so hot in herrrrrrrr

Hello, this blog comes straight to you from Satan's Armpit, population me. It's super freaking hot here, and the fact that the apartment is 76 degrees at 9:45 at night and it feels super cool and comfy should tell you how hot it was today. Ugh. My productivity gets shockingly low when it's hot. The house is a mess. Am I trying to fix it?

No. Most definitely not. It was hot today, remember? Everyone knows that really hot days are a free pass for any and all domestic activities. It's like a snow day for adults. Thus, in the spirit of Adult Snow Day, I am sitting on the couch drinking a cold beverage of choice and watching Hayden Panettiere in her magnum opus, Bring It On: All or Nothing. It's just so inspiring, you know? And, it's one of E!'s "Movies We Love," and we all know that E! knows movies. Or. knows movies with low syndication rates. Either one.

Birdy and I head out into the wild blue yonder on Tuesday, and I'm already preparing myself mentally. The idea of Birdy sitting on my lap happily for three minutes is something that happens regularly. The reality of Birdy sitting on my lap for two hours is yet unproven. I've purchased several items for the trip in hopes of entertaining her: 1,000 stickers, tiny cans of Play-Doh, a new coloring book, a crazy amount of snacks, and one or two books. I've figured I have 120 1-minute segments I need to fill.

In a perfect world, some of them will be filled with her sleeping. Or maybe the plane won't be full and I'll be able to put her in her own seat with her own car seat. And then maybe, it'll be a frosty day in Hell.

Hey, pop question for parents: when you check a car seat, do they give you one of those bags to put it in? If not, where do they sell such things? And can you think of anything else I can bring to fill my 120 1-minute segments?


today, i'm motivated

I've started something that is embarrassing to admit. I've started Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. Now, to be fair, there are people out there who will look like Jillian after the 30 days. There are people who will not be sweating themselves silly after 10 minutes. There are people who will be able to do the jump rope cardio segment for the whole 30 seconds.

I hate to shatter your illusions, but I am none of those people. Before Saturday when I started this 20 minute daily journey to hell, I didn't know jumping jacks were something I couldn't do for a prolonged amount of time. And by "prolonged," I mean 1 minute.

Today, though, was a breakthrough: I noticed that it has gotten a smidgen easier. Which means it's working! And I've lost a pound and a half. That pound and a half is perhaps the reason that I'm able to do more jumping jacks! Amazing! Also, because I was feeling so good, I did pilates too. Just because. Because there was no jumping, there were modified exercises, and most of it is lying down. BUT STILL.

The thing is, jumping jacks used to be easy. I used to be able to do the pilates workout without a problem. And the thing was, I didn't realize that I would never be able to NOT do those things. What an eye-opener. All the more reason to keep doing these thigns so that once again I can jump jacks and ab crunch with the best of them.

The other good thing about today is that I'm finally the proud owner of the clear Starbucks tumbler mug. And by "finally" I mean after three months of searching. They are sold out everywhere! I got the 16 ounce one. I plan on drinking stupid amounts of water in my trendy little beverage cup.

Photos courtesy of Run Girl Run and Nic Nak Patti Wack


time keeps slippin'

First: look at that sweet girl. We were at the beach here for the first time. She's wearing the dress Ben got her from Hawaii, which we felt was only appropriate for an ocean adventure.

Second: You might have heard that I made Brandon read The Host. So far, he says it "isn't bad." Now, in his world, that could mean the greatest thing he has read, or it could mean "it's better than a swift kick in the nuts." For an example of his highest praise that I have received, please read this.

Also note that I have made lesser men faint dead away when eating my chicken tacos.

In The Host, our heroine Wanderer (and why is it so close to heroin? Am I ignorant on it's etymology? Are we women heroes so addicting [like my chicken tacos, but I digress from digressing] that we make men die? Really?), makes comments on not knowing how much time you have left to live your life. And frankly, the thought both scares the dickens out of me and also calms me. It scares me because I've never felt that I will be able to love Birdy as long and as well as I hope. Ever since I fell in love with her (which is different from when she was conceived or when she was born, but that is a different story for a different time), I've never had the sense that I would be with her for very long. Objectively I know she'll grow up, go to college or whatever, have a family, and live her life well. That being said, I don't see myself sharing that with her. I feel like something is going to happen to me so that I can't be a part of those experiences with her.

Let's be clear: I don't see me taking myself out of the picture, if you get my drift. I'm simply not there. I don't know where I am, but I'm not with Birdy, which makes me sad.

Is that weird? It makes everyday things so desperate for me. I just walked through her bedroom and picked her up, wondering to myself "how many more chances will I have to hug her?" And when I was hugging her, I almost cried.

Ugh. How morbid.

So I pose this question to you, whether you are a mother or a father, or a lover of another thing that will die: do you feel this way about things? This odd sense of urgency and protectiveness?

Or, does this just mean that for once in my life I have found something that I would gladly give my life for?

