just lish

Trying to survive January

2010-01-26T09:06:00.000-08:00

Boy howdy, has January been a tough month for us. I have started several new posts in the last couple of weeks, but never finished any of them for various reasons.

Such as:

1) I was sick. Throwing up sick. And Max was sick. Ear infection sick. The same day. Which basically means that he cried unless I held him and walked around. And he wouldn't sleep until I had walked around sufficiently. And of course once I put him down because I had to go throw up, he would wake up and start everything all over again.

Oh, and we were not home. We were at a friend's house in Denver. It sucks being sick not at your own house, doesn't it?

2) Andy had to work in Denver for a week, the week after I had already been there for four days. So we tagged along with him so I could see him at some point in the month of January, and we stayed with our dear friend Eldon and family. Eldon's wife passed away Thanksgiving weekend, and they are struggling but doing very well considering. Plus, Andy's work was making a goodbye video for our other friend who is dying of breast cancer.

3) I had to go to New Jersey for work for four days following our week in Denver. I got a new boss and a new team and had to go for teambuilding activities. Those are always fun. Watch The Office if you don't believe me.

They're super fun.

Really.

(not)

So just to give you some perspective (because, really, I know you were just itching for some perspective on my woes): I flew to Denver on Sunday 1/3, flew home to Salt Lake on Wednesday 1/6. The whole family then drove to Denver on Saturday 1/9. We stayed at Eldon's for a week. I flew to New Jersey on Sunday 1/17 and Andy and Max went to his mom's house in Larkspur, CO. Andy worked while his mom watched Max. I flew home from New Jersey on Wednesday night 1/20. On Thursday afternoon 1/21, we drove home from Colorado to Utah.

I have so much laundry to do. Can you even imagine?

Thanks to all the stress and traveling (despite vigilant pumping), my milk supply is diminished, so I can no longer nurse Max. That wasfor all of my male readers - I knew they cared about that.

Right?

So today we are off to take Max to the doctor for his four-month checkup and his shots. Looks to me like he's grown quite a bit, don't you think?

Here's hoping my next post is a little less complaint ridden.

Back to blogging

2010-01-11T19:29:00.000-08:00

Several people I know really enjoyed Andy's blog when he actually kept it up. He was about ready to pull the plug, but lucky for us, he decided to join the blogging bandwagon again.

Hope on over to Andy's blog if you feel like reading about our adventures from Andy's perspective.

And I will say this: he is the one with the camera, so if you want to see pictures of me, that is probably where you will find them.

Missing Mr. Max

2010-01-05T13:57:00.000-08:00

It has now been 50 hours since I have seen my baby.

Andy dropped me off at the airport Sunday afternoon at 1:00, and it is the first time I have not had Max with me since he was conceived. I carried him for nine months inside of me and for three months outside of me.

Now he is not here, and I feel somewhat lost.

Don't get me wrong; being in Denver for work is nice. It's nice to see my co-workers and friends. Get a pedicure at my regular salon and eat at my favorite restaurants. I almost feel like a regular childless person again.

Almost.

There is still this: my arms feel empty, like empty-empty, like I'm missing some extension of them. You'd think they would be lighter than air not lugging an almost-12-pound baby around, but instead they hang by my sides, heavy with the sadness of not being able to hold him. And unsure of how to make themselves useful. What did I do with my arms before I held a baby all day? I don't remember.

And this: my ears continue to strain for his cry, but they don't hear it.

Oh, and definitely this: I wake up every three hours at night, ready to nurse him and cuddle him back to sleep, but am greeted instead by my pump and a stiff hotel chair instead of our comfortable rocker.

I know leaving Max is not the end of the world. When we moved to Utah, I knew that traveling for my job was inevitable. I know Max is in excellent hands, receiving superior care - his daddy takes such great care of him. (Almost better than me, I think, since feeding issues have almost diminished in my absence. What the heck?) I have no doubt we will all survive this three-day separation.

But I don't have to like it.

At least I know Andy is not leaving him in pajamas all day. He sent me a picture as proof. He even put together a pretty good looking outfit, if I do say so myself.

And oh yes! I miss Andy too, not just Max. But it's different - Andy hasn't been fully dependent on me for a year. He's pretty good about taking care of himself. Plus, we've been apart before - we've got that down, old hat.

But not me and Max. This is our first.

And I just have to make it about 27 more hours.

When the shoe doesn't fit...

2010-01-04T15:57:00.000-08:00

I knew when I got pregnant my body would change.

I knew I would have new aches and pains.

I knew my hair might become more (or possibly less) curly, (definitely) more gray, and less plentiful.

I knew my nails would grow faster and be more strong.

And I knew I would gain weight. That was a no-brainer.

So I pretty much figured I wouldn't look exactly the same as before. I knew I'd need to buy bigger clothes, and that I might have to wear these clothes for a while after Max came.

Okay, fine.

But I hoped that not every blamed thing I own would no longer fit me - namely my jewelry and my shoes.

I have not worn my beautiful engagement ring in about nine months now. Sad, but it can always be made bigger.

But most sad of all is that I just gave two boxes of shoes to my sister, whose feet are now smaller than mine. We used to wear the same size - 7.5. And shoes can't be stretched to fit bigger feet.

Sniff.

I am sad that my feet are now big. Not small and dainty as some people referred to them. Not even average.

They are, in fact, now big.

The question I have is this: how many women have to replace a closetfull of shoes once they have their babies? Is this common?

Not that knowing whether it's common makes me feel any better. It's still crummy.

Three months of Max

2009-12-30T20:56:00.001-08:00

I can't believe Max is now three months old. I swear, it seems like just yesterday we were driving to the hospital and he came out screaming his squeaky little scream.

But now, three months have passed and he smiles (but never for the camera), laughs wide-open mouth laughs, "talks," kicks, and plays. He lost his hair, and then gained it back.

And my capacity to love him just grows each day.

What worries me and makes me sad is that it will be over before I know it. While I enjoy all the milestones he's reaching, I'm already sad that he's not his tiny baby self anymore.

He looks so serious, doesn't he?

Dear Santa

2009-12-16T18:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

I am so behind this year. Here it is, December the sixteenth, and I have not bought one Christmas present. I barely got my tree up and decorated two days ago. And I have baked nary a Christmas goodie.

How can this be? you ask. It seems I am somewhat preoccupied these days. Juggling baby, work, laundry, cooking and cleaning has worn me out to the point where I cannot even watch a 20 minute TV show without dozing off and waking up an hour later asking Andy "What did I miss? Can you rewind?" (never mind the fact that he has moved onto and almost finished with another show).

I don't have time to eat meals anymore. It is 7:21 pm and I still have not fed myself anything for dinner besides one piece of buttered wheat toast.

Santa, I am tired so deep in my bones I sometimes have a hard time putting one foot in front of the other just to climb into my bed. (I know other moms out there are calling me a whiner, but cut me some slack - I'm new to all this juggling business.)

So the reason I'm writing you this letter is to make some special requests for those special people in my life.

For Andy: a job that pays him what he deserves. It's nice that he's working (trust me, we're grateful), but a guy can only work so many 12- to 16-hour shifts for lower pay. I think he might just fall apart one night and I won't know how to put him back together. The question is whether the emotional falling-apart or physical will come first.

For Max: a bigger stomach. I am trying to hard to get this kid on a feeding schedule, but now matter how much time elapses between feedings, he gets hungry early! A mom can only devote so much time in her life to preparing food, serving food, and cleaning up after the food for her child. If he were only more predictable, would eat more during a feeding, it would be ever so helpful for me.

For my parents and sisters: whatever they want. They have been so great, so supportive, so loving, and such great cheerleaders and babysitters since we moved to Utah and decided to remodel our house. They deserve whatever they want.

Seriously.

And for me, Santa: well, after I wrote this post and got the complaints all out of my system, the only thing I can think to ask for is this: please let me always remember every moment of what it's like to be a wife, a mother, a daughter, sister, and friend to these great people. I complain that there's too much to do, not enough time to do it, and not enough energy to go around, but even when I'm bone-tired, I get a hug, a smile, a laugh and there is noplace else I would rather be.

Or anything else I'd rather be doing.

Think you can deliver, Santa?

I hope so.

