Worst Case Scenario Kind of Girl

Thoughts that roll around in my head at night…

What did Mark have in his hand earlier? And why couldn’t I find that big butcher knife at dinner?




*Checking under his pillow* Nope, not here. Remember to check his closet in the morning.




While I am firmly against Ella dating (as in EVER), we must be on the lookout for those boys that want to murder parents in their sleep. Keep a sharp eye out for that kind.




Hmm…sure he says he is going to fix that hole in the garage with the duct tape and tarp he bought at Home Depot but what’s his hidden agenda? Lets just remember to throw ‘em in the trash on Wednesday.




So, I may spend a bit too much time watching real crime dramas. Dateline, 48 Hours, Investigation Discovery, you name it I watch it.




Clearly, they have an impact. Good and bad, I suppose.




For instance, midway through a normal dinner, I may happen to blurt out strange things.




For instance...




You know you'll never get away with it. I am much too smart to be murdered!!




What ARE you talking about?




*Silence*




Ummm...




You've REALLY got to stop watching those shows.



Admittedly, I get a bit “Worst Case Scenario”and freak myself (and my husband) out on occasion.




But, on the bright side, my many hours staring into Stone Phillips’ pretty face listening to his deeply hypnotizing voice will probably, maybe, one day save our lives.




So Mark is just going to have to deal with the occasional outbursts. And the checking for wayward weapons.




Also, if you’re in the market for a never been used tarp please see my trash can on Wednesday. You’re in luck.

Why, Hello There!

You might notice things look a little different around here.   

Oh, no.  It wasn't me.    

Thankfully, there are people in the world with A LOT of talent.    People who liven things up, make you feel all pretty and done up.   The world is better because of those people. 

I found Kristin at Simply Klassic Blog Design.  I think my exact words were:  I like green, blue and um...pretty things. 

How did she get in my head and pull this out?  

I don't know.  I'm just glad she did.  

So I'm still figuring things out around here.   Pages are under construction but I'll get there so keep checking back!  

Thanks Kristin!  

I'm Calling Her Grandma Ghost or G.G. for Short

We have a ghost.

I’m totally down with having a ghost. I mean, it’s like the next best thing to having a pool, right?

I know, I know. It’s obviously not as cool as a vampire. I WISH!

The ghoul hierarchy being what it is: Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts; I think top 3 is pretty good.

Weird things started happening a few months ago; things that are clearly the work of the supernatural.

Case in point: last week I went up to get Ella. She was squished into the corner of her crib, like she always is, but this time the music on her mobile was playing.

She was still dead asleep. Her little pudgy-wudgey arms and legs could not have reached over to the far side of her crib to accidentally turn it on. And the remote has been out of batteries for some time (us being the lazy parents that we are). This has happened a few times.

Obviously, work of a ghost.

Secondly, Ella is a talker, like most 9 month olds

She jabbers away. You just know she’s giving you some good stock tip or a new healthy recipe she learned through the endless hours of Food Network we subject her to.

(If only we could understand her! We’d be rich AND healthy! )

But she’s taken to looking up to the ceiling and jabbering like she’s talking TO someone. It’s kind of creepy, really. She stares right up at the ceiling and relays all of her get rich quick schemes.

Obviously.

The husband really doesn’t want to encourage this ghost talk, so he likes to tell me that the noises I hear is just the house ‘settling’.

Fine, Mark.

I guess the ‘settling’ sounds EXACTLY like someone is walking down our stairs? And the house knows which floor boards make the “I’m walking across the room RIGHT NOW” sounds?

We either have a really smart house or a ghost.

Clearly Mark is wrong. Sorry, babe.

I might be more upset about this were it just some strange spirit talking to my baby.

But I know who it is.

The people that we bought the house from casually mentioned that they had moved in Grandma a few years before selling, in the bedroom right next to Ella’s.

Grandma wasn’t around by the time we bought the house. The bedroom had been turned into a sewing room.