Or, is it just 11:30 and the fact that I've been up for 16 and half hours going at full speed?

Personally, I'm caught between the two, but leaning more toward the latter.

hey! hey everybody!

I just got featured on Ikea Hacker, a site where people share what they do with random Ikea items. It has 33,000 RSS readers. No joke. For real.

Please go here and leave some nice comments for me. The first two...not so nice.



I just purchased tickets to Washington! YES!

I'll be here from the 1st-21st. Brandon's training is pretty intense, so I'll be up in Washington during that time. I'm super excited to see you all!

hey hey

Just so we're on the same page, I'm being a bad mother right now. I'm watching Deadliest Catch and blogging while my daughter is left to entertain herself (currently with her dirty clothes and a puppy). I just don't want you to have any grad illusions of what I'm doing right now. Or not doing, more specifically.

I'm not:
cleaning the kitchen
going on a walk
out of my pajamas
eating lunch
going to bed before 1am



I'll tell you why. To get Brandon to read The Host, by Stephanie Meyer, I had to agree to read a book he likes. This book is called A Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin. I didn't like the first few chapters. I had no idea what was going on, who the people were, or what the point was. However, I wanted Brandon to keep reading, so I kept reading. And then I got hooked.

I'm nearing the end of the second book (THE SECOND ONE. I just started the first one a few days ago), and am going crazy while Birdy is awake. I keep counting the minutes until she's unconscious so I can run, not walk, over to my book and finish the story.

It's driving me crazy.



I miss you all. For reals.

(and thank you Jaclyn for the great new fridge photos)


tales from the dmv

Last night, for the first time in a long time, I set my alarm. Today was a big day: I was going to get my license.

I'd been studying the driver's guide and stressing about the test. It was like have a full on teenage experience and that I was 17 and getting ready to get my license (yes, I said 17. Get off my back.)...I felt like I was going to start getting zits and being super self concious all over again. Boo.

Luckily, my buddy Ben came with. We were both nervous. We left bright and early at 7:30 and went to the Santa Clara DMV, which opened at 8. We pulled in to the parking lot at 7:50.


There was a line around the building--about 50-60 people were in line already. Ben looked at me and said, "do over?" I agreed, and we planned on getting the license stuff taken care of tomorrow...and showing up much, much, much eariler. On a whim, we went over the the San Jose DMV, which wasn't too far away. Surprisingly, it didn't seem all the busy. We went in and were sitting in these hard plastic chairs, super nervous and worrying we would have to come back anyway because were were dorks and failed the test.

For the written test here, you can only miss 5 if you are getting your first California license. If you are getting it RENEWED, you have to take it again, and you can only miss THREE. I'm not looking forward to that AT ALL. I took the test (which is actually on paper. Which really was surprising. Which made me miss Washington.), and was stumped on few of the questions. Others, however, were like "please don't be a douche while you drive. This includes: road rage, tailgating, passing, driving with your high beams on, wearing your seatbelts, and so much more."

We both passed the test (thank goodness). Ben's car checked out fine, and we didn't have to pay a ton of money for late fees, which I was worried about. I had been here for more than 10 days, and Ben had been here...for a while.

Now, I get to sit and wait for my brand spankin' new license to come in the mail. I am bummed I'm no longer a resident of Washington, though. Don't forget me Washington! I still love you best!


a good day

Today was a good day. Today, I conquered pizza. Pizza now stands before me, shivering and alone. I own pizza.

It didn't start out that way. I used the recipe for dough and sauce from my favorite cookbook, which hasn't let me down yet. I made the dough in my food processor (the one that was my grandma's...so it's up in years), which would have been great, except for the fact that the dough was threatening to kill my beloved little appliance. I thought "hey, it looks like it's done. I'll take this opportunity to take it out of the food processor and start kneading. Brandon and Birdy will be so impressed with my mad yeast dough kneading skillz when they come back from their walk."

However. The dough was, um, a little wet. A little sticky. And I was a prisoner to sticky dough hands, which rival freezing cold meatball-rolling hands (if you've ever rolled a six month supply of meatballs, let me know. We'll form a club). I couldn't really touch anything without it getting horribly sticky and doughy. And that stuff doesn't clean well. I promise you that.

Long story short, Brandon and Birdy make it home in time to plug in my mixer (you never fail me, Old Red) and start this kneading thing for real. I kneaded by hand forever after the mixer, and thought I had ruined the dough.


The pizza and homemade sauce were great. This photo is before it went into the oven.

This is after a raging hot 500 degree oven.

This is after Birdy, Ben, Brandon and me attacked it.

Birdy was so kind as to provide us with a show after dinner. She got down and busy to Beyonce's Put a Ring on It. Hilarious. I highly recommend checking out the clip of her wicked dance moves.
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you paid what for that?

Who was the marketing exec who okayed these horrible Palm Pre ads? Every time I see them, I get weirded out. She goes between being calm and zen, and then turns around super fast to dink around the phone. Ick. Weirded out.