Love,
Alicia

PS: Thank you for bringing back Chuck.
PSS: Do you think you can help me get back to my pre-pregnancy weight any quicker? Thought I'd ask...

Max laughs in his sleep

2009-12-08T12:55:00.001-08:00

I walked into the room and heard a little "heh, heh, heh" going on in there.

But he was asleep! Half smile, eyes rolled back, and everything.

It was just too darn cute. But I wasn't able to capture the smile, so you'll just have to enjoy him sleeping in his hedgehog romper and sneaker socks.

By the way, where can I get my own sneaker socks?

My new favorite

2009-12-07T07:53:00.000-08:00

This is not the best picture, but I tried to catch him in action, and all I had handy was my phone.

I love to be around when Max wakes up. He stretches his arms and legs, but as he stretches his legs, he essentially does a leg lift - lifting his legs straight up in the air.

What makes it so funny is that usually he's wrapped in a blanket, so the little blanket just goes straight up in the air, and comes back down. Usually about three or four times.

Is there a point when every move he makes doesn't charm the pants off me?

Seriously.

PS: Don't you love my piles of laundry? While I work, I put him to sleep on the guest bed in the room across the hall. It is also where I fold my laundry. Gotta love being a working mom!

Max in action

2009-12-01T07:43:00.001-08:00

Seriously. I just want to eat him up.

And while I lso love him being a tiny baby, it's really fun to watch him grow and change. He weighs 10 lbs 4 oz now, and loves his play gym from IKEA. He can actually hit the tnings on the sides and make them spin.

This is an action shot of him playing with it. He's making lots of noise and kicking. In his man dress. Nightshirt. While we get ready to drive to Denver.

Again.

But seriously, he's just so cute none of it even matters.

My friend Heather

2009-11-30T07:25:00.000-08:00

My friend Heather was the type of girl who made everyone feel like they were her best friend. I know I wasn't her best friend, but each time I talked to or spent time with her, she made me feel like I was the coolest, nicest, sweetest person she knew.

I think that's because she was such a cool, nice, sweet person. I wish everyone could have known Heather because they would have loved her and become a better person for knowing her.

She passed away over the weekend, losing her brave fight with breast cancer. I can't help but ask questions like "Why her?" Because let's be honest, the last person Heavenly Father needs right now is a young wife and mother of three children. She needs to be here taking care of her family.

I've been in shock all weekend and have done a lot of crying. For her sweet husband Eldon, for her beautiful children Elle, Emma, and Makai. I was privileged to serve them in several ways over the past year, and they always made me feel like I was helping them so much, when the truth was, they helped me more than I think I ever could have helped them.

From Heather, I have learned...
...to have love in my heart for everyone.
...to be more softspoken.
...to be welcoming of all.
...to keep my opinions to myself unless asked.
...to try not to say unkind things about others.
... to be more gracious.
...to always serve others.

And a million other things that I can't even think of right now.

While I'm certainly not great at all these things, Heather's example helped me learn to try to be better. Being better at these things will help me be more like her, and she was actually pretty near perfect.

I'm so grateful I had the chance to get to know her. She touched my life in a way I didn't expect, and will forever be grateful for.

Getting settled

2009-11-20T12:03:00.001-08:00

We finally are moved in to the point where I was able to find the cable that will let me get pictures off my camera. Sheesh! It's hard to unpack boxes when I have a tiny person demanding my attention all day.

Honestly, I don't mind. He's much more interesting and fun than unpacking boxes.

Tomorrow Max will be 8 weeks old. I swear, the time has gone by so fast I think I'll blink and he'll be on a mission or telling me he doesn't want to go on a mission before I know it.

In the meantime, enjoy these pictures. He looks so different from the last pictures I posted, but every day, his ability to melt my heart just increases 100fold.

I'm copying my friend Stephanie and posing him with the same stuffed toy every month to see how he's grown in relation to the toy. I had to choose Max because that is who he is named after - the naughty little boy Max from Where the Wild Things Are.

He loves to sleep with his arms up, just like his daddy. He gets so mad when I try to swaddle him, but if I leave his arms out, he's great.

He hates to wear a hat, but I bought so many cute ones, I insist. And then I insist that I take his picture.

Because who can resist a cute kid wearing a dinosaur hat? Not me!

I promise to get back into blogging. Now that my maternity leave is ending, I'll be back on my computer all day long.

As promised some pictures of the infamous Max

2009-10-07T15:09:00.000-07:00

I had no idea how much I would love being a mom. I'm sure all women say this, but I think I mean it more than anyone. (Maybe not, but still, I'm going to say it.) I tell everyone this is the job I was made to do. In fact, is it too soon to start again?

Maybe. (I am still a little sore, after all.)

Maybe it's so awesome because I waited so long? You know, the whole "you have to wait for all worthwhile things" or however that saying goes.

Or maybe it's because I thought it would never happen? Like when you're a teenager and you think you'll never turn 16 and be able to drive - never - but then it happens and you can and you love it so much you'll run any errand your mom asks you to run, just so you can sit behind the wheel of her mom car.

Or I guess maybe it's just because I gave birth to the most beautiful and perfect child ever. (For now. Because let's face it, he'll grow up sometime and become a teenager who always wants to drive my car.)

But you can decide for yourself: here is the perfect child at his first big photo shoot. His daddy picked out the wardrobe, set up the set, and took the pictures while his mom and grandma just stood there and laughed as he stretched his super long legs, constantly rolled to his left side, and kept shoving his fists in his mouth. As if they'll fit.

He got a little overstimulated, but hey, it was for a good cause. If you're on facebook, find Andy - he posted all 60-some odd photos on his site and you can see them all there.

I refuse to participate in facebook. Sorry.

It turns out I can do hard things

2009-09-29T16:38:00.001-07:00

Like for instance, get this little person from my inside to my outside (that was hard).

And like be home alone to take care of this little person my last day in the hospital and my first day home from the hospital (Andy had to work). I even managed to fit a shower and a kitchen clean-up into my day.

I'm pretty much just amazed at what our bodies are made for and the incredible feats they can pull off.

Anyway, a lot of people are asking for the story and more pictures. You can read the story here, but I have not unloaded pics from my camera yet or had a chance to take new ones, so you'll have to wait for Andy to do the pics. I promise they'll be soon!

I have been planning a blog post for quite some time now to let everyone know how and what we're doing. The last couple of months have been rough - Andy was in Utah for 6 weeks working and looking for a house for us, and I was home working, suffering through some pretty severe back pain, trying to get the house packed up and ready for this baby.

Andy found us a house and we thought we'd move out there before he came. We planned on going the weekend of September 25, and Andy came home two weeks before that to work in Colorado and we started working towards that date.

At one point, I just wasn't feeling it, and tried to get him to change it, but we had a bit of a discussion about what to do. Finally we decided to stay in Colorado and have the baby - I was planning on being induced on October 12, just after my due date (October 10). It was a good plan and we moved forward with it. I scheduled an express childbirth class on Saturday September 26, a baby shower on Sunday September 27, and a breastfeeding class on Monday September 28. It felt like a solid plan.

On Friday evening September 25, I was having really mild contractions and then my water broke when I was going to the bathroom. I didn't realize that's what happened and went on with my evening. I did call my doctor and she said that she was on the fence - it might be something to worry about, might not, but to go to the hospital if things got worse. We had breakfast at IHOP. and when we got home about 9:00, I realized bleeding and contractions were worse and convinced Andy we should at least go get checked out. As a precaution.

So off we went to the ER, both of us just exhausted and not in the mood to sit in the ER and then go home after two hours. However, once I got on the exam table, the rest of my water gushed out and I was told we were not going home until I had that baby, within the next 24 hours. We were shocked!

So about 11:00 pm they put me on pitocin to get things moving along, I got my epidural around 4:00 am, started pushing around noon, turned on some Beatles music around 12:15, and at 1:15 pm he was born. What a surprise and a blessing all wrapped in one.

I'm sure you know we named him Max - Maxwell Kenshi Ahlstrom. Max after a favorite children's book (Where the Wild Things Are) and Kenshi after a Japanese samurai to honor Andy's Japanese culture. He weighed 6 lbs 7 oz and was 21 inches long. The first thing the doc said when he came out was, "Oh! He has a cleft chin!" Andy and I looked at each other and said, "What? Where did he get that from?" We could not think of anyone in our families who has one, but I'm thinking my dad does, we just don't notice it because of his goatee/beard. Funny.