I’m just saying.

Clearly, it’s a kind, loving ghost. I mean, only a Grandma would turn on the mobile and jabber to a 9 month old.

And we're keeping her, no matter what Mark says. Imagine the resale value!

I just wish we could get her to babysit.

High Five for Friday

Is anyone else COMPLETELY exhausted after this week???  

I'm ready for a weekend and it's going to be a busy one! 

Before we get to the weekend though, I'm linking up with Lauren From My Grey Desk Blog.  

It's High Five for Friday, folks! 

My absolute favorite thing to do during the week is... TURN OFF MY ALARM!! 

 Yah for Independence Day!! Loving that extra day and a half of vacation.   

 An extra day of vacation means we got to spend an extra day with our Patriotic Love Bug.  

That bow lasted exactly .7 seconds...about .5 seconds longer than I thought. 

We made a very grown up purchase this week.  Luggage.  Maybe next week we'll go to Sizzler for the early bird special and put our teeth in glasses with fizzy little tabs. 

GRANDMA IS COMING TO VISIT!

Books will be read, the pool will be visited and there will be TONS of cuddles. 

There were ups and downs this week, like every week, but spending the evening on the couch next to this guy makes the worst day bearable.  

Finally, I want to thank all of you who LIKED, TWEETED or COMMENTED on my entry in OneWed.com's Next Big Bridal Blogger contest.  Alas, I did not win but it was such a fun experience and truly, being a finalist was REALLY, REALLY awesome!  

Congrats to the winner Michele Schwartz of the blog The Modern Jewish Wedding! Go check out her site and Onewed to find some really lovely inspiration for your big day!  

One of Those Weekends

You know those weekends where the weather is so beautiful? Sunny, hot, green, lush.   


You feel like you absolutely MUST be outside, being busy, running errands, taking advantage of every last bit of goodness a Saturday in the summer can bring. 


Thank god this was not one of those weekends! 


It was raining, grey and hot.  So the only recourse was to stay inside, watch really horrible movies, and lounge in our pajamas.  


Done and Done. 

Big girl in a big chair. 

Hmmm...what is there to see in Dada's office today?

That looks interesting....

Piggy on the loose. 

Why are you always taking my picture? 

PJ self portrait

 Green bean guts. 

Hanging out on Momma's lap. 

It's An Honor To Be Nominated...But I Really Want To Win

If you've popped over here from OneWed.com, welcome!  


I'm very excited about being a finalist on OneWed's Bridal Blogging Competition!  I can't wait to bring a funny and unique perspective to wedding planning!  


I love OneWed because their motto is "Smart Planning".  Any bride knows how crazy planning a wedding can be.  Being a very lucky bride some time back I escaped with only minor mental anguish (those seating charts will get you every time) and a lovely, memorable day that I'll never forget.    

People can either go off the rails or surprise you with their grace. 

Did your otherwise very sane best friend insist on making you wear $700 hair extensions for her wedding?  You thought she was crazy...until you got engaged.    Does your mother insist on inviting her entire Sunday School class but doesn't think the officiant needs to eat?  

"Smart Planning" is possible.  It just takes effort, will power to not kill your family and friends and good ol' fashion booze.   

Nah, thankfully that's where OneWed steps in!  

The competition runs through Friday, June 29.  You have until then to LIKE or TWEET your favorite finalist's entry!  

Also, I suggest arm wrestling your mom for the guest list.   

Flying, Public Speaking, First Dates and...the Spa?

You know that feeling you get when you are anticipating an unpleasant experience?  The clammy palms, stomach tied up in knots, chest is pounding and that line of sweat starts to bead on your brow. 

I’m presuming common triggers for this would be flying, public speaking, first dates, etc.  That sort of thing.

The spa does it for me.

I KNOW!   I don’t know what’s wrong with me either. 

Do not mistake my basket of nerves for not wanting to go. 

