Ten Reasons Why This Week Deserves Exclamation Points!

1. I have almost all of my Christmas shopping done!

2. Go passed another step on his medical boards!


3. My cousin and her husband got accepted to medical school!

4. My BIL has been dating my BFF's little sister and they haven't broken up!

5. I won a centerpiece at Enrichment! A centerpiece that I did not need or want but it's the first time I've ever won anything!

6. Two weeks from today, I will be in Irvine!

7. Four weeks from today, I will be in Vegas!


8. A Christmas Story has started airing!

9. My recent discovery of the Documentary Channel!

10. Quality FM Radio tunes!

And Why Not?

So last night I did some Christmas shopping for the girls. I'm standing in a check-out line at Target and start putting my stuff up on the counter to be rung up, when I realize the baby I had picked out for May looks something like this:




















I pick up the baby and my first instinct is to run back quickly and get a Caucasian baby. Then I looked at my cashier, who looks something like this:
*Note: This may possibly be the same cashier who I called Ruby "boogaloo" in front of.
















May is getting an African-American baby for Christmas.

My husband couldn't be happier.

(For those of you that know Go, you are fully aware that the previous sentence was 100% literal and 0% sarcastic.)

You've Come A Long Way, Baby

Our Little-Engine-That-Could-of-a-Powder-Bathroom has nearly reached the top of the summit. It only took the big, fat, lazy train a year and a half. And the train I'm referring to is the Annie Reynolds Express. The problem was that the bathroom was so ugly, I could hardly stand to be in it, so it just sat and sat in its pink festering eyesore festation. All that is left is to repaint the trim and paint the step stool the chocolate color as the cabinets and, VOILA! The bane of my existence for the past year and a half is no more. And yah, those are my drawings framed. I think they are just creepy enough to be cool. If you don't think so, you can always take your twosies elsewhere. There's a port-a-potty in the construction site across the street.

PREVIOUS OWNERS:


















FOR THE PAST YEAR AND A HALF:


















TODAY:

Names-ee

I think it's kind of amusing when people name inanimate objects. Some people name their cars. My Grandma named her minivan "Blueberry." Bet you can't guess what color it was. My dad always named his fountain pens: "Blue Boy" and "Goldy", with the threat that if any of us touched them, he'd draw a heart on our bottom. I'm remembering a third pen named "Sportsfan" but I might have dreamt that. I find it interesting that the only one of us that ever actually got a heart drawn on their bottom is the only one of us that now has a tattoo. (That's what you should have gotten done, John--a heart on your bottom, then maybe Dad might not have minded as much.)

The girls and I were coming back to out to our car from Wal-Mart (spit!) a couple of days ago while having this conversation:

Ruby: Mom?
Me: Yeah?
Ruby: Can we name our car?
Me: Sure.
Ruby: What should we name it?
Me: Well, we could give it a normal person's name--that's always funny. Or we could name it with something that has to do with the color grey since it's greyish.
Ruby: No...something else.
Me: Well, you think about it and get back to me.

This morning she got back to me concerning the matter. The top two names in the running:
"Rainbow" and "Drive-ee"

Oh yah.

I was tagged awhile ago!

Six things you may or may not know about me:

1. I didn't like Twilight. At all.

2. When I was little, if I touched something with my right hand, I'd have to reach over and touch it with my left hand, just to get my hands to "feel even." It became an obsession and I realized this was a little crazy, so after a lot of work, I broke myself of the habit when I was about 10 or 11. It was really hard and I know it's strange, but I'm really proud that I, for lack of a better word, overcame it.

3. I used to really, really like to keep things. In the past couple of years, I have discovered that I like to throw away things better than I like to keep things.

4. I associate people with songs. Which means you all have songs. Wouldn't you like to know what your song is? You would, wouldn't you?

5. I like sad things. Sad books, sad movies. Sad stuff. And for real sad, not sappy sentimental crap like...well, I won't say it because I've already alienated myself as it is with the Twilight thing. I just like it when subtle things move me. Keyword: subtle.

6. If you throw something at me, I will catch it.

A Gal's Gal and Other Pals

This past weekend, we got together to celebrate Thanksgiving early with two other families, our favorite friends from med school. We all met in Pittsburgh and had the most fun I've had, well, since I was with them in Hawaii a year and a half ago--and it's not because I never do anything fun (which may or may not be true), I just have a really, really good time when we're all together. They are great friends and I love that we all live somewhat near each other. After going home Sunday, we have been listening to nothing but Celine Dion. All By Myself is exactly in Go's voice range.

