My in-laws came to visit last week and we all settled in to watch a movie. Even though the movie was interesting and entertaining, I fought to stay awake. My eyelids drooped and darkness began to cloud my thoughts. Surrender to the sweet, blissful oblivion seemed to be the only option. Suddenly, I was jolted back to reality by an unwelcome din coming from the other end of the couch:
"SNNNNARRRRRGGGHHHH! *snork* *snork* SNNNNNEERGH!"
My mother-in-law had succumbed to the siren song of the sofa and was snoring peacefully at the other end. To be fair, she had already seen the movie.
Sunday, my parents came over to celebrate my dad's birthday. Since my parents had not seen the new furniture yet, I suggested they try it out.
"Oooohhh, ahhhhhh..." sighed my mom. "I want one just like this..."
"Wow, this is really comfortable. This headrest supports my neck just perfectly," my dad commented appreciatively.
Stop the press. Did I just hear my parents agree on the comfortableness of a piece of furniture? To my knowledge, this has never, ever, EVER happened before in the history of the universe. A tear came to my eye. It was like watching history in the making.
Two parents sat on the couch. Only one got up. A few moments later, I was not surprised to find my dad fast asleep, cradled in the loving embrace of my new best friend, The Couch.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Dilemma, part 4
One of the roads I have to drive on to get home from work has been under construction forever. There's a part where the left lane ends and all the traffic has to merge right. I know from experience (since this road has been under construction forever) that if I stay in the left lane until it ends and then merge right, I can save a couple of minutes.
The people who have chosen to merge into the right lane early often do not appear to appreciate this tactic. I can see why. They have been sitting in traffic for some time, watching people like me zip by and merge much further up the line. Occasionally, they try to refuse to let me in. Their disadvantage is that they are not moving and I am, so I can partially wedge myself into any newly created opening, thus securing my spot in front of them before they can move forward to block me out.
My dilemma is two-part:
1. Is it wrong to pass up all the people who have been sitting in the right lane and merge in when my lane ends? My guts says I should have to wait just as long as anyone else, but my mouth says, "Suckers!"
2. Should I refrain from waving a "thank you for letting me in" wave to a driver that I merged in front of, knowing full well that if he was in a position to shut me out, he would have?
Discuss.
The people who have chosen to merge into the right lane early often do not appear to appreciate this tactic. I can see why. They have been sitting in traffic for some time, watching people like me zip by and merge much further up the line. Occasionally, they try to refuse to let me in. Their disadvantage is that they are not moving and I am, so I can partially wedge myself into any newly created opening, thus securing my spot in front of them before they can move forward to block me out.
My dilemma is two-part:
1. Is it wrong to pass up all the people who have been sitting in the right lane and merge in when my lane ends? My guts says I should have to wait just as long as anyone else, but my mouth says, "Suckers!"
2. Should I refrain from waving a "thank you for letting me in" wave to a driver that I merged in front of, knowing full well that if he was in a position to shut me out, he would have?
Discuss.
Rub-a--dub-dub
Quote of the day:
"No one wants to touch your belly when it's just FAT, but put a fetus in there and BANG, you're fair game."
"No one wants to touch your belly when it's just FAT, but put a fetus in there and BANG, you're fair game."
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Primary gems
On Sunday, the Sharing Time lesson was about being thankful for our bodies. The teacher prefaced her lesson by telling the children that Heavenly Father had given each one of them a very special gift.
Teacher: And that special gift is... a body. Each one of us has a body that Heavenly Father has given us.
Kid sitting on the front row: Yeah! A body! He gave us a body! And also... a potty! He gave us a potty, too!!!
The teacher then had the kids come up and choose pictures of various items that would either be good for our bodies or would go into the garbage can. One of my Sunbeams had bailed hard on his turn at the board, putting the scriptures into the garbage can as the rest of junior primary screamed for him to change his mind. He was still smarting from the embarrassment and so I tried to make him feel better on the next round.
