Like... It's Been Forever!

Becuase THIS seems to be so popular, and since I have been horrible about blogging lately, I figured I would kill two birds with one stone.

A) Four places that I go to over and over:
Domincks, work- specifically- to my desk in the basement... ew, Target, and my new favorite store- Kohl's- because the one by me just got remodeled and it's fab.
B) Four people who e-mail me :
Don't worry about it.
C) Four of my favorite places to eat:
Home ( fer real), at the Cellar ( a steak house in Geneseo, IL ), Places with white linen napkins( if I am lunching with my friends), and Francesca's.
D) Four places I wish I could be right now:
IN THE WATER- ( 6 months pregnant and the bouyancy is great), with my parents at their home ( I am not looking forward to the three hour drive- see previous item RE: pregnancy), Shopping for myself ( For shoes and accessories-naturally), in a magic place where my house is clean and my body looks fabulous and I get to walk around comfortably in a bikini sipping cocktails and getting spa treatments.
E) Four people I'm sure will respond:
I hate this question.
F) Four TV shows I watch:
Real World- EVERY SINGLE SEASON EVER, The Hills, Survivor, House Hunters

In other very important hold-your-breath-news, I bailed on my Facebook account. The pressures were mounting and after getting an e-mail from a guy from my third grade class I did what most other respectable persons would do, I deleted my account. Now, mind you, I don't go to my "reunions" and when I am "home" visiting, I would willingly knock down a tuna can tower in an effort to conceal my identity and to dodge an old classmate at Fareway if need be. I prefer my anonymity.
I know I know- I have heard of the security measure- but really- just e-mail me through my e-mail? Ya know? It's just like Facebook only I don't have to add a bunch of security measures and deny friendships to people I don't really like that much. Just saying. With regular e-mail and can secretly dislike you from afar and not so.... In Your Face...

My house recieved the royal cleaning while I was on Spring break last week- we are talking washed curtains and dusted ceiling fans here people. This was the big time. In preparation for the baby I decided to try to slowly but surely kill myself by trying to do a month's work of neglected house work in three days. I must admit I did pretty good- but by Thursday evening had not slept more than 9 hours in three days and was feeling a lot of tightening in the belly--- I laid down pretty much the rest of the weekend. I have made myself a mental promise to be a little more balanced from here on out. As a reward for my new promised plan ( or maybe just because I am looking for an excuse), I am getting myself a new pair of shoes. And since I do not buy new shoes often, this is what I deem a "production"..... I have perused Piperlime to Zappos, J. Crew to Target... nary a brown wedge sandal is out there that I don't know about.

Either way, it's time to pack for my Easter weekend away- the parent's house AGAIN!- what can I say, I like it there....

Feminist?

It seems like just yesterday when I was standing in a group of about 2oo other women, holding hands and banners and walking the streets in protest. We were supposedly "taking back the night", a feminist effort put together to lessen the frequency of rape and crimes in the wee hours towards women on our college campus.
I remember feeling sort of awkward. I remember thinking this might be the beginning of many a protest. This might be the start of my feminist self. This might be the point in life when I channeled Gloria Steinem and began to speak from pulpits with passion. It really was none of those. Except awkward. The protest wasn't really my thing. I didn't really care for the "group" mentality. I didn't care for the loudness. I couldn't stand the stares. I figured it would be more up my alley to write a letter to the paper. Which I never did.
I never gave up on the idea I was a feminist, I just chose to not make it an issue, I suppose. And as I wheeled my cart out of the grocery store and into the lot, I wondered if I looked like a feminist. With my white jacket and purple purse and my pregnant belly, and cart full of foods. I wondered if I was still a feminist. In a flash I reviewed my self and thought of the one hundred percent conformity in my life to everything traditional with surprising ease.
I like it that my husband puts gas in my car for me. I like it that he doesn't have me get beer as the liquor store is "no place for a lady". I like having my nails done and shopping all day and wearing cute heels. I like complaining that I "had to change my name". I like it that my husband starts my car in the mornings so that I don't have to be exposed to the elements for too long. I like to begrudgingly clean the house and mumble to myself that I am the one always cleaning the house. It seems as far as feminism is concerned, I jumped ship the second my husband and I started divvying up the parts around here.
I suppose I could argue that if I WANTED to be the one that took on some traditionally male roles, I could. I could take out the trash and manage the recycling and trade that with the grocery shopping. But for what? So we were both miserable doing our chores? I could give up on my female looks and wear birks and tees and cut-off denim, but that sounds like hell, too. Nor am I remotely interested in participating in any more of those ridiculous protests.
The bottom line is that I am happy doing whatever it is I am doing. I don't really care how it looks or what the label is- as long as we have our well-oiled machine in working order around here.

