Voice of Reason

Can you keep it down, there are children trying to scream here!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 22:45:00 +0000

A woman came in today looking for a certain parenting book, and I have to say that it's not a minute. too. soon. This is judging from the way her offspring bellowed and climbed and fought and screamed the entire time they were in here, while she ensconced herself in what appeared to be a cocoon of obliviousness.

Everyone is coming in to pick up holds and get DVDs for the long weekend and audiobooks for the long car rides. I myself am very excited to hit the road tomorrow and let the weekend of merriment and feasting begin. In the last few weeks I've been trying to eat better (read: less) and so my pants have gotten slighty looser just in time for that new-found space to be filled with pumpkin pie and yams and turkey-and-brie sandwiches. I am nothing if not a planner.

Good Thanksgiving updates:

The venue is being moved away from the potentially-smelly gym and into Grammy's house. Which means that we will all be very cozy and I will possibly not be able to bend my elbows and will instead ask the person across the table to please feed me.

I've been asked to bring a green vegetable and have decided on 101 Cookbooks' Golden-Crusted Brussels Sprouts--if you've never liked brussels sprouts, or if you've never tried them, this is the way to do it, I promise you. I'm going to up the ante though by adding crumbled bacon. Aw yeah.

The day after Thanksgiving, instead of participating in the Black Friday madness, I'll be knitting, eating, and choosing a hot spring to go soak my bloated carcass in. Doesn't that sound wonderful?

What are you most looking forward to this weekend?

Yep. I'm done.

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 03:37:00 +0000

I think I am done with errands now for at least the next 4 weeks. My leached-out soul may have recovered by then. So have fun looking for updates from the woman who is refusing to leave her house even to buy such things as milk and toilet paper. Junk mail was good enough for my pre-toilet-paper ancestors and it can be good enough for me.

One of the things I did today was return The Boots. I know, I know, they were cute and wonderful but I just wasn't feeling it for the schizophrenia of it all. So if anyone would like a pair of those bad boys in a 37 they are at Nordstrom in Fashion Place mall reduced from $225 to $129. So, you know, go get on that.

Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for these sexy beasts to go on sale. Rowr.

And when they do I will not be buying them from the salesperson at Macy's shoe department whose idea of greeting customers is to grill them about whether or not they are going skiing now that there is snow and why skiing is just better and how are they not even a skiier because they should be skiing and it's not even cold when you ski. Seriously, dude. Back the heck up off me, because I didn't want to be conversing with you in the first place. And since I'm not on the clock, I actually get to make that choice.

The thing that made the errands bearable was listening to this song on repeat in the car. Probably everyone knows about it already and it may not even be cool anymore because that's just how far behind I am in all things musical, but seriously.

I dare you not to bop.

Perfect Timing

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 08:10:00 +0000

When you're out, minding your business, running errands on a sunny Saturday and then all of a sudden the sky fills with dark clouds and it starts blizzarding sideways and you are firmly resolve that there is NO WAY you are going home until you've brushed the snow off your car and completed your errands, that is the perfect time to discover that the sole of your cheap years-old pair of stinky Payless flats has a big ol' crack in it.

So every time I got out of my car and scampered through slushy parking lots my left shoe filled up with ice water. This culminated in a moment at Nordstrom where I had to bring my sodden lint-covered trouser sock out of my nasty shoe in order to try on a pair of boots and realized that the horrible smell in my nostrils was not coming from a raccoon carcass someone may have dragged in and deposited nearby (as I desperately hoped) but was in fact the product of my foot.

Sigh.

As if the perfumed, MAC-wearing Nordstrom employees needed yet more proof that I don't belong in their store.

I ended up buying a pair of boots in part because I felt so bad for putting them through the indignity that was My Left Foot, and also because I didn't want to go home to think about it and have them sell out. But now I'm having second thoughts. They are Danskos, very comfortable, and very discounted. (And yes, Oprah. I wear Danskos. While you may have a problem with that, I'm not actually in a position to buy $200 flats like some people. I think we all know now the kind of flats I can afford. So don't you be giving me looks.) I very much like that the heel on these is tall enough to make me look less stubby, but not stiletto-y enough to kill me. I'm still not sure about the two-toned thing, though. It's like the shoe is having an identity crisis, or is maybe too trendy for the long haul. (Because hi, if I'm going to spend actual money on them, they need to be long-haul boots.) What do you think?

I should be talking about Thanksgiving here

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 20:50:00 +0000

But today's post over at Petit Elefant got me browsing Martha Stewart's list of Easy Holiday Crafts (cuz hi, that's really the only kind I'm up for even considering) and pretty much slavering over all of the Christmas cuteness. I also owe the good ladies at Petit Elefant a thank-you for another act of online service. Ali, you will be happy to hear that your post on eyebrow grooming gave me the pants-kick I needed to round up the hedge trimmers and do some long-procrastinated maintenance on mine. And now instead of looking like a crazed old wizard whose eyebrows are trying to seek new residence somewhere in my hair line, I look like a Real Girl. Thank you for that.

