Not even this baby growing in me. Rest assured, there are no minivans on the horizon, or family photos in which we wear matching denim shirts. No, no, not me, I will forever remain chic. Fleecy red arts and crafts hat and all.

Picky, picky, picky...

I am so thrilled. My favorite Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag, the Velveteen, is at Nordstrom!!! I love this one so DEARLY BELOVEDLY much, and so I put it on hold. Why did I put it on hold and not just buy it? 2 reasons: 1) It's 155 freaking dollars and 2) Because I'm a wee bit hopeful this Christmas. See, I went shopping with Husby the other day and when I saw the bag that I thought I liked the most (The Spring Roll--much cuter in person than online), he said "Put it on hold. My parents have NO idea what to get you this Christmas." So now I'm hoping I get the Spring Roll...just for the fact that I can take it back and get the Velveteen instead! How conniving is that?! I'm sorry! I just can't help it! I am super picky!

Seriously, I am annoyingly particular about clothes, shoes, bags, makeup, furniture, cars (more on this later)...you name it. From the time I was 8 years old, I've always been the type that knows exactly what they want-- in their head. The problem with that is I can never find it in person. My grandma used to take me shopping for my birthday every year. I would DRAG her around the mall from store to store, trying to find something that fulfilled my vision. One year it was a tan coat with flannel on the inside and leather accents (Gap Boys had it, lucky for Grandma). Another year it was brown worn leather shoes that are sturdy and clunky yet feminine, not boots, with no more than a 2 inch heel. Never found those.

My pickiness has even escalated throughout the years. It's so bad that I've actually considered learning how to sew and how to make shoes by hand. Seriously. That bad.

Unfortunately for me now, I've learned that I can usually find the exact item I'm looking for, only it costs $200 more than I'm willing to spend. If it's clothes, it's usually by BCBG, Max Studio or DKNY. I love the creative femininity of their designs and the fabrics they use. And they fit me so damn well. Which, obviously, is why it all costs 8 million dollars.

Ahhh well. I don't really need to worry about any of that for a little while now. I don't think BCBG designs maternity wear. And if they do, I don't wanna know about it!

The One Where I Write About Nothing.

Here are my kitties. Gracie on the left, Cali on the right. They really like the bathroom window for some reason.

I am feeling awful lately. I know I shouldn't complain, because I haven't thrown up, but I get this morning, afternoon and evening sickness and it rarely goes away. It's just this icky, nauseous feeling. If I think about it or talk about it I start to dry heave. It makes me feel like I'm being overly dramatic like Jessica Simpson on the "Newlyweds" episode where they go to this super-fancy restaurant in Napa and she hates all the food and starts gagging. Please say I'm not as obnoxious as she is.

So I wanted to put some pictures on here...but for some reason Blogger is not cooperating. It wants to put all the pictures at the beginning of my post instead of where I left the cursor. Curses! Well, at least you got one. Aren't my kitties cute?

Goodbye, Hermie.

My nephew Landon's hermit crab died today. His name was Hermie and he was a good little crab. Landon is 4 1/2 and just sobbed as his daddy dug the hole for the little crustacean's burial. He was crying so hard that he almost made me cry (darn hormones!). After the burial he asked me if he could fly now.

Me: Yes, because Hermie's in heaven, he can fly, eat as much candy as he wants, and he never has to take naps.

Landon: What does his shell look like now?

Me: I think it has diamonds and pearls all over it.

Landon: started to cry even harder

Me: Why does that make you so sad? Hermit crabs love diamonds and pearls!

Landon: Because if he has a different shell, how will I know him from all the other crabs?


Doesn't that just break your heart?

No one better get between me and my chicken bake.

Okay, so I have no doubt...I am definitely preggers (as if the 2 blood tests last week, 1 home urine test and one hospital urine test weren't enough).

I have had the biggest mother of an appetite for about a week or so. So big that I'm afraid of what I'm going to look like in 8 months. Now don't get the wrong idea about me, I am DEFINITELY not the type of person who says "I'm eating for two", and then wolfs down half a carton of ice cream. I've never been much of an eater, and I try to be pretty healthy about what I do eat. And during my pregnancy I plan on being even more particular. But I can't tell you how difficult it's been. I'm gonna get really open here with you all. Pre-preggs, I weighed 108 pounds, and after this past few days? I don't even know, because I'm too afraid to step on the scale.