My Oscar Party

It's all so relative. Lately, I have been making a little more effort to take care of myself, hair cut and colored, renewed subsrciption to US Weekly- even though we are on a tight budget. Finding some maternity pants that actually FIT ( was someone going to tell the 5 foot 8 girl that they don't make maternity pants in "LONG"??) . And buying myself some new Urban Decay eye shadow. To put in the pocket of my new purse. Yep. New purse, too.

And to me... this is "ape-shit". Like... totally crazy spending on myself that is super duper not needed. But admittedly, makes me feel so much better. Really, it does. When I walked into my condo with my new purchases yesterday, I was actually giddy like a school girl.

I have spent the last weeks barely existing. I have been sick. And being preggers, quickly realized there is very little you can do about the inability to sleep, drippy-to-the-point-of-gross nose, and massive soar throat that feels similar to cat scratch. But because I am taking some time off next year-I am doing my best to hoard my sick days, and as it's just a cold, well, I have been trudging to work laboriously- making do, and then coming home and collapsing on my couch. The laundry is stacking up. The floors are getting pretty... umm... gross. We are out of light bulbs. Dinners have been either sandwiches or frozen pizzas. I have been doing my best to keep up, but really, the walls are caving in.

One of my biggest crosses to bear at the moment ( and yes, grab a kleenex for this one-and here - grab one of mine- I have butt loads at the moment) is that my closet is out of control. Between my weight watchers pre-pregnancy "small" clothes, the " I am newly pregnant and in month three BIG girl clothes", my "regular clothes", my maternity clothes, and all of the loaner maternity clothes that need to be kept seperated in order to return them to their rightful owners, my closet is a cluster fudget of smock shirts and khaki cottons. In varying sizes. We have spilled over into the "boxing arena/ baby's room / second closet". It's chaos at best.

And my intention as of two weeks ago was to box bag ship and move everything out of my way- cleaning up my rooms and streamlining my dressing process. But since I haven't been well, this major task that requires patience, energy, thought, and organization has fallen into a hole of deep despair. So yesterday- when I was feeling better for the first time in weeks, what do I do? Shop. Not organize- but SHOP. I wanted to get out of the house. And I wanted some pants that fit. And now that I have my outsides all set up and ready to go- it's time.

Today is the day. Boxes are out and ready to be filled. Garbage bags are in full supply. Attitude is upbeat and motivation level is beeping off the charts. I do not promise to complete the entire task, but I do plan on muddling through a good start at least as I watch Angelina and Brad grace the red carpet. I mean, who doesn't want to clean the closet out while watching the Oscars?

Clean House

Lately- with my husband in physical therapy three nights a week, and me fighting off a cold, dinner creations have been... whimsical. I have never been one for the European style of grocery shopping, not even as an urbanite, and instead prefer to mentally catalogue a series of meals and basics and load up my cart for a once a week haul. But this week has been different. Last weekend, when said haul usually occurs, I was not feeling up for it. And as I perused my freezer I pulled a variety of meats out and figured that with some creativity I could make my way through the week.
And make my way I did! Shockingly, what I discovered, is that I have a ton of food stuffs that have been cast off from a previous recipe, never made, or quite frankly, just forgotten. As I persued the wide array of seasoning packets, hidden behind the forty-odd tins of tuna fish, I recalled an article written by a local "chef", if you will ( actually- a housewife with self-proclaimed cooking skills ).... she mentioned that January was clean house month at her house.
She described making her way throught the nooks and crannies of her pantry- pulling, tossing, baking and cooking all those morsels with expirations dates approaching or cans of what-nots whose partners vanished in a flash of cooking lightbulb moments or Betty Crocker inspired frivolity.
The trick for me was to not let my husband recognize the sudden adding and subtracting of ingredients in what we have deemed a "previously refined dish". So there are almonds in the brownies. So there is pineapple in the jell-o. Wait. There is JELL-O? I put sprinkles in the cupcakes and excuse me but yes- that is what I call mayonnaise on your burger. Delicious, isn't it? And stop asking about the amount of pickles this week. I just crave them. Eat up, honey! Chop chop now!
And so we have made it. We have been well fed and nary a meal was tossed. And now again it's Saturday and I am considering managing another haul-less grocery weekend. To flush out the last of the oddities... pesto pasta anyone? and forge through another creative week of cooking. By Wednesday evening, when we sit down to a glorious meal of Italian Meatballs and french fries, I am sure we will be ready to get back to the old ways, where the protein is enhanced by the carb and the veggies are meshed with the protein. In the meantime, our meals will look increasingly like a three ring circus until the last of the artichokes are baked and the pimentos stuffed.