I get that it's not time to be decorating for Christmas yet, but surely it could be time for the making of plans and the foraging for supplies, right? I would be more excited about Thanksgiving decorations but I'm not really in charge of any Thanksgiving festivities this year. We're doing Thanksgiving up in L**** and my contributions to that huge (45+ people) party will consist of 1) The Cheeseball and 2) NOT playing volleyball. It's going to be held in GH's old elementary school's two gyms. So in one gym people will be eating until stuffing runs out their ears and in the other gym will be the running and jumping and, most likely, the vomiting. Guess which gym sounds more my style. GH is concerned about trying to eat actual good food in a space where the smell of so many bad foods still lingers. We'll see how that goes.

But yeah: Christmas crafting. I went to Michael's this week and pounced like a ravening hyena upon their "2 for $5" skeins of Patons New Wool (seriously, knitters and felters--you need to lock that down). If all goes well with said skeins, I will be the most popular person in the family in Christmas morning. No lie. But if all does not go well, then forget I ever said anything.

These are the projects that so far are my favorites:

(all images taken from Martha Stewart Living)

Gentlemen Broncos review

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 00:31:00 +0000

The other night GH and I went to a free advance screening of Gentlemen Broncos, Jared Hess's latest film. I will start by saying that the pre-show experience was somewhat spoiled because I was sitting next to a woman in her 60s who was, inexplicably, speaking loudly in a fake British accent with her companion the entire time. I know it was fake because 1) it was awful and all over the place, and 2) she would occasionally drop it to discuss things like "how those Mormons control everything here." She commented on my knitting bag (Britishly, referring to the British china patterns that it resembles) and in our brief conversation I was so very tempted to ask her what part of England she was pretending to be from. But I haven't worked in public libraries for the past several years without learning a little something called "Do not engage with the crazies."

Seriously. Just don't.

But now on to the movie.

The basic premise is that a nerdy small-town home-schooler named Benjamin (Michael Angarano) submits his sci-fi manuscript to a contest while attending a fantasy writer convention. One of the judges is the pompous Chevalier (Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords), a famous author who is going through a dry spell. Under pressure from his publisher to produce something new, he appropriates Benjamin's work, makes a few changes, and submits it as his.

And there you go. The plot. A bunch of other stuff happens too (like a local homeschooling duo who turn Benjamin's story into an awful movie just as Chevalier's new novel is being released) but it's not very interesting.

Now, I liked Napoleon Dynamite. I thought Nacho Libre was amusing, but not my favorite. This film I liked not at all. It is not surprising to find toilet humor and boob & gonad jokes in a science fiction manuscript written by a 15-year old. The problem with this movie is that it seems a 15-year-old boy may have been at the helm for the entire thing, because all told we had . . .

. . . Count 'em:

Regular Vomiting
Projectile vomiting
Kissing immediately after vomiting, resulting in vomit chunks on the mouth of both actors, resulting in me coming quite close to dry-heaving
Explosive diarrhea (from a python, no less)
Poisoned darts dipped in poop
Poisoned poop-dipped darts that are accidentally shot into a woman's breast
Sci-fi characters ingesting "yeast cakes," which strongly resemble cow pies.
Sci-fi boobs that shoot lasers
Sci-fi boobs that shoot bombs
Sci-fi sight gags involving surgically-removed testicles
Sci-fi bobcats eating said surgically-removed testicles
A female sci-fi character inviting a male sci-fi character to visit her "yeast cavern." You heard me.

It got old.

Also, remember how in Napoleon Dynamite you had a bunch of odd-ball small-town characters who were still, for the most part, believable? Yeah, not so much with this one. The quirkiness is taken so far as to be practically grotesque--from Hector Jimenez's creepy perma-grimace as Lonnie, the wannabe filmmaker, to Jennifer Coolidge "fashion designs" that make her seem completely delusional. (Note: Jennifer Coolidge got the shaft here and she deserves better. Woman gets a dart in the boob, for pete's sake.) There's just no one to really root for, here. Protagonist Benjamin is such a passive wimp that by the time he finally stands up for himself it's hard to care anymore.

Highlights, however, include Jemaine Clement as the pompous, plagiarising Chevalier. I perked up for all of his scenes.

Sam Rockwell is good (if slightly unrecognizable) as Bronco/Brutus, the sci-fi warrior imagined by Benjamin and then renamed and "turned into a tranny" by Chevalier. The science-fiction scenes based on Benjamin (and, later, Chevalier's) imagination were entertaining, involving things like missile-mounted deer. And the opening credits were fun, in which the cast and crew names appear on the cover of 1970s sci-fi paperbacks.

But yeah. Not really worth seeing, unless you're a Jemaine fan--in which you should just rent it and only watch his scenes. I am much more excited about next week's release of The Fantastic Mr. Fox, in which George Clooney will do dapper, daring things with a minimum of poop.

Burning a hole in my pocket

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:09:00 +0000

Remember that one time when I was one who bikes? Yeah, that didn't last super long. For the last year my sweet bike has just been sitting on our third-floor balcony, all exposed to the elements. (Note: Please do not mimic my stupidity in this way. Get a dang tarp and cover your poor bike.) I haven't ridden it once, mostly because I couldn't stand the thought of having to lug it up and down three flights of stairs every time. Plus GH didn't have one so it wasn't something we could do together on the weekends like the fit kind of Smug Marrieds. Also there's just my natural sloth.