Sunday during church, I couldn't even concentrate on what the pastor was saying. All I could think of was how much I was dying for a huge, fat, juicy steak. (?!) I am not a huge fan of red meat, I usually prefer chicken and fish. But apparently? Not anymore. I called BFF Robin and begged her to come to our favorite Mexican restaurant for their SCRUMPTIOUS steak fajitas. Fortunately she was up for it, because I was prepared to go out to eat by myself if I had to (Husby works on the weekends, so he wasn't an option). Before the skillet was practically put down on the table, I snatched a slice of the steak and just stuffed it in my mouth. NO concern for the fact that I had just burnt my fingers and tongue, or that I was in public eating with my fingers. ME. WANT. MEAT. arrgaghghhghagh. (gross sound of me scarfing down food like a cave woman.)

And it doesn't stop there. Yesterday I don't know what came over me. My body just kept saying "EAT!!!" So for breakfast I ate a homemade egg sandwich, then for lunch I made a grilled turkey, cheese, tomato, lettuce, pickle, horseradish (?) and ranch (?) sandwich. Then about 3 hours later, I was, you guessed it, hungry again. So I had a small bit of yogurt with granola. Then I went to the gym. And ran my a$$ off because I am DETERMINED NOT TO GAIN A ZILLION POUNDS. Then I had to go to my neice's Christmas Band Recital, where I knew I would die if I didn't have a snack, so I ate some crackers with cheese, more yogurt, and a few baby tomatoes (I was in a big hurry). Apparently it wasn't enough, because by the end of the "concert", I was ready to stop at a drive thru. Don't worry, I didn't. I went straight home and to bed, determined to try and fall asleep before I became so hungry that I couldn't avoid eating.

No such luck.

Flipping through the channels I saw this guy on that female President show eating a fatty burger, talking with his mouthful. And it looked sooooo good. My stomach even made a gurgle noise.

Determined NOT to give in to my hunger, I found a particularly graphic Law and Order that I hoped would gross me out.

Again, no luck.

So I drank an entire 32 ounce bottle of water without stopping, thinking "sometimes people think they're hungry when they're really thirsty."

Um, yeah. I wasn't thirsty.

It had been a whopping 2 hours since I'd last eaten, but it honestly felt like it had been 2 days.

I held off all the way until 10 pm, when Jeff came home. He gave me a kiss, and I practically ate his head. Okay, not really. But an hour later I could have.

Me: "Babe, I am SO STARVING RIGHT NOW. Can you get me something to eat? Please? It's so cold in here, I don't want to get out of bed, but I'm really dying. Pleeeeeease. I don't care what it is, as long as it's substantial. Like, Hamburger substantial."

Jeff: Looking at me like an alien has inhabited my body, "Holy cow! It's after 10 at night. Wow...okay...umm...what do you want?"

Me: Feeling like an alien really did inhabit my body with an evil intent to make me gain 300 pounds. "I don't care. Whatever. As long as it doesn't take more than 3 minutes in the microwave. I really don't know if I'm going to make it. Please--hurry."

Jeff: Takes off running to the kitchen. Not so much because he wants to get me food, but because he's afraid I'm going to eat him if he stays any longer.

Me: Yells after him "Remember--SUBSTANTIAL!"

After the longest 8 minutes of my life, Jeff finally comes back with a broccoli and cheese stuffed Chicken Bake It's stuffed, breaded chicken, about the size of an elongated burger, and worth probably 80 grams of protein. Normally I eat half of one. This time? I inhaled the entire thing. It didn't matter to me that the chicken was chewy because it was cooked in the microwave instead of the toaster oven. Jeff was in such shock at me that he stood at the side of our bed and watched me eat it like I was a lion eating its kill on the Discovery Channel or something. Later he told me he was watching and listening. I was literally making this breathy inhaling noise with every bite. My dad walks by and peeks his head in. When he sees me chowing down, in bed, he has to watch too. I felt like I was in some weird chicken eating contest and they were my audience. But I didn't care. I was going to eat, and whoever wanted to watch could watch, as long as they didn't ask for a bite.

