Thoughtful Nonsense

definitely pre-pregnancy *sigh*



Hey did you know I'm pregnant? 

I forget sometimes so I thought I would remind you.

There's just so much to think about these days, what with royal weddings and natural disasters and assassinating terrorists on the news.

By the way, ABC was the first to tell us that Osama Bin Ladin was dead.  Only I saw it first and Kyle was in the bathroom so I shouted the news reports to him from the family room.  This is what I like to call effective marital communication.
Probably we should be marriage counselors or something.

Only the other day, pretty much out of nowhere, Kyle announces to me "But it's not like you're my soul mate or anything."

And what is a wife supposed to do with this type of spousal declaration?

I will tell you I mostly just rolled my eyes and pointed out the fact that this was a terrible thing to say, even if whatever it was that he meant by it was well-intentioned and had a good point to it.  But really the point is that the only thing I remember him saying is "You're not my soul mate." 
And thus ends the fairytale.

I think that maybe the soul mate declaration came after watching 500 Days of Summer, which was wonderfully tragic in it's own right.  It definitely sparked some conversation about our own previously failed relationships and something about choosing our own fate.  And then somehow ended in us not being soul mates?  (I'm sure Kyle will have a rebuttal for this later)

And to bring it all full circle, I did choose to be pregnant and thus it is my fate.  Only don't you think fate sounds terribly unromantic and dreadful?  Pregnancy may be odd and life altering and uncomfortable at times but I certainly don't find it to be dreadful... although perhaps a bit unromantic, what with the constant heartburn and associated belching and all.

And anyway, what was this supposed to be about?

I forget sometimes.

A Milestone

Big things are happening here at the Post home.  Wednesday night Kyle finally FINALLY felt the baby kick!  I have been trying for weeks to get him to feel her kicks, but to no avail.  And really what is there I can do to "try" except shout "Come over here! She kicked me!"  And then he'd put his hand on my belly for 30 seconds and give up.  Sometimes I could feel her kicking him but it just wasn't strong enough for him to notice.  But not anymore!  This is like a big milestone in the baby growing phase or something.  I am more excited about this than I was about baby's first Bon Jovi concert!  Rest assured, many more firsts to come.

In totally unrelated news, have you ever noticed the letters of your keyboard wearing off?  I find it curious to note that I am quickly losing M, C, D, K, and comma.  In contrast, Q gets very little attention and neither do X and Z.  Just thought you should know.

Multiple Choice

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I have recently been presented with all of the following social situations.  Now it's your turn to decide what you'd do!  Please choose the response which best describes how you would react.  For fun, you may include your answers in the comments. 

1. Person X begins to tell you a story which you have heard at least 2 or 3 times before.  Which of the following would you do?
A.  Pretend you never heard the story before and invent a new way to look excited about it.
B.  Cut Person X off at the beginning and say something to the effect of "Oh yes, you told me this already."
C.  Sneakily text someone to call you asap so you can excuse yourself from hearing the very long story, yet again.

2. You seriously have to run to the bathroom.  Like RIGHT. NOW.  Person X is anxiously engaged in telling you every detail of everything uninteresting ever recorded. Do you:
A.  Squirm uncomfortably for the next 30 minutes until you can get a word in to excuse yourself.
B.  Pray for someone to call/walk by/somehow interrupt the conversation so you can get out of there.
C.  Secretly scream at Person X in your head "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!"
D.  Walk Run away mid-sentence.

3. Person X begins a conversation with you by saying, "Oh you know such-and-such obscure movie/book/actor/public figure?"  "No."  "No?!? You've NEVER seen/read/heard of _______?!?!?!  Well, let me spend the next 2 hours telling you all about it."  Do you:
A.  Get comfortable for the long haul and enjoy the feeling of your eyes glazing over.
B.  Feign interest while daydreaming about a spicy Italian sandwich.
C.  Try to figure out how this could be at all helpful and/or interesting to you in the future.  Like, if you were to be on a trivia game show or something.
D.  All of the above

4. You have not told Person X you are pregnant (clarification: Person X is not the father).  Person X looks at you quizzically and inquires, "How are you doing?"  (Not in the Joey of Friends style)  Do you:
A.  Assume Person X is making reference to your pregnancy and proceed to divulge all the fun and excitingness of pregnancy related back pain.
B.  Ignore the possible pregnancy reference and reply, "Just fine, thanks!"
C.  Be perfectly blunt and ask, "Would you like to know about my growing fetus?"

