The Big 2-8 ?

First of all, thank you to all my bloggy buddies for sending me sweet birthday wishes. It made me feel really special. Yes, and the other kind of "special", too. I did ride the short bus to school back in the day. I really did, which is why I'm allowed to occasionally pop out a short bus joke.

So I feel like I turned 30 today. Not because I feel 2 years older than I really am, but because everyone (myself included!) made such a fuss this year. But I am ok with this and here's why: Two years ago on my birthday, about a week after we moved to PA, Go had just started his intern year working 110+ hours a week and so he was like suddenly and totally absent from our lives, we were renting this house out in Nowheresville while all of our stuff was in storage save for our mattresses, our computer and a Napolean Dynamite DVD, I didn't have any friends yet, we were unsure of our financial situation as we had yet to make our first paycheck, we had just purchased our house, Ruby was freshly diagnosed and hello, we had just moved across the country. Anyway, my birthday got completely overlooked which was fine under the circumstances. Two years later, it's a complete 360 and it sure made up for it. And I do have to say, it was really nice, though I felt ultra silly being showered with so much attention.

My day of birth was really good:

Reason #1
6:30 am. I wake up to find Go coming in from a night of work. Through one partially opened crusty eyelid, I see he's taking off his scrubs. I expect him to climb into bed and go to sleep, when I hear his belt buckle jingle, which is a belt he's had since he was 14 and has worn every single day of his life since. This belt is in a great state of decay. Some of the horrific things I see while watching reruns of CSI remind me of it, in fact.

Me: Are you putting on pants?
Go: Yup.
Me: Does this mean you're going to go stand in line at AT&T for me right now?
Go: Happy birthday. Go back to sleep.
Me: Zzzzzzz...

Reason #2
After driving home from the AT&T store separately, Go has to turn around to return my phone (they gave me the wrong one) and he is given the last (correct) one in the store! All the while, I am sitting at home with my imagination running wild with all kinds of visions of him getting mugged in the parking lot of our ghetto-fabulous mall by some burly thugs. Not only is he crumpled up against his little red Subaru with a bloody nose but our iPhones are gone. I know! The horror! But he comes home alive and in one piece, with iPhones in hand. I really shouldn't have worried in the first place. Nevermind his big muscles, he watches a lot of UFC and has learned how to brawl by osmosis.

Reason #3
We have our iPhones in our hot little hands and they are perfection. And thus ends my blogging about the iPhone forevermore. I know. You're going to miss it. Sniff.

Reason #4
Free Food No. 1: Chik-Fil-A. Here are the cow costumes/my mask. May keeps saying "Mama, I's a Moo!" We met Mandy, my luxury cupcake maker there, along with another buddy, Jen P. The kids were darling; I was so mad I forgot my camera. But Go was kind enough to get take a picture before we left.

Reason #5
Free Food No. 2: Slurpees. I have no documentation of this event but I do ask the 7-11 guy if I can get a bigger sized slurpee for free because it is my birthday. He is not amused. I press harder, saying that I can prove it with my driver's license. He couldn't care less. Hmph. I guess the 7.11 oz cups are better for me anyway.

Reason #6
I play a little of my early birthday surprise.


Reason #6
A birthday get-together with friends at a park while a cheesy jazzy cover band plays. Awesome. We eat pizza, cupcakes, chocolate covered frozen bananas, cookies, grapes, cherries, drinks and delicioso black-bottomed-cupcakes. It is a good time with some great friends.

This was the only good shot I got before my battery zonked. By the looks of this picture, you would think that this is the first cupcake my daughter has ever eaten.


Thank goodness to Camie, the organizer of this silly shindig and my great, great friend who is unfortunately not pictured, for taking all these pictures after I was left cameraless. AND made sure, while ignoring my large amounts of eyerolling, that there were exactly 28 candles. Because she is wonderful and silly like that.

You wouldn't know it by looking at her, but Bryn's got a baby boy in that tummy. A baby BOY! If I could look anywhere near this good when I'm pregnant, I'd be pregnant every day of my life.

This was taken during a rare moment where May was not on Chrissy's lap begging for fruit snacks. WHICH CHRISSY ALWAYS GIVES HER. Because she is a lover like that and I think May likes her better than me. Which I totally understand why.