Once I finished, I washed it down with the glass of milk Jeff brought, and was finally comfortably satisfied. I settled in under the covers and thought about the fact that I should probably brush my teeth again, because nothing is worse than sour milk with herbs breath. But I just couldn't get myself out of bed. Then the 32 oz of water hit my bladder and gave me no choice but to get up and head for the bathroom anyway.

The kicker to this whole story? Jeff told me later that it was a turn-on to see me eat like that, knowing I was "feeding our baby".

And I thought I was weird.

You ready for the news???

Been bad about writing. Life is just WAY too crazy right now. Not only is work insane, but I'm trying to exist calmly with all the possessions my husband and I will need for an entire year in ONE TINY BEDROOM (the closet is practically the size of my pinkie nail...so I've done what any normal wife would do, and made my husband find somewhere else to put his clothes. Lucky for him there's another spare bedroom at my parents' with an empty(ish) closet.). Not only that, but now I have been trying to force myself to go to the gym. That H & M trip made me realize I'm getting out of shape. I've lost so much muscle tone, going up stairs makes me out of breath. Well, that really wasn't the reason I've decided I need to go to the gym much more than I have been this past month. The REAL reason is also the big life-changing news: Are you ready?




I'm pregnant!




I'm only about 5.5 weeks into it, and I still haven't been to the doc (My first appt is tomorrow at 8:30 am, and I'll let ya'll know how it goes). But I must share something about this pregnancy: I am PETRIFIED I am going to lose this baby. It wasn't planned (as "unplanned" as a pregnancy can be when you're married and just happened to be too lazy/busy one month to refill your Yasmine prescription, but anyway), but even though I didn't really want-want a baby yet (sometimes I got baby fever, but it always went away), now that I know I'm going to have one, I am SOOO excited...yet terrified at the same time. It's a really strange feeling. So is the sensation of wanting to go to bed at 8:30 pm...this pregnancy thing is just really weird altogether. And so are the things that I freak out about now (Oh no, I forgot to take my prenatal yesterday! Now my baby's going to have Brain Damage!"). Seriously, I've become a freak.

But regardless of my freakiness, Husby and I are thrilled, despite the fact that we don't have our own house yet, but I know it'll all work out. And I know I shouldn't be so worried and negative, but it's just a really scary time for me right now! I mean, now I actually have to start being like a grown up, not to mention start adjusting to the fact that I'm going to have a "post partum" body...

Hmmm, forget all that crap, I just need to start saving for that Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag....

Fully Recovered

Thanks to you gals for your sweet comments. I am grateful for all your prayers and encouragement! Things are looking up, thanks to you all, H&M, Thanksgiving, my best friend Robin, Jeff and our counselor (I agree with Ashlie, therapy is SO the new black).

So H &M...Where do I start? I had no idea what to expect when I got there, but now I realize it is the Ikea of clothing stores. I heard it was even Swedish. And they have everything there, from old woman-looking clothes to lingerie to bright green velvet jackets...for men. Think Emerald City. It was everything I imagined it to be, and better. But by the end of the day, I truly felt as if I'd been through hell and back.

