Sunday, November 27, 2011

i really wish this was more exciting

So, Thursday was Thanksgiving.  It's one of my favorite holidays simply because it centers around food, and I am a girl who can put away some potatoes.  I am sad to report that I had a little bit of a cold this year, and unfortunately my appetite was not up to par.  However, I was able to add "Nyquil" to my list of things I'm thankful for.

Not that I keep an actual list.  Maybe I should.  I already know what #1 would be.  Lays Classic potato chips in the yellow bag.  Holla.

On Friday morning, my little bit of a cold transformed into a FULL BLOWN, MAJOR COLD.  Because I am now a member of the real world, I still had to go to work, despite the fact that it was Black Friday and also, did I mention, I WAS NOT FEELING SO WELL?  My headache and I got dressed and set off, and I spent the morning working and also making frequent trips back and forth to the vending machine and my little mailbox because I was full an eternal hope that perhaps there would be something new in it every fifteen minutes. 

There wasn't.

Around lunchtime I looked down and what do you know, MY SHIRT WAS ON INSIDE OUT!  Super!  I am so glad that the day I chose to make thrice hourly trips ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE OFFICE to my mailbox was also the day I chose to wear my clothes inside out.

I left work a wee bit early and headed straight for bed without even looking through the mail and inquiring about the whereabouts of every single one of my family members, as is my usual routine.

Around dinnertime I woke up feeling worse than ever, and was about three sneezes away from getting in the car and heading to the drugstore because you know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.  And I was pretty sure my desperate measure was about to come in the form of a Neti-Pot.  Luckily things did not get that bad, although there were a few moments of panic when I thought we had run out of tissues.  My poor nose was so sore, and the thought of having to use toilet paper instead of Puffs Plus with Lotion was almost more than I could bear.
Having to use TP instead of a soft tissue would have made for a rough night.

See what I did there?  Rough?  I am so clever and witty.

Things were touch and go all day on Saturday, but I managed to pull through.  

I was feeling much better today, so I went with Matt while he picked out some new threads for his NEW JOB!  Matt and I haven't gone clothes shopping together very often, but I knew it was going to be an adventure when we walked into the store and the first thing he said was, "Okay, so I'm looking for one of those headless dummies with the outfit on already so I can get an idea of what matches."

I sure hope none of the MANNEQUINS heard Matt refer to them as HEADLESS DUMMIES.

In the end Matt got some fancy duds and I know without a doubt he will be the best looking guy in the office.  Let's just hope he doesn't wear anything inside out.

We went out for dinner after our shopping trip, and while there was a small issue with some extremely raw (read: I think I heard it cluck) chicken, we had a delightful time.  I ate bread, a salad, an appetizer, chicken parmesan, and a dessert, so I think it's safe to say that my appetite is back and better than ever.  

Now if I am able to dress myself properly tomorrow morning, I think I can say I'm officially cured.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

while on hiatus i lost the ability to develop a narrative structure

So, I was away for a training for work for the majority of last week.  I left Monday and came home on Thursday and I'll be honest - I was quite confident that I would have more than enough time to compose several witty blog posts while I was away.  After all, the training ended at 4:00 each afternoon, which left me with a solid seven hours of time to fill before bedtime.  

And then I started reading a new book and became engrossed in it.  Also, another paralegal from my office was staying at the same hotel, and every night at 8:30 we went down to the lobby for complimentary milk and cookies to talk about all sorts of things and most importantly, strategize about how to bring back animal print apparel back to the office in an understated, professional way.  I'm lookin' at you, zebra print high heels.

 And finally when it was time for bed each night, I would turn on the tv and become overwhelmed because HELLO, SEVERAL HUNDRED CHANNELS.  I could have watched anything.  News shows.  Sport shows.  Sitcoms or soap operas or continuous weather coverage.  I had the television world at my fingertips and I should probably be ashamed to admit what I chose to watch before bed every night.

Infomercials.