Jen P. was not documented but I was so glad she was there! If she would have been pictured, it would have entailed a stylish, sexy mama with big blue eyes and a mischevious smile. She's up to no good, that one.

Would you have a hard time living next to Tamara; the epitomy of natural beauty? Would it make you a little self conscious? It would. It does. She's also, like, super super nice. I hate it when that happens.

This is Heather kind of hidden on the left, who is no doubt telling an incredibly funny story, causing someone to spurt rootbeer out of their nose. She has that ability and does it with ease. On our right is Cheryl, who is deep in thought, probably wondering how it's possible to be as awesome as she is, even though she really has no idea how awesome she really is because she's the opposite of stuck up. Thus the deep thought.
Can you believe that Jenn just had a baby mere months ago? She looked like this walking out of the hospital. And we all hate her for it. I can say that because she refuses to read blogs. Instead she reads things that greatly improve her mind, because she's a smarty like that. And a smarty-pants to boot.

I forget who this girl was and why she was there but someone needs to tell her that she should at least brush her hair before going out in public. And also that sitting Criss-Cross-Applesauce (the politically correct way of saying "Indian Style") is so not a good look for her. But I took pity and cropped that part out. She can thank me later.

Speaking of Birthday Suits

Warning: This post is rated PG-13. As in, like Titanic, PG-13.

I received this colored page from Ruby for my birthday.

And then we had a little chat.

You Wish You Had Friends Like Mine

My supremely cool friend Mandy made me a dozen cupcakes for my birthday. Half are Charlie & Lola, because I love them and their illustrator Lauren Child and the other half are birds. Aren't these just so ridiculously awesome? How am I supposed to eat these? They're works of art!

She is the funnest girl and certainly one of a kind. What opera singer do you know who also teaches hip hop? I'm so lucky to have overlapped these years here in PA with her. Mandy has a crazy good recipe blog you must check out, where about a week or so ago, she posted and explained how to make these Charlie & Lola faces (you can do any shape/character) if you ever want to knock the socks off of your friends for their birthday, too.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Will Be Waiting in Line at the Crack of Dawn at My AT&T Store To Purchase an iPhone 3G Tomorrow

10. Because it's my party and I'll wait if I want to.

9. It has a built in GPS system and we get lost a lot...which usually results in under-the-breath mutterings and snappy come backs, both of which I am too good at for my own good.

8. So any emails I send out from my iPhone will automatically say "Sent from my iPhone."

7. So I can stomp all over my old phone like a cartoon character. Please see number 6 and 5.

6. My new iPhone will not have exposed wires, a cracked and peeling body.

5. I will not have to use two hands to keep it open.

4. I will no longer be a customer of T-Mobile, which will make me feel better about myself as my face time with spokes model Catherine Zeta-Jones will be significantly lower.

3. I will have my iTunes with me always. You never know when you’re going to need some Peaches and Herb.

2. According to Wii Fit, my equilibrium is off. I need something that is exactly 4.8 ounces in my right hand at all times to level myself out.

1. I can check my email during Relief Society.

A Conversation with My Mother

My husband, the nicest thousandaire husband in the world, got me an early birthday present that I couldn't believe I actually received. I was so excited, I called my Mom to tell her. The conversation went something like this:

Me: So I got an special early birthday surprise today.
Mom: (who loves guessing games) Oooo! From who?
Me: Go.
Mom: (cell phone starts to cut in and out) Is it an addition to your family?
Me: What? Go is apart of my family. Wait, what did you just say?
Mom: I said, is it an addition to your family?
Me: No! Are you seriously asking me if I'm pregnant?
Mom: Well, it's something that Go would give you.
Me: I'm not pregnant.
Mom: And it's special.
Me: Ew! Mo-om!

We don't talk about such things.

And you know what else I don't talk about--how spoiled I am. I'm too embarrassed to even post about it yet. But I will.

Uh-Oh

Smell that? It's this week's obsession.

If My Husband Was the Nicest Gajillionaire Husband in the World

...he would get me something small for my birthday.

And something big.