Stay with me; this is where it gets weird.

I love the spa.  

I really love it.  I love the ambiance, the quiet, the noiselessly moving ladies bustling about, and let’s not forget the plush robes.   It’s not like anyone is forcing me to go get manicured or waxed (a la Fifty Shades of Grey but that is another ball of wax. Pun totally intended).

The pinched and pulled women intimidate me and I'm never quite sure if I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  Yes, I know.  It's mostly laying there.  But these are MY neuroses, thankyouverymuch.   

First, everyone whispers.  It’s the whole PEACE and SERENITY thing.

Apparently, I have the hearing of an 97 year old man.  You whisper something to me once, and I don’t get it I’ll ask you to repeat.  If I don’t pick it up the second time I’ll just nod, and accept whatever happens next.

That is how I got my lips spackled with something akin to dry wall paste. 

Unbeknown to me, I said yes to some fancy-dancy lip treatment.  I should have known when my lips started burning.  After what seemed like an hour of the esthetician scrubbing and pulling off the dried goo, my poor lips looked like two balloon animals glued to my face.  And they stung for hours afterward.

Secondly, I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing... sooooo I just don’t do anything.

For my first ever facial I had no idea what it really entailed. 

Everything was going swimmingly until she burnt my face off. 

(For those of you who don’t know:  there is a part in most facials that the esthetician will use steam as a way to soften and prepare the skin for the treatments). 

I wasn’t prepared.  She didn’t say anything.  She didn’t even whisper anything (at least I don’t think so).  

All of a sudden, the sun had camped out on my face.  

I couldn’t breathe.  

I couldn’t open my eyes. 

There was nowhere to turn my head to get air. 

I was suffocating. 

You are probably asking “Couldn’t you just move the machine away?” And you’d be right.  And of course I could have.  I just didn't want her to think I didn't know what I was doing.   

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?   

This is it.  I’m going to DIE.  In a spa.  From steam.  I hope Mark knows not to put this in the obituary.  Nice going, Kristen.  

She came back into the room at the very minute I would have expired.

"Weird, I guess I turned it on MAX.  But don’t worry; your skin is going to be AMAZING."

Oh, goodie.

Finally, there are some things I’m just not comfortable with getting touched. (You don't need to stop reading, Dad.  It's totally PG.)

Massages are super ridiculously awesome.   If I had a tail, I’d be wagging it at the mere mention of a massage.

For a great massage, you have to communicate with your masseuse about what you’re looking for. This should be a good thing. 

In the intro I always ask for deep tissue, but also I ask them not to massage my feet or hands.   Weird? Yes.  Crazy?  Nah. 

You see, I hate my feet.  They are ugly, ugly feet.  Not just run of the mill, haven’t-gotten-a-pedi-in- a-while  ugly.  Ugly.  It’s my cross to bear.   

My hands are a different story.  When I get nervous my palms sweat.   And since I’m in a spa situation I’m nervous from the minute I walk in the door until the minute I’m signing the credit card receipt. 

I don’t want the masseuse to think I have some weird hand sweating disease, so I put my hands on the Don’t Touch List as well.

My first massage at a new place here in Texas went something like this:

Yeah, so if you could just NOT do my hands and feet that would be great.

Um.  What?

I really don’t want my hands or feet massaged.  Cool? *Trying to move on*

That’s like THE best part of the massage.  *Insert hand on hip attitude*

For some people, I bet it is.  Not for me, though.  Sorry! 

With a look that said “you are THE freakiest girl in the world” she sauntered off so we could get started.

Not 10 minutes into my massage, she started whispering.

I’m face down, trying to enjoy my 50 minutes of peace. 

Hmm…I’m sorry, what did you say?

Mumble, whisper, mumble.

Hmmm…ok? 

And don’t you know I got my hands and feet massaged. 

Damn Whisperers.  

(And, yes.  I did tip her.)