So I bit the bullet and posted the thing on KSL Classifieds. Two hours later I had a call, which I took in the bathroom of The Pie Pizzeria and which made for lovely accoustics. Less than 24 hours later a guy and his wife came to look at it for their college-aged daughter. I'd hauled the bike inside from where it was acting as a tomato-plant trellis and cleaned off the dust and grime. This was when I gained first-hand knowledge of WHY WE COVER OUR BIKES RATHER THAN LEAVING THEM OUT IN THE SNOW TO GET ALL SAD-LOOKING AND RUSTY. They looked it over, I threw in a brand-new bike lock, and we made a deal.

Their daughter gets a bike for Christmas, I get $120 cash.

Best. Ever. Now I'm wondering what else I can sell. And what to do with my loot. Anybody want to share what they would do with $120 free and clear dollars? I could use ideas.

Thank you anyway, universe!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:51:00 +0000

For those who wanted the update, GH did have his job interview (it was an in-house sort of thing). Although he of course went in with amazing ideas that would have revolutionized the program and the world, there are a few other "in-house" factors we now know about that make his shot seem a bit slimmer. So . . . even though nothing has been announced, I'm not going to hold my breath on that one. Am just telling myself that what the universe (read: all of you lovely people) is really sending our way is a much BETTER job that we just don't know about yet but will blow us away with its amazingness. And then GH will be able to stay home at nights and he won't need a walker for a Christmas present and we will buy a 100+-year-old home in the countryside and we will have precious pygmy goats in the backyard and a couple of chickens and a garden that I somehow don't kill and which grows itself and maybe even a magical pony and we can argue over the covers every blessed night. So thank you for helping to bring that future just a little bit closer, everyone!

And thank you to everyone with the thyroid encouragement. I know from the way I was talking everyone assumed hypothyroid stuff, only check it out: My bloodwork actually showed hyperthyroidism, which led to a conversation like this.

Medical people: These results are interesting because the symptoms you described were more of the hypo variety. So, have you experienced any feelings of nervousness or anxiety?

Me: Nope.

MP: Difficulty sleeping?

Me: Huh-uh.

MP: Fast or irregular heart-beat?

Me: Nnnnnope.

MP: Difficulty keeping weight on, or maybe even losing weight?

Me: BAH-hah-ahhahahah! Yeah . . . not so much.

They're 90% believing that it's something called thyroiditis, which is sort of a "hello, let's play the fun game of watching your thyroid levels go up and down" thing. But I'd take that over Graves' disease, which is the other potential option and does not seem like much fun as it can cause things like miscarriages and actual cobwebbed ovaries. But the nice part is that right now I feel fine so I'm going to go back in in a few weeks and then they'll take more blood and see where things are going. (Note: I have had blood taken twice now for the first time in over 10 years and I'm happy to say that both times I was SUPER BRAVE. Just wanting to get that out there. When things like flu shots and mole removals make you black out, a blood-letting that doesn't involve passing out, whimpering, or running away is a triumph.)

The doc did warn me that I'm likely coming down from the "hyper" part and could soon be showing "hypo" symptoms such as fatigue, etc.

Me: And weight gain?

Dr: Well, I wouldn't really think so. It is possible . . .

Me: It's just that with the holidays coming up and everything, that would be a really awesome thing to be able to pin it on.

Dr: Oh? Yes, that is true. Well, you go right ahead.

Me: Thank you. I believe I will.

Oh, pumpkin pie? Get on over here, lover.

Calling upon the universe

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 17:50:00 +0000

GH has a job interview on Monday! For a real job like real people have! Everyone please pray hard!

See?? THIS. This is why I did not want to turn 30!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 00:44:00 +0000

GH and I both turned 30 this fall. Except I did it a month earlier than him because I am 1) competitive, and 2) a cougar.

For me, counting down to 30 was fine. Piece of cake. GH approached it with a bit more trepidation and apparently he had the right idea. Because since we reached the triple digits, we have both started falling completely apart. First GH's back decided to just quit working. It's most likely brought on by stress, working the graveyard shift, and working the graveyard shift on really crappy chairs. The poor guy can barely get up and down and is using me as a pulling-self-up-on tool. And a poor one at that, if this morning's pained " grumble grumble useless grumble" mutter is to be believed. He is now wishing that someone thought to give him a cane for his birthday. For my part, about the day after my birthday I turned into an insane(r) person who didn't really feel like doing anything (see: blogging, cleaning, being nice to people, etc.). Come to find out I'm having a problem with mah thy-roid. So, you know, will be getting that figured out. Also I'm coming down with a cold and woke up this morning feeling as though someone were trying to slit my throat from the inside.

So after GH got home from work we're both lying in bed moaning and groaning (and no, not in the good way) over our various ailments while we also tried vainly to be sympathetic, comforting people to each other. It was pretty pathetic. Welcome to 30.

That's probably why they kick you out of the singles wards after your 30th year. They don't want the fresh 18-year-olds to be freaked out by all of us stumbling around with walkers and losing teeth and limbs right and left.

Ageists.

Girl's Relaxation Day, Part Deux

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 22:20:00 +0000

Much, much too long ago (nearly two years) my sisters and I had a Girl's Relaxation Day in Park City, where we retreated from our lives and painted our toenails and stuffed ourselves with brie, which we could technically have done in our own places of residence but felt (rightly) that it would be better to do it somewhere else.