So, I live about 30-45 minutes away from San Francisco. But this day, apparently the cards were against us. It took us 2 hours to get there (Clue #1). By the end of hour one, I am so ancy that I'm rocking back in forth in my seat and wriggling around like a little fish, yelling at every person in front of us to get out of the way. Finally we park (having to valet because parking is full--Clue #2) then we head towards the store. AM SO STUPID! There was a FREAKING LINE 3 blocks down and around the corner. Did I actually think it wasn't going to be crazy? Like I was the only person who had heard of the opening?? Robin and I look at each other with the same expression: No way. I have too much pride to stand in line for that long. Very, very bitter with heads hanging low (and pride hanging high), we decide to head over to the other stores we love that only the city has: Urban Outfitters, Gap GRANDE (4 levels!) and Anthropologie. But nothing was as big and as exciting and as cheap as...you know, the storethatnotbenamed. Everywhere we went, there were people carrying these white bags with letters written all big in sloppy red ink. It was painful to see their smiling faces, almost like they were smirking at us. Those stupid cheery expressions that only getting a really hot pair of pants for 25 bucks can give you. 2 hours later and feeling really let down by this point, we decide to head over to our old standby, Nordstrom. We head to the Mac counter, and see two ladies perusing over some lip-glass with those SAME dang bags at their feet. So I just ask, "Excuse me, how long did you have to wait in line?"
"15 minutes," they answer.
"I'm sorry, did you say fif-ty?"
"No, fif-teen".
"You mean a 1 with a five after it?"
They both look at me very annoyed, "Yes. FifteeeeNNN"
So of course, we dash out (of course not before buying my favorite shadow, satin taupe) and head to Post St, wait in line for less than 5 minutes, and then... We're In! Forget the fact that I was just herded in here like cattle, I can't breathe because the body heat is stifling, and I see piles of clothes on tables that have been rumaged through by like 80,000 people already that day. Seriously, who cares! I'm IN!

And then it hit me: The panic. The panic that there is probably hardly anything left in my size, and I am in a RACE to find something I like before anyone else gets it first. "Quick, Robin! Over here! Look at this sweater! Oh, what's that she's holding over there? Let's go over there! Hold onto me so we don't get separated!"

Finally with arms heavily laden with waaayyy too many clothes, we head to the dressing room.

The line was 45 minutes LONG.

Exhaustion and fatigue begin to set in as Robin and I stand there in line, nearly ready to pass out from the fact that it's seriously 90 degrees in there. As we stand there, sweating and attempting to fan ourselves with the tags on the clothes in our arms, I decide I can't take it.

So I sit.

On the floor.

Pride from earlier? Gone.

The 20/20 I saw the other day on germs that taught me they're ALL OVER floors? Trying not to think about it.

To top it off, about half way through the line, as I'm sitting there, scooching along on my butt as the line moves (Yes, I was the only one on the floor), I get a very frightening feeling. The feeling every female knows: CRAP. I think I just got my "monthly visitor". After all this pain and effort to get to this point, there is NO WAY I'm gonna leave this line.

I will not. be. deterred. No obstacle will keep me from my goal. Trying the sly "crotch check" every once in a while (I'm sorry, I really am not intending to be crass), Robin and I get into a room. Fortunately, the "visitor" decided to not come like I had thought, AND, I found 1 pair of pants and 2 shirts that cost me less than 60 whole dollars! And Robin? She found nothing, except a silk flower to pin on her coat that cost 3 bucks. Poor thing.

However, she is still determined, so we will be returning to the "storethatnotbenamed" in a couple weeks. In the peak of the Holiday Season. Any prayers and well wishes will be greatly appreciated.

Stay tuned for a HUGE, life changing bit of news that I will be sharing very soon!!!

Life? Not so much fun right now.

But I'm determined to make the best of it. My plan: to distract myself completely by posting a blog.

Looking forward to the San Francisco Grand Opening of H & M this coming Saturday (not that I have much money to spend there, but getting into the city and not having to THINK about things I don't want to think about will help). Another nice thing is that I have most of next week off, and so does Husby. So we actually have not just one whole day together for the first time since the middle of September, but FOUR whole days. Yeah, I did say since September. He works Fri thru Tuesday, I work Monday through Friday. You see a problem there? Thought so.

I feel like my life is one long Bjork song. Seriously. It's going in like 18 different directions at once and just plain wack.

So since I'm feeling so blue, I've wasted half an hour making a depressing Playlist on my iTunes. It's title is quite original: "Listen When Sad". To end this empty, depressing and downright boring post, I've decided to share some of the songs with you(don't worry, no Bjork, she freaks the living crap out of me too). I'm actually pretty proud of this soundtrack for a really sad day...it almost makes me hope things won't get better. Well, not really, but it's almost that good.