And he would give me all the colors of the rainbow.


Red
Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Tourquoise

I don't want anything purple

Pink

Brown

Clear
Black
Grey

White
That pretty much covers it.

Our Fourth

Friends. BBQs. Rainstorms. Fireworks. Shishkabobs. Other people's puppies.

7/11/08

One week from today is my birthday. I'm not just informing you so you all have ample time to prepare, but some fantastic things are happening that day:

1. As I've said before, the iPhone 3Gs come out.

2. Chick-fil-a's Cow Appreciation Day--dress like a cow and get a free combo meal.

3. Free Slurpee's at 7-11.

4. Hellboy II: The Golden Army comes out in a theater near you!

5. My BIL Dan comes home from his mission. He has been gone for 2 years, serving in Omaha, NE. Harry, another BIL (I have quite a few of them) about a year ago, unearthed this video that Dan had made of himself before he left and posted it on the Reynolds family blog. I sat there and watched it about 10 times, teary-eyed like the boob I am. I absolutely love this kid.

so much so that I've even forgiven him for the hat.

Warning: There is a Significant Risk of Getting a Contact High Just by Reading This Post

I look just like her, don't I?

I'm just about finished. I did this one first because I like the other fabric a lot better and wanted to learn and mess up on this fabric, which I certainly did. I messed up so many times that I'm like the best seam ripper in the world. I learned a lot of new things: after making several calls to my Mom, I learned how to make darts and understitch. Yes, she is still speaking to me. And I will bet you $5 that even though she was driving to the mall during most of our conversations, she was wearing an apron.

So I just put it over my clothes to see the length, fit, etc before I put the buttons on, which I am not sure I am even going to bother doing. This thing is beyond wild. It looks like it is on drugs. Maybe for Halloween, I can be a Grateful Dead bear. Or maybe a psychedelic clown.

I had orginally wanted to make it with a plain fabric, like in the bust and then have a plain strip down at the bottom as well, out of something that I already had but I didn't have enough of anything that would really go and I was too cheap/lazy/high off of just looking at the fabric to go back to the store to try to find something.

Other than it being incredibly busy, I also ended up really not liking the pattern. There's too much fabric on the bottom part and it makes me want to curtsy all over the place.
If I did ever try to wear this thing, it would have to be worn over a plain white T and plain jeans--definitely not over my pajamas (duh) and it would probably help if I had on some makeup and my hair was actually done but then I might be mistaken for an Orange County housewife. Who just ate some mushrooms.

Shmaprons

There's this girl I know who while growing up during meal times, her mother required her to wear an apron. This mother really didn't like removing stains and apparently, that girl was a pretty messy eater. I would venture to say that this girl, now an adult, is probably still a messy eater but that's just an educated guess. Anyway, this girl, we'll call her...Shmannie, even during her teenage years, had to wear an apron no matter who was over at the house. Friends. Missionaries. Out of town guests. Friend-Boys. Boyfriends. Potential but unrequited boyfriends most likely due to the messy eating/apron wearing. Shmannie's mother, who I'm just pulling a name out of a hat here--Shmaren, wears an apron almost all day long. Shmaren packs aprons with her when she goes on vacation. Shmaren brings aprons with her to functions where she might find herself helping out in the kitchen. Shmaren probably offers to help out in the kitchen just so that she can wear her apron. Shmaren is a big fan of aprons and has very stain-free clothes. For 18 years, Shmaren has tried to convert her daughter (and sons) to the way of the apron before leaving her nest, but her plight is unsucessful. Our Shmannie, while a college student living in...Shmrovo attending...BYShmoo and out on her own, even though Shmaren has stuck an apron in her suitcase for her to use, refuses to when she eats or when she cooks her Ramen noodles or makes her ham sandwiches. The feeling is liberating, I would imagine. Now when Shmannie goes back home to, let's call it, oh...Shmirvine for the holidays, she is horrified to learn that she must still wear an apron at dinner. It must be what a nudist feels like at a turtleneck convention. Why a nudist would attend a turtleneck convention, I haven't the foggiest but that's what Shmannie feels like. I'm just guessing here. So now several years down the road, with time being able to heal all wounds and our Shmannie grown up with children of her own, let's call them Shmuby and Shmay just for kicks, does she make them wear aprons? No. Will she ever make them wear aprons? No. Does Shmannie, who dutifully slaves over a bubbling and hot stove almost nightly just as her mother Shmaren did, wear an apron like she probably should? No. Does Shmannie, who still cannot eat something without dripping it on herself, wear an apron like she probably should? No. She refuses. Which is too bad because she is passing up oppurtunities to look cute in something like these or anything from her friend Alison's site. Has Shmannie forgiven her Mother even though she is scarred for life? Yes. Will Shmannie ever be able to forget, though? No.