Turns out my fluid was infected, which they think is why I went early. I had a fever during labor and Max came out a little on the warm side. We both had to have oxygen, but a day or so later, everyone is fine.

So there's the story. We're home from the hospital now, Max is doing great, no one is sleeping, but everyone's happy.

I'll post more when I get more pics of little Max. Thanks everyone for the emails and well wishes!

PS: We're moving to Kaysville in a few weeks. See some of you very soon!

Just a pain in the...

2009-08-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

I've tried not to be one of those pregnant women who complains all the time. Well, I've tried to be one who complains to just my family instead of everyone. But can I just say this: being pregnant is hard!

At the end of July, Andy and I drove to Utah to find a place to live, since our first offer didn't work out. About 30 minutes into our drive, I developed this immobilizing back pain, and about six hours into what turned out to be about a 10 or maybe even 11 hour drive, Andy pulled over and made a bed for me in the back of the van. I finally found relief.

But ever since that day, I have had back pain. So painful that I only find relief when standing, walking, or lying down. No sitting for me! Which makes sitting at a computer pretty tough. Which makes working tough. And more importantly, which makes posting new blog entries tough.

Sheesh.

I started seeing a chiropractor last week, and am getting a little relief. Here's hoping the relief keeps coming, because we are not at all ready for this baby and I have so much work to do!

Where has the time gone?

2009-07-31T07:28:00.001-07:00

So July has sped by, and the only thing I can remember about it is this: Emails. Paperwork. Addendums. And lots of money.

We put an offer on a house the first week of July, and have been stuck in a whirlwind of offers, counteroffers, inspections, and money transfers to accommodate everything.

It finally culminated this past Tuesday with us cancelling the contract and walking away from the house we loved so much, because the people selling the house were not super (or at all, really) coooperative.

Bah.

We went out for a pricey crab leg dinner and Cinnabon dessert to try to drown our sorrows. Here's hoping the next one goes a little more smoothly. And that we have a place for little Max to sleep when he arrives in a couple of months!

PS: The house was in Utah. Did I say that? Andy and I are planning on moving to Utah. Today, anyway...if things keep NOT working out, maybe we'll end up somewhere else ... location TBD.

Sick day

2009-06-23T10:55:00.000-07:00

I always thought the hardest part of pregnancy (for me) would be dealing with headaches.

I have had headaches for as long as I can remember, and have been on all sorts of medication for them. When Andy and I got married, I weaned myself off the meds and just took Excedrin or Excedrin PM when I got a headache. Since that obviously can't happen when you're pregnant, I thought it would be tough to survive headaches sans Excedrin.

As it turns out, I've only had two really bad headaches while pregnant. (yay!)

What I have had (and am on my third one) are sinus infections and most recently, a really bad viral infection. This thing has knocked me flat on my back - I have stopped working and been in bed or on the couch for almost two weeks now. Coughing, hacking, draining, you name it - it's happening at our house, and I'm not a happy camper about it.

Especially because the dead moths just continue to pile up. Ugh.

Wish me well soon. I hate looking outside at the sun and wishing I could be out there, when instead I'm lying on the couch surrounded by piles of tissue, hugging a humidifier.

Which is better?

2009-06-10T05:51:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I set out to conquer our moth problem once and for all. They are ONLY in our entryway (unless we leave the door open between the entryway and the house), and they cover that room. On any given night, there must be at least two to three dozen moths hanging around.

Gross.

So, on Saturday, armed with the vacuum cleaner hose, I started sucking them up. One, two, three, thwump, thump, thwump, they all went in. I must have vacuumed two dozen moths before satisified I got them all.

Not so.

I tuned around to put away the vacuum, and heard tiny moth wings beating behind me - five more had just appeared! I proceeded to suck them up, and turned to put away the vacuum once more.

And they just kept coming back. They crawled out of the window, I'm guessing from somewhere in the depths of our shoe cabinet, which I opened, and sucked out the moths I could see in there. I think one of them laid eggs that stay dormant all year and hatch in the spring. They flew everywhere, attacking me - flying at my head, beating their tiny, grossy, dusty moth wings at me, as if they were ready for war.

In hindsight, I realized I was attacking them after all - why wouldn't they attack back? Maybe because it's not their house! They don't pay rent - I do!

Still - gross.

So I bought a bug bomb so we could fog the place. Andy set it on Monday, and I came home to four moths in that room - all of them dead, and now I'm finding dead moths everywhere.

So you tell me - which is better? Dozens upon dozens of live moths, or stepping on a dead moth and getting moth dust on your bare foot?

I'll say it again: gross.

A friday surprise (kind of)

2009-06-01T15:03:00.000-07:00

On Friday, here is what we learned about Baby Ahlstrom:

He is a he. That's right, we'll have a mini-Andy in about four months. (I wasn't 100% sure, but had suspected a boy, because everything I'm wearing these days is blue. Weird, but it turned out to be true.)

He is super active - so why is it that I still can't feel him moving? Something to do with the thickness of my placenta. (um...what?) Hopefully he'll move soon. You'd think with Andy tapping my stomach and commanding him to move all morning would work, but not yet. I guess this kid has already decided to show us his rebellious side.

His brain, heart, and facial structure look great.

All his measurements are average (good), which the doctor said was great. Andy was all, "Just average?" And I was like, "Dude, at this point, I do NOT want our kid to be above average size, because I'm the one who has to get him out!" Right? Right.

The real question is this: what in the world do we name him? We had no problem choosing and agreeing on girl names, but we cannot agree on boy names. We need some suggestions! (Real suggestions - this means you, Jon Tolman.)

I've officially joined the club

2009-05-18T07:55:00.000-07:00

I know there are lots of milestones and big things that automatically make a woman a member of the Motherhood Club, the biggest and most official being actual labor (still trying to figure out how to get around that one).

Clearly, I haven't gone through labor yet, but something else has happened to me twice in the last week that I think pretty much cements my admittance into said club: I sneezed and peed my pants.

But just a little.

Be honest: It only gets worse from here, doesn't it?

Springtime visitors

2009-05-14T07:41:00.000-07:00

I don't remember a lot from my childhood, but I do remember this: When I was in junior high, a group of my friends were hanging out at this guy's house. He wanted to show us his cool bird (I don't even remember what kind it was, just that it was big). That bird must have been so excited to get out of his cage, because he flapped around and around the room, squawking, trying to find a safe place to land. As a couple of kids chased him around the room, he frantically landed on what he must have thought was a safe nest - directly on top of my head. (I had very curly hair, I suppose much akin to a bird's nest.) When he realized it was a head, not a nest, the bird became even more frenzied and tried to break free, causing him to become completely tangled up in my hair. It took three people and what felt like hours to un-tangle that stupid bird. I was officially traumatized and have despised crazed, flying animals ever since.

Bats and moths come to mind, but we don't have bats. Instead, we get moths.

There are so many downsides to Andy being gone that I won't even try to list them. But the worst one by far has to be those wretched moths.

Every spring, they appear in our entryway. They just appear - loads of them. And I hate them. Some manage to sneak into the house. And they came last week. I had to get something from my car at night, so I turned on the light and walked into the entryway, and was greeted by at least a dozen moths, frantically swooping at my head, trying to get into the house.

It was that stupid, frantic bird all over again, minus the squawking. And it was gross.

I can't think of them just like butterflies, because they are NOT like butterflies. Butterflies are calm and serene. They float. Moths are just frenzied, and they cause me to be frenzied and walk around my house with a flyswatter, swinging at the air as they evade my attacks.

To date, I have killed five of them, but they keep coming back. They disappear during the day and reappear at night, all crazed and scrambling for the light.

Gross.

Who knows of a better way to get rid of these wretched creatures?

I'm airing my dirty laundry (and dishes, and giant vats of Cheez Balls)

2009-05-13T07:08:00.000-07:00

When Andy's gone, this is what happens to our house. At least lately.

Sadly, this is not the worse my kitchen has looked in the last two weeks.

Just home from Costco, and too lazy to put stuff away.

I just have to point out the giant vat of Cheez Balls. I laughed when Heather gave those to me, but sadly, I'm the only one who has eaten them, and look how much I've eaten!

