Just Tabitha

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 15:46:00 +0000

Hey friends!

Just thought I'd remind you again that I've moved to a new home at Wordpress.com. You can find me blogging over here now, so be sure to update your blogroll/Reader/whatever you use to keep track of stuff.

Thanks!

Done!

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 14 May 2009 19:30:00 +0000

Okay folks, I have officially relocated. Pack your bags, update your reader, and follow me on over to my new home!

I had been playing with the idea of switching to WordPress recently, and when my whole layout went kaput yesterday, I decided it was time. The thing about blogger is that when you add all your fun widgets and things, if you don't save everything JUST RIGHT, you can lose it all in a heartbeat. I mean, I saved my entire template like they tell you to do, ya know? But still, things got screwy.

Anyway, I'm hoping WordPress will serve me well. So far, while it's a lot different in terms of navigating my dashboard and stuff, I think I like it. And I think I better like it, because I'm sure you're all getting tired of following me around the interwebs like a bunch of drunken people doing a soul train at a wedding reception.

Come on...one last time! I'll never make you change your feed subscription thingy, ever EVER again! Never. At least not in the next few months... *tee hee*

Gah.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 14 May 2009 06:24:00 +0000

You may or may not have noticed that my blog is broken.

Well, the template and a few widgets, anyway. The content is all okay. But I decided I've pretty much had it with blogger. I want TABS, for Pete's sake. So I'm in the process of switching over to WordPress. I'll let you know when the move is official, but for the time being, I'm still here. My layout is just lame, is all.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program.

A few tidbits for your Wednesday enjoyment.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Wed, 13 May 2009 18:45:00 +0000

Hello, Three Word Wednesday. It's been awhile. I saw today's words and immediately thought of three completely unrelated tidbits -- one for each word. And thus, since inspiration has graciously struck me so swiftly (for once), I present The Return of 3WW.

Tidbit #1:

I've been thinking lately about how great it is to talk to Joe. Whenever we are having a conversation, whether it's a "discussion" type of conversation -- you know, not quite an argument, but still on the serious side -- or just a regular old shooting-the-breeze chat, I love talking to him. Even those more tense discussions -- and even arguments -- are things I really appreciate. Why, you ask? Because we never bicker. We don't make a habit of stepping on each other's sentences, and when one of us does interrupt the other, we quickly recognize our mistake and back off. When we disagree on something, it doesn't turn into an "I'm right, you're wrong" thing; we work toward a common solution. I hope and pray that I never become a bickering wife.

Tidbit #2:

Next week I am taking four days off of work. FOUR WHOLE DAYS! I am really excited, for the most part. I get to go to the desert (where my parents live) to sing in a worship conference with the church we attend here in Santa Barbara. The part of me that's not excited? That part is sad because Joe isn't coming with me. We haven't spent more than a day away from each other ever since I moved up here last August. So to be apart for four entire days is going to be a major bummer. And this morning, I realized another thing that's less than exciting: the inevitable result of being away from work for almost an entire week? Coming back to work and playing catch-up for about 700 hours. I'm just sliiiiiightly nervous about that. It might suck a LOT. In fact, I'm kind of betting on it.

Tidbit #3:

When I saw this third word for 3WW, my immediate thought was, "BWAHAHAHAHAAA!!" And that is because of this post by my lovely blogging friend over at a.little.bit.delirious. You should definitely go read it, because it is probably the most hilarious thing I've read all day. Maybe all week. But the gist of it is that her husband threw a sack of dog poo and it had a hole in it. So the poo went FLYING. And what I realllllllly want to know is this: what was the approximate trajectory of that poo's maiden voyage? *tee hee*

The end.

This post brought to you by the words bicker, nervous, and trajectory. Check out the Three Word Wednesday blog if you're ever in a rut or need a little inspiration, challenge, or some other great blogs to read.

One of my favorite Saturdays to date.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 11 May 2009 18:30:00 +0000

In spite of the lame-ass FIRE trying to wreck my romantic plans, I managed to pull off my beach/sunset picnic with Joe. Only instead of a Santa Barbara beach, we had it at a park in Woodland Hills, and instead of watching the sunset, we ate in the dark. But that's later. Let me start at the beginning of Saturday.

First of all, I got to sleep in. Thank you Jesus. Then Joe and I decided to go see the new Star Trek movie, but first we grabbed lunch at this crepe place at the mall. It was pretty tasty -- I had one with ham, egg and cheese, so it was brunchy, which is always a good thing. So then it was Star Trek time. And let me say, I am officially a fan. This is kind of a big deal, since I am in a family full of Trekkies. It's not that I didn't like Star Trek before, but I was just never that into it. I watched the TV shows with my family a lot as a kid, but I don't remember any of the movies at all. So although I didn't have much context for this new one, I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was so well done, and entertaining during every minute of it, AND I kind of love Sylar. Er, Spock. Whatever. And I definitely cried a little bit...within the first TEN MINUTES of the movie.

Anyway, that was a great way to start the day. After the movie, we strolled around the malls (yes, plural - MALLS) and did some shopping for Mother's Day gifts for some moms we know and love. We realized it was starting to get pretty late into the afternoon, and I was hoping to have our picnic right before sunset, so I had to get home to do some prep work on the food I had brought. I'll spare you all the intriguing details of how I chopped green peppers and onions and peaches. Once I got everything packed up, it was already pretty much sunset. So I was bummed because our "picnic on the beach at sunset" was slowly just turning into a...picnic. (Score: Tabitha - 0; The Universe - 2)

But it was great! We went to a park near Joe's parents' house that had a huge grassy area, and it was still light enough outside (for the most part) to see our food and each other's faces, at least for the first 20 minutes or so. Then it was sexy-dark, which I was okay with. :-) The dinner was comprised of some make-it-yourself deli sandwich mixin's including: panini rolls, a variety of meats like salame, sopresatta and capicola, some cheeses, green peppers, onions, tomatos and of course your basic condiments. Yum. Then for dessert I brought a bunch of fresh strawberries, raspberries and peaches, and this amaaaaaazing fruit dip that is, quite possibly, my favorite thing EVER. And it only requires two ingredients. (First person to guess both ingredients wins. Don't ask me what the prize is, though.)

So our picnic was a success, if you ask me. And thus ended our wonderful Saturday.

Unfortunately, I was suffering from a week-early menstrual cycle and was therefore pretty cranky ALL LAST WEEK, so Saturday I didn't even realize I was being short and snappy with Joe until he gently let me know I was being short and snappy. Oops. But Joe is so amazing that he just acknowledged that he's learned when I'm in "those moods" and he is a little more cautious around me, which I really appreciated knowing. And it made me all the more conscious of how I was acting toward him, because ideally, I don't want him to have to be on edge around me, ya know?

Anyway, there's a highlight from my weekend for you faithful readers. And in case you don't read our other blog, guess what today is?

It's the one-year-anniversary of the day I met Joe! Yay!

An Update on the Jesusita Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Fri, 08 May 2009 17:00:00 +0000

Remember that one time when I said I was feeling hopeful about all of this fire stuff?

Oh, was that just yesterday?

Well, keeping hope is proving to be very difficult. I'm still trying, but this thing has gotten so out of control. I stayed in Goleta again last night, and when I woke up this morning there was white ash EVERYWHERE, and I found out that the fire had spread drastically overnight. The evacuation zones now span from Joe's place to mine, basically. I found out a few minutes ago that my house is now OFFICIALLY under mandatory evacuation (Google map here). At this rate, Joe's will soon follow. We're packed up and ready to go to LA tonight.