Nesting or Neurotic?

a summer daisy

Maybe it's the "nesting" phase, or maybe it's the fact that I managed to lose a whole freaking ironing board this weekend, but I am about ready to throw away everything unused in our house.  I'm feeling cluttered. And unorganized. And a little stressed out just thinking about it.  This is the perfect time for me to throw things out because I have less sentimental attachment to this-or-that-thing that so-and-so gave me for such-and-such occasion. 

And out it goes!

But these are the things that entertain my consciousness when lying awake for most of the night.  I am only halfway through this Pregnancy 1.1 and already I am so uncomfortable at night, I just cannot sleep.  Also, Kyle dreamed he was being chased last night and as a result, was making some very interesting noises (I totally thought someone was in our house.  It was just his erratic breathing.)

So while I cannot sleep, I think of all the things I could throw out.

Also, I contemplate the necessity of purchasing a good body pillow.

Totally unrelated: I told Kyle the baby has been moving a lot today and his response was "Probably because March Madness is coming up.  She is excited."

End Transmission.

Thanks

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Thanks to Devin & Ashley, we are totally hooked on Prison Break. 

Thanks to Netflix, we can watch all we want without commercials! 

Thanks to Prison Break, I have nightly dreams that I'm being chased and/or hiding out from the mafia.

Thanks to my nightly scary dreams, I wake Kyle up at 3am to remind me that I'm dreaming.

Thanks to waking up at 3am every night, I am very tired.

Thanks to being very tired, I am lacking in creativity.

Thanks to lacking in creativity, I am writing this stupid post today.

Mental Playlist

I pretty much always have a song stuck in my head.  Sometimes one morphs into another and other times the same old standbys keep comin' back for more.  Lately I've had some constant variation of the following mental playlist:

1. Like a Virgin

2. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

3. Daydream Believer

4. The Spinning Song

5. Any Way You Want It

6. When Doves Cry

I don't even want to know how this could be psycho-analyzed. 

It probably wouldn't look very good for me.

From a Fourth-Story Window

Sometimes I like to eat my lunch by the window and peer at the people four stories below.  The other day I noticed a man with knee pads climb into a dumpster.  It was a very large dumpster and it made me physically ill (still does) to think about just what he might be wading through.  But then he emerged with two long strips of carpet.  Hmm... carpet.  Why would he need to retrieve carpet strips from a dumpster? 

Here is what I know of this man:

1. He was probably not homeless

2. He was wearing a uniform

3. Also, knee pads

4. He drove a little cart

I ran through different scenarios leading up to dumpster carpet retrieval and imagined the following conversational scenarios:

"Andre," (he looked like an Andre) "The Chesterfields have changed their minds about the carpet after all.  Go fetch it from the dumpster."

Or rather, "Andre, Mrs. Chesterfield specifically asked for the carpet in the dancing room to be removed, not from the foyer (pronounced "foy-yay")!"

"Andre, I've had it with your stupid knee pads!  I'm throwing you and your carpet out!"  Then Andre sulks to the dumpster alone, to retrieve the remains of his lost relationship, and carpet.

Also I had thoughts about a cat scratch tower.  Carpet is good for those, I think.

What I have learned from this:

1. Knee pads are probably a good idea when dumpster diving

2. Always listen carefully to the Chesterfields

3. Really you wouldn't want to have carpet in the dancing room in the first place

Hello Goodbye

Oh Second Trimester, how nice of you welcome me with tears of nonsense.

I always love it when I cry about nothing. {insert sarcasm}

The problem is, you see, I had to do that thing that I hate so much this weekend and I had to do it twice: fly.  Yes, yes, I do hate to fly.  It's not a downright phobia, but there are times when I am trapped in that cylinder with a hundred strangers careening through the sky miles above earth when I feel like I might just explode if I don't get off right this minute.  But of course I cannot get off right this minute and so I reassure myself with a combination of Marie Claire and my own meditation chant of sorts: "Everything's going to be fine, everything's going to be fine, everything...."  