Just Another (Pete Yorn)
Come Pick Me Up (Ryan Adams)
Givin' Up On You (Laura Fabian, Dawson's Creek Soundtrack)
Home (Michael Bubale)
Closer To You (Wallflowers)
Though It Wouldn't Be This Way (Leann Rimes)
Missing You (Jem)
As I'm Leaving (David Gray)
The Scientist (Coldplay)
Square One (Tom Petty)
Same In Any Language (I Nine)
Hard Times (Eastmountainsouth)
Strong Enough To Be My Man (Sheryl Crow)
Break Down Here (Julie Roberts)
World On Fire (Sarah McLachlan)

New Clothes on the Horizon!!

Just talked to Robin, BFF.

Lamented over subject of last post.

Conversation went like this:

Me: "I am so tired of my clothes. I've been wearing the same type of outfit over and over."
Robin: "You won't be after this weekend"
Me: "What are you talking ab---Oh! H & M!"
Robin: "Aren't we still going to the grand opening in San Francisco on Saturday?"
Me: drops phone and does a little jig in the office while yelling "YAAAYYY" and other gleeful exclamations.

Silly, forgetful little me!

CLOTHES RUT.

I am so tired of wearing the same type of outfit OVER and OVER and OVER: Jeans (usually the same ones, my favorite torn Sevens because I'm one of those people who wear 10% of their clothes 90% of the time), a tank top and flip flops. Or this and flip flops. I want to wear something like this picture to the right. But I can't for two reasons: 1) I don't have the money to go out and buy it (Because I DARNWELLWOULD if I had the cash. Whether I want a new car or not.) And 2) The temperature is in THE SEVENTIES today. Did ya realize, Mr. Sun, that it is the middle of November? Which means you need to start moving farther away from the earth? I can't have a warm Thanksgiving! I want to wear Sweaters! And boots! Tall warn in brown leather boots! And a gorgeous tailored cashmere coat!
Ugh. I am so. tired. of. my. clothes.

Where did the word Meme come from?

5 Things

10 years ago - I was in high school (a Junior), was # 36 on the Varsity Volleyball team, which was a number I chose because the guy I had a crush on had the same number for football. And I actually thought he didn't notice!
8 years ago - I was a freshman in college, going to a local JC and working my first job in a Mexican restaurant (YUMMY!--Oh, and I subsequently gained 10 pounds thanks to their BBQ Chicken Burrito). Also learned how to snowboard and spent pretty much my entire income from the restaurant on trips to Lake Tahoe--love that place.
4-7 years ago - Living in Los Angeles where I went to college. Had more FUN than ever in my whole life up to that point. It was like camp, 24/7. Also had my heart broken for the first time.
2 years ago - Was living in Huntington Beach and teaching high school PE. Just the summer before, ran into Husby (Jeff) who had been a childhood friend (since age 8--we used to play fort and ride bikes together every day after school. Our parents still live 3 houses down from eachother) and sparks flew (got engaged 5 months later)!
Now- Just had our 1 year anniversary, working for an Advertising Agency and living w/my parents to save up for a house.

Five yummy things:
1) Sushi and a Sapporo
2) Mango MOCHI ice cream (Try it! You can get it at Trader Joe's)
3) Magic Cookie Bars
4) Starbucks Verona coffee with cream and a Fudge Graham Zone Bar
5) Blue cheese & garlic chips from Pyramid Brewery

Five songs I know by heart:
1) I Want You (Bob Dylan)
2) Zombie Zoo (Tom Petty)
3) Up Town Girl (Billie Joel)
4) The entire Grease soundtrack
5) The entire Little Mermaid soundtrack

Five things I would do with a lot of money:
OOOh, this one's fun! Hope it's okay that I'm translating "a lot" to "unlimited"
1) Buy a Villa on Lake Como, Italy with a view like this.
2) Buy a jet w/pilot to take me and Jeff from Lake Como to the U.S. whenever we want.
3) Buy Nordstrom (with unlimited rights to all the clothes/makeup/shoes/bags in stock)
4) Spoil all my family and friends
5) Start Christian schools in poor African and Asian countries.