Here's my thought process this morning:

What if BOTH of our places burned down? Where would we go? Where will we live in three months when we get married? Holy cow, we are getting married THREE MONTHS from today. That is so soon! (Yay!) Crap, I was planning a special picnic for Joe this weekend. What now? I guess we can do it in LA, if his place doesn't burn down before I get off work, since I need to pick up all the food I bought yesterday. That food was expensive. What did I leave at my house? If it burns down, I'm going to have to restock on everything. Laundry detergent. Shoes. I left Gilmore Girls -- all seven seasons. Thank God I brought Newsies. What about my cute purple dangly earrings -- did I bring those? I think I've only worn them once, but I liked them.

This is ridiculous. My house isn't going to burn down. It's just not. I could have left everything there, because it WILL NOT BURN DOWN. Please God don't let it burn down. Don't let Joe's place burn, either. Gosh, I'm acting so selfish. I know of at least ten people whose homes are so much closer to the actual fire. They may have already lost everything and not even know it yet. Why is it so hard for them to get a handle on this fire? I know the winds are crazy, but there have been spans of HOURS when the winds were perfectly still; why didn't they get it under control then? I wish I understood better. I wish my sense of direction didn't suck, too, because I could make sense out of all these boundaries they keep spewing out without accompanied maps. Why can't they keep a freaking map up to date with where the actual FIRE is, along with the evacuation zones? What if the fire keeps raging into next week? I'll have to use up my PTO and then we can't have our honeymoon. What about worship team practice tomorrow?

Are you sensing the discombobulation here? I really just hate that this is happening AGAIN. Six months after the first one. And like I said a couple of days ago at our other blog, I would be totally okay with moving OUT of Santa Barbara. Sure, it's beautiful, and there are beaches all over, and the weather is (debatably) "perfect" all the time, but you know what else? It's overpriced. It's pretty far from both Joe's and my families. People can be kind of stuck up and flaky here (generalization, sorry). There's NO Target, for Pete's sake. And, most notably, fire is really attracted to this place. (At least, I hope it's this place and not ME. If we move to Alaska and things start to burn, I might start to get suspicious.)

Anyway, thank you all for your supportive comments, thoughts and prayers. Keep it up, cuz we definitely need it. Right now the wind is expected to continue as it did yesterday, so it seems like there's no end in sight. But I'm determined to stay positive.

Or try, at least.

Another Fire: What I did differently this time.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 07 May 2009 15:15:00 +0000

Back in November, I wrote about the Tea Fire. I wrote about how I never thought it could happen to me, but there it was, happening. I wrote about how unprepared I was. I said,

"I was so in shock at the idea that my home was under serious threat that I didn't think like a person in the middle of a disaster... I just started grabbing things and throwing them in a backpack, a bag, a purse... But if I could do it all over again..."

Well, dammit. I got to do it all over again.

Granted, we were not forced to evacuate last night. As it stands this morning, I think we're still just on the other side of the evacuation line. But I wasn't about to hang around to see if that changed, and the smoke in the air was thick and it burned my lungs.

It took me over an hour to get home from work. Less than 20 miles, and it took me over an hour. As the smoke spread across the sky, and as I drove right into it, I remembered November. I remembered that feeling of vulnerability, of ignorance, and of feeling unprepared and panicked. Once I finally got home, I knew the danger was much less severe than it was on the night I evacuated from the Tea Fire. And knowing that, I almost let myself think, Meh. I'll be fine. No need to pack everything up or freak out. But then I thought, Don't be stupid, Tabitha. The winds are erratic and YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE, remember? Pack up your things, and do it right this time.

I'm so thankful for the lessened immediacy of last night's evacuation versus the one in November. I took my time, since the air inside the house was still breathable and the fire a good distance away. I grabbed enough clothes for a week or so, plus all my dirty ones (because heck, I might as well do laundry at someone else's place if I can, right?), and I packed them up neatly. I got my various IDs, important paperwork, and everything wedding-related. I grabbed a few movies and books just because they were newer ones I haven't read or seen yet, or favorites that I would be sad to part with. (I know, I know, it's petty stuff, but I had time, okay?) I got Romania mementos, and old poetry I wrote in high school, and the brand new picnic basket set that Joe and I got at our engagement party a few weeks ago. I got all my bead stuff (SO not petty!), and I got my box of contacts and my solution, and my iPod.

Oh, and I also brought a WHOLE car-load of that sweet, smoky stench. (Blech.) I thought I had managed to get away without bringing that with me, but when I got in my car this morning, there it was. Kind of funny, since I was just thinking a couple weeks ago about how great it was to have the smoke smell almost completely out of my clothes and furniture and stuff.

Anyway, I guess I got my wish -- I got to do it all over again.

The thing is, if our house DOES burn down, I don't think I'm going to feel any better about it than I would've had it happened in November when I was so scattered and unprepared to evacuate. There's still a TON more stuff in there that I don't want to lose. Like, um...everything.

Oh, and as if another fire isn't enough added stress and worry in my life, it seems like the hits just keep on coming this week. My cousin Matthew was in a car accident last night. My fiance's grandfather's wife passed away a few days ago. Several people from my former job (good friends who are also part of our wedding planning) are dealing with serious health issues. And on and on and on...

It's tough in times like these to keep a positive outlook. To have hope, and faith, and trust in God's provision. But right now, on this warm and less-windy morning, I feel hopeful. I'm staying realistic and I'm praying hard, but I'm hopeful.

Deja Vu: Hello, Jesusita Fire.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Wed, 06 May 2009 02:25:00 +0000

Um...

Seriously?

There is ANOTHER fire in Santa Barbara. This is the third one in under a year. And the evacuation line is pretty darn close to my house. Again.

Fortunately, it's looking like we won't be hit. But the winds are unpredictable, and I'm not about to brush this one off like I did last time. I'm cleaning my room. Making sure I know where the important stuff is. Praying that everything I'm doing right now is for nothing, because the fire won't come anywhere near us. Yet thinking realistically. Grouping all things wedding-related together...

Just in case.

Gah.

Public Service Announcement. Or something.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 04 May 2009 03:42:00 +0000

A very brief announcement this Sunday evening:

Joe's mom served artichokes for dinner tonight...

GLOBE artichokes.

Have you SEEN how big those things are?

(Photo credit: flickr/Google image search)

It was...in a word...heavenly. I definitely ate an entire one...all. by. myself. AND (Mom would be so proud of me) I cut out the "choke" ALL BY MYSELF, too! That's a first. I usually make someone else do it cuz I'm too nervous about missing part of it and, uh, you know...choking.

But I digress: Unfortunately, I learned tonight that Joe is not quite as in love with artichokes as I am.

This could present a slight issue in our future wedded bliss.

On second thought, it might just mean MORE FOR ME!

The end. :-)

Haiku-d you please analyze this for me?

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Fri, 01 May 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Shannon (of Love, Comma fame) posted a fun list of some of the search terms that led people to her blog (via the awesome Google Analytics). It's not a meme or a "tag-you're-it" thing, but I thought it'd be fun to mimic. And, in honor of the much-neglected Haiku Friday, I decided to add my commentary in the form of...dun-dun-DUNNN...

*whispers* ...haiku.

Enjoy!