Kung Pao Chicken?

I have been too busy to blog. But... alas! The children ushered in thier last day of school in bed, as I did not have more than two students per class on our snow-filled day. So the party organizing was for naught. The class I was taking three nights a week for the month of December is finally over. The presents are bought and wrapped, and Billy and I spent the better part of our day running errands and filling in all of the last minute details. I collasped into bed last night, exhausted, ready for my own "break" to begin, only to be struck with my recurring insomnia problem and awoke, wide-eyed at the strike of two. A. M. There were surprisingly a great many Christmas specials on at that late hour, so despite my bodies resistance to rest, the holidays were being enjoyed.
And because I still have much to do today, I have not much time to write. I will leave you with this question...
What in the world is Lisa Kudrow doing in a Nintendo DS commercial making Kung Pao chicken? The first time I saw I waited with bated breath for the punch line, and when I didn't hear one, I figured I didn't pay close enough attention. After seeing it at least ten more times since, I have come to the frightening conclusion that she is as serious about that chicken making as a child making a Santa list.
Hollywood must be a very difficult place to be.

Back in the Swing

As the holiday transformed itself overnight from cornocopias to Christmas trees, and the temperatures dropped from 30 to eight, and the first of the sticky snowfalls decorated our lawns, I have found myself intensely... busy. Between night classes and medical concerns and appointments and preparing our home for the Winter, I could say that life has been passing me by, a task in going through the motions, one moment to the next.

Until today, that is. I have one final doctor appointment today at 10:30. The news so far has been nothing but promising and with each passing appointment ( FOUR in the last week), my confidence has catapulted itself almost to the point of "no worries at all". Thank God. And since the appointment is at 10:30, I decided, as a gift to myself, to spend the afternoon NOT going back to work, but instead, perusing the shopping mall to tackle my Christmas lists.

I have chosen an outdoor mall. Probably not ideal for eight degree weather, but the sparse crowds mixed with my "plan", not to mention it's proximity to my doctor, should make the outing fruitful. I am planning on wearing TWO pairs of pants, three shirts and a stocking cap. I have already googled the layout of the mall and pairing it with my Christmas lists have managed to come up with a plan of attack, complete with coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, and pit stops at the car to unload. Did I mention I will not DON the extra thick gear until AFTER my appointment? I would not want to risk an "I weigh a lot melt down" so have even decided to "pack a bag" to carry INTO the doctor's office and will not gear up until after the dreaded weigh in. Thinking ahead my friends, just thinking ahead.

Overall, I am finally feeling at peace. When December 1 rolled around, just a few short days ago, my life felt up in the air. I resigned myself to avoiding all things Christmas and wasn't even bothered by the Thanksgiving decor still covering the nooks and crannies of my house. But with each passing appointment, and the good news began to warm my soul and soften my hardened and scared heart, I began to hear myself humming jingle bells softly to myself. Last night, at 9:30, while driving home from my night class, I heard myself belting out at top long, along with the radio, Joy to the World. I knew the tides had finally turned.

Tomorrow, when my husband will be gone for several hours on an outing with a friend, I plan to transform our Fall leaf laden home into a Winter wonderland, fake tree and all. When my husband gets home, I envision sipping cocoa and listening quietly to my Bing Crosby Christmas CD while the twinkling lights of the tress illuminate the background. In reality, we will order a pizza while my husband watches UFC, and drinks a beer and I read books about psyhcogical torment. But still, it will be "normal" which is what I am really going for.

Are You Old Enough to Quit?