Apparently I Am Not An Orange County House Wife

I know there are some of you out there that might not believe some of the conversations I put on here to be entirely true. Though sometimes I write things that aren't true for humor's sake (which I try to make obvious when I do), all of my conversations are pretty exact to the actual conversation that took place. No embelishments, no exaggerations, not even for humors sake. So believe me when I tell you that this entire conversation really, truly took place in my spin room this morning.

Me: (to my class) So I'm going home in a couple of weeks and John will be subbing. Be nice to him, ok guys? (Oh how I love my fitness-instructor banter. Blehck.)

Spinner who's pretty new to the class: Oh, where's home?

Me: California.

Spinner: Where abouts in California? (They always say "where abouts" out here.)

Me: Orange County.

Spinner: (Eyes widen to the size of salad plates) You're from there?

Me: Yep.

Spinner: But you're so down to earth!

Me: Um, thanks.

Spinner: I never thought I'd meet someone from Orange County.

Me: Well. it's your lucky day. (Ha-ha. Ho-ho.)

Spinner: I just can't believe you're from there. Born and raised?

Me: Not born, but raised.

Spinner: I would have never guessed it! You look nothing like what I've seen on TV, like on those shows.

Me: Yah, don't believe everything you watch.

Spinner: (totally ignoring what I just said) I mean, it's just that you never wear makeup. You're hair's always up and kind of messy. No jewelry. You come in always looking like you just rolled out of bed.

Me: Um...

Spinner: I mean, not that those are bad things, I just would have thought someone from Orange County would present themselves differently.

Me: Uh...I don't know, I'm just kind of like that, especially at the gym and you're right...most of the time I have just rolled out of bed...but um...uh...So how's that gel seat working out for you? Those really help make your crotch less sore when you're new to spinning. (what?)

I've decided that the more one attends a gym, the less tact one begins to have.

Day One of Tunic Making

Just to clarify, I am making two different tunics. One with one fabric, and one with the other. I don't even want to imagine what it would look like if I used both fabrics together.

So last night I finished the top part (except for the buttons) and I only messed up once! It felt good. I ironed on my fusible facing to the right side of the fabric, not the wrong side . Woops.

Sewing takes great concentration. I have to read everything out loud like 50 times to visualize everything in my brain. If you were a fly on my wall yesterday, you would have heard "Stitch RIGHT sides together. Stitch right sides TOGETHER. STITCH right sides together. Stitch right SIDES together."

A Naptime Project and Fabrics on Acid

While my batik material was in the wash (and my kids were zonked out in their naps), I whipped out this little number. Maybe a change purse or...ANOTHER iphone cozy? You can never have too many iphone cozies. You can't see it very will but the top part is purple wool felt. Yes. You heard me right. It just looked too pretty next to the grey and creme material...

...and the yellow. BAM!
And here's my material for my tunics.

So I know they're super ugly but I think they're so ugly, they're almost cute...we'll see if I can pull this off or not. The bottom one, which I refer to as Jerry Garcia's Undies, actually looks better in person. I swear.

The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Sewing Machines

While Taryn was here, we were talking about sewing for some reason. She does not sew. In fact, she refuses to, just as I refuse to wear aprons. A post about this will be made someday in the near future. Oh yes, Mom. I'm doing it. Anyway, in the past couple of years, I've started sewing little things here and there but I've never ventured into apparel. Why sew something that probably won't turn out looking very good when you can buy something on the sales rack at Banana Republic for almost the same price? But I've been feeling a sewing itch for awhile and after my conversation with Taryn, I decided to give it a whack just for funsies.