A few months ago, it was because I was so sick. Now I'm just so...

...lazy?
...sloppy?
...tired?

Who knows, but he's been gone for two weeks* and we have a week and a half to go. I better get cleaning if I want to be done by the time he's back.

It's funny, because as the Compassionate Service Leader for our ward, I'm pretty okay at pulling people together to deliver food, help with people's houses, and other services. But when it comes to pulling myself together to take care of my own house...forget it.

I wonder why that is?

*Andy's in Aspen shooting a movie. Doesn't he have such a glamorous life? While I stay behind, sitting on the couch eating Bon-Bons and watching Hulu because we cancelled our cable. (Seriously, why does having children make us do crazy things to save money?)

I am a murderer

2009-04-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's not every day of my life that I walk around thinking about offing someone - just occasionally, like when I have a bad day at work or a particularly unpleasant run-in with another driver. But today, I realized (thanks to Andy calling me a murderer), that I am a murderer. It wasn't pre-meditated, but I am a murderer nonetheless.

I took life from someone. Or better said, I neglected to sustain life for someone. And I feel sick inside.

Allow me to explain: Last fall, Andy's dad took a job in the east, and his mom went to the west to help his sister. She asked me if I wanted some plants, since she wouldn't be here to take care of them. "Sure," I said - naievely thinking that "some" meant less than 10. I have less than 10 plants in my house, and I would say I have "some." And I have no problem caring for them.

She dropped off approximately two dozen plants, of varying sizes, shapes, and textures. A week later, Andy drove to her house to bring back almost 10 more giant sized plants, some as needy as a newborn.

They filled up all our kitchen counters, plus floor space. Some needed lots of sun and little water. Others needed constant watering and did okay without much sun. A few (not many) were DOA, and went straight to the trash.

I tried my best to sustain them, I really did. In fact, I did okay for a few months. But then I got pregnant and while some people think my nurturing tendencies would have heightened, they completely went out the window. I kept telling myself it's because I was so sick all I could do was walk from the couch to the bathroom. I couldn't clean my house, couldn't even put on makeup, let alone water some plants. But the truth remains: however I rationalized it, here I stand four and a half months later with a room full of dead plants. Oh, and bugs all over our house - some dead, some still living.

The bugs love the plants.

I kill the bugs, and I also killed the plants - I am a murderer.

Does this mean I am unable to nurture living things once I get sick? If so, let's everyone pray for this baby that I don't ever get sick. I keep thinking that at least a baby will make noise when it's hungry. The plants were just so quiet, I couldn't help but ignore them.

Darn those plants.

32

2009-04-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I'm 32. When my mom was 32, she had at least three of her kids.

When I was 22, I thought I was so old. Um, nope. I was so young. Now my body feels old, but inside, I feel like I'm still 22. Unfortunately, sometimes I still act like I'm 22.

On the plus side, I got a fun little present from Andy...he made up my mind for me about which phone I should get.

And let me tell you, it is worth every penny! I had no idea how much use I had for an iPhone. He tells me, "It's not a phone - it's a lifestyle." And he's right.

Thanks to everyone for celebrating 32 with me!

Two more things:

1) If you want more than three comments on your blog, post that you're pregnant. It was nice to hear from all of you!

2) If you haven't already, go look at this.

They say it's about the size of a lime

2009-03-31T09:47:00.000-07:00

It's been a rough couple of months at the Ahlstrom household - sickness, lots of work, new callings, more sickness. Oh yeah, and then there's this:

Yep, it's true. And we managed to (mostly) keep it a secret for almost 13 weeks - hard. This morning we had an ultrasound and saw Baby Ahlstrom bouncing around for the camera, showing us its ginormous alien head.

Even though I've been the sickest I've ever been, it took that ultrasound to make it real for me, and reality is sinking in with each passing minute.

And now I can say thank you - for keeping us in your prayers, for still being my friend even though I didn't tell you our little secret, and for sending good vibes out to our family while it took us so long to reach this point.

Now let's just pray that we can make it until October 11.

Smelly feet

2009-03-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

I've never really been the kind of person to take my shoes off when I go into someone else's house, especially my own. Unless they specifically request it, but when they do, it makes me feel weird. Walking around someone else's house in my socks (or no socks) with a bunch of other people just doesn't feel right.

Then I married Andy, who is half Japanese and we moved into his parents' old house. His Japanese mother added this entryway onto said house - a specific place for people to leave their shoes when they came in. It has some Japanese name, which I cannot remember at present.

Andy convinced me I would love it, and I wasn't so sure. But when he pointed out that I would have an entire shoe room instead of just a few measley racks in the closet, the idea grew on me.

Just look at where I get to store all my shoes!

And thus I joined the club of taking off my shoes when I came into the house. Actually, I probably became the leader.

Usually, it's not too big a deal. We take off our shoes, and when people come over and see the big pile of shoes, they take off their shoes too. No big deal, right?

Except last night, we had the young men and young women over to our house to work on a movie project with Andy. I sat downstairs catching up on The Martha Stewart Show (she has great ideas okay!) while everyone sat upstairs writing their scripts and throwing popcorn all over the kitchen. When everyone left, I went upstairs to help Andy clean up, and the whole upstairs reeked.

It. Was. Rank.

Smelly like an entire high school basketball team had wiped our furniture, cabinets, and appliances down with their wet jerseys after a championship game. And we even had really strong scented plug-ins and a Scentsy "candle" burning - what the heck? When I told Andy it smelled like a locker room, he said he's pretty sure it was one of the young men's feet. His feet?

Maybe I just don't get that because I didn't grow up with brothers, but holy cow! Whose feet are stinky enough to smell up an entire first floor of a house?

Before they came over, I spent 30 minutes cleaning the floors so that their wouldn't get dirty inside my house, but when dirty feet come inside my house and make my house dirty, it makes me not very happy.

This poor young man, I don't mean to pick on him. But I just might rethink the whole "remove your shoes before you walk into my house" thing.

All right, I need some help - who has an answer for me?

2009-03-03T15:24:00.000-08:00

I am married to a man who loves Chinese food. Which means that every time he gets a craving, we have two choices:

1) We can go out and get good Chinese food.

2) I can make Chinese food, and then 10 minutes after we try it, we can go out and get good Chinese food.

Because I am not good at making Chinese food.

I would say that most people who know me, or at least the people who have lived near me and been invited to dinner, would say I'm a pretty good cook. I can make pretty much anything, and it usually turns out pretty good, sometimes even great. It's all about identifying great recipes, really.

But I have not had any success with Chinese food. Sure, I've made lots of stir-fries (beef, chicken, shrimp - you name it), and while they're healthy and packed with veggies, they just don't taste anything like what you get in a Chinese restaurant. We've decided it's all about the sauce, and I just haven't found any recipes with that good restaurant-like stir-fry sauce.

So I'm putting this out there: do you have a stir-fry recipe with good sauce that tastes (almost) as good as a chinese restaurant? If so, email it to me. Our budget depends on it!

(Yes, I'll settle for almost. I'm being realistic here, and know that it will never be as good a the restaurant.)

Have you ever seen someone you know on the national news?

2009-02-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

I was just taking a break from work (and let's be honest, Ed), when I caught this article on msn.com.

I thought the blurb sounded interesting - "Man who helped elderly woman to safety gets ticket," but imagine my surprise when I opened the link and saw a picture of a man who used to be in my ward when I lived in downtown Denver!

Jim was always extremely nice and always cheerful and helpful. You can figure that out just by reading that he was helping elderly women cross the street when he was hit by a truck. I can't believe they want to give him a ticket for jaywalking - what was his option - don't jaywalk and watch old women get hit? Seriously.

I'm glad Jim's going to be okay. The world needs more people just like him.

We are so lazy

2009-02-20T07:54:00.000-08:00

Can you imagine a perpetual Saturday morning, where you get to lounge around on the couch with your favorite person and watch your favorite cartoons?

Well, that's what has been happening at our house the last couple of weeks, except instead of cartoons, we are watching old episodes of Ed. Remember Ed? (What a delightful show.).

I've been waking up around 5:00 am, getting some work done in my office, sitting in on some conference calls, eating some cereal - all in my pajamas. Then, a few hours later, Andy wakes up, turns on the TV, and I move my work downstairs to the couch, and we relish in the joy of visiting Stuckeyville. Working from home can be so lovely some days.