Me: Okay, look what she chose... oooohhh... it's a picture of cigarettes. Do those go in the garbage or are they good for your body? I know you know this one...
Sunbeam: *sniff* Good for your body.
Me: *blink* Cigarettes? Does Heavenly Father want us to smoke cigarettes? Or would he want us to put them in the trash?
Sunbeam: Good for your body.
Me: No... if you had cigarettes, you would want to throw them away... wouldn't you?
Sunbeam: *stubbornly* Well, I liked them when I tried them!
Teacher: And that special gift is... a body. Each one of us has a body that Heavenly Father has given us.
Kid sitting on the front row: Yeah! A body! He gave us a body! And also... a potty! He gave us a potty, too!!!
The teacher then had the kids come up and choose pictures of various items that would either be good for our bodies or would go into the garbage can. One of my Sunbeams had bailed hard on his turn at the board, putting the scriptures into the garbage can as the rest of junior primary screamed for him to change his mind. He was still smarting from the embarrassment and so I tried to make him feel better on the next round.
Me: Okay, look what she chose... oooohhh... it's a picture of cigarettes. Do those go in the garbage or are they good for your body? I know you know this one...
Sunbeam: *sniff* Good for your body.
Me: *blink* Cigarettes? Does Heavenly Father want us to smoke cigarettes? Or would he want us to put them in the trash?
Sunbeam: Good for your body.
Me: No... if you had cigarettes, you would want to throw them away... wouldn't you?
Sunbeam: *stubbornly* Well, I liked them when I tried them!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Another no-so-update
By popular demand, more of my uneventful pregnancy:
I've been having monthly appointments with the OB/GYN. (Which reminds me: Brett wants to know why it is pronounced "Oh-Bee-Gee-Why-En" instead of "obgin." Any input?) The routine is pretty much the same, I check in, pee in a cup, get weighed, and have my blood pressure taken. Then, the nurse asks me for my due date, which I think is funny because she has my chart in hand as we are speaking. I tell her, "March 7th" which she notes and then tells me exactly how far along I am. Then invariably, she looks at the chart and says, "Oh, you are actually due on the 9th!" Then she revises her estimatation of how far along I am and gives me a look that says, "You are a rotten mother already. You don't even know when your baby is due!"
Two thoughts to keep in mind here: If I tell her I'm due on the 9th, the exact same scenario plays out. "You're actually due on the 7th. Mrs. RottenMotherAlready!" Also, two days? Does it really matter? Aren't there only, like, 5% of babies born on their due date? Honestly woman! You are just setting me up for failure. I can't live up to your expectations. I'm going to have the baby 3 weeks late, just to spite you.
So, then my doctor comes in. I like my doctor. She's easy-going and sympathetic and never tries to make me feel bad for not knowing my due date. She's got a big smile and you can tell she just loves babies. She reviews my chart and then always asks, "How are you feeling?"
From what I can tell, this is why I have an appointment every month. So a person with a lot of schooling can ask, "How are you feeling?" And then, so I don't feel bad about paying $40 to have someone with a lot of schooling ask how I am feeling, she listens to the baby's heartbeat.
These appointments are riveting, I tell ya.
But, in other baby news, we've been testing out names. Brett will lean over to my belly and say, "Hello. How ya doin', Helga?" or "What's up, Baby Olga?" You know, we're just throwin' names out there to see if they stick.
I felt one stick, just a wee bit, last night.
So, we have a contender. But it's a strict "don't ask don't tell" policy 'round these parts. Sorry.
I've been having monthly appointments with the OB/GYN. (Which reminds me: Brett wants to know why it is pronounced "Oh-Bee-Gee-Why-En" instead of "obgin." Any input?) The routine is pretty much the same, I check in, pee in a cup, get weighed, and have my blood pressure taken. Then, the nurse asks me for my due date, which I think is funny because she has my chart in hand as we are speaking. I tell her, "March 7th" which she notes and then tells me exactly how far along I am. Then invariably, she looks at the chart and says, "Oh, you are actually due on the 9th!" Then she revises her estimatation of how far along I am and gives me a look that says, "You are a rotten mother already. You don't even know when your baby is due!"