I just climbed out of bed to... smoke. I am completely disgusted with myself. And while I have been seriously thinking lately about calling it a day with the Marlboros, I have been seriously thinking about it for years. So if you are my mother or my close relative, don't get all excited.
I did quit when I was pregnant. And then on my way home from "the procudure" and before we picked up the McDonalds, I asked my husband to pull over so I could buy a pack. I considered it a "consolation prize". I mean- in retrospect, trading in a child for an addiction that will lead to my untimely death is not exactly a prize. However in the moment it is what I told myself.
I tried quitting again at the beginning of the summer. But starting Weight Watchers and quitting smoking seemed to be putting me over the "addictions to stop" edge. And plus my strategy this time was some very horrible cigarettes called Quest and each and every one tasted like bleach. And I wanted to be weaned not pukey. So I gave them away to the only person who would take them, the garbage man.
I was reminded while in bed tonight- contemplating my need for nicotine, and wrestling with desire, about a scene I witnessed at a Jewel in Chicago. There was a young guy, maybe 20. He stood in the long line at the very separate cigarette and customer service counter ( and you don't want to find yourself in that line in Chicago- it's LONG ). I was behind him. He jumped back and forth on his feet, creating mounting anxiety for everyone around him. Finally, his turn came and he asked for Nicorette, the quitting smoking gum. The cashier - a very pompous little guy- asked for ID. They guy said loudly, " I don't HAVE ID, I don't want cigarettes, I want the GUM." Little guy, " Well, sorry, I need ID". Anxiety guy, " Seriously? You are not going to sell me gum to QUIT? I have been waiting here for like thirty minutes, and I am dying, and you are not going to let me buy the GUM?"
I have to admit, the guy had a point. One would have to presume that to be stupid enough to start and then smart enough to quit could not all possibly happen in the time frame of your teens. You don't try that hard to quit unless you are like... OLDER.
Just when the anxious guy was about to go ape, I stopped him and told him if he gave me the cash, I would be happy to buy the gum on his behalf. So that is what I did. Not only was it completely FUN to watch the little guy try to think of a way to NOT let me do this and outsmart his basic need for control, but I ordered my own cigarettes along with a fifty dollar pack of Nicorette.
The flustered look on the cashiers face was priceless.
I think he mumbled something about calling the cops, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the CPD would not find it a priority.
At any rate. Time to focus on the quitting again. I heard the patch was good.

What an Ass!

This weekend there are going to be 13 people staying in one cabin ( only this cabin has Granite countertops and flat screens and an in-door water park) . It's a celebration. For my parent's 60th anniversary and all they wanted was to spend time with the family. And since I really actually like my family, I think it's a great gift and I am looking forward to it. To prepare I went to Sam's club. To get liquor, mostly.
I was third in line. Meaning the girl checking out and then a guy and then me. The girl checking out had two carts. One cart contained a baby, a very young baby, in car seat- like weeks old, and some bottled waters. The OTHER cart contained what looked like the ingredients to maintain a small bomb shelter supplied for like.. a year. I noticed that the girl was struggling-which made me feel bad because she was still wearing her maternity pants and I thought she must be like... feeling exasperated already. She didn't really know how to load up one cart without smashing her baby. So the cute, friendly check out girl said, "Screw it, I will help ya." And off they went. In a small act of heroism she left her station un-attended and marched that girl's second cart out to the lot for her. I was touched. And even though I really did want my turn to come, I thought it was a nice gesture. Plus, I was stuffed from the free samples and all I really could ask for was one of my beers but figured wanting one that bad would suggest something on the side of needy so overlooked myself long enough to appreciate what was going on.
Then the guy goes up, with his protein bars and fruit snacks and beer and starts bitching at the check out girl . Like really bitching about HIS time and not FAIR and she was RUDE and she was just supposed to ring people up.
And as he bitched I could see the friendly check out girl start to bring it. I could see her wheels turnin' and her thinking what an ASS... She gave it right back and the guy tried to be imploring but really, what's he going to do? Slap her? He walked off in a tirade. A serious tirade.
Then quickly it became MY turn and I wanted the cute friendly check out girl to feel good for her graciousness. And I told her that guy was a jerk. To get on her good side because I could see clearly that she needed it and also because I didn't like her bad side. It was kind of scary.
She left me with the comment, " Yeah, well, ya know... working here you gotta deal with people like that all the time. And I aint' gonna let nobody go and ruin my day when I got my kids to get home to. They don't deserve for him to ruin MY day."
And I told her from now on I would wait in her line no matter how long because I liked her. And she smiled.
And that makes me feel good because last Spring I ROYALLY messed up my relationship with my Dominick's check out lady and I have been needing a replacement. And also because I could see how she made her check out job at Sam's something more than just a crappy job at Sam's.