Don't you love Saturday mornings? I keep thinking that at some point the perpetual Saturdays will have to come to an end, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy Stuckeybowl, fine Corinthian turkeys, and that fine young man, Warren Cheswick.

And craving bacon cheeseburgers pie. Because let's face it, they ate a lot of bacon cheeseburgers and pie on that show.

What's that on your head?

2009-02-13T08:49:00.001-08:00

Check out the latest webisode (episode 06) for our dear friends Eldon and Heather Kartchner.

When I first watched it, I laughed so hard I cried. And then wanted to throw up when I saw the last skit - be forwarned, it's a little gross.

What time did you get up this morning?

2009-02-12T07:31:00.000-08:00

I got up at 6:30, but actually it was 4:30. "Why was I waking up at 4:30, thinking it was 6:30?" you might ask. Really, it's simple: my alarm clock is out to get me.

A few weeks ago, I had a 7:00 am meeting on a Monday. The plan: Wake up at 6:00, to ensure I had enough time to get up, read my scriptures, and putter around before starting to work. So I set my alarm: 6:00 am.

I always wake up just before my alarm goes off. It's this weird thing - no matter what time it is set for, I wake up one minute before, turn it off, and I'm awake. I guess Andy's lucky because he never has to hear the alarm going off for me in the morning.

Anyhow, I woke up at 5:59 am, waited for a good 20 minutes, walked downstairs, and turned on my computer. (Have I mentioned that working at home is awesome?) As I was waiting for it to boot up, I noticed how dark it was outside, and thought that was weird.

Five minutes later, I was logged in, and the clock on my computer said 4:25 am. Huh? I went downstairs and looked at our microwave, stove, and cable box clocks: all said 4:25. Then I went upstairs and looked at my alarm clock: 6:25. It was two hours fast!

I figured I must have messed up the time when I was setting the alarm, set it back to normal, and went on with my (very long) day - that was two weeks ago.

This morning, I had a 7:30 meeting. I didn't even set my alarm - I just woke up when my clock read 6:30, went downstairs, and logged in. Guess what? It was really 4:30 am. For the love! So I went back to bed, knowing my clock was an hour and a half fast (and too lazy to reset it), and woke up when the clock said 8:30, which should have been 7:00. When I went down to my computer, it was only 6:30.

My clock had moved two hours ahead. How? And why? And since when does waking up require doing so much math?

The burning question for me is this: why such a lapse in between acting up? It was strange a few weeks ago, and then has worked just fine until last night. What did I ever do to make it annoyed? I guess when you're using an alarm clock that's over 10 years old, maybe it's time to kick it to the curb...

What good is a king-size bed when you're in it alone?

2009-02-11T06:13:00.000-08:00

I was so excited to buy a king-size bed last year. The idea that I could sleep without being kicked, elbowed, or losing the covers was really appealing. But now that we have had said bed for a year, I don't know that I love it.

Mostly because I found myself wide awake and all alone in our huge, freezing bed, in our huge, freezing bedroom at 2:00 am this morning. When there is only one body on one side of a king-size bed and your bedroom used to be an attic, things can get pretty chilly in the winter. I tried making an "Andy" out of pillows, to keep his side of the bed a little warmer and avoid going on a man-hunt for him, but it was to no avail. Those pillows just weren't warm enough.

So I went on the hunt downstairs and found him fast asleep on our sectional. Unable to wake him, I decided to lay perpendicular to him on the other part of the sectional - our TV room is a lot warmer, and let's be honest, I sleep better when he's nearby. Except sleeping better wasn't all that awesome when I got kicked - in the head. Yes, his feet were right next to my head, and I was wedged right between them and the sectional pillows with nowhere to go.

Bless his heart (because isn't that what you say when you're mad at someone and trying not to be?), he had no clue all this was happening at 2:07 am. Andy is one of the heaviest sleepers I know.

So. I have been awake since 2:00 am. In my Goldilocks efforts to catch some zzzz's, I went back upstairs to our big bed, hoping to stay warmer with a heavy sweater over my pjs (didn't work), I went back to the couch, pushing Andy's feet as far away from my head as I could (kind of worked), I walked into the guest room and pretty much got an instant headache from the smell of Andy's bicycle tires that are in there (clearly didn't work), and finally landed back on the couch until 6:30, when I went back to my large, cold, bed. I had to get up at 7:00 to get ready for a 7:30 meeting.

Except the clock by my bed now said 7:20 - what?! That was a scary shock. I ran downstairs to check the time, and somehow (I have no idea), my alarm clock moved 50 minutes ahead. It really was 6:30, and my heart was now pounding faster than I thought humanly possible.

Let me just say. This is not a great way to start your day, especially my Wednesday which is filled with conference calls from 7:30 am to 6:30 pm. At least I can take them in my pjs.

You didn't think I'd abandoned you, did you?

2009-02-09T06:43:00.001-08:00

I would understand if you did.

I didn't realize anyone (other than AnJanette) even noticed I'd stopped, and then Daniel made a comment last night about how I've stopped blogging. People read my blog? And don't comment so I don't know they're reading?

I guess I better start writing again. But that seems like too much work this morning, so for now I'll just give you some pictures.

Yes, I cut my hair. It's already time for another trim. Some days I'm glad I cut it, and other days, not so much. And yes, it was fun smashing two whipped cream pies in Jack's face. You can see a video of it here - episode 05.

I think Anna should wear her hair like this permanently.

No, Andy did not grow out his hair. If you want to see where these wigs took us, you'll have to check here on Friday - episode 06 will be a good one! I'm giving you a sneak peek at the risk of getting in trouble. The afro pic was just too good to not post online immediately.

And in the meantime, I'll try to be a better blogger. Thanks Daniel for reminding me I actually did have a blog.

Hiatus

2009-01-10T11:10:00.001-08:00

I'm taking a break from blogging (obviously, since my track record is now approximately one month between posts). Kind of like they do on TV - an extended break. It seems I'm just too busy to keep posting random thoughts right now.

Check back someday soon.

Zip it!

2008-12-16T10:10:00.001-08:00

Question: Which is worse? Being told by a stranger that your fly is open, or going an entire day and then finding out later that your fly was open?

Saturday morning, there I was: minding my own business at The Wal-Mart, doing shopping for my Christmas party in T-11 hours. As I turned the corner to almost every aisle, there he was - Open Fly Guy. Fly wide open, so far open it was clearly open. You know what I mean; your fly can be open, but still flat, or it can be open and not flat.

His was not flat.

I saw him once by the ketchup and ignored it. No big deal, right? Then I saw him a second time, by the soup, and ignored it again. A little uncomfortable, but not the end of the world. A third sighting by the milk almost did me in. I wanted so badly to tell him, but I didn't want to embarrass him.

I am of the opinion that if I have a wad of TP stuck to the bottom of my shoe or something equally embarrassing, I would want to know. Thank you so much in advance for telling me.

Andy says he'd rather just figure it out himself than be told by a strange lady. Which is worse for you? He also wonders why I even noticed it in the first place. Because it was wide open! And I do mean open.

Let us not even ponder the fact that maybe he wanted his fly to be open, and just hope that he was blissfully unaware of the indiscretion until much later in the day.

What would Jesus do?

2008-12-10T14:40:00.000-08:00

I think if he discovered his Christmas tree tipped over because the plastic stand broke on the cheapest $50 tree he could find at Target, Jesus would return it and fork out the dough for a better tree.

Wouldn't you?

At least that's what I'm going to do.

Maybe my super-snazzy-retro-glittery-starburst-star from Crate & Barrel (AnJ!) will stay on top of a more expensive tree? Andy keeps telling me not to be cheap.

I guess I should start listening to him.

Update

2008-12-09T12:11:00.000-08:00

Our fake tree just tipped over. Luckily it decided to fall into a corner, instead of forward, so it's still kind of propped up.

The super-snazzy-retro-glittery-starburst-star fell from its perch on top and severed a limb on my one and only Christmas poinsettia.

I think it's the Spirit of Christmas getting back at me for making a mockery of the season.

Good grief

2008-12-09T07:04:00.000-08:00

A part of me died inside over the weekend.