We played a game while we were there: everyone had to anonymously answer questions about themselves, the answers were then randomly read aloud and then you had to guess who's answer was who's. It was pretty fun. My favorite question was "Who is your most embarrassing TV crush?" Even though it was one in the morning and we were all pretty loopy, I am praying like the dickens that yes, Go was really indeed joking:

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Issue Two of .LOVELIFE. is out. Hot off the...screen...or something. NJOY.

Let's Call a Truce

Dear Snow,
For the past ten years, you've basically been the bane of my existence. You really had me going there for awhile, though. Growing up in Southern California, you seemed to have a certain air of mystique and aloofness about you and what can I say? I was intrigued. But then you showed your true colors up in Provo, Utah, I didn't really like what I saw. You were cold. You were dirty. You were inconsiderate. You made me miserable. I went into hibernation. I stayed in my dorm room, didn't go to class, didn't do too well in school and cut myself off from the world...just to get away from you. Now almost ten years later, as much as I want to rid myself of you, I am forced to continue to live with you in my life. And every winter, you force your way in and the next thing I know, I'm down in the dumps, listening to Fionna Apple while gorging myself on any junk I can get my hands on, like Slim Jims--food under normal circumstances, I find repulsive. And you know what else? You're just a big hassle. You take up all of my time, with the constant shoveling, the scraping, the cleaning. I have better things to do! You have no sense of other people's space and time and you're just selfish and horrible and I hate you. See what you do to me? You get under my skin and make me crazy and mean. Every 6 months, you come around, with your fancy white self and then BOOM. The next thing I know, I'm depressed, I'm an insomniac, I start to hate the world and I'm just not myself. Ok, I just had to get that off my chest. Now onto what I really wanted to say: So when you came into my life again last night, I made a decision. As much as I wish I could just be through with you, that's just not an option right now. We have to learn how to live with each other. So I'm turning the other cheek. I will find the good in you somehow and perhaps, throughout the next 4.5 years when I have to be in your presence every winter, we can be civil to one another. And even if you decide to dump on me, which you always seem to do at the most inconvenient times, I will not hate you. I won't let myself. I will have a new attitude concerning you: I will not allow you to control my mood, my eating habits, my sleeping habits or any of my habits for that matter. I will be happy. I am stronger than this and I will not allow you to control me anymore. You and your flaky self will not get to me. I will not think of you like this:
I will think of you like this:
And hey, who knows? Over the coming years, we might learn to actually like each other again. Maybe even friends with benefits.
Cordially yours,
Annie

Boundaries, people.

Older man at the gym: So you’re a spin instructor.
Me: (No time to chit-chat) Yep.
Man: So you’re probably working on your Health Science degree?
Me: Um, no. I graduated from college, like 7 or 8 years ago.
Man: You did? Oh my. Where did you go to school?
Me: BYU. In Utah.
Man: (raised eyebrows) Oooh…so you’re ONE OF THEM.
Me: (forced smile) Yep. I am.
Man: So you’re married?
Me: Uh, yah.
Man: So you didn’t (makes two clicking sounds out of the side of his mouth while simultaneously thumping his fist on the counter) before you got married?
Me: (After a stunned silence) That’s kind of personal…but no. We didn’t (make the same two clicking sounds out of the side of my mouth and simultaneously thump my fist on the counter.)
Man: I just know I dated a Mormon girl once and man…woo! She made me abide by all your rules.
Me: Well, good for her. Um, I’ve gotta go get my kids. See ya later.
Man: You’ve got kids?
Me: (half turn back around while still walking away) Yah.
Man: Well, that's good that everything turned out ok (makes that same double click sound)
Me: (I don't bother to turn back around) Yep, see ya later.

Question.

Is it creepy to hang drawings of your parents with birds on their heads in your bathroom?

Harold & Maude

Tonight, Sarah (my SIL), the girls and I were at the library. I was perusing the DVDs and was minding my own business, (no wait, I was trying to get May up off the floor after she had assumed her famous "rag doll" position) when I saw this:
One of my faves, possibly in my top 3, definitely in my top 5 favorite movies. I yelped a yelp that made several librarians look up from their encyclopedias and I grabbed it. To my delight, Sarah was a Harold & Maude Virgin; it's always fun being there for someone's first time.

Usually, they either get it, love it and are totally inspired or they don't get it, hate it and are totally grossed out. My husband was one of those people who didn't get it...but I decided to love him anyway. Either way, it's enjoyable to watch either result, but it's a rush when I find a kindred spirit, someone who loves this quirky, dark comedy as much as I do. It makes me want to hold their hands and jump up and down. Sarah was pretty lukewarm about the movie but still--I got to watch it and fell in love all over again.

So tell me, are Harold & Maude Lover or Harold & Maude Hata?
(And if you've never seen it, I highly, highly recommend it.)