Which reminds me, where did yoga ever go from my life?  We used to be so close.

{But did anyone else read the issue with the Amy Adams interview?  I kind of love her}

So now I'm eating eggs and toast with chocolate milk while my darlingest husband is grocery shopping.  Grocery shopping!  He's doing the grocery shopping!  I mean, do I have any duties left around here anymore?  I have been transformed into a baby incubator and that's about it.  Also, I sometimes work full time during the week and perhaps fly to Colorado for work every so often.

And then I get tired.  Really, really tired.  Too tired to fix dinner.  And then I cry.

So now I need a nap.

The End.

A Poem

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I has a cold and it's really sad.

It's the second cold in four months I've had.

My nose is a lovely shade of red.

I can only sleep sitting up in bed.

I'm perpetually about to sneeze.

I would really like some Sudafed, please.

A List

THE 10 GREATEST THINGS OF 2011 SO FAR:

1.  We put my new juicer to good use and had the very best fresh squeezed orange juice ever!

2.  Our backyard looks like a perfect winter wonderland.

3.  Our garage door may or may not be broken but that is okay because our house is still under warranty!

4.  We have a really cool date on Tuesday!

5.  I fell asleep last night watching a movie in bed! (yes, Kyle won the T.V. debate and we now have a T.V. in our bedroom)

6.  Kyle, who just said "Who has two thumbs and wants to be on your list?"  Yes, he definitely is always on my list of greats.

7.  We started off the New Year without Christmas decorations!  (and already our house feels so much cleaner)

8.  "Def Leppard still rocks!" (Kyle)

9.  We got to ring in the New Year with great friends and food!

10.  Kyle has learned a valuable lesson: don't do laundry with chapstick in your pockets.

A Melodrama of Sorts

I've had an attitude problem.  Every time I come to blogger to write up a post about nothing in particular I defiantly think back to myself  "No!  No, I won't write anything today!"  And it came to pass that nearly a week has gone by since my last post.  And aren't you so terribly sad?

So I broke a nail. I know, it sounds like such a melodramatic issue, but really, it broke half off.  And I bleeded.  And in case you didn't know, blood=serious injury. Why did I break my nail? Because Kyle decided to sneak attack me and toss me into the Love Sac (very ironic, don't you think? As this attack was not at all very love-ly).  It is such a blur to me now it is hard to remember how it all happened exactly. But somewhere in the tumult of husband to wife tackle and microsuede sacs of love, (half) my fingernail tragically ripped off my ring finger.  I tried to squeeze some kind of sympathy out of Kyle, but he just laughed at my sad remains of a fingernail. And my nails were looking so nice these days.

But you will give me some sympathy, won't you? 

It is November sixteenth and I am exactly two-thirds finished with my Christmas shopping.  The last turd, excuse me, third, is for Kyle. Whatever do you get a sports fanatic movie lover who has both every sports related thing you could think of and also every movie known to man but also happens to not particularly enjoy gifts of the clothing nature? It is a terrible predicament is what it is. And to make matters worse, he has no idea what to get for me. Me! I am seriously the easiest person to shop for. I like everything! Fabric! Food! Clothes! Vacations to Hawaii! Old stuff! He is really the difficult one here, don't you see? My fallback gifts are always clothes, and he has even eliminated that from my list. Whatever shall I do?

Again, I could really use some sympathy here, because you know I won't be getting it from You Know Who.  But anyway, I am going to go make a Christmas list. And pamper my nail. Feel free to send me your sincerest condolences for my sad state of affairs.

I'm not hungover, I promise.

"You look half asleep."

"Did you wear makeup today?"

"You look like you're not feeling well."

"Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Rough night last night?"

"You've done something different..."

"Maybe you should go lie down for a bit."

I'm fine, I promise! I just forgot to put on mascara. Apparently it makes that much of a difference because now I look tired, sick, and hungover.

A Stalemate

It is a melancholy kind of day, to be sure.  One that appears to sunshiny but instead is rather cold. Not sad nor happy, not here nor there.  Just a day of the medium variety.  Today is sitting on the fence, waiting for the majority vote to topple it one way or the other.  Today could swing good or it could swing bad, but without a majority, I'm afraid we have a stalemate.  In other words, this day is going nowhere. 