Listen, they are addicting.  One minute you're thinking, "Oh wow, that Ninja Kitchen System 1100 sure would revolutionize my culinary blending," and the next minute you are LITERALLY HIDING YOUR DEBIT CARD IN YOUR SNEAKER to keep yourself from ordering a Miyashi pillow, which, by the way, is quite possibly the answer to all of the world's problems.  I'm convinced that people worldwide would be a heck of a lot happier if everyone just had a Miyashi pillow.  Not to mention sore backs, necks, and feet would be things of the past!  Perhaps I should suggest to the current presidential administration that they next time they have hundreds of billions of dollars to throw around, they should think about going the As Seen on TV route.  MIYASHI PILLOWS FOR EVERYONE!! 

 While the content of the training last week was nothing to write home about, the food would have warranted several lengthy postcards home, with maybe even a telegram and some sort of message delivered via carrier pigeon.  Seriously.  It was that good.  I ate tortellini and stuffed green bell peppers and paninis and tomato and gorgonzola soup and taco salad and stuffed shells and grilled sandwiches and thirteen of the best cookies I have ever met.

And that was just on Tuesday.

When I got back home later in the week I settled right back into my routine, meaning that on Friday afternoon I tried to convince Emily that people in England pronounce sandwich "sond-wick."  I knew things were bad on Sunday morning when I found myself performing a soprano version of My Country Tis of Thee for her.  It was time to GET THEE TO TARGET. 

On Sunday evening my dad was invited to the VIP MEMBERS ONLY EVENT at Cabela's, WORLD'S FOREMOST OUTFITTER, and invited us along as his guests.  Before we arrived we were joking that maybe there would be a red carpet at the entrance for all of the VIPs. 

AND LOOK.


I can say without a doubt that I never in a million years dreamed that I would walk into a store full of bullets and fishing poles and camouflage apparel on a red carpet.  However, it delighted me.

There is nothing worse than being hungry on the red carpet, so we stopped at Cracker Barrel on our way to Cabela's.  I ordered corn, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, french fries, and hush puppies because I believe in carbohydrates.  The main course was half a pound of fried shrimp.

We were all talking and laughing as we ate, and when I was about a quarter of a pound into my shrimp, my dad looked at me and joked (because everyone know you don't eat the tails of shrimp) "Hey Laur, not eating those tails are you?"

Yes.  Yes I was.

I guess I just figured that if it was fried, you were supposed to eat it.  It turns out that you're really not.  Whoops.  Although this experience is just further evidence that everything tastes delicious fried.

Luckily the consumption of countless shrimp tails did not kill me, which is a relief because I would have hated to get to the pearly gates before I had the opportunity to walk into an outdoors superstore on a red carpet.
  
Or buy a Miyashi pillow.

Monday, November 14, 2011

one of those stories that's only funny several years later

One of my favorite things about my new Kindle is the ability to browse through countless genres and writers and topics.  I've already discovered several authors who I think will become long time favorites.   This afternoon I was reading a book by an author I've never read before, and he wrote a story about receiving an invitation in the mail for a fishing club.  As it turns out his experience in the world of fishing was limited to a few summers on the lake as a young boy, which didn't exactly qualify him as a prime candidate for an angler's club.  However, those experiences did provide him with enough material for a few funny stories.

Which of course made me think of my own fishing stories.

You may be thinking, OH LAURA DARLING, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE A FISHERWOMAN. 

That would be because I'm not.

However, for nearly every summer of my entire life, my family has packed up the car and driven to the mountains of western Maryland to spend two weeks at a cabin on the lake.  And over the course of all those vacations, a lot of fishing has gone on. 


This particular story took place when I was about twelve years old, which means Emily was five and Phil was thirteen.  We had arrived at the lake earlier that day, and after dinner my parents, Emily, and Phil went down to the water.  For some reason I did not accompany the rest of my family down to the lake.  Probably because I had to put on some Bonne Bell lip gloss.  I was a big Bonne Bell fan at that point in my life.

Let's be honest.  I still am.


Anyway, my parents and siblings brought a fishing pole down to the lake with them, and the plan was to do a little after dinner fishing.  My dad rigged up the pole and put a worm on the hook at the bottom. 

At the time, Emily was a very inexperienced angler, as most five year olds are.  But Phil gave the fishing pole to Emily and showed her the basics of casting.

