Hmmmm….

Why is there a category in WordPress for Uncategorized? Talk about your jumbo shrimp.

Aptly Named

I tell Ian, "look on Drudge, Airbus is pitching standing room only flights. They'll harness you to some sort of board." Ian is trying to sleep. It's dark in the bedroom, the only light the laptop screen. He opens his eyes. "What? What is that about? Talk about an air bus all right. How will that work? You're standing there, fly over your city, then pull the cord? Ding Ding Ding! This is my stop!"

Ian takes the bus to work, so he takes this personally. "That really is the only thing that will make flying more unpleasant," he mutters, closing his eyes. "Flying in the air, standing next to some vagrant…"

Where you don’t even have to ask

On my way to a birthday event tonight, I stopped by Amy’s Ice Cream to buy a gift certificate. They didn’t have any on hand, but I noticed that everyone was wearing a hat. They were goofy hats, but hats nonetheless.

Curious, I went to their website, where I found the answers to my earlier musings.

Great ice cream. Even better environment.

Martha for the Masses

Sarah clued me into news that Martha Stewart has launched a new effort, Blueprint. According to the New York Post, it’s a magazine that will “tell [women] everything from how to decorate and dress to how to entertain and to organize their lives.”

Interesting.

I love magazines. And I loved Martha, back in the day. I think I’m a pretty good target for this magazine. I’m in my 30′s. I just let my subscription to Real Simple run out. I shop at Target. I read Lucky. I subscribe to Domino. I buy thrift on a consistent basis, but when push comes to shove sometimes you gotta buy the Kate Spade at full price.

It’ll be interesting to review the magazine, to see if it works… but as much I love magazines, they’re less and less relevant in my life. I’d actually have been more interested if they’d started a blog or an online media experience, in a web 2.0 kind of way. I’m much more interested in hearing tips, tricks and advice from the people who generate or think of the content themselves, rather than having it repackaged it for me in print. I want the link, to read the source material, and make a judgement on the content for myself.

That being said, I’m looking forward to seeing how it works. We’ll definitely do a review.

What should I have done?

I had a break between errands on Saturday, so I went into Ben and Jerry’s. “What would you like?” The young, chirpy blonde woman asked. “Let me take a minute,” I said. “Sure, no problem! I can give you sample if you like.” I asked for a sample. She gave it to me. “Any good?” she asks, twirling her long hair blonde hair into her hand, then letting it cascade back over her neck.

I stare at her for half a minute, and then realize: she’s not wearing a hat. Why, back in my day, when I worked at Braum’s ice cream, I had to wear a hat. You know, because hair can get into things. Like ice cream. And hamburgers. And that would be gross.

“Oh, it’s good, ” I say, now hyper aware of her motions.
“You want something else?” Twirl. “I can get it for you.” Double twirl.

I considered my options. Does she handle money with her hand? Will she wash it before she scoops my ice cream. Should I say something?

“I’d just like a scoop of this, please.” I point to java mocha something. “And can you wash your hands?” I plea silently.

“Sure!” Twirl. Gets the cone. Scoops. Hands me the ice cream. Twirl. Rings me up at the counter. “Thanks a lot!”

I eat. She never actually physically touched the ice cream, or the cone. I just prayed ice cream was all I’d find.

Twirl!

Nothing sexier

Miranda teaches yoga at my fave studio. I used to take her class until I got hooked on another form, and now I just see her in passing. I miss her serenity and patience — plus, she has fantastic curly hair that I covet.

We chatted yesterday after class, and I mentioned that I’m getting my braces off this week. She said that she had a boyfriend with braces (as an adult) but that she liked him better with crooked teeth. “Well, Kirsten Dunst once said that there’s nothing sexier than a girl with crooked teeth,” I said, then paused. “Of course, SHE has crooked teeth.”

Miranda laughed. “I say there’s nothing sexier than a girl with a big butt,” she replied coyly, looking down at her own rear.

“And I SAY there’s nothing sexier than a girl with a poochie stomach!” I crowed, patting my belly. And we both cracked up!

Crack

Well I figured out what’s making me sustain my girth, tho I exercise almost every day. It’s those damn cookies. More specifically, it’s those damn cookies that people keep giving me. I’m just gonna say no to Sarah the next time she offers me some baked items. The cookies over the weekend from her were these rich, deep dark chocolate, with sprinkled sugar and caramel. The caramel had somehow…exploded…making them even more caramalized, and they were divine.

This was me, Saturday evening:
Me: Look at this post, Ian, isn’t it funny about Sarah and Yoga? She keeps losing and I keep gaining.
Ian: Huh. That is strange.
Me: You want a cookie?
Ian: Wow these are great
Me: You better not eat all of them.

Suddenly, the sad irony dawned on me. What to do? Give the rest of the cookies to Ian? Oh hell, there were only five more. Just as well finish them off.

Me: (mouth full) I’m telling her to never give me cookies again.

Sunday morning, my friend Michelle came by with baby and husband, to drop off some baby things she’d borrowed: bassinet, swing, etc.