Here are the results so far:

The Good:

I actually made time to put on makeup this morning.

I have a most adorably wonderful husband who let me stay in bed longer than was needful.

There is a really fantastic Pig & Pepper logo in the works.

The Bad:

I counted exactly 37 moths clinging to my window.

I cannot breathe like a normal human. (read here for why)

There are two (extra large) piles of laundry that simply will not wash themselves.

You see?  It could really go either way, but it is simply too soon to tell.

Suspicious

photo by me

I saw this little old lady who had a very stylish wig.  It was cute.  I smiled at how darling she was, being so small and frail but still nurturing her personal style.  And then I noticed something else that seemed a bit out of place.  I'm telling you, this sweet little old lady was either sporting a healthy set of implants or was wearing a very supportive bra.  And then I had to laugh.  This darling elderly woman, hardly able to stand up straight, with her cute stylish wig and a suspiciously perky rack.  I want to be like her when I am old.  Suspicious rack and all.

Brand New Key

Please tell me you seen this commercial and you love it as much as I do!  It makes me giggle 'til I cry.  I made Kyle watch it twice.  There's just something about a traveling baby that makes my day.

I also love the song, which is apparently called Brand New Key by Melanie Safka.

Love. Love. Love.

Happy Sunday.

The Secret's in the Base Coat

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Sometimes I get really focused on something and a long time later I realize I've been making a really stupid face that usually involves my mouth hanging open and possibly some sort of a furrowed brow.  Other times I think through conversations in my head and catch myself mouthing the words that I am thinking. 

  

One time I walked around the office at work with the skirt of my dress caught on my name tag way up around my neck. 

I do a lot of embarrassing things.  On a daily basis.  But today is different.  Today I have painted nails and toes and perhaps there is nothing that can make me feel not a lady on this day.  Because today my painted nails and toes survived a night of tossing in my sleep and the dreaded pantyhose in the morning.  Because this time my painted nails and toes are protected by a double layer of base coat.  Today my nails and toes are strong, resilient, and ladylike.  Today I will survive the torrent of embarrassing events that I typically create for myself.  Because, you see, I have a base coat. 

A base coat makes all the difference, you know.  Without it, my nails look dry and wrinkly and the color just soaks up into my nail parts somewhere.  Without the base coat, my painted nails would never survive a day without chipping or wearing off.  But today I have on a base coat and I feel like I just got a manicure even though I just painted them myself (for free).  Today my wedding ring looks extra sparkly and my waistline a little thinner.

So here's to the base coat and a day of being resilient!

Maybe today I'll also wear mascara.

I am feeling rather dangerous, after all.

Fluff. Pigs. Spices. Also, Funnel Cakes.

There is so much fluff in my head right now I can hardly think.  It's making me motion sick, all this thinking.  To make matters worse, I walked into the Anthropologie today and smelled the most wonderful coconut something candle I have ever smelled and now I long to smell it more.  Someone please buy me the $18 candle so I can be at peace.  Also, my birthday is actually in eighteen days.  Just in case you forgot or something. 

But isn't September the best?  It's the end of much-too-hotness but still not quite into the much-too-coldness and then there's the leaves changing and the crispy breezes and pumpkin flavored everything!  (Read here about how much I love pumpkin flavored everything)  Which reminds me, I still need to try the pumpkin Hershey kisses.  Again, birthday=eighteen days.  Just FYI.

September, like the first day of school, marks the beginning of good things and wonderful firsts.  It's like a second January, when you feel a fresh start coming on.  At any rate, I forgot where I was going with that.  All that head fluff, you know. 

Speaking of beginnings and crispy things, have you been to Pig & Pepper yet?  You should go there right this minute and then come back here and tell me wonderful things that will make me not so anxious about the 36 pairs of leggings and the dozen or so handbags I just ordered to add to my loot in time for this boutique show you definitely should go to.  Or you may also recommend a delicious pumpkin something or other for me to try--that always calms my nerves.