Two thoughts to keep in mind here: If I tell her I'm due on the 9th, the exact same scenario plays out. "You're actually due on the 7th. Mrs. RottenMotherAlready!" Also, two days? Does it really matter? Aren't there only, like, 5% of babies born on their due date? Honestly woman! You are just setting me up for failure. I can't live up to your expectations. I'm going to have the baby 3 weeks late, just to spite you.
So, then my doctor comes in. I like my doctor. She's easy-going and sympathetic and never tries to make me feel bad for not knowing my due date. She's got a big smile and you can tell she just loves babies. She reviews my chart and then always asks, "How are you feeling?"
From what I can tell, this is why I have an appointment every month. So a person with a lot of schooling can ask, "How are you feeling?" And then, so I don't feel bad about paying $40 to have someone with a lot of schooling ask how I am feeling, she listens to the baby's heartbeat.
These appointments are riveting, I tell ya.
But, in other baby news, we've been testing out names. Brett will lean over to my belly and say, "Hello. How ya doin', Helga?" or "What's up, Baby Olga?" You know, we're just throwin' names out there to see if they stick.
I felt one stick, just a wee bit, last night.
So, we have a contender. But it's a strict "don't ask don't tell" policy 'round these parts. Sorry.
Dilemma, part 3
When my sixty-something year old co-worker tells me (for the FOURTH TIME) that she has begun giving computer lessons to an 80-year old lady who lives down the street from her, would it be wrong for me to comment supportively:
"Must be nice to have someone close to your own age to talk to."
Discuss.
"Must be nice to have someone close to your own age to talk to."
Discuss.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I'm gonna take you on a magic sofa ride
We bought a new couch and easy chair last month. At first, I was resistant to the idea of purchasing new furniture in such economic times, but after we sold our easy chair at a garage sale and Brett took our sofa to his office, it became clear that I no longer had a choice. It was either buy new furniture or sit on the floor.
We parked our butts on a lot of different living room sets during our search for The Couch. When we came to the couch that would eventually become The Couch, Brett knew it right away. He was in love. Me, on the other hand, being the skeptic that I am, had to be convinced. I didn't particularly care for the style (it's fluffy and casual, I would have preferred something more formal) and the fabric was unlike any other sofa we looked at. It's a very soft green micro-fiber with almost a terry-cloth feel to it. I joked, ala "Friends", that is was made from Genuine Muppet Skin.
But we ended up buying it anyway and we had company over for dinner the night we brought it home. Our friends ooohhhed and ahhhhed appreciatively, but I thought it was probably just because they were glad not to sit on the floor. Late that night, Brett's pregnant sister arrived after a long and grueling flight from Utah. We invited her to relax on the new sofa. She settled in, popped up the footrest, leaned the back back, and summed her feelings up in one word:
"Uuuuunnnnnnggghhh..." <--- groan of approval
My feelings for the new furniture started to grow after Shauna gave her unabashed endorsement, but for some reason, I still held back. When I would watch TV, I'd sit up ramrod-straight and never even try to relax and get comfortable. I didn't want to become too attached. Then, one night as we started to watch a movie , Brett insisted I recline my seat and use the footrest. I did so just to humor him. And, after a few moments... I fell asleep.
This wasn't just any sleep. This was the sleep of the dead. I was comatose for almost 2 hours. Brett woke me when the movie ended and told me to go to bed.
It must have been a fluke, I rationalized. I was just really tired. I could have fallen asleep like that anywhere. The sofa had nothing to do with it.