And then it was time.

First cast of the vacation.

HUGE. MOMENT.

My parents and Phil stood on the dock while Emily enthusiastically brought that fishing pole behind her head in preparation for one giant cast, hoping against hope to catch something. 

Well, she caught something alright.

MY BROTHER.

Or, more specifically, his eyelid.

The good news was that my dad sprang into action and immediately cut the fishing line to free Phil from being anchored to a five foot graphite pole. I  heard yelling and crying coming from the direction of the lake, and after I put down my lip gloss, I looked out the window to see my mom running up the lawn with her arms around my panicked brother, who had a hook through his eyelid and a slimy worm dangling on his cheek.  My dad followed close behind with a hysterical Emily.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but it turns out that the while Phil was running up from the lake, the hook was jostled out of his eye.  Thankfully the worm was history too.  My parents decided that the best bet was to take him to the hospital, because, you know, he had just had a DIRTY FISHING HOOK in his eyelid.

And they wanted to avoid any situations of, HELLO TETANUS, SO GLAD YOU COULD ACCOMPANY US ON VACATION.

The three of them jumped into the car and drove to the nearest hospital, which was forty minutes and two stoplights away.  The fact that one can drive for FORTY MINUTES and only meet two measly stoplights boggles my suburban mind. 

Meanwhile, Emily and I watched Nick at Nite and I'd like to take this opportunity to give Bill Cosby a shout out.  It takes a very funny person to be able to make someone laugh when their brother is in the emergency room because she went fishing and CAUGHT HIM.

After a check up and a tetanus shot, Phil was fine.  He lived to fish another day. 

And I think it's safe to say that Emily will never be invited to join a fishing club.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

a president and a snowfall

After we ate dinner tonight, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands.  In an effort to use that time wisely I went into Emily's room and proceeded to try to convince her that George W. Bush's middle name is actually "Dubya."  

I presented a lengthy explanation about Dubya being an old family name of English origin, and tradition was that it was never used as a first name.  Only a middle name.  My persuasive skills were in high gear and I was actually making progress until I told her that the original Dubya was Laura Bush's great great grandfather.  That would have made perfect sense if Laura's parents actually had anything to do with the naming of George Dubya.  Which, since they didn't even know of his existence until decades later, they did not.  Looking back I should have thought that through more thoroughly.

After Emily rained on my Dubya parade, she told me I needed to go do something more productive with my time like WRITE A BLOG POST ALREADY.  Because I love to add dramatic flair to any situation, I told her that I needed a five word phrase of encouragement and/or inspiration before I could continue on my way.
"Five words?" she asked.  "Does it have to be a famous quote, or can I make it up?"

I told her that there were no rules other than that it had to be brimming with inspiration and five words long.

She thought about it for half a second and then said, "Get. Out. Of. My Room."

She is hilarious.

And so here I am thinking about what I could write about that would be marginally more interesting than my dentist appointment last night (cavity free! no tartar!) or the fact that I am on a quest for new shampoo.*

I suppose I could take a trip down memory lane all the way back to Saturday, when we had our first WINTER WEATHER EVENT of the season.
 
We got a few inches of snow and sleet and somewhere along the way, the weekend was dubbed "SNOWTOBER."   I did not like that one bit.  In most instances I am all about the clever nickname.  For example, at the Catholic university where I got my paralegal certificate, the coffee shop was called "Holy Grounds."  I laughed every time I walked by.  And I will never find a lipstick name I like as much as "Mauvelous."  But snowtober? Not really a fan.   I am left to wonder what will happen if the region experiences a heat wave in the winter.  Will we call it "warmarch?"  To me that sounds more like something a soldier would do before heading into battle than some eighty degree temperatures in the early spring, but you never know.

This whole snowtober thing is a slippery slope.

Literally.


Happy Friday!


*I really am looking for new shampoo, and am open to suggestions.  Preferably something without many chemicals because MY HAIR!  IT IS SO SENSITIVE!  I would also like to spend less than $8.00 a bottle because I have very important things to buy with the rest of my money.  Like nail polish.  And tater tots.

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