And in case you are wondering why I chose a pig and a spice to represent my collection of accessories for sale, I will tell you the answer.  The answer is chapter eleven of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.  Have you read it?  I love it.  It's delightfully whimsical and strange and mostly comprehensible.  It's full of nonsense and wonderfulness and upside down backwardsness.  It's the very best thing to read when your head is full of fluff and that is all you really need to know. 

Kyle told me yesterday he thinks Pig & Pepper sounds like I'm selling seasoned pork.  And I guess, maybe, in a way, you could say I am.  I don't know.  Try to find some logic in that, why don't you? 

But if you are to remember two things today, remember first to go visit Pig & Pepper and remember second that funnel cakes are the very next best thing to pumpkin flavored everythings.  And tonight, Kyle is taking me to the fair and there will be funnel cakes at the fair, to be sure.

Delicious

doodle by me

So I have a delicous bottom.

Or how else am I to interpret the eight ridiculous mosquito love bites?

(I just counted.  There really are eight)

I mean really, of all the places to bite me, did it have to be there?

And how is one supposed to feel about all this itchiness anyway?

As a side note, I find it rather awkward to say "bottom". 

It just sounds so... proper.

And I am nothing if not improper.

Thoughts for a Monday

I do, in fact, have an ingrown toenail.

Kiwi is both a delicious fruit and a curious bird.

Group fitness classes scare me.

I wish I had more Swedish Fish.

My freckles multiplied exponentially over the weekend.

What happened to July?

My birthday is in fifty-six days.

I lost my watch.

I cried about it.

Chelsea's dress was pretty, but why all the fuss about her wedding?

Considered going back to school.

Frozen yogurt.  Frozen yogurt.  Frozen yogurt.

I really loved that song until it was stuck in my head for three days.

I dreamt about The Cheesecake Factory.  And Chevron.

A Brilliant Idea & Quite a Bit of Randomness

photo by me

While sleeping on the bus, I awoke to a startling thought: snow cones!  I must bring the snow cone maker to the family reunion this weekend.  But isn't that a brilliant idea?  I do have some of my best ideas in my sleep.

This is all really for nothing except to say that my second most brilliant ideas usually come to me at the gym.  Except I've only been to the gym once in many months and so I've been having a lack of brilliancy lately.  (Note to self: spend more time at the gym)

You know when people talk about writing they say, "Write what you know"?  That is all very good you see, but what does that say about me, I wonder?

And do you ever think about what you might've blogged about had we had such things as blogs and the internet for Pete's sake when you were ten and fifteen years younger?  (Assuming you are also at least twenty-five years of age or thereabouts).  This is the thought that I've been thinking most about today.

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Age Ten

I would have blogged about horses.  I would have told you all their parts and pieces and may have even posted a video of me pretending to be a horse.  (It's a family classic is what it is)

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Age Thirteen

I would have blogged about my love for nail polish and how I hated the very sight of my bare nails.  (Only now I can't hardly stand polish on my fingers).

Age Sixteen

I would have blogged about something terribly dramatic like perhaps how I let my mom plan my sixteenth birthday party and was so stupidly afraid it would be lame but then it ended up being the coolest party ever.  Because, you see, I have the coolest mom ever.  True story.

Age Eighteen

I would have blogged about surviving my first year of college and the dreaded freshman fifteen and how studying fashion design involved a whole lot more sewing than I had ever before predicted and how I may have spent the night in the sewing lab on more than a dozen occasions.

Age Twenty-one

I would have blogged about beginning my full-time mission at the beautiful Temple Square and all the crazy wonderful people I fell in love with every day.  Also, the nylons.  I would have told you the awfulness of wearing nylons every single day for eighteen months.

k2 imaging

Age Twenty-Four

Well now that was just last year you see and it is all really a great and terrible blur because I was busy planning the wedding of my dreams.  Probably I would have been just as ridiculously full of nonsense as I am today.  But with more tulle and taffeta for your reading pleasure.

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Age Twenty-Seven

(Just predicting the future here, don't mind me) I anticipate blogging about baby bits and baby drool and heaven help me there better be babies in my future!  But I do think age twenty-seven will be grand.  Kyle was twenty-seven when I met him.  If that is to say anything about what can happen to a person at age twenty-seven.