This fall we decided that it was time for another much-needed Girl's Relaxation Day, and since Park City had treated us so well last time we made that our destination. The nice thing about Park City, I think, is that even though it's not that far away it still feels like a different sort of place. This is probably because they have coffee there.

Spitfire booked an amazing spot for us to stay and treated me and Jen to an evening of luxury. For, lo, she is awesome. We were at the Westgate Resort, which was just beautiful and perfect and wonderful.

Resort highlights included:

A full kitchen and living room.

A hot tub in the bedroom. (Aw, yeah. Except, you know, not so much, since I was there with my sisters. No Victoria Secret bubble bath parties here, sorry.)

A huge stone shower with both a regular shower head and a waterfall shower head (the kind that comes down from the ceiling.) The shower also has a bench built in and functions as a sauna. (So, um, all other showers can kind of eat it now.)

An outdoor heated pool (lovely) and two outdoor hot tubs. We chose the one that came with the Speedo-wearing European man. As you do.

In true Girl's Relaxation Night style, there was toenail painting and brie-eating and pumpkin-pie-eating and TV-watching. No no-bake cookies this time, probably because my sisters remember almost being gassed to death last year. There was also much sighing at the catalog of spa services offered downstairs, which sighs then turned to chokes and seizures upon the reading of the prices. We watched the TV channel advertising the spa for a little bit but then had to turn it off because it was just too tantalizing (ahhh, spa porn). Our new plan is that one day when we're all quite rich we are going to book ourselves into a spa for a weekend. It's gonna be great. We then piled into the king-sized bed, which fit all three of us easily, and slept soundly. That is until my cell phone alarm went off at 7:00am, please do not ask me why. It seems that I am alarm-challenged.

For breakfast Jen made crepes. I would have helped, but I was Experiencing the Shower. She did Julia Child's crepe recipe with a savory chicken-bacon-mushroom-leek-pure-crystallized-crack-cocaine filling. And for calcium we added slabs of warm brie. Women need calcium, you know. My bones start to deteriorate this year--gotta stave that off. There were also nutella crepes with fresh raspberries, real whipped cream, and sauteed apples. Because we know how to party.

Once we got cleaned up and I'd done everyone's eyebrows and eye makeup (remember, girlie weekend) we hit the outlet stores. And yes, I'm sure there are some friends out there right now thinking, "Wait. YOU were the one doing people's eye makeup? Uh . . . " But what they do not know is that I've totally figured out how to do one really nice-looking smoky grey-blue eyeshadow thing. So that's what we all got. And we looked hot, I tell you.

Jenny took in the biggest shopping haul as she was on a mission to buy new church-going clothes. I got two nice tops and mentally purchased an entirely new wardrobe for GH at Banana Republic. As a heterosexual male, he would probably object to most of my choices. One day, though. One day.

So yeah. We've decided this needs to be an annual thing. And maybe we should spend two nights instead of one. And we need to check the closets more carefully when we leave because if we don't then the housekeeping staff will steal the black J.Crew shirt Jenny accidentally left hanging in the closet and then the hotel will just pretend like we maybe imagined the black shirt and that possibly Jenny did not actually wear it to the hotel but just turned up to check in wearing nothing but a bra. (I'm kind of glad now that I forgot to leave a tip for those stealers. Except . . . maybe that's why we're in this situation now. Huh.)

Welcome, and thank you for making Jenny an aunt

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 04:59:00 +0000

My brother and his wife had their first baby this week. My s-in-l was in labor for, no lie, eleventy hundred hours before she ended up having a C-section. Everyone is doing fine and they're home.

And here's precious baby Madeline:

Lookit that li'l rosebud mouth!

This was the conversation I had with Jenny during the Multiple Days of Labor while we were waiting for news.

Jenny: ALSO! I AM SO EXCITED TO BE AN AUNT!
SO EXCITED!
I mean, I know I technically am one already but it doesn't feel like it.
I think I'm going to like this being an aunt stuff.

Me: Oh my gosh, that's right! You've NEVER BEEN AN AUNT!
How did I not realize this? The rest of us have been aunts but you were always the mom!

Jenny: I need to MAIL HER THINGS.

Me: YEAH. Yeah you do.

Now Jenny gets why I was always turning up with baby clothes and accessories and books and toys for Savannah. You become an aunt and some sort of switch goes off and you Must. Buy. Things. For. Baby. It is a very, very real force.

They're coming out in January for coolboy's wedding and I cannot wait to eat that baby's face.

My new favorite thing

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 15:55:00 +0000

Is when families go to the doctor and their children are diagnosed with H1N1 and are told to go home and get themselves quarantined. The family then leaves the doctor's office to go home . . .

. . . and stops by the library on the way home, where they all spend an hour choosing all the books and DVDs they'll need for the week.

Thanks for that, guys.

Not pregnant, sorry

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:15:00 +0000

Although that would be a fabulous excuse for not posting as opposed to, "Nope, I really am just that lame all on my own without any gestating feti, actually." But thanks for asking.

For those who participated, I hope your Weekend o' Conference was good. Mine was one in which I was a Domestic Goddess Type Person.