Five places I would to escape to:
1) Manhattan--lovelovelove it there!
2) Prince Edward Island (where Anne of Green Gables was filmed)
3) Highlands Inn, Carmel (where we got married...SO gorgeous!)
4) Switzerland (the Alps!)
5) A yacht in Italy (think "The Talented Mr. Ripley")

Five things I would never wear:
1) Leggings with a baggy sweatshirt
2) Just a sports bra with spandex shorts to the gym
3) Anything Cher or Beyonce Knowles would wear
4) A leather jacket any color other than black or brown
5) High Tops

Five favorite TV shows:
1) Grey's Anatomy
2) CSI
3) Sex and the City
4) Hannity and Combs on Fox News
5) Talk Soup

Five things I enjoy doing:
1) Sleeping in with Jeff then going to Starbucks together
2) Playing card games and scrabble with my sisters and mom
3) Hanging out/water skiing/tubing at my family's lake house
4) Decorating our Christmas tree with a cup of "Adult Hot Chocolate" and christmas music in the background
5) Playing the piano

Five Favorite toys:
1) iPod/iTunes
2) The Infiniti G35 we're buying next month (does that count??)
3) My two kitties Gracie and Cali
4) The Internet (new-found-fun w/my blogs!)
5) Jeff (I hate to be unoriginal but it's true)

Five people who get this meme:
This is hard, as I don't know of ANYONE on here yet who hasn't already been Memed (How sad!). Give me more time and I will. Here's sweet Janet who helped me earlier today.
1) Janet

Why is my profile at the bottom of the page?

Can't.
Fix.
It.
I've.
Refreshed.
This.
Page.
8.
Million.
Times.
What.
The.
Heck.

Sushi, anyone?

Do you remember the beginning of the movie "Home Alone"? You know, the part where the house is chaotic because there are like 27 kids running around and everyone's trying to pack for France? Well I swear I was in that scene last night. Minus the trip to France, unfortunately.

I have two sisters who are both married with kids. There are five children total, and they range in age from 11 months to 10 years. We all decided to have dinner at my parents' house, but no one wanted to cook. So? We sent Dad to Taco Bell. 45 minutes and about 50 bucks later (which, mind you, is very difficult to do at TB), the food finally arrived, and we all gathered around the dining room table. That comfortably seats 6 adults.

There were 8 adults and 5 children. At one table.

We said Grace twice because the 8 and 4 year old will brawl over who gets to pray.

In no time at all, complete chaos ensues.

Shredded lettuce manages to be EVERYWHERE.
Someone steps on a packet of Mild Sauce, spraying it all over the wall.
The 10 and 8 year olds decide to sing us the Christmas play song they learned in Choir that day.
Mom #1 tells the kids to stop pounding the bottles of sparkling apple cider, pretending it's beer.
11 month old baby knocks over Mom #2's water.
And the 3 year old, whom I'm sharing a seat with, manages to spill his Pintos 'n Cheese on my lap.

Dear Merciful Father in Heaven, please take the ovaries from my body.

Then I feel someone looking at me. I look up from my bean-caked $200 jeans at Husby. He's sitting rigidly still, his eyes wide, starring at me in almost...fear, I think...with an expression that says "Ihavetogetoutofhereweareneverhavingkids-doyouthinkitstoolatetogooutforsushi-ow-someonejustelbowedmeintheeye".

What are we doing for Thanksgiving dinner again?

Me = Big Nerd.

I am such a dork. So last night? I went to a local microbrewery downtown with several friends, minus Husby, who was working overtime. Please know, the bar scene isn't my thing. But this... *sigh* this was no Hang-Out-And-Do-Nothing-But-Talk-And-Drink kind of night. Oh, no.

This was Trivia Night, BABY!

Now this was my first time at Trivia Night (I swear), and it was SO MUCH FUN! And that's not the beer talking, because I didn't have very much. Being as competitive as I am when it comes to board games and the like, I had to keep my head clear of the buzz-fuzz. And please don't get the wrong idea here, I take that precaution not because I'm good. I am so. not. good. at. trivia. I think I contributed a total of three answers (out of 70) to my team, all of which I can still remember: Morgan Fairchild, The Wall by Pink Floyd, and Pasteurization.