There were many conversations, multiple shopping trips, and a last-minute run to Target that all led up to it, but it finally happened: I bought a fake Christmas tree, and as I handed over my debit card, I felt a huge "whoosh" as the spirit of Christmas left me.

I am pained just typing it.

A fake Christmas tree. As in, not one real branch protruding or real scent emanating from the tree I carried into my house in a box. Just like I would have done with a brand new tent.

I couldn't help but think that I had succumbed to the commercialism of Christmas, a la A Charlie Brown Christmas. In fact, I almost considered getting a pink aluminium tree; I figured, if I'm going fake, why not go all the way? It seems almost everyone I know has started buying fake - you know, the modern commercial Christmas spirit Lucy was so inclined to favor. In fact, I think Lucy put it best when she said, "Look, Charlie, let's face it. We all know that Christmas is a big commercial racket. It's run by a big eastern syndicate, you know."

It used to be that I got excited about the tree, picking it out, tying it to the car, bringing it home, and setting it up. This year I had thoughts about whether the tree would catch on fire while we were in Utah for a week, or how many needles I'd have to vacuum up because we wouldn't be here to water it for a week. So not only am I getting older, but I'm getting more practical and also a little more lazy.
Good grief!

But after the tree was up, I realized that Sally was clearly the smart one. Christmas is not about what your tree looks like, or how many decorations you have hanging in your house (including fake garland on the staircase), or how much baking you do.

It's about getting presents. And right now there are two big ones under that fake tree with my name on it. Hallelujah and Merry Christmas!

(You know I'm kidding. I know Christmas is about Jesus. Good grief! Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?)

What smells like burnt pumpkin pie?

2008-12-04T07:43:00.000-08:00

What would you do with one cup of leftover canned pumpkin? I thought making homemade pumpkin pie spice doughnuts was the answer to that question. Let us pause for just a minute to ponder two things:

1) Um...yum!

2) No wonder I can't lose 15 pounds. Ahem.

While in the throes of this blissfull, flour-encrusted domesticity on Sunday, I thought hot apple cider would go very well with said doughnuts. But once I started making it, I realized we didn't have enough apple juice to make it work. Raspberries don't taste too strong, right?

Wrong.

Mixing half plain old apple juice, and half apple-raspberry juice made a delicious raspberry-flavoried drink. With cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and oranges. It tasted just okay, but that stuff smelled awesome. So for the past few days, it has sat on my stove, and I've heated it up here and there to make the house smell Christmasy and drive away the smell of death that seems to lurk in every room here (that is another post for another day).

And yesterday, we heard the good news that Garrett was in town. It's not every day a brother-in-law drops in to see us (though we wish it was), and we were caught unprepared. Kitchen a mess. TV room a disaster from my failed felt ball-making activities from the previous night. And the house was smelly.

So, as soon as I got home, I started up the pot of raspberry cider, and in a few minutes, the house smelled divine. But when you go to dinner and a movie without turning off the burner, you come home to a house that smells like burnt pumpkin pie, and a pan that is covered in a sticky brown goop.

That's right. In this season of fire-safety awareness and the coldest time of year to lose everything you own to a flaming pot of hot raspberry cider, I left the house unattended for five hours with the burner on. Luckily, nothing burned down, and the worst we had was the smell of burnt pumpkin pie.

Which I'll take over the smell of death any day.

Here's what I've been thinking a lot: can we move yet?

How is it that I let a month pass by without blogging?

2008-12-01T07:37:00.001-08:00

While I can't remember exactly why, I do know that we dealt with a few things that took up my time. Mainly this:

I had a huge project at work. Like 28 hours of overtime in one week huge. That lasted for three weeks.
After that, I lost access to my login ID at work, and couldn't get to my laptop for three days.
My laptop died. I think it was fed up with all the work I made it do. Getting it re-imaged took a couple of days.
I spent a weekend making Muppets. Watch Episode 3 here to see how they turned out.
Andy and I both got food poisoning. Down (and up and down) for several days.
And then Andy had surgery.
After surgery, we had Thanksgiving - parents visited and made a most scrumptious dinner. And then cleaned it up! (thank you)

I hereby make a promise not to let another month go by without blogging. So sorry for my absence.

Still

2008-11-03T06:51:00.000-08:00

Still recovering from my first 5K. (Ran last Friday - finished in 38 mins, will post pics soon!) Felt like I got hit by a bus for a good three days post-race. Sheesh.

Still recovering from being scared silly after watching two (2!) scary back-to-back Friday night. Am now in the habit of locking my bedroom door - NEVER used to do that. What? I get claustrophobic, okay?

Still happy I ate less than five (5!) pieces of Halloween candy this year. I just decided not to buy any.

Still excited about Christmas present from Andy that I found out about and completely spoiled. By complete mistake, I discovered he bought me Wii Fit, so we popped it open this weekend and I realized I'm in pretty decent shape. However, my BMI is borderline normal/overweight, and my Mii is quite chubby, based on my weight. Need to work on that.

Still laughing about our recent project for Heather, our friend diagnosed with breast cancer. Check out this video (first in a series of 12) we released on Friday.

Still (although I have only told Andy) contemplating doing this to my hair at my appointment this Saturday.

Question: Is it okay to cut one's hair this short, if one has an extra 15 pounds to lose, and one's body shape isn't quite as pixie-ish as it was the last time one had such a haircut? Audrey is tiny, and she really pulls this off. Sigh. I used to pull this haircut off, but now I wonder if I'm not thin enough. Thoughts?

Still negotiating salary for my new job. What? You didn't know I got a new job? I was offered a permanent position last week with Avaya as a Curriculum Manager. It will be hard, super busy, and have crazy hours, but better pay. And 100% work from home. Good or bad? To be determined.

Still looking for a house. One that's not completely trashed because it was foreclosed on, preferably.

Still wishing I lived in Boulder, after spending a day there with Lara and Megan when they came to visit. Hippies dancing in the city center, anyone?

Still wishing Monday was already over and I could watch Chuck and Heroes.

Why I've been quiet

2008-10-16T05:48:00.000-07:00

My last post about cancer was meant to be funny. Last week, I read an article in the October issue of Self magazine about BCP plastics, and its link to breast cancer. After looking at my Nalgene bottle, Andy decided he didn't want to risk me getting cancer and bought me a new one.

Literally the day after he bought me that bottle, we received an email from a great friend, Eldon. Eldon and his lovely wife Heather have been tremendous friends to Andy over the years. We have so much love for them and their kids.

Eldon's email let us know that Heather had been diagnosed with Stage 3A breast cancer. Today my last post isn't looking so funny.

Now. I know this is not about me. At all. But I have been busy thinking. About our friends. About trials. I keep wondering how something like this happens. Why something like this happens. And what we can do to help. Because cancer completely snuck up on them, and their lives will be forever different.

Heather just gave birth to the most beautiful, perfect boy in August. They have two other children - gorgeous girls. If you don't believe me, just look at this picture. (Hopefully they don't mind me sharing this on my blog, but how can you not want to share these pictures - they're gorgeous!)

I have been so grateful that they have allowed us into their lives to serve them during this time. Most astounding to me about this situation is the way they are handling it - with humility, grace, and lots and lots of love. I've taken a lesson from them about facing trials.

Thank you Eldon and Heather for helping me see that our trials do not have to make life unbearable. And that we can in fact, get through them with our happiness intact, if maybe just a tiny bit bruised.

Andy doesn't want me to get cancer

2008-10-08T07:51:00.000-07:00

That's why I came home to find this happy bottle smiling at me next to a bouquet of flowers and a love note last night. Isn't it adorable?

And best of all, it is not made of polycarbonate #7 plastic like my cute (but deadly) flower-pink Nalgene bottle. No stinky cancer-causing chemicals for me anymore, and I will be around to pester Andy for many years to come.

Thanks Andy! I love, love, love my new Siggy (as it has now been christened).

What's yours like?

2008-10-07T10:37:00.001-07:00

I have dropped my phone precisely one thousand, two hundred and ninety one times in the last year and a half.

And I have thrown it at the wall exactly twelve times in the last two months.

The front cover plate of my phone fell off in July, and refused to stay put. Andy glued it back on with Gorilla Glue. Now there is bubbly Gorilla Glue in all the seams of the front cover plate.

Call after call keeps getting dropped, which is highly inconvenient when I'm running conference calls for work.