Another week-long obsession draws to a close

Bootie Fest 2007 has officially come to an end.  Do not confuse this with Booty Fest 2001. Totally different.

 I give you: 

Michelangelo in a Half Shell with Nunchucks!

Having Nothing Whatsoever To Do With Shania Twain

Like Looking into the Eyes of My Beloved

What the Inside of Huey Lewis' Brain Looks Like

So I've  finally got these things out of my system.  Mostly because I had been making them down in the basement and as of tomorrow, this lovely creature will be taking over the place for an entire week of sister-in-lawish bliss.  Isn't she a dream boat?

This week: The Best of

Ruby: "I'll get to put deodorant on someday, too, huh, Mom?  When my armpits start to get stinky, right?  I can't wait!"

Ruby: "I don't want to eat my apple.  It taste like poison."

Ruby: "Why does Daddy only shave his neck hairs?"

Ruby: "Mom, if you were ugly, I'd still love you."

Me: "May, how did you reach that bottle of glucose tablets all the way up on that shelf?" 

Me: "May, please don't tell me you ate that entire bottle."

Me: "May, I can't believe you haven't thrown up."

Me: "May, it's 4 in the morning.  Why aren't you asleep yet?"

May: (points to the zit that has been on my chin for the past fifteen years) "Owee, Mama."

 

Yes. Owee.

.LOVELIFE. magazine

So I was asked to be apart of what I think will be a very fun project.  I am now the "art appreciation" columnist for .LOVELIFE., a new online magazine.  It's for women; there are all kinds of topics: fashion, food, books, art (me!), projects, parenthood, relationships, movies, etc. I know a lot of the contributors and they are quality girls.  So take a look:  .LOVELIFE. online magazine or my column.  And if you're a man, well, I guess you can read it if you want...get some tips on how to tastefully wear fishnets and what not.

Also, (raise your hand if you can hear my horn tooting) I did two logos for it:  

For the mag homepage:

And for my own column:

Take a peeky-peeky!  

Yo, this chick is CRAZY

She looks innocent enough, right?  Meet Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein.  Did you know this novel was penned by a woman?  I didn't.  Before starting the book, I read up a little on the author, which I like to do because it just adds another dimension for me.  What I found was astounding:

Mary was born in 1797.  Her mother died giving birth to her, leaving her father to raise her and her older sister, Claire.  On occasion, he would have friends come over and read to the family.  One of her father's friends in particular caught Mary's 16 year old eye, Percy Shelley who was much, much older than she and who always accompanied by his wife, Harriet.  Somehow, Mary became Percy's mistress and moved to Switzerland with Percy and Claire.  Harriet, his wife back in London, was pregnant with Percy's second child while Mary with his first. The Baby Daddy split his time between both his family in London and his new family in Switzerland.  Mary then had an affair with a lawyer friend, Thomas Hogg, whom Percy approved of and actually lived at the house for a time.  Meanwhile, Percy also had become involved with Claire, Mary's sister.  After Harriet, now pregnant with Percy's third child, drowned herself, Mary and Percy were married, still living with Claire, whom Percy was still "seeing" (Raise the Red Lantern) until she died of a tooth infection.   Several years later, Percy drowned in a storm.  His body was washed up days later.  Before he was cremated, a friend snatched Percy's heart and gave it to Mary, who CARRIED IT IN HER PURSE for the rest of her life.  

Dude.  

Addressing some issues

In response to comments/emails:

-No.  I am not pregnant.  I've been making these little baby shoes for fun, for gifts, to keep my hands busy, because I cannot NOT make stuff.  And because I like babies.  A lot. They are my favorite thing.  Ever. 

-Are they for sale?  I guess they are if you want to buy them.  That wasn't my intent when I made them, but sure, if you would like to purchase a pair, they are $15.  If you have any questions/want some, email me at thatsmybike[at]hotmail[dot]com.  And by the way, I will keep posting any that I make, just to share the joy that is: little baby shoes, not to try to make you buy them.   

-Just to reiterate:  I am not pregnant.  I'm still trying to talk myself into being a single mother (read: wife of a surgical resident) of three and being able to stay sane.  That hasn't happened yet.

My newest obsession:

Making these bad boys. They're baby booties. Just like my favorite sweater lady, I have decided to name my little creations. I might whip a couple more out later while watching some bodacious Thursday night boob tube. "Bodacious Thursday Night Boob Tube"...that might be my next set of booties name...

"Tahitian Elixir With a Side of Pickled Beets"

"From Out of a Manatee's Bellybutton"

"A Flash of Prancing Nancy's Petticoat"

"Hey, Where'd You Go?"