And my team got slaughtered. Silly us, thinking it was just an opportunity to have fun. There is a whole world out there of Trivia Buffs. I have to say I was getting a little flustered at the other teams and their unrealistically vast and ultra-annoying trivia knowledge. You know, the guys who probably come every week, and know answers to the most retarded questions, like "For what purpose is trinitoluene most commonly used?"

WTF??

We're so gonna kick their asses next week.

Step 1 Toward Home Ownership: Have Money.

So my husband and I are no longer renting our spacious 1 million dollar home. When I say "1 million dollar home", here in the San Francisco East Bay, that means "Fixer Upper", or as the Real Estate agents like to put it, "Contractor's Special". You might ask, "Ann and Husby, WHY would you give up a spacious 3 bedroom home where deer and bunny rabbits would graze on the fruit of the trees in 'your' backyard, and you could have house guests and fun parties, and EVERYONE you know over at the same time, because you had lots and lots of space?" Well, we moved out because we have decided we would like to join the kajillions of people scrambling to buy homes at twice the price they're worth for half the space, and become house poor. Yes, we want to own our OWN Fixer Upper/Piece of Crap/Contractor's Special! So in order to save enough cash to make this possible, we have moved... into my parents' home.

Now before you start laughing or cursing at our stupidity (depending on what type of person you are) , let me tell you a few of the great things resulting from this decision (there are a few not-so-great things, but today we're focusing on the POSITIVES):
1) FREE FOOD. But only on one unfortunate stipulation: that I cook. The good thing about this is that I get a "training period", where my mom cooks all her yummy stews and roasts and chowders while I watch. Can't complain about that. Plus, when I start cooking on my own, I'm gonna be so Martha Stewarty (insert your own ankle bracelet joke here) that my husband might actually keep me.
2) COSTCO TRIPS. I can't tell you how many times I have been to this bulk-sized Mecca since we've moved in. Okay, actually, I can: 6 times. Now, six might not seem like such a large number until YOU REALIZE THAT WE'VE BEEN LIVING THERE ONLY 3 WEEKS. My mother has a certain obsession with the place. But ya know what? I'm not going to complain. Because A: I'm not paying for anything; B: their rotisserie chickens are so dang good; and C: One word. SAMPLES. If you've ever been there, no more needs to be said.
3) ORGANIZING. I love to organize and throw stuff away. A lot. In a "I think I missed my calling to have my own HGTV show" kind of way. And my mom has told me to feel free to clean my little heart away, which I happily do because it helps me feel like less of a Mooch. However, my parents, bless their hearts, are part of the generation that was raised by the generation that went through the Depression. Meaning: they were taught to keep EVERYTHING (my grandparents actually keep-and use-the same paper napkin throughout the entire day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No, I'm not exaggerating). So when I say my parents keep everything, I mean that 19 year-old Get Well card from my mom's cousin when she had the flu, or the half-melted candle that shouldn’t be thrown out “just in case the power goes out”. This has not only given me enough work to do for the next 38 weekends, but it also leads to my next positive aspect of living with Pam and Lee:
4) CHARITY. I have sent Lee to Good Will 4 times in the last few weeks with a full truck bed. And these aren’t just some pansy trips with some wimpy Ford Ranger bed-full, I’m talkin’ Ford F-250 extended-bed-with-camper-shell-so-there’s-even-vertical-room-for-junk, bed-full. It feels so good to help the needy.
5) DEBT FREEDOM. In 1 month, we'll have paid off our credit cards, and in 3 months, my student loans should be P-A-I-D. Can I get a woop woop?
6) FEELING LIKE KIDS AGAIN. But even better: kids with no curfew, our own cars, no acne, and the freedom to be sexually active (with each other, of course).

Ahhh, yes, life is good in the McCleary/Silva crib. Now I'm gonna go clean out a closet somewhere.

Aren't we cute?

I couldn't resist posting a pic of our wedding. Don't we look so happy?

I need another vacation. I need to be doing this RIGHT NOW.