I think it's time for a new phone, don't you? The only problem: I have no idea what phone to get.

I have always had flip phones, and I want to try something new and non-flippy. They've never been great; in fact, they've been a complete and thorough disappointment. But they're like that comfortable old pair of Converse sneakers I keep: even though they're not always comfortable and I don't always love them, they're familiar. We have good memories together.

In the past, I've always picked a phone based on looks, but this time, I need a good phone. I've always settled for the cheap phone just to get by, and I would up being frustrated with the phone more than satisfied.

Andy says I should get an iPhone, but I just don't know if I want to cough up that much money. Or if I'll even use everything it offers. (Although the GPS would be very nice. And the iPod. And some of the apps I can download to keep my mind tack-sharp.) Or if I'll just end up coughing up more than that much money down the line. I always tell people I work with, "You can pay now, or you can pay later." Which really means, "Come on, don't be an idiot. It makes so much more sense to take the time/money/energy up front and do something the right way, instead of rushing/cheaping out/procrastinating now and doing a half-assed job/getting a half-assed product later."

I can suggest it at work, but when it comes to my bank account, I just don't know. I usually try to be cheap and end up paying later. A lot.

We're shopping for cell phones with Andy's parents tomorrow (Hello! and welcome to the 21st century!), and we think we should just get a new phone for me. So...what do you think? Trust me, I don't care about status, I don't care if I'm keeping up with those Joneses; I just need something that works. And that looks cute. And that won't make me want to throw it at the wall. Or require any Gorilla Glue to make it happy again.

Do you recommend your phone?
Do you wish you had an iPhone?
Do you think I'll use an iPhone to its most ultimate capabilities?
Do you think I should pay now or pay later?

There is a mouse sitting on my kitchen floor watching me type this

2008-10-03T14:12:00.000-07:00

Gross! Andy's only suggestion via text message is to feed him some cheese. Um, I don't think so - we all know I like me some cheese!

Why do these guys gross me out so much (mice, not Andy, that is). They're cute, furry, and look so cute when they're sitting there eating some crumbs.

Maybe it's the viruses they carry.
Or the way they scurry across my floor.
Or the way they can squeeze through a hold the size of a dime.

Gross!

I really am trying to love all God's creatures. But I'm just not feeling any love for this guy sitting on my kitchen floor.

Anyone know where we keep the D-Con?

How do you find a house that fits just right?

2008-10-01T13:22:00.000-07:00

Shopping for a house is a little bit like shopping for a new pair of pants. Is it too small? Too big? How does it make my butt look?

Last week (if you are obtuse enough to figure out from my previous post), Andy and I decided to finally, finally, finally meet with our realtor instead of scheduling and then cancelling. We saw more houses than we knew were even for sale on the entire planet. And then we decided that we are too poor to afford a house that is big enough that it doesn't make our butts look big, but small enough that our butts don't feel claustrophobic and enclosed-upon, that is not out in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado.

What is it about looking for a house? You look on the World Wide Web at the pictures and you think, "This is it! This is most positvely, absolutely the house we were meant to own! I know it in my heart! And my butt, because my butt would look very small in that vast (but not too vast because we already have determined we don't want that ever again) house."

And then.

You actually go to look at the house, all up-front and in-person with your realtor, and you realize that the ghetto is not just around the corner, but that it actually resides next door behind the chain-link fence and the BEWARE OF DOG sign. And that the "bark, bark, bark" from Bosco the Rottweiler behind the chain-link fence is, in all actuality, NOT happy to see you. He is saying "Beware! Beware of the ghetto and houses that appear too cute to be true." And also, "I will bite you if you take one step closer to me."

You realize that when a house description says "quaint," it actally means "smaller than a mouse's attic and anyone over 5' 1 1/2" should not attempt to squeeze into here at peril of suffering from at the very least claustrophobia and at the very worst death." And if the description says "needs TLC" or "great for first-time buyers" it actually means "the dumpiest dump dumpier than any dump you've ever been to and by golly be sure to plan on spending every single second of all your waking hours in the next two years to get rid of mold, gross smells, and to repair the damage done by Rick the Unhappy Owner Who Was Foreclosed On."

And you start to feel very sad, and wonder if you will ever find the right house that makes your butt look just perfect. And then. You think, quite possibly there is no way you are ever going to be happy with a house and then...

...you find it.

The House. The House that you will look perfect in.

The House that doesn't have a huge garish garage covering the front of The House in such a way that it is difficult to see even the front door, but instead has a quaint (and actually for-real Old Fashioned quaint, not code-for-tiny-quaint) little front porch that makes you want to sit on it and sip the lemoniest lemonade of all time (which actually comes from Chik-Fil-A in case you were wondering).

The House that has the highest of ceilings and the most spacious of kitchens with ample, and I do mean as ample as Pamela Anderson's bosom, cabinet space.

The House that has just enough rooms for the activities which you desire to persue over the next five to seven years, namely, eating, sleeping, cooking, playing, loving, and living. And watching TV. In no particular order, of course.

The House that has a yard that is the delight of your soul - just big enough to manage decent-sized gardens (of the vegetable and flower variety, of course) and small enough to accommodate small-ish parties wherein you cook for your fabulous and hilarious friends who will now have to drive 40 minutes each way just to pop in and say hello. Which means approximately 99% of said small-ish parties will only accommodate two guests: me and Andy.

And then.

You realize that to find The House, you drove so far out into the boondocks that you do not even know if you are in Colorado or Kansas and you begin to fear for your life due to whirling tornadoes. To find This House, you will have to give up morning runs with Anna, quick and easy drives to Sonic for Cranberry Limeades with Sam, last minute movies with Dennis, Chris, and Barb. And many other such activities to which you have grown accustomed.

But, on the other hand, you do have a yard large enough to host a family of beautiful lady chickens to lay fresh eggs for you.

How is a girl ever to choose? How does one determine what is the very most important thing that they must have to help them decide where to reside for the next five to seven years?

You ask yourself questions like, "Would we be happier in a house we don't like as much near people we love, or in a house we love near people we don't know yet?" Or even, "Will our old friends ever visit?" and, "Will we make new friends?" And most importantly, "Why is Clay Aiken bothering to come out of the closet in People magazine when the entire population of the known galaxy already knew he was gay?" Really. This is an important question.

Perhaps it is time to petition The One Who Answers Prayers. I'm still waiting to hear back about the orange coat, and maybe He can just give me both answers at once, like a two-for-one. Now that's a deal!

My little secret

2008-09-29T10:51:00.000-07:00

I may not have told you this, and right now it's still kind of a secret until I know I can really, truly do it (I hear it takes 21 days to make a habit, which was true for exercise so I have my fingers crossed), but (whispering)

I'm seriously contemplating becoming a vegetarian. Shhh, don't tell anyone yet - especially Jared's work self, who might just come harass me.

No, don't worry - not a vegan. Certainly not a vegan, because that's just too masochistic. And why? I think those Vegans frown upon eating cheese, and that most certainly will not work.

The first I tried to become a vegetarian lasted one week. Exactly.

A few things prompted me to head down this deep, dark hole of self-introspection, but mainly I can think of two:

A few months ago, Andy and I studied the Word of Wisdom and I realized I'm not following it very well. I don't eat meat "sparingly," or "only in the time of winter, cold, or famine."
Also, I'm darn tired of biting into a meat-filled something, for instance a burrito, and chewing a big ol' chunk of gristle. It's just not at all delectable, and I have a hard time getting past it.

Now. This is very difficult to do, especially when you are married, such as I am, to a "meatarian." After Andy and I visited India, we realized that we eat a lot of meat, and that the meat in India grossed us out, and we were going to try to be vegetarian. We bought expensive frozen veggie burgers and everything. But when that turned out to be just Too Hard and most of the stuff was filled with soy, which we later learned can cause infertility in men (um, pass please!), we gave it up and went back to the bacon, a la Homer Simpson - "Mmmm....bacon."

But I just haven't felt right, colonically speaking, ever since I gave up being vegetarian. On the other hand, I didn't feel right when we tried being vegetarian either, and eating no meat. So, I've been pondering the idea for a couple of months now, wondering why. And how (and how!). How could I be a successful eater such that my colon doesn't spaz out on me (thank goodness I can work from home) and that I actually feel full? And get all the nutrients my body needs?