In no particular order, other than the order in which I haphazardly grabbed these from the list of over 40...here are some original Just-Tabitha haiku, and the search terms that inspired them.

"been crossing my legs" pee
I can imagine
how that could be stressful -- But...
why'd you Google it?

communication skills today compared to yesterday
No fair! Yesterday,
I was inarticulate
'cause I was tired! *pout*

tabitha fart
Heh. That's right, Google!
You show them where to find me.
I am the Fart Queen.

rite aid or rite aide
It's such a relief
to know that spelling matters
to more than just me.

tabitha my mom
I hate to say it,
but I am not your mother.
Good luck in your search.

letters, my heart is in pain
Sorry you're going
through pain, but what did L E T T E R S
ever do to you?

"crush on the ta"
I know your code words,
you sneaky drug dealer, you!
Go "crush" somewhere else.

catoons are kissing on lips on each other games
Um...first of all, it's
CAR-toons. And your search term? It's
kind of scandalous.

i like jane austen and pioneer woman
Yay! I'd like to say
"Me, too!" but I STILL haven't
read any Austen...

just put your lips together and blow movie
(and about 20 variations of the same search)
If Humphrey Bogart
made it famous, how come I
always think of this?

(If you're not totally OVER this by now, click for more. I'm on a roll!)

"stupid ten pounds" break up
I feel your pain, friend.
Breakin' up is hard to do.
(So is losing weight!)

i hate one way streets
We should TOTALLY
start an anti-one-way-streets
campaign. Am I right?!

my bladder was about to
For some odd reason,
I get the feeling this guy
had an accident.

embarrassing first kiss stories
Again, I'm so touched
that Google was keen enough
to direct you here.

how to write a letter to become reacquainted with old friends
A noble pursuit...
but I should tell you that I
sort of FAIL at that.

lydia dansin wive tabitha
I have a sister,
and her name IS Lydia,
but not "dansin wive."

pap smear experience
The understatement
of the century -- "Pap smear?"
More like "PAP SEVERE!"

tabitha pee
I am She Who Pee!
Glad to be of assistance.
How may I help you?

tabitha and josh's wedding
Eew! That is just WRONG.
Josh is my brother, people.
That would be incest.

face farting stories
I just got the best
mental image: some guy's FACE
all like, "Tthhrrrrpppththhtttt-ppfft-brrwwpppphhth!!!"*
(*Yes, that last line is totally five syllables.)

my conscious kicked in
Sigh. My conscience is
telling me that YOUR "conscious"
is illiterate.

tmi acne
Oddly enough, that
post I wrote about acne
DID creep out some folks...

Well there you have it, my friends. A bunch of searches that led people, however unwillingly, to click into my blog. Happy Friday!

The Sushi Saga

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 04:45:00 +0000

Joe has been trying to get me to love sushi.

And it has been attempted before. And before Joe, the couple of times I had ever tried sushi, I pretty much wanted to throw it right back up, directly onto whichever butt-face made me try it.

But then came Takenoya. Joe took me there back when I first moved up here, and made me try the spicy tuna roll. And, um, I kind of liked it.

(Kind of.)

Then a while later we went to another sushi place in LA for my cousin's husband's birthday. Another spicy tuna roll. I'm warming up to it.

Then, a couple months ago, Joe took me back to Takenoya. I think it was shortly before I went in to get allergy tested...so I didn't yet know that I am most definitely and unfortunately allergic to sesame. And guess what kind of oil they use in, like, EVERYTHING at Takenoya?

Um...yeah. Sesame. Not to mention the black sesame seeds all over the rice and stuff. But I didn't know this yet.

So as I'm ravenously devouring my spicy tuna roll (because, let's face it, I'm kind of sold. But only on spicy tuna. Baby steps, people) -- suddenly the insides of my cheeks start to feel kind of swollen. And then my throat feels itchy and slightly in danger of closing up. Now, the cheek swelling had been a common occurrence whenever I had anything with mustard in it, but this was much, much more severe. And mustard never made my throat itch or feel like it was closing up.

Anyway, I ate about half of my tuna roll before I realized that the allergic symptoms were starting to feel rather scary, and then I stopped. I drank as much water as I could. I tried not to freak out. And about six or seven hours later, I felt almost totally normal again.

(Side note? Allergies kind of suck.)

So, fast forward a bit. I found out I'm allergic to sesame AND mustard, and I begin to cut them completely out of my diet. My general food-allergy symptoms have greatly improved, and I take it as a good thing. No more sesame or mustard for me. Kind of a hassle, since there is a lot of stuff out there that uses sesame and/or mustard oil/seeds/whatever. More than you might have realized, until you become an indredient-reading pro like me.

I told Joe at one point somewhat recently that my theory about the previous sushi incident was that they probably used sesame in their food, AND that wasabi might have mustard in it. I was about to swear off sushi all together, for the rest of my life, and I was pretty okay with that.

But since we're probably honeymooning in Vegas, there is this sushi place out there that is supposedly the GREATEST thing ever, and they have an all-you-can-eat special, which, for sushi lovers, is apparently heaven. And he wants me to be able to try it. So we decided to go back to Takenoya for a little investigation/test of sorts.

This happened last Friday. Joe and I and his neighbors Jeff and Leah headed over to the restaurant. I felt comforted by the fact that Leah had never had sushi before and was a little bit nervous about it...so I wasn't the only one feeling slightly tense. See, Leah's a vegetarian, so she had a hard time finding something on the menu that didn't have meat (or meat-juice?) in it. But she did (yay!) and I think she liked it (double yay!). I asked our waitress if she could tell us a) whether their wasabi contained mustard and b) whether everything was generally prepared with sesame oil and if that could be altered for a special circumstance.

Our waitress?

Was amazing.

If I could have tipped her 500 bucks, I totally would've. But I couldn't. So there.

Anyway, long story short, she told us that, yes, most of the dishes used sesame oil, but they could easily substitute olive oil, and no, she didn't think the wasabi had mustard, but since they bought it from a supplier, it was possible. (Or something.) Alas, out came my famous spicy tuna roll (and my teriyaki beef and my lump of white rice), sans any traces of sesame seeds or oil, and I ate the first few pieces of sushi with only soy sauce (no wasabi) to ease myself into potential reactions.

All clear.

YAY!! And then I finished my roll with a little bit of wasabi in my soy sauce, and that seemed to be fine, too.

Double yay!

So...as long as the cooks and waiters don't mind doing a little extra work for me, I think I can become a sushi liker. Maybe even a sushi lover.

Maybe.

Positivity: Not so easy when everything sucks.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:45:00 +0000

Remember that one time when I was all chipper and like, "Keep on the sunny side of life"?

(...Oh, was that just yesterday?)

Well, crap. That didn't last very long, did it?

Do you ever have those mornings when pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong or piss you off, DOES?! That would be me. Today. To the n^th degree.

I thought about griping and moaning and LISTING all the stuff that has made me want to crawl under a hole in the LESS THAN TWO HOURS I'VE BEEN AWAKE...but then I remembered Pastor Jim's sermon on Sunday and how he read one of my favorite verses which says, "Do everything without complaining or arguing." Dangit.

So instead, I want to say that I'm so thankful for Joe.

When I got to his place this morning for our devotional time, he heard me stomping up the steps and he saw the smoke coming out of my ears, and he said, "Hey. Come here."