Evidence:

Sunday morning made breakfast of pumpkin waffles with real maple syrup (using last year's frozen pumpkin puree, aw yeah), Julia Child's scrambled egg recipe, fresh apple juice, hot chocolate, and really cheap-trash bacon. We invited coolboy and his charming new fie-ance (Yep! Seriously!) over to share in the bounty. Then I lured them into staying longer by making chocolate-chip-Reese's-pieces cookies. Which were amazing, and I am right now eating the leftover dough as my lunch.

Dinner was a crockpot roast with carrots, potatoes, onion, and sides of fresh corn and peas. And a couple of Rhodes Rolls that didn't rise properly and therefore resembled hockey pucks in both taste and texture. Because maybe I need to be kept humble.

GH did the dishes like a champion, which meant that by the time it was all over he had washed nearly every dish and pot and pan we own.

During the different sessions, which were all great, I took notes and worked on Savvy's socks. And I pondered the same semiannual questions I always ponder, such as:

"Is it possible for Elder Scott to not seem like he's peering directly into my soul?"
"Which musical and/or poem will President Monson quote this time?"
"Do these women go to training sessions to learn to talk like that?"
"Should Sister Dibb be smiling quite so broadly when relating the story of a deadly construction accident?" (I'm putting that one down to nervousness at speaking in front of millions of people.)
"Do I need another cookie?" (Answer: no.)
"But do I want another cookie? Or four?" (Answer: Yep and Yep. And they were great.)

So . . . um, it's snowing

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 04:07:00 +0000

In September.

Not cool.

Also I am not dead, just in case I caused anyone to wonder about that. I am quite alive but just haven't had any good stories/rants/whatever to tell the Internet (at least none that I can tell without getting fired but trust me, there have been some reeeeaal psychos wandering through my doors lately). So I did myself a favor and just didn't worry about posting anything--which was quite a liberating feeling. I highly recommend it.

But here's what's been going on in the last weekerso:

Finished a couple of knitting projects and started working on a pair of knee socks for Savvy. This is my first foray into sock yarn. To get a taste of what that is like, go fetch some dental floss and two darning needles. And then turn that into socks.

Married off the Gentleman Husband's baby sister over the weekend. Everything was lovely, except for the group waiting for the wedding after ours who possibly felt that the inside of a temple is the equivalent of somebody's barn and therefore chose to carry on an incredibly loud reunion therein. No lie, when the temple worker came in to shush them, they didn't even notice him. But the bride was beautiful, the sealer did a great job, and everyone was happy. Afterwards drove through Utah's Fruit Way (scored amazing peaches, corn, butternut squash, and pumpkins) to Maddox with GH's family, where we stuffed ourselves on the fabulous food. Fact: One of the ways GH wore me down back in the day was by taking me to Maddox so that I could have quite-possibly-sinful relations with their steak. Pavlov would be proud.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go defrost my feet.

Yet another reason to love the Dollar Store

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 21:23:00 +0000

I was in The Dollar Tree today buying $1 fall decorations. (4 dollars later my house is now at least 55% more festive--go me and go the Chinese!)

I have decided they have the best music playing over their sound system. It's no-holds-barred shameless cheesy stuff, and yet. You cannot resist its lure. I caught a woman browsing next to me singing along under her breath. One time I possibly bopped around in the aisles at some completely embarrassing ghetto song from my junior high years (and no, I don't remember what it was). Today there was David Bowie and "Afternoon Delight."

I didn't notice the music so much during my last visit because the elderly woman behind me in the motherlong line was having back trouble and so to distract herself she engaged me in conversation. Unfortunately, most of the "conversation" consisted of her remarking on every item included in the at-register display and expecting me to say something back. This including the ovulation calculators, at which point I was at somewhat of a loss. I finally tried, "Yeah, I hear they have good pregnancy tests too." To which she answered "No, dear, this isn't a pregnancy test, it's a test to tell you if you can get pregnant." Ooookay then.

But anyway, I'm interested to know what company comes up with their playlists because the style is very much "Music People Would Never Admit Liking But They Will Still Find Themselves Singing Along and Bopping and Possibly Having Arrested Development Flashbacks."

They are evil geniuses, I tell you.

And now for the challenge: when next you visit your local dollar store, especially if it's a Dollar Tree, take note of the music. I shall do the same.

I am sorry if your family is perhaps not as photogenic as my family

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 20:33:00 +0000

(Note: This may also have something to do with the part where I am in none of these pictures.)

After Baby Hudson's baby blessing last month, my b-in-law held a little family photo shoot.

You may want to clap your hands over your mouths now, because you are about to see The Baby Sweater COMPLETE WITH BABY.

. . drumroll . . .

YEAH. Can you even deal with that???? I certainly can't, and have been whimpering at my desk now for about the last hour. If anyone asks what's wrong I'll just tell them I have a disorder. And that, you know, my right ovary just exploded. Or I'll just show them the picture and they can start making baby animal yelps right along with me.

Here is my hot mom holding Master Precious III.

And here's my dad, who pretty much turns into a puddle of (very manly and tough) goo over babies.

(See also: From Whence I Inherited The Eyebrow)

And here are the happy grandparents with their grand-progeny. Please don't ask me what Ethan is doing--this is the same boy who, in all of my wedding pictures, is trying to pull his shirt up over his head.