Won't you join me on this adventure?

I am going to make the tourquoise top but it will be a little longer.
Notice the word "EASY" in red. This was a major selling point for me. I also liked the model's sassy pose. I plan on posing a lot after I make my smock or tunic or whatever you want to call it, so it was good to get a visual. Because I look so much like that model. Especially in the ankles. Pfff.

I got some cool batik fabric (on salesville!) so after I make it, pair it with a tee, it will come out looking something like this but hopefully more boho and summery and less Edelweiss.

Ode to My Cousins

This lovely vision in green is my cousin Taryn.

She has always been the definition of cool to me, though I do have this odd memory of her and my cousin Beth trying to "rat" my hair circa 1986 but even so, she still has always sat up on a big fat pedestal in my brain. She's good at Nertz; she always played basketball with the boys at the family reunions; after validating my Beatles obsession in junior high, she was the one to inform me about the true story behind their infamous song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds; she's funny; she's kind; she's smart; she's articulate; she makes you pour your soul out to her just by asking a simple question. She's the real deal, folks. And she visited ME this weekend...and with her, she brought her husband Jason, who I hadn't met yet but had heard great things about. Yep, all true. That Jason Schroeder is solid gold.


In classic May fashion, she took to him instantly. Hours after they left when I was putting her down to bed, she was asking "Whaz my Jayshon?" ("Where's my Jason?")

We went outside to play before they left.
Taryn helped Ruby look for worms,
which wins her Cousin of the Year award.

They played.

Jason weeded.
(Did I mention he is solid gold?)

These shrieks of delight were Schroeder induced.

I'm so glad they came.

They made it a beautiful day.

It Was

Dear almost-30-year-old self,

Hey. How ya doin? Nice little life you got going here. Let's cut the chase, shall we? You're not 18 anymore. You may think you are and sometimes other people may think it as well, mostly because you still say "like" way too much, many aspects of your body look like they haven't gone through puberty all the way yet and you've always got at least 2 zits going, but the fact is, time isn't fooled by poor grammar, a small chest and acne. You've lived almost thirty years on this earth and no matter what you do to try to defy that fact, like driving to Philly and staying out until 4 in the morning to see a band you're really into at the moment, you've still got to get up and feed your kids a bowl of cereal after 3 hours of sleep and function the next day. And guess what? You're not very good at it. Maybe you could have done it 10 years ago but you're getting older and you need your sleep, if not for being a nice mom and for your health in general, then definitely for your complexion. Now that I got that off my chest, like, how was the show? I bet it was worth it.

Sincerely,
Self-that-still-feels-18

My New Artistic Strategy

After this happened, I decided that in order to vastly improve my artwork, I needed to have more conversations with kids.

Yesterday morning after the girls woke up we piled into May's bed, still in our pajammies, and were snuggling and chatting.

Me: May, what do you want to do today?
May: Mm...wide owna beg joowahf!

Which meant:

Ride on a big giraffe!

Zap!

This could be the start of something good.

Blame It On the Beans and Cheese

Today I never made it to the grocery store like I was hoping, so for dinner, I opted for the cheapest/closest fast food option: Taco Bell. Blehck. I hate Taco Bell. No matter what you get, everything tastes the same--gordita, chalupa, bean burrito, crunchy taco, mexican pizza...it really doesn't matter. I try to remember this fact when they inevitably mess up my order--that no matter what I get, it will be gross.

I am a Del Taco snob. I grew up with one just right down the street. Their simple and heavenly chicken soft taco was a staple in my adolescent diet. I still crave them daily; they don't have Del Taco out in the east. Just Taco Bell. Or Taco Smell, as Go calls it. Or Taco Hell, as I call it. Because he's more righteous than I am.

I would make all kinds of dumb "Run for the Border" jokes about running for the toilet, but that's no longer their slogan and I like to keep up with the times. So tonight, because we gave into Taco Bell's plea to "Think Outside the Bun", we will shall "Stink Outside the Buns."

Definitely a Wilbur

I replaced Willy's felt eyeball with a button, which not only looks better but is also functional. I love it when that happens.