And he just held me. And prayed for me, that my day would get better and I would relax and calm down from whatever frustrations I'd faced this morning.

*Sigh.*

I really am blessed. And it sucks when a hundred little annoyances happen in the span of an hour and put me in a bad mood, because I don't like bad moods. I don't like being irritable and negative. I feel ugly on mornings like today. And I feel weak and fickle and short-sighted, because, when I stop for two seconds and remind myself just how many great and amazing things I have in my life, I should be able to laugh off the small stuff. The every-red-light-on-the-way-to-work. The forgetting-my-iPod-on-a-running-day. The spilling-milk-everywhere. The my-face-is-breaking-out-like-I'm-still-thirteen. I mean really, how do I get so worked up about such silly things?

But the fact is, I totally did. I walked into Joe's place this morning cussing and slamming doors and wanting to punch a wall. And I'll be honest, I'm still pretty on edge. But I'm deciding right now that I'm going to have a good attitude today. Even if 37 MORE things go wrong.

I'm alive.

I'm loved and in love.

I'm safe and clothed and healthy.

I'm free.

What's a couple red lights and some spilt milk? (I think "spilt" is a really weird word, btw.) Nothing to cry over, that's what. (And for the record, I didn't cry. But I wouldn't put it past me.)

So, who wants to decide to be positive with me today? :-)

(Photo credit: Google image search that took me here.)

Keep on the sunny side of life.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 15:35:00 +0000

Here are some good things about today thus far:

Finding and KILLING the spider that crawled out from under my clean clothes, and managing not to scream in terror and wake up my housemates. (Also: yeesh!)
Looking forward to an extended Administrative Professionals' Day treat -- a couple of my engineers are taking me and another admin out to lunch! Whee!
Knowing I only have four work days this week.
Realizing how soon August 8th is -- 103 days away! And knowing we will get all the planning done, no sweat. (Maybe a little sweat.)
Technically this was last night, but: Getting a thank-you card from our photographers with a photo of US on the front! I didn't even realize it was us at first, because it was so professional and awesome. Check it out:

(It's a scan of the actual card, so the quality's not as good as the real thing. You can see our silhouettes better behind the umbrella on the card.) Cute, though, right?

Remembering how blessed I am to have such an amazing, hilarious, sexy, loving man to spend my whole life with!
Noticing I got PAID last week. Yessss!
Having a mother-in-law-to-be who is so helpful and generous with her great ideas and resources for making our wedding beautiful and memorable.
Looking forward to trying the dessert I made last night...it didn't cool fast enough, so we only got a little spoonful of what was supposed to be, er, solid. We'll see what happens!

Yep. It's going to be a good week. I decided.

If you subscribe to Carbonated Jeans, stay tuned for a post about my cooking adventures of late!

*Suddenly I really want a Tootsie Roll pop.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 17:00:00 +0000

I think part of the reason I've slacked on blogging lately is because I haven't felt like sticking to my little daily themed posts like "Tales on Tuesday" and all that. How did I manage to trap myself into this feeling of obligation to those things, when I'm the one who controls this blog? I don't have to write strictly TMI stuff on Thursdays, or haikus on Fridays. I can write whatever I darn well please.

I almost started over.

Well, I started to start over. I thought about moving my blog over to wordpress.com. I created an account and everything. But I haven't decided whether I want to make that move just yet. I think the advantages would be pretty great. Wordpress gives the option to password-protect individual posts...which would enable me to say more of what's on my mind on those rare occasions when I'm not quite willing to share it with everyone who I know is reading this. Or it would also allow me to better "censor" some of my REALLY TMI stuff, so I don't scare off my future in-laws or potentially impressionable youngsters.

Anyway, I think I'm mostly feeling overwhelmed. What's funny, though, is that writing is what helps me to unwind. To process. To catch a momentary break from all the hustle and bustle, planning, stressing, and just sit and have a conversation with myself.

(Er...not in a crazy, I'm-talking-to-myself kind of way...you know. A sane-type of conversation.

None of this:

Me: How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?
Myself: Good question. Let's try it out.
I: I only made it to 147 before I bit it.* I'm sorry, guys! I've failed you!

No...I don't ever have conversations like that with myself...)

So, back to my point. Why is it that, when I most need to sit and reflect and just WRITE, I can never seem to make the time to do it? I've posted like three times in the last two weeks. Pa-the-tic.

Basically, while I know I totally warned you guys that I might become a little sparse here, what with all the wedding plans and stuff, I never really intended to let that happen. It was more of a buffer, or something, ya know?

All that said, I'm still around. And I've somehow managed to keep up with my Google Reader (for the most part), in spite of sucking at contributing to any of YOURS. Not that there are more than, like, ten people outside my immediate family who are officially subscribed to my blog.

But I have hopes.

And that's why I'm sitting here blabbing about how I am inadvertently more obsessed with the whole social/public/reader-driven aspect of blogging than I care to admit. I do it for me. But I also do it for you. And I'm sad that I'm not doing it better. Alas...preparing for a life with my future husband is a tad (okay, a LOT) more important than keeping a very teeny weeny amount of blog readers satisfied.

So stick around, because I'm still here. And I'll probably still throw up a Tale or a TMI or a Haiku when I can (slash when I feel like it), and I'll definitely still pop in with random thoughts and silly anecdotes and stuff. And I'll try not to be one of those bloggers who only writes about how they suck (or rule) at blogging. Cuz I know how annoying that can get...

Schweaty McSchweaterschun.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 04:45:00 +0000

I try to steer clear of most of those meme or tag-you're-it things, not because I don't like them, but because I know how often they get ridiculed (and I already do enough to warrant ridicule, right? TMI Thursday anyone?). But this one seemed kind of cool because it's all about being real. And in the moment. Or something. Or maybe I just needed to post something, and this felt legit enough.

Right.

I don't know the original "prompt" per se, but basically, you're supposed to take a picture of yourself RIGHT NOW, whenever you read the post in which you were tagged. No touch-ups or prep work. Just do it already. (twss)

Unfortunately, I first read the post in which I was tagged while I was at work, and it is seriously forbidden to take photographs inside my place of work. I'm not even kidding. Anyway, I finally made it online in my own freaking house for once, so here I am in all my post-workout sexiness:

This is my "gah, do I really want to document the grossness that is my FACE right now?" face. But the good news is, I finally, at last, holy crap how long had it BEEN? went ~~running~~ ~~jogging~~ slightly-fast-paced-walking-with-some-spurts-of-jogging-thrown-in-for-kicks.

I think the last time I went running/jogging/lame-saucing-as-per-above-hyphenated-phrase was at least a month ago. And I even bought new shoes FOR THE PURPOSE OF RUNNING. Because I was tired of letting myself use the "my Payless shoes are making my run suckier" excuse. I went to Big 5 and bought some New Balance tennies. I've worn them a bunch for my Curves workouts, but today I finally used them on the track.

Phew. It felt good. And it also hurt. But in a good way.

Alas, eight laps around the track and one time up and down the stadium steps, and I was sweaty. And then I went to Joe's and made us grilled cheese (with pepperjack, yum!) and also pb&j (don't judge me), and then we watched some Drew Carey online, and then I drove home. And now I'm sitting here in my own filth.

Are you grossed out yet?

Okay, okay...I'll go shower. Geez, you don't have to be so mean about it. Holding your nose so dramatically like that. *sniffs armpits*

Oh come on, it's not even that bad!