Feeling Glee-ful

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 02:46:00 +0000

Reasons why I am enjoying the new show Glee perhaps a little too much:

I am a geek who did band/orchestra/drama in high school.

The music, like this number from the premiere.

Cutie-pie Matthew Morrison as Spanish-teacher-turned-Glee-coach Will Schuester

Jane Lynch as cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester

Sue Quotes:

"You think this is hard? Try being waterboarded, that's hard!"

"Lady justice wept today."

Sue (while offering Will an iron tablet): "Keeps your strength up while you're menstruating."
Will: "I don't menstruate."
Sue: "Yeah? Neither do I."

Waiting for Rachel and Finn to get together.

Waiting for Teacher Will and Guidance Counselor Emma to get together.

The moment when Teacher Will, um, sort of takes his jacket off and starts dancing around and suddenly it's kind of awesome because I did not even know Teacher Will was just walking around with arms like that. Even if he is singing a song that Kanye "I Kick Puppies and Clearly Have a Disorder of Some Kind" West wrote. (See below.)

Check out my new baby

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 20:01:00 +0000

Yeah. She was my birthday present from GH, and I have named her Flip Mino Camcorder. Or maybe somebody else named her that. I forget. Anyway, turns out that ever since I mentioned, months ago, that it might be cool to one day get something like this, GH had been watching the deals websites and came across a gorgeous refurbished one for a ridiculous price. Which I find insanely hot. The thing weighs less than my cell phone and is tiny and fits easily in my purse. (Or in my knitting bag, which I may or may not have taken to work so that I could show off my bunny and then left sitting underneath the information desk with the video camera inside it. Not that we are ever telling GH that part. Ever.)

Thank you to everyone for their lovely birthday wishes, I did have a great day. Friday night GH obliged me with a screening of Julie & Julia (Meryl Streep + France + food + bloggers = fab). Truthfully I was more interested in the Julia Child half of the movie than the Julie Powell half, but whatevs (as my sister Spitfire would say).

Mom and Dad sent a package with a really cool bag and some Bday money. My dad sent me flowers and told me that no one had prepared him for the trauma that comes when one wakes up and discovers one is now old enough to have a 30-year-old child. So . . . everyone please feel sorry for my dad. Because it was a hard day for him. The flowers are amazing, though.

GH's sweet family got me gift cards to Knit Picks, which means that soon, oh so very soon, I will own the set of knitting needles I have coveted ever since Daltongirl taunted me with hers. Now I can join the ranks of People Who Perhaps Enjoy Their Knitting Needles A Little Too Much.

Jenny & Co hosted an afternoon birthday event, complete with chocolate-raspberry cake, fresh raspberries, and vanilla bean ice cream. Special guests included Daltongirl, Daltonboy, Cicada, Murray, and baby Gulliver. Both Daltongirl and Cicada made me delightful, thoughtful birthday gifts (a knitting needle organizer and a very cool desk calendar). Cicada's desk calendar might be one day available for you to purchase and enjoy. But Daltongirl's gift was just for me.

Me, GH, and a too-cool-for-this-picture Savvy

Jenny and Ed

Cicada and Murray. Realized too late I did not have a picture of Gulliver. Please go here to see his sweet face. (Note: Once you see these pics, your birth control might stop working. You have been warned.)

Coolboy and the very cool Aubrey. She will need to tell me if she wants a sweet code name. (Note: Not their baby.)

Heh. Ethan, who was very invested in me getting good shots of him enjoying his cake.

After the cake and ice cream, GH and I went to dinner at Tucanos (story coming) and then hit the Laughin' Nite of the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival. We ended up sitting near the lovely Marie from Make and Takes, who was soon joined by Ali from Petit Elefant. And she sat right next to me and was hilarious. Because awesome things happen when I turn 30. Ali and I met at Cicada's wedding but I hadn't seen her since. And during that moment of Hi, I'm so-and-so, Cicada's friend, yadda, she said, "That's right, and you're Jenny's sister!"

Friends, I called Jenny as soon as I could to tell her what just happened ("and then she said, 'Oh, you're Jenny's sister!'") and if the triumphant donkey-braying I received in response is any indication, that pretty much made her Middle Child Syndrome year.

It was a Birthday Miracle.

The Labor of my Labor Day

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 21:06:00 +0000

Have much birthday loveliness to report on, but first I have to show you what I did yesterday. I watched Pride & Prejudice (you can read my original fan-girl review here) and finished making a little something for my brother Dave's soon-to-be baby girl.

Dave & Valli, if you want to be surprised then you'll need to not scroll down or turn images off or something.

. . .

Ready?

Tah-dah!

I flatter myself it's quite adorable, even if I did come really close to chucking the thing off the balcony a time or two.

Languages of Luuuuuuurve

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 19:59:00 +0000

Some of you may have heard of the 5 Love Languages, as outlined by Dr. Gary Chapman. (I've also heard other people refer to it as "love currency.") The basic idea is that people give and interpret love differently, so it's important to understand how to best show love to those around you and to let them know what kind of gestures are the most meaningful to you.

I started thinking about this a couple of months ago and wondered if it might be helpful to see if GH and I are actually doing the things that mean the most to the other.