The next night, the couch beckoned to me with its siren song. "Just recline for a few moments. Rest your weary bones. It won't take long. A little rest is just what you need..." I thought I would experiment to see if the previous night's slumber was due to the couch or my personal exhaustion. That was my last thought... for another two hours.
Repeat for the next 4 nights in a row.
Now, I can't sit on The Couch without falling asleep. We rent movies, I fall asleep. I read a book, I fall asleep. I sit on The Couch to talk on the phone, I fall asleep. The Couch is like a vortex to another dimension... a wonderful warm, relaxed, sleepy dimension where troubles melt like lemon drops.
The ultimate demonstration of The Couch's power came last night when I was reviewing my ballot in preparation to vote today. The house was chilly from the rain so we built a small fire in the fireplace. The flames crackled merrily and The Couch lured me in once again.
By 9:30, all thought of ballots and propositions were forgotten. "Must not recline... Must be responsible citizen... Must vote..." I struggled to focus. I glanced over to where Brett was already slumbering in the recliner at the opposite end. "Just for a few moments," I thought. "I'll be able to focus better after a 10 minute nap."
I should have known better. I woke up at 8:00 this morning...still cradled in the loving bosom of my new best friend, The Couch.
We parked our butts on a lot of different living room sets during our search for The Couch. When we came to the couch that would eventually become The Couch, Brett knew it right away. He was in love. Me, on the other hand, being the skeptic that I am, had to be convinced. I didn't particularly care for the style (it's fluffy and casual, I would have preferred something more formal) and the fabric was unlike any other sofa we looked at. It's a very soft green micro-fiber with almost a terry-cloth feel to it. I joked, ala "Friends", that is was made from Genuine Muppet Skin.
But we ended up buying it anyway and we had company over for dinner the night we brought it home. Our friends ooohhhed and ahhhhed appreciatively, but I thought it was probably just because they were glad not to sit on the floor. Late that night, Brett's pregnant sister arrived after a long and grueling flight from Utah. We invited her to relax on the new sofa. She settled in, popped up the footrest, leaned the back back, and summed her feelings up in one word:
"Uuuuunnnnnnggghhh..." <--- groan of approval
My feelings for the new furniture started to grow after Shauna gave her unabashed endorsement, but for some reason, I still held back. When I would watch TV, I'd sit up ramrod-straight and never even try to relax and get comfortable. I didn't want to become too attached. Then, one night as we started to watch a movie , Brett insisted I recline my seat and use the footrest. I did so just to humor him. And, after a few moments... I fell asleep.
This wasn't just any sleep. This was the sleep of the dead. I was comatose for almost 2 hours. Brett woke me when the movie ended and told me to go to bed.
It must have been a fluke, I rationalized. I was just really tired. I could have fallen asleep like that anywhere. The sofa had nothing to do with it.
The next night, the couch beckoned to me with its siren song. "Just recline for a few moments. Rest your weary bones. It won't take long. A little rest is just what you need..." I thought I would experiment to see if the previous night's slumber was due to the couch or my personal exhaustion. That was my last thought... for another two hours.
Repeat for the next 4 nights in a row.
Now, I can't sit on The Couch without falling asleep. We rent movies, I fall asleep. I read a book, I fall asleep. I sit on The Couch to talk on the phone, I fall asleep. The Couch is like a vortex to another dimension... a wonderful warm, relaxed, sleepy dimension where troubles melt like lemon drops.
The ultimate demonstration of The Couch's power came last night when I was reviewing my ballot in preparation to vote today. The house was chilly from the rain so we built a small fire in the fireplace. The flames crackled merrily and The Couch lured me in once again.
By 9:30, all thought of ballots and propositions were forgotten. "Must not recline... Must be responsible citizen... Must vote..." I struggled to focus. I glanced over to where Brett was already slumbering in the recliner at the opposite end. "Just for a few moments," I thought. "I'll be able to focus better after a 10 minute nap."
I should have known better. I woke up at 8:00 this morning...still cradled in the loving bosom of my new best friend, The Couch.
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