Hello?

Is anyone out there?

I see how it is.

The Great Pee Race of 2004

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 19:45:00 +0000

Ack! How can it have been over a week since my last blog post? Life seems to be getting exponentially busier the closer I get to my wedding date.

But you probably aren't surprised, so I won't bore you with one of those what-I've-been-doing-with-my-life posts.

Instead, since it is Tuesday after all, I've got another totally peeyourpants-worthy tale to tell you. Literally. (Well, almost.)

The Great Pee Race of 2004

This one, yet again, features my dear friend Kimba. I think we were meant to be friends just so that I could collect thousands of hilarious anecdotes to share with my future blog readers.

Anyway, it was our freshman year. Kim and I were suite-mates, meaning our dorm rooms were connected by a shared bathroom. And that shared bathroom is the topic of probably a third of all our greatest stories. (Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I can think of at least two right off the top of my head. But I digress.)

One day, Kim and I were heading home from classes or chapel or something, and we both remarked that we really really REALLY REEEEALLLLYYY needed to pee. Like, badly. Like, holy-cow-I'm-not-even-sure-if-I-can-make-it-to-the-bathroom!! So we started to power-walk toward our dorm.

Now, there were totally other bathrooms we could've used. Like the one inside the cafeteria. Or the one in the first-floor lobby of our dorm building. Or we could've barged into any other girls' room and said, while simultaneously unzipping our pants, "Hey, I don't know if we've met yet, but I'll introduce myself as soon as I unleash my bladder. Do you mind? Kthanksbye!" But of course, we weren't that blunt. Usually. Nor were we very logical. We completely ruled out any other possible bladder-relieving locations than our one and only shared toilet, and we decided to race there.

It was completely unfair, because Kim was in WAY better shape than me, and she LIKED running.

So she beat me there. But let me give you the visual play-by-play.

Kim wasn't about to wait for the elevator to take her up to the fourth floor. I seriously considered it, but I knew she could potentially make it up the stairs before the elevator door even opened for me. So we tumbled into the door which led to the staircase, and we bolted up the four flights, knocking into people who were coming down, and tripping over ourselves and each other to get ahead. Miraculously, it was a close race.

But Kim won. As she reached the top of the fourth flight of stairs, she screamed in anticipation when the prize was finally in sight. The Door.

I wasn't ready to give up, though. As I watched Kim lunge toward her dorm room door, rather than go the extra ten feet to where MY door was, I followed after her as fast as I could. She opened the door and made an immediate right, reaching to open the door to the bathroom which peacefully resided between our two rooms. And as my bladder pulsed in pain, I reached Kim's door just as it was about to latch shut.

And I charged. I mean I full-on THREW my body, right shoulder first, into that door.

And it all happened so fast.

Kim hadn't made it safely into the bathroom yet.

She was behind the door.

And as I thrust it open, into the room, I saw Kim's body go flying. She toppled to the ground, but not before she crashed into the sink which was positioned just outside the bathroom door.

I stood there with the door open and looked down at my competitor. She looked up at me with such shock and horror, I wasn't sure if she was seriously injured or just amazed that I had kept up with her.

Then she laughed. And then I laughed. And then we both remembered why we were in this position in the first place.

BLADDERS ON THE VERGE OF BURSTING!

And, since I had just half-killed my suite-mate, I conceded to let her go first.

Thankfully, the only "accident" that day was the part where I knocked Kim over. We both made it to the toilet before our bladders exploded. But let me tell you...that was the LONGEST two minutes I've ever had to wait to use the restroom.

What in the heck do I make of this?

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 05:34:00 +0000

So tonight when Joe and I arrived back in town, I got in my car to head home (as I'd had my car parked at his place for the weekend). I noticed when I got a short ways down his street that the little "S" light for my Sports gear option thingy was blinking. Weird, right?

I pulled over and went to call Joe, and as the phone was ringing, I turned the car off, then back on. The "S" light had stopped blinking. So when he answered, I said, "Nevermind."

I began driving again, and got onto the freeway when I noticed the "S" light began blinking again. A few seconds later, I noticed that my spedometer was stuck on ZERO mph.

Crap.

And yet, my car seemed to be running fine, aside from this really inconvenient anomaly.

THEN the check engine light came on. But my car was still running. The "S" light was blinking and the spedometer wasn't moving, but my car was running.

What.

The.

Heck.

I exited the next place I could, and parked in the lot in front of Payless Shoe Source (too bad they weren't open...). Called Joe again and told him what was going on, and he said it sounded like a wire may have come loose or something, and the check engine light was probably a response to the fact that it seemed my car wasn't "going" even though I was pressing the gas. He said I should be safe to drive home, just to stay with the flow of traffic.

I made it home, but I was totally freaked out. And it seemed like people around me were particularly heinous drivers tonight. I almost got killed by some jerk who pulled into the roundabout when I should have had the right of way. Then he stopped, apparently expecting me to go around him, only he wasn't just a little bit in the way. He was completely in the roundabout already. I motioned for him to go, and if he had super-human hearing, he would've heard me say a few choice words.

Then as I turned onto one street leading toward ANOTHER roundabout, my spedometer suddenly began working again. "S" light still flashing, check engine still on, but I could tell how fast I was going.

For about five minutes.

Oh, and somewhere in there, this freak in a minivan just stopped in front of me. He was about 200 feet shy of an actual stop sign, but he just pulled very slightly to the right and stopped. Not PULLED OVER, mind you. Just veered a tad. So I stopped, too. And waited. And fumed. And then an arm motioned out the minivan's window, signaling me to go around him.

Okay. Whatever.

So I'm home now, but totally not feeling happy about this incident.

I don't like the idea that I'm going to have to pay a lot of money to have this fixed. I don't like the fact that I shouldn't really be surprised this is happening, given the fact that my car is 19 years old. I REALLY don't feel comfortable driving my car to and from work all this week, but I especially am not keen on the idea of taking it anywhere locally, because this is Santa Barbara, and let's face it, EVERYTHING costs more here.

Basically...bah.

But other than that, I had a splendid weekend. I hope to write more about it soon, but for now, I need to put on some Gilmore Girls and zonk out.

Foreeevvvvur.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 22:40:00 +0000

Praise the Lord. Friday afternoon is FINALLY here. This day seemed to go on forreeeeeevvvUR.

Anyway, since I'm basically going crazy here trying to finish everything up at work and get the heck outta here, I've got a short haiku for y'all and that's it for today. And probably the whole weekend.

Ready?

I'm bringing a side
To the Easter Sunday lunch:
My artichoke dip

Yay!

Tasty Omelet Thursday: A smorgasbord of themes.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 16:00:00 +0000

Who's been a total blogging slacker this week?

*Two thumbs pointed at chest* THIS GIRL.

Sorry, folks. I hate to say it, but I think you can expect more of this blog slackage in the coming months, because in case you didn't know it: wedding planning is really freaking time-consuming. I'm trying, I really am. You know how much I love blogging, right?

Anyway, I hope you can forgive my current and probably semi-ongoing sporadicness here.

But since I've been MIA since Monday, I've got a treat for you. I'm calling it the Three-Themed Omelet. I don't know why it's an omelet...but it is. It definitely is.

Tuesday's theme, as you know, is "Tales" -- the egg. Wednesdays are all about "Three Words" -- the bell peppers. And Thursdays, of course, are reserved for that juicy LiLu treat called "TMI (Too Much Information)" -- the diced ham. Yep, friends...brace yourself, because I'm rolling it all into one fa-ha-haaaaabulous post...