SO. Here are the different Languages of Luuuurve, according to this one guy:

Words of Affirmation
Quality Time
Receiving Gifts
Acts of Service
Physical Touch

Turns out my "primary love language" is Physical Touch. I have been suspecting this for a little while. Also this is funny because I'm not an incredibly touchy person normally. But it turns out that in romantic relationships I'm a big toucher, which makes a lot of sense when I think about how as a dater I was always about thiiiisclose to getting myself into trouble. This is probably why Heavenly Father thought it would be best for my eternal soul if I didn't date very much. (Note: it would have been helpful to know if that was the reason my ovaries were spending all that time shriveling.)

Now, it would be nice if GH could be one of the Physical Touch people too. Then we could just spend every day fused to each other and both be happy as clams. He is very good at being married to a toucher, though, and never even says words like, "What the heck, Remora Woman, give me my space!"

But it's not the remora action that makes him feel the most loved and appreciated. Instead, he is an Acts of Service person. Which means that to make him feel special I may actually have to get up off my butt and do stuff for him. To him, nothing says "I love you" more than "Hey, I just took care of your oil change and your car registration so now you don't have to do it."

So here's him: "Wow, if Nem would take care of those errands for me that would be amazing. I would feel so loved."

And here's me: "What am I, your mother? Don't your legs work? I don't ask you to run MY errands, do I? GOOOOooosh!"

This was before I got it about the Love Language thing. Sure, I think it would be easier if I could just, like, touch his knee every now and then. Cuz that's free and I don't actually have to expend much energy to do it.

But I'm trying to be better. I even conducted an experiment last week to see about filling GH's, ahem, "love tank." His younger sister is getting married at the end of the month, and he's doing a video for them (like the one he did for us). She gave us a whole bag of photos, but we needed to pick which ones to use and then scan them. GH was not looking forward to this part. So while he slept I chose the best 40 pictures, scanned them, cropped and edited them, and got them all organized in one folder, which I left open on the computer. I also went to Costco and bought a huge pack of paper towels, which I'd been holding off on doing on account of they kill trees. Except GH loves them and has been sad and mopey and (and this is the real problem) less kitchen-cleany ever since the previous Costco pack wore out. So I bought them and put them in the middle of the living room floor. Because our kitchen table would have collapsed under their bulk.

The plan was that he would wake up and when he went out to get his cereal he would see the paper towels. And THEN when he sat down at the computer to catch up on all his nerd websites, he would see the folder with all the scanned and ready-to-go images. And then he would be all overwhelmed with love for me and might even send me an email at work declaring said love.

Which is pretty much exactly how it happened, so I think I am possible on to something here.

And now am off to work like a busy beaver until I can go home and begin my birthday weekend. I turn 30 tomorrow, y'all! Will be bidding farewell to my twenties with homemade chocolate raspberry cake courtesy of my sister Jenny. Which will take quite a bit of the sting out, I am sure. I hope everyone has a great Labor Day weekend!

No tights, just leather pants. Which, hey, I'll take it.

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 20:00:00 +0000

Cedar City was marvelous. I did not go with GH, I actually went with a lovely L**** friend whom I will refer to as JJ. She's the one I went to Hawaii with last year and the Shakespearean Festival (again, some more) the year before that, and a better traveling companion you will not find, I tell you. She actually likes driving, so I didn't even have to do any of it.

One thing I've noticed is that whenever JJ and I get together, even though we are generally upbeat people, the conversation always tends to turn to dark topics. And since we had quite a long drive there and back, I joked with her beforehand that I was going to time us to see how long it took before we were earnestly discussing self-mutilation. We never got there, but instead covered health care; racism; spinsterhood; bipartisanship; family issues; gender politics within the Church; education; food production; and our country's high C-section rate. We are pretty much a laugh riot. But hanging out with JJ was the biggest highlight of the trip.

The second biggest highlight was the part where I only heard ONE cell phone go off during a play. (Which is one more than last time, but whatever, I'll take it as long as it's not the complete cell-phone-insanity-fest that was 2005. It seems that maybe the old people got their grandkids to teach them how to turn their phones off in the last 4 years). The phone that did ring had the same ringtone, however, as mine. Which made me crap an absolute brick until I reminded myself, "You turned off your phone outside and then you double-checked just before the play began. You know that's not your phone. Please resume breathing."

But still. It was pretty terrifying. Because if that had been my phone ringing during the first act of The Secret Garden when poor Archie and Lily are singing about their doomed love I would have had to throw myself off the balcony. Which would have likely injured the people below me.

Anyway, for those who asked, we saw The Secret Garden, Henry V (wherein Brian Vaughn did indeed spit him up a storm), and Foxfire. All were wonderful, more on that to come!

Barding it

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 15:15:00 +0000

Hello, everyone! I hope you all have great weekends--I am off to Cedar City for the Utah Shakespearean Festival, because it has simply been too long since I've watched men prance around in tights.

All parents are not created equal

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 16:21:00 +0000

Today a mom noticed that her toddler had located a little kids magazine and was beginning the "I'm going to rip this magazine because I am in awe of my strong ripping powers!" process. She rushed over to stop him but got there about a second too late. So she took the magazine away, informed him that we do not rip things, and found him a very sturdy book to read. She then brought the magazine over to me, told me what happened, and asked if she needed to pay for it.