And then: in my inbox a few weeks ago was an email from Whole Foods, the Giant Loving Mother of All Foods Healthy and (mostly) Delicious. And the place where I want to live. The email contained many recipes using grains. Grains that had lots of protein. Like quinoa. And lentils. And other such food-type items that are difficult to both pronounce and find in a regular grocery store, like The Wal-Mart, causing you to go to upwards of two (two I tell you, two!) stores when you go grocery shopping. I am telling you, it takes great amounts of dedication to be a vegetarian.

And I started to think that maybe, perhaps this was what I overlooked during my first stint as a vegetarian: not enough grains (protein-filled). And not enough stick-to-it-iveness. And not enough creativity to figure out how to feed both a (kind of) vegetarian and a (very much so) meatarian.

So, I started again. Except this time, I eat fish. Like when Andy grilled steak on Sunday, I ate salmon. And when we had breakfast burritos for dinner, I strained the pork chunks out of my green chile sauce. I tell you what, I am a very committed almost-vegetarian. Even though my strainer was too small, so there were still a few chunks of meat in there, but I tried to pick them out, so I think it's okay. And when we had Chinese food, I ate only the shrimp in my pan-fried noodles. And a lot of noodles - it's okay! They were not composed of any meat product whatsoever. And when Andy ate leftover Chinese food, I had a BLAT (A stands for avocado). Two, actually. Wait - B is for bacon, which is meat, you say? Crap. So I'm not a perfect vegetarian. But I'm trying.

I'm not doing this because I feel bad for meat that starts out as happy smiling animals (or scared, crazy-eyed animals for that matter). Although I do. It's really sad when you learn how the animals are treated. At least try to eat free-range meat. Meat that was happy and grazing in a lovely meadow before it became the meat on your plate.

And I know the Word of Wisdom says to eat meat "sparingly." (Remember? I mentioned that above - I know it says sparingly.) In fact, I might still eat a little meat, if it sounds good. But for now, it doesn't really sound good, so I'm eating fish, fruits and vegetables, and grains. And M&M's, the much overlooked and unacknowledged other food group.

Someday I'll find the right balance, but for now, I'm just trying to eat in a way that makes my body happy. Colonically speaking, of course.

Thank goodness vegetarians can eat doughnuts! Mmmm...doughnuts.

It's the little things that make the biggest difference

2008-09-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Andy,

Thank you ever so much for taking me to Chipotle last night. I have been craving a vegetarian burrito since Monday. (You remembered!) it was delicious, but please don't ever let me eat after 9:00 pm again. Ever. That was just a bad choice on my end.

Thank you for telling me you think I'm pretty. Some days I don't feel that way, but knowing that you think I am helps. (A lot.)

Thank you for making such wonderful, fluffy, scrambled eggs for my breakfast burrito after I ruined two innocent, unsuspecting eggs in that pan of ours. Eggs are definitely your forte. (I promise to never scramble any eggs for you again.)

Thank you for taking me house shopping. I know I'm picky, and it means a lot to me that you are willing to indulge my ideas of fixing up an old house. (Won't it be beautiful when we're finished?)

Thank you for taking such wonderful pictures. I love the pictures you take. Someday we will do something cool and fancy with them to show them off in our new (old) house.

Thank you for reading my blog. Aren't you glad I'm writing? It is the advice you have been giving me for over a year now. (See? I do listen to your advice!)

Thank you for being understanding of my compelling need to exaggerate and embellish our conversations for dramatic effect when I write about them on my blog. I know you don't always say exactly what I write, exactly as I write it. (But if I didn't exaggerate, my posts would be boring.)

Thank you for being happy and fun to be with. Have I mentioned how much I love it when you're happy? (Well it's a lot.)

Most of all, thank you for being so good to me. You really are pretty darn awesome. It sure is those little things that count. (For me, anyways.)

Love,
Lish

PS: I might just consider living in Brighton. (Seriously.) If we can have chickens.

Dating, or trying to find that ever-perfect match: is it out there?

2008-09-25T10:34:00.001-07:00

Tonight, we have a date.

Our friend Dottie wanted so very badly to set us up with him. "You guys are perfect for each other!" she said. One skeptical eyebrow raised (from my face) (in her direction) prompted her to spill out all his perfect qualities that made her to want to set us up in the first place. (Setups? Who needs 'em? Seriously.)

"You're both young..." Here, right out of the gate, she makes a mistake that is often made in our general direction. Married with no kids = young. Ha! As if! My dentures fell into my lap and my hip spontaneously popped out of its socket just to prove my point. We. Are. Old.

"He just got married and his wife is so cute..." I guess, we "just" got married too? Haven't we been married for like 10 years? Oh wait, no. It just feels like 10 years because we're so old. And am I a cute wife? Are we supposed to become fast friends with other newlywed couples sporting cute wives? Now I'm nervous and sweaty - definitely not characteristics of a cute wife.

"He's a member of the Church, and that was just so important to me when I was looking for someone." It's like my friend Marisa says: Just because you're single and someone else is single, does that mean you have to go on a blind date with them? Just because you're Mormon and someone else is Mormon, does that mean you have to be friends with them? Yes, because Mormons are nice and friendly to everyone, of their faith and not of their faith. Jell-O eaters and non-Jell-O eaters alike.

"He's, he's, he's just," she gushed, "he's just so great! You will love him!"

So I said to her, "Dottie, what is his name?"

"Well, his name is Seth."

And I said: "Ah. We have already met Seth. In fact, we had lunch in June, and soon we have a date with him again. Thursday, in fact."

"Oh good!" she exclaimed. "Now I feel much better about your plans."

And now I'm nervous. Are we young enough? Am I cute enough? Are we Mormon enough? I haven't been out on a date like this before. Do we bring flowers? What do we wear? What if we don't like what he has to offer? What if he doesn't like what we have to offer? What if we don't like where he takes us? Is it impolite to ask him to take us somewhere else?

I'm just not sure because we've never been out with a realtor before. I sure hope it goes well and he helps us find a house we like. Because if not, well, that would just be awkward. And who needs another awkward first date story for their dinner party repartee?

Not us.

A few uncomfortable conversations (mostly started by me)

2008-09-25T07:05:00.000-07:00

"Andy," I said last night, "When we went home teaching at the H's house and they had that double-wide chair (bigger than a chair, smaller than a loveseat) for us to sit in together...well...did that make you just the tiniest bit uncomfortable?"

"It only makes me uncomfortable when I sit in it with Greg." (Greg was Andy's home teaching companion who recently moved, which explains why I am now his home teaching companion. And with whom he has never actually shared the chair.) "Why? Did it make you uncomfortable?"

"A little bit, yes. But not physically uncomfortable. It made me feel ever so slightly emotionally uncomfortable."

"To clarify: It made my wife emotionally uncomfortable to sit in a double-wide chair so close to her husband?"

"Hmmm...yes. I'm not sure why though, but I am supposing it made me uncomfortable that they just assumed we would want to sit squished in a barely-big-enough-for-two-people chair such that my shoulders would be pushed in and I would have to sit hunched over while my legs fell asleep because it was impossibly uncomfortable to keep crossing and un-crossing and re-crossing them. Or maybe it was because I was marinating in the fresh steak marinade that soaked the front of my dress in the car as we drove their dinner over to them. Anyway. What if we wanted separate chairs? They never even asked. They should have asked. Of course I would have said yes, but that is beside the point. And it's not because I don't like sitting near you. It's because I don't like being uncomfortable - physically or emotionally."

"I'm uncomfortable knowing that sitting that close to me made you emotionally uncomfortable. Let's go get some doughnuts." And we did.

* * *

"I work next Tuesday and Wednesday just so you know. I'm working with people modeling underwear." (Guess who started this conversation. Wrong. It was Andy.)

"I'm uncomfortable with you working with half-naked models all day long. Half-naked and in their underwear."

"I'm uncomfortable with that too. There are going to be half-naked guys there! I don't want to look at half-naked guys."

"So...if there weren't half-naked guys there, you wouldn't be uncomfortable? Which means that if they were all half-naked ladies, you would be completely comfortable?"

"Yes!" (Resounding and enthusiastic.)

"I'm uncomfortable that you're shooting half-naked ladies in their underwear."

"I won't be shooting