I hope. I'm kinda wingin' it here. (Basically, I'm going to tell a Tale that is slightly, if not extremely, TMI, and incorporate this week's Three Words into it. Tasty, eh?) Here we go.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Disclaimer: I am going to use the term "douche-bag" more than once in this post. While you may disagree, it really IS necessary to drive the point home.)

My first college party was unexpectedly rowdy. I guess I expected it to be on the milder side, because I went to a private Christian university. And Christians don't party, right? Heh. Wrong. And this particular party was thrown by "a baseball boy." DOUBLE wrong.

At the time, a party thrown by a baseball boy from my private Christian school didn't mean anything significant to me, except that maybe there would be a lot of cute, Jesus-loving, guitar-playing guys there. Little did I know that most of the baseball boys at my school were locals (so they had access to their parents' houses on the weekends), and were totally skeezy horn dogs. AND basically, their parties were exactly like the stereotypical teen-movie high school parties. Red cups, crappy rap music which facilitates lots of freak dancing, people vomiting all over the place, broken vases -- the works. Let's just say that I didn't feel compelled to attend many more of these types of parties in my college years. I needed more sophistication.

Anyway, this party.

As much as I'm bashing it now, I have to admit I felt kind of "cool" getting invited to my first party. I dressed in a cute outfit, spent YEARS on my hair, and loaded my purse with gum and breath mints and lip gloss. I was ready to flirt. Or at least to try, anyway.

I was handed my first beer. I don't mean my first beer of the night -- I mean my first beer EVER. I watched as some already-toasted stranger took a red plastic cup and filled it from this strange metal barrel-looking thing (yes, friends, that would be the first KEG I'd ever seen), and as it sloshed over the top, onto his hands and shoes, he thrust it toward me and slurred, "Enjoy!" I still don't know whether it was Coors or Miller or what. I smelled it. Blech.

I tasted it.

Surprisingly less "blech" than I was anticipating. So I drank it. Really, really fast. (I believe I've mentioned that I'm a fast drinker? Yeah. It started here.) And I had a second red cup of mystery beer. And a third.

And then I was ready to dance. And suddenly I started to notice all those cute boys I had been hoping to encounter. Only most of them probably weren't that cute. (You know, beer goggles, and all that.) But I didn't care. I was buzzing, I was mingling, and I was care-free.

I ran into a guy who lived on the second floor of my dorm, whom I had just met that week. He was a douche-bag*. But in my defense, I didn't really know that yet. I mean, okay, I kind of did, because he was kind of a self-proclaimed douche-bag. But in that moment, with three beers in my system, this guy was stunning.

(*Dear Mom: the slang term "douche-bag" means: "An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears." Basically, a jerk.)

Anyway, I started talking to this guy, and then dancing with this guy, and then this guy wanted to go for a walk. So we went out the front door and walked to a little park area that was right next to the house. This guy starts kissing me, and not three minutes in, I realized that Holy crap I have to pee SO badly. I stopped and said, "Hey, I need to go use the restroom." He said, "If you leave now, I'm not going to wait around for you."

Did I mention he was a douche-bag? Yeah. So I said, "Um...okay." And I booked it back to the house because my bladder was about to burst.

Here's where it gets a little TMI-ish.

I found someone who looked like they might not be so completely wasted that they couldn't point me in the general direction of a toilet, and I said, "WHERE is the BATHROOM around here?!" (I think I may have even been crossing my legs and hopping up and down a little. Gimme a break people, it was my first time drinking beer, and I had had three already!)

So the guy lazily lifted his arm up and pointed (I use the word "pointed" loosely, as it was more of a crippled wave-slash-wrist-flick) toward a door inside the house. I made a beeline for that door and when I reached it, I paused to compose myself, then gently tapped on it with my knuckle. I heard some faint noises, so I knew someone was in there. I said, "Are you almost done? I really nee--" and before I finished my plea, the door opened.

A girl came out, grabbing onto anything she could find to hold herself up, including ME...and then she looked at me. She assessed me, in a surprisingly thorough manner for someone so drunk. She clearly deduced that I was a newbie, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the bathroom, then back at me, and said, "How badly do you need to pee?" Then she cackled loudly and stumbled off.

As she stepped out of view, I caught my first peek into the bathroom.

It.

Was.

A.

NIGHTMARE.

There was urine everywhere. I mean EV-uh-ree-WHERE. The toilet had so much un-flushed toilet paper in it that it was almost artistic. (Okay, maybe not artistic. I just mean, it seemed like it could've been strategic. Like someone went in there with a ploy to make sure that NO ONE ELSE would reap the benefits of a functional toilet that night.) Fortunately, I didn't see any turds in there...but there definitely could've been some under the 27 pounds of TP; I'll never know.

In addition to all the urine, there was, of course, vomit in the bathtub, in the sink, and on the septic tank of the toilet...but surprisingly not on the seat or inside the toilet. (Again, maybe it was covered up.)

As I gagged and heaved and contemplated the hygienic repercussions of making use of this treacherous facility, I seriously tried to convince my bladder that it could wait until I got home. I really did. But I knew that my ride wasn't expected for several more hours (we were at least smart enough to have a DD arranged, but he had dropped us off and we'd agreed on a pickup time and then stupidly left our cell phones at home), so I had to man up, so to speak, and just do it.

I tried my best to hover over the seat, and to suspend my jeans above my ankles so they didn't touch the floor or anything else besides the slightly-less-contaminated AIR, but to no avail. I got other people's bodily fluids on my jeans, on my butt, on my legs...

But dadgumit, I PEED. And the optimist in me says, "Hey, I helped to compress all that toilet paper to make some more room for the next guy." But the mortified, scarred-for-life pessimist in me says, "It must've SUCKED to be the person who had to clean this place up."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So there you have it. The Three-Themed Omelet. May you never have to suffer through anything as traumatic as this. (And I may be referring to the theme overkill just as much as the story itself.)

The end.

Weekend Recap, or "If this looks boring, I'll sum it up: It was my birthday! Yay!"

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:30:00 +0000

The shoes I'm wearing today are obnoxiously squeaky. And every time I wear them, I think to myself, I need to stop wearing these shoes to work! And I stick them in the back of my closet, forget about them for a couple of months, and one day decide to pull them out, thinking, Wow, I forgot I had these! I should wear them today.

And it's not until I get to work, park, and step out of my car that I remember why I haven't worn these shoes in months. Dangit.

In other news, I was a major blog slacker this weekend. I didn't even manage to throw up a haiku on Friday! So here's a little recap of my birthday weekend:

After work on Thursday, I went to the gym, showered, then packed up for my overnight trip to Joe's parents'. Made it there in just over an hour, and had THE best night's sleep in a long time! It was so great waking up Friday morning before my alarm went off, feeling totally rested, and checking out the awesome view of the valley from my room.

Friday morning, Pauli (Joe's mom) and I met with our friend (and my caterer) Blennie in downtown LA. Getting there was a tad complicated, but we eventually made it. We spent the morning on a whirlwind tour of all things WHOLESALE, and my brain was basically mush by noon. It was fun, and exciting, and also really stressful, to look at all the possibilities for decorations and centerpieces and flowers and favors and toole and ribbon and twinkle lights and vases and candles and holycrapIhaveNOideawhatIwantmycenterpiecestolooklike!

(Oh, and at one point, we were walking outside from one store to the next, and I smelled urine. REALLY strongly. Ick. Dear Lord, please don't ever make me work in downtown Los Angeles. Thank you. Amen.)

So yeah. A fun experience, but also kind of eye-opening to the fact that I really need to get a LOT of things figured out/decided/planned -- and SOON. Anyway, we left there around 1:00 and headed for the church where the wedding will be, but first we stopped for lunch because DANG was I hungry. We also went to this great bead store in the area, because Pauli needed some beads for a project, and I also grabbed some stuff for a little project of my own.

Once we got to the church, we hugged and hello'd everyone, and they were all super excited for me -- yay! Then we ~~forced~~ begged Kristin, the wedding coordinator, to have an impromptu meeting with us to discuss all things ceremony-related. And once again, I was reminded that I have SO many things to figure out. After my brain was once again filled with to-do tasks and excitement, we went to check out the hall and sanctuary to take some pictures and do some visual brainstorming.

All in all, a very productive Friday. I ended up staying with Joe's parents another night because I was so stinking exhausted, then got up earrrrrrly Saturday morning to head back to my house, change, and meet Joe for our adventure up to Solvang! (If you don't know anything about Solvang, it's basically a little tourist town that's all things Danish.)

We made it there by about 9:30, I think, and put our names in at Paula's Pancake House. It. Was. DELICIOUS. And wayyyyy too filling. Solvang serves their pancakes thinner than regular ones, so when you see on the menu that you're only getting two, you think, Hmm, this might not be enough food. And then you get your plate and realize that, to compensate for the thinness (is that a word?), they've made the pancakes approximately the diameter of a freaking enormous beach ball. And then you go, Le sigh. And you dig in. And of course, you also remember to get the warm cinnamon apple topping, WITH whipped cream, and make it a combo, adding crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. And when you manage to stuff down 95% of this gargantuan meal and then remember that you just HAVE to try abelskievers while you're in Solvang?

You die.

So, yeah. We had a delicious breakfast, then moseyed around town, checking out the book store which is also the home of the Hans Christian Andersen "museum", the cool-looking windmills (which are housed, of course, by souvenir shops and other such tourist traps), some chotchkie shops, a quilting store, a few jewelry stores, and then...we were kind of done there. Except for the mandatory abelskievers, which we reluctantly consumed despite still being VERY full from breakfast. I think that the nature in which we were eating these little treats made for a not-very-pleasant impression of them. They were basically spherical pancakes, only with a denser dough (kind of like cornbread), and sprinkled with powdered sugar and homemade berry jam. We couldn't even finish them. But someday, if we ever venture back to Solvang, I suppose we'll have to try them again when our stomachs are a bit more eager.

When we had seen pretty much all of Solvang that we cared to see for one day, we peaced out and headed back for Joe's (soon-to-be-OUR) place. We relaxed for a bit, snuggled, and then went to the movies to see Monsters vs. Aliens. It was, as previously mentioned in the shortest blog post known to ~~man~~ Just Tabitha, quite cute. I'm a fan of Reese Witherspoon, and also LOVED hearing the voice of Will Arnett (GOB! -- pronounced like "Job" in the Bible, for you sad, sad people who haven't watched Arrested Development) as one of the monsters.

After the movie, we hung out for a while more, then I went home to catch some zz's and be refreshed for my ACTUAL birthday, which was yesterday. I woke up extra early yesterday to get all dolled up in a birthday dress (not to be confused with my birthday SUIT) and go to our "home" church for the first time since LAST YEAR! It felt great to be back there on a Sunday morning, and I'm excited to get more connected now.

Joe took me out for a birthday brunch at a place on downtown State Street, recommended by our friend Erin, and it was pretty tasty. Pretty overpriced, and again WAY too filling, but delightful nonetheless. I had French toast, which was made with little baguettes instead of square bread, and that was rather spectacular. After brunch, I left Joe (not like, LEFT him left him, but went off to do my own thing for a bit). I treated myself to a relaxing pedicure, then bought some healthy groceries so that I can really start to eat better. I made sure to be at least somewhat strategic, and bought enough to last me about two weeks in terms of breakfast, snacks, and lunches. Then I met Joe back at my house so that we could take turns throwing in loads of laundry, and we watched the first season of The Office, followed by Hook. We had Carl's Jr./Green Burrito for dinner, and Joe surprised me with a realllllly good ice cream cake for dessert. Yay!

All in all, I'd say this birthday was a complete success. Maybe not by some people's standards, since I didn't have a big party or get crunk (hehe, Joe hates when I say "crunk") or get a zillion presents...but all I really wanted was to relax and spend time with my wonderful fiance. So it was perfect.

And now for another week of work, working out, and anxiously awaiting the weekend.

I apologize for the major "Dear Diary, today I..."-ness of this post. I don't know what got into me. I'll be more interesting tomorrow, I promise.

Monsters vs. Aliens -- actually pretty cute.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 21:37:00 +0000

It's my birthday!!

I'm basically having a great, laid-back, do-nothing (aka get a pedicure and do laundry) day -- and loving it. So...sorry for the short post, just wanted to pop in real quick.

I hope everyone's having a great weekend!

TMI Thursday: Galileo! Galileo! Galileo Figaroooooo...

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 19:30:00 +0000

I've got a pretty tame TMI for you today, folks. You can thank me later.

My freshman year in high school, I was in this human biology course. Over half of the class were seniors, primarily football players, who needed to take the course in order to graduate. So, lots of eye candy for a timid freshman like me. Of course, my sights were set higher than my classmates.

I had a crush on the TA.

I really, really want to tell you his actual name. Because it's hilarious. But I won't... Instead, I will just say that his first name was the same as his last name. Yes, this guy's mother was so uninventive that she gave her son his last name as his first name.

Anyway, we'll call him Steve. Steve was soooo dreamy. He was a senior, and a stud, and totally popular and oblivious to my existence. *Sigh* What more could a naive freshman want in a first high-school crush?

Now, as a freshman, I had absolutely NO idea how to flirt. Or how to put on makeup. Or how to dress fashionably. I did, fortunately, know how to shave my legs.

But my timing?

Was always.

Off.

At some point during the year, Steve began to notice me in class, at least enough to remember my name when he called roll, and smile at me when I came in from passing period. So, when he started to befriend me, I started to make efforts to look cuter, and then subsequently act like my cuteness had nothing to do with him, of course.

To cut to the chase, one morning I was running late. I had planned my outfit the night before: a cute jean skirt and a pink blouse, or something along those lines. But I woke up after my alarm, and thus didn't have time to shave my legs. I decided to go ahead and wear the skirt anyway, because heck, the hair on my legs was pretty blonde, so unless someone actually TOUCHED my leg, no one would even know. And no one ever touched my legs.

Well, wouldn't you know it.

We had a lab assignment in human bio that day, and so I was sitting on a tall lab stool, focusing more on my posture and keeping my legs daintily crossed than on the work we were doing. Steve was coming around to each station to check on people's progress, and then it happened. He came straight up to me and smiled, said hello, and placed his hand on my knee as he began to ask how my day was going.

It all happened in slow motion. The instant his hand touched my bare knee, I thought, Noooooo!!! Hairy legs! Prickly knee! Eternal mortificatiooooooonnnnn!!

"Hi Tabitha, how has your da--" He paused and looked down at his hand on my knee. He didn't move his hand. Instead, he swiped it across my knee and said, "Wow, very bohemian today."

And that, my friends, is why high school SUCKS.

Curves in all the wrong places.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 07:03:00 +0000

Talk about a major bummer. I weigh eight pounds more than I thought I did. Or eight pounds more than I did about two weeks ago. Either way, it sucks.

Here's how I found out.

A couple weeks ago, I finished my Curves workout and went to weigh myself. 155. Fine. Ten pounds to my wedding-day goal.

The next day, I went to Curves again, and decided, what the heck, I'll weigh in again.

166.

What?

I assumed that the scale had been messed up and was off by at least ten pounds. I waited another few days before I weighed myself again.

165. Frick. This is not cool. I know I can't have gained ten pounds overnight, so it must be the scale, but it sucks that I can't accurately track my progress.

This week, I got back on the scale again: 164ish.

Forget it. I'm buying myself a digital scale, and I'll go from there.

So today, I bought a scale. And not one of those five-dollar pieces of junk from Rite Aid. I spent 30 bucks on this thing, and apparently it can even calculate your BMI and maximum calories per day to maintain the current weight. I haven't gone into that stuff yet; I just wanted to weigh myself.

The verdict from the unbiased, brand-new and innovative scale?

163.8 -- and then I peed -- so now it's 163 even.

Waaahhhh. This does not make a bride-to-be happy. Not one bit. I mean, either I've REALLY slacked off over the last month or two and actually gained ten pounds, or the stupid scale at Curves has NEVER been right and I've been fooled into thinking I was much closer to my target weight.

Anyway, I wish I could say this was a big fat (really pathetic) April Fools post, but it's 12:03 a.m. April Fools Day is over. And the scale has spoken. (On the sorta-kinda-it's-a-long-shot plus side, if the Curves scale IS right as of the 160s readings, it would appear I have LOST three pounds in the last two weeks. But I'm not exactly convinced.)

Thus, it is time to get serious. No more constant snacking on chocolate throughout the day. No more gorging myself on Bagel Bites and cream puffs when we have game night at Joe's place (ahem, yeah, cuz that didn't just happen tonight). No more flaking out on the gym. I'm going to plan out my meals like I used to when I was at 24 Hour Fitness. Small meals, five times a day, full of healthy stuff.

And if none of it works, I blame birth control.

Bet you didn't know that Yente is actually Romanian.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 16:30:00 +0000

It's time for Tales on Tuesday!

I realized I haven't said much of anything about my travels to Romania, so before I start today's Îmi place România ("I like Romania") special, here's a little background:

I've been to Romania three times in the last four years, all with groups from college. I loved the country before I ever set foot there, and the moment I stepped off the plane the first time, that love was only intensified. The people are incredibly beautiful, humble, and vibrant. The food is to die for. The scenery is stunning and diverse. And the language is musical. (No, seriously, the first bit of Romanian I learned was from songs because we were going on a choir tour.) I'll probably say more about my experiences in Romania as time goes on, but I just wanted to introduce the topic a little before I tell today's funny story. So here it goes!

It was my second trip to Romania, which was the summer of 2007. I had just graduated from college, and I was dating Burt (previously mentioned in last week's TMI). During the last two weeks, everyone from our team had flown home except me and another girl, Raeshell. We were having a blast exploring the town on our own, helping our Hungarian host family with cooking and prison correspondence, and reading out loud to each other (total nerds, right?). One morning while we were at our host family's church, this little old lady walked up to me and began chattering excitedly to me -- in Romanian. She was grabbing my arm, touching my face, and I could pick out words like beautiful, my son, and doctor. Yeah...she was definitely telling me that I was her son's future wife. All I could do was smile and say thank you when she called me beautiful, and try to convey the fact that I was NOT on the market. Unfortunately, "on the market" was not a phrase I had learned to say in Romanian, nor was "boyfriend." Suddenly I heard this woman say something about breakfast and coming over to her house.

Ohhh, crap. Crap crap crap!

Wait... She doesn't even know where I'm staying! I thought.

Nope, she definitely knew. And she definitely sent her husband to our little dormitory the following morning at like, SEVEN a.m., and he pretty much dragged Raeshell and me out of there, into a taxi, and to his home.

On the plus side? We got a really tasty breakfast. But let's just talk about how awkward this whole attempted "setup" was.

As we walked in the front door, this woman came in squealing with excitement, grabbed me by the arm and took me into another room, where she proceeded to show me picture after picture of her son. He had to be at least 35 years old, and probably no taller than 5'2". He was studying to become a doctor, and she was very obviously concerned about his lack of wife. She would periodically pause her chipper chatter, frown and mutter something that conveyed the message that her "poor son was almost too old to give her grandchildren."

AWWWWK. WARRRD.

After humoring her for a good fifteen minutes of picture-viewing, touring her home, and having her touch my face and repeatedly say, "Thank you, Lord," as if I were a miracle from heaven, we finally rejoined Raeshell in the dining room. And Raeshell, being the genius she is, reminded me that I had a picture of Burt in my purse, and that it was time to let this sweet woman down easy.

I tried to say, in Romanian, something along the lines of, "I'm flattered, but I have a boyfriend," and I pulled out the photo as I said this. She looked at it, visibly winced a little, then looked up at me, and back at the photo. Up at me. Back at the photo. She held the photo up to my face, as if to examine how we looked together. She looked closely at the photo of Burt -- his goofy smile, bald head, and larger frame. She was clearly disappointed, and also noticeably unimpressed by Burt's appearance. But she finally conceded, and said something like, "Okay, my son will miss you." (Mind you, her son had never even seen me.) But of course, she didn't let us leave without giving me her son's address AND phone number.

And making sure Raeshell and I ate plenty of eggs and deeeeelicious Romanian cheese.

All in all, a great way to spend a morning in Romania, despite the awkwardness of the blatant attempted setup.

Oh, and the next time I went to Romania? I was smart. Since I was now dating Joe, the love of my life and my now-fiance, I wanted to avoid any more unnecessary let-downs for the lovely old ladies of Romania...so I wore one of my plain silver rings on my left ring finger. And it totally worked! These mothers of eligible sons are on the lookout, but they always check the ring finger before wasting any effort on "taken" ladies.

And so it begins.

noreply@blogger.com (Tabitha) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 18:50:00 +0000

I'm going to try to keep most of my engagement/wedding plan posts over at Carbonated Jeans, but I just had to share this photo strip with you guys! Is it not the cutest thing you've ever seen?

Also -- I'm gonna try really hard not to skimp on this blog while I spruce up the other one, but if you just can't stand to miss out on any of my ramblings, be sure to follow us over there, too! Joe's gonna write stuff, too, and that's always entertaining.

Anyway, confession?

I am SO distracted! Ever since the proposal, all I can think about is wedding plans. (Wait, did I say I wasn't going to write about that stuff here? Well...just this once.) Guest lists, Save the Date cards, flowers, cake, music, photos, honeymoon...and then I catch a glimpse of the bling on my left hand and think Oh-my-gosh-my-ring-is-so-beautiful! And I'm all like, giddy and girly and like, soooo excited and I, like, can't even breathe sometimes because I'm just soooo, like, happy! (And apparently I turn into a valley girl. Sorry about that.)

So yeah. I'm basically ecstatic.

And totally unproductive.