I told her not to worry about it, that it looked like something I could easily fix with a bit of tape, and thanked her for bringing it over. Then we shared a laugh about toddlers and their Destructo ways.

This mommy is one of the good ones and I will always think of her this way unless something drastic should happen, like if I find her changing her baby's diaper in the middle of the children's section, using pages from a library book as wipes. Something like that.

Last night, the other kind of mother was here. She wasn't paying attention to her two little ones and they were running around like crazy loud dervishes. Crazy barefoot loud dervishes. One of the librarians went over and told her that her children needed to wear shoes in the library.

Mom: "Well, they chose not to wear shoes today."

Librarian, probably doing a massive internal eyeroll: "Well, if you choose to come to the library they need to have shoes on."

The mom proceeded to talk about how every time they come here someone ruins her children's library experience by saying things like "your kids need to wear shoes." And how we are making the library "not fun." And she wants to come back and speak with the director about how not-fun-making we are.

I wish I'd been there. My response would have been simple:

"Ma'am, sick people cough and spit on our floors, teens have thumbtack wars in the children's area, and a couple of weeks ago we found poop on the carpet. Still think your kids should be barefoot in here?"

Oh . . . karma. But with a surprise happy ending!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:08:00 +0000

So remember that one time when I talked about how yay and happy I was on account of we just paid off my student loan and how I'm fer shure going to get us living off one income and maybe the Obama administration should call me to get my budgeting advice because I'm Just. That. Awesome at it?

Yeah.

As my dear superstitious GH would say, it's like you're just giving karma the chance to come after you.

Our first month of just-living-on-one-paycheck-except-for-the-part-where-we-treated-ourselves-to-an-anniversary-getaway also turned out to be the month where:

#1. Our electric bill went from $40 to $100, thanks to the freaking A/C that we probably don't even NEED because the pioneers didn't have it and they were fine.

#2. I went over on our cell phone minutes for the first time in EVER, resulting in a bill that was $50 higher than normal. Awesome.

#3. The annual Tivo bill arrived. (See "things we don't need because the pioneers don't have them." Note how I only use this argument on the things I don't care about.)

#4. We drove a whole lot, doubling our gas expenses.

#5. GH's car broke.

This last one was the best. The power window on GH's 1992 Honda Accord has been on the blink a while, causing the window to work its way down until we could force it back up. It decided last week to break down completely, leaving the window stuck in a half-opened position, just begging the many car thieves and smash & grabbers in our area to come take a look.

(Before I continue this story, I have pretty much decided that power windows are of the Devil and are just an excuse to put one more thing into your car that can break and have to be expensively fixed. Cuz really, it's not like much could go wrong with the manual kind. And when you inevitably roll off the road and land in a river and are supposed to swim out through the window because you can't get the door open, are you really sure those power windows are going to work underwater? Yeah. Thanks for letting me just drown there with my hypothetical babies, power windows.)

So we take the car to our usual place and they say the necessary part will need to be ordered and should cost between $110 and $130. And then the labor will cost about $150. Great. Perfect. Except that night GH caught me online while I was at work to have this conversation with me:

GH: pep boys just called, they say that because it's an american car they can only find the piece they need from the dealer and that because of that the total is going to be 600 dollars!!!
me: blink. blink blink.

And that's when my brain completely imploded. This, for a car that is maybe worth $1500.

He asked if he should call them back and tell them to go ahead and I said NONONOnonononono, wait until we could talk about it. Two hours later, he got back online for this conversation

GH: you there?
me: Yep, what's up?
GH: hey I think I just found the part i needed on ebay for forty dollars.
me: Are you for sure serious?
GH: I called the website and he said it was what I needed... then I called pepboys to see if they'd install it if I brought the part in and they say yeah... there just wouldn't be a warranty.
me: Wow. When I get home, [very specific promise that I won't repeat here].

So yeah. He totally found the right part. It arrived in a few days, we drove it over, they installed it, it works, and the peasants rejoiced. And we paid about $100 less than we would have if they'd just found the part initially for the price they first gave us. (Big note to self: Always try this online thing it is awesome.) And now I'm not even so upset about the way our budget went all to crap this month since we dodged such a huge bullet.

I've been telling everyone who will listen about the genius I married. Then GH confessed to me that the only reason he even thought to look online was because he desperately did not want to experience what I would be like if we actually had to dump $600 into his car over a window.

I think that is what is called Being a Good Team.

Ruminations upon the subject of library parents

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 20:45:00 +0000

Rumination #1: When I politely inform you that your child is too young to be left alone in the children's section, the right thing to do is to log out of your Facebook page and go read with said child. A lesser option would be to make the child sit at the computer with you while she wonders aloud what bad thing she did for the librarian to banish her from the children's area.

Rumination #2: You just now realized we have a summer reading program, 4 days before school starts? And you want to enroll your kids?

Rumination #3: I really don't think your 6-year-old actually wants the book Twilight as his summer read prize. But way to make him pick that one anyway.

Rumination #4: Why would someone pay big bucks to adopt a tiny spicy exotic baby if she was just planning to take him to the library in a few years and then ignore him while he runs out the door and into traffic? Because really, it seems like there are other ways to blow your money.

Just, you know, things I get to ponder.