“Thank you so much!” She gushed, “Everything was so useful.”
“Oh, no problem, I’m glad it was helpful!”
“And here, to thank you for all that you’ve done. Here are some oatmeal cookies we made over the weekend.”

Damn it!

eBay: My blessing, my curse, my muse

You know how when you’re shopping, and you find a really great skirt at J. Crew, but it’s $88?? And you think to yourself, “Self, it is CRAZY to spend $88 on a skirt that will be marked down to $39.99 in two weeks.” So you wait it out, thinking you’ll nab the skirt the day its price is slashed, only when that happens, they have only size 2 left??

This scenario used to frustrate me to no end, but I have hit upon an ingenious solution: Try eBay. It has worked in so many different situations, I can’t rave enough. Two successful cases in point:

1. My roommate bought a gorge pale pink Banana Republic skirt at full price a couple of years ago. The dry cleaners turned it gray. And wouldn’t even reimburse her fully because the skirt was “used!” So I hopped online, found the skirt in the right size, bid and won, and gave it to her for her birthday. She was stunned! And grateful.

2. My friend JB had these hilariously green pants that he lurved for their color and light weight, but he left them hanging in the closet of some hotel room months ago. He lamented their loss at least weekly ever since. So I decided to track down the same pants on eBay, and lo and behold, I snagged them last night. He is over the moon! I just pray he takes my advice and wears these pants with a NEUTRAL SHIRT. They are seriously Kermit green.

One basket to rule them all

The Tip: Do basket-centric laundry. Only do a load of laundry when you have enough clothes to fill a basket, and make sure that basket stays with that load the whole time it cycles through the laundry system.

The Reason:
Early in our marriage, Ian and I split up the list of chores around the house according to who liked to do what. I liked handling money, he liked to cook. I liked to iron, he liked to mow the lawn. Easy split. The laundry, on the other hand, was another problem entirely.

In the first place, we had different styles of laundry management. When I was single, I did laundry based on the underwear schedule–you know, once you run out of underwear, then you do all the wash. I had about three weeks worth of underwear. I also would rewear clothing without washing it. If I came home and what I was wearing showed no visible dirt from been having worn, I would just hang it back up in the closet.

Ian, on the other hand, uses a method that makes no sense. Underwear schedule? Never heard of it. He does the laundry when the hamper gets full. He wears something once, in the hamper it goes at the end of the day. Throw in the toddler in the mix, and the hamper would fill up within hours.

So we decided to split laundry duties according to our strengths: Ian would move the laundry from the washer to dryer (a chore because the washer is in the kitchen and the dryer is out in the garage). I would fold, then he would put the clothes away. And then once a week, I would iron.

And that worked well for about a month. Then the system broke down. And what really happened was that Ian would do a load every other day and I would fold once a week. You can imagine what happened next: a hideous mountain of unfolded laundry that lived in the corner. The mountain would loom menacingly, reminding me of my inadequacies, and seemed to be breeding and multiplying whenever we’d leave the room. As a result, we’d never have folded, ironed or organized clothes.

Until one day, after several years of the laundry pile never going away, I turned to Ian and said, in complete seriousness: “This laundry is breaking my heart.”.

I just couldn’t keep up with him feeding the beast. “I’m doing all the laundry,” I announced. “I just can’t take it any more.” I had the feeling that if I could control it, then it would get better.

Of course, that lasted for about a month. We’re just too busy and there are too many damn clothes! Plus Ian wouldn’t always stay away from the cycle. Sometimes the kid would create a laundry emergency, and he’d have to throw clothes in the wash immediately. Then he’d forget. Then five days later, I’d come to the washer and there’d be that smell of old laundry that had never made it to the dryer. Or I’d think I could quickly dash a load of wet clothes to the dryer, only to find a pile of dry clothes that I’d forgotten about. With one basket, it would always mean an awkward dance between moving the dry clothes to the dryer door, throwing the wet clothes in OVER them, then gathering all the dry clothes into the basket. Complete and utter chaos.

Then I hit upon a solution: the one basket rule. With this implementation, Ian and I can both do laundry. The one basket rule does this:
- an empty basket signals that there’s a load in the washer or dryer
- there’s always a basket ready to transport the goods
- no one can start a new load of laundry unless there’s an empty basket, which is motivation to put things away
- no more mountain of laundry

When did I turn into my mother?

I did two mom-like things today:

1. I started dinner in a Crock Pot at 8 o’clock this morning. I actually woke up early, knowing I’d need to get the pot roast started before yoga so it had time to cook.

2. I brought homemade cookies to my yoga teacher. He was gracious and accepting, and I must admit that these particular cookies (chocolate caramel) are beyond tempting and delicious, so they are worth sharing.

But still. When did I become my mom? Not that it’s a bad thing. I just feel really, I don’t know, GROWN UP lately. I crochet baby caps. I exchange recipes with my girlfriends. I make arrangements to have the lawn mowed. I relate more to Holden Caulfield’s parents than I do to Holden Caulfield. I contribute to my 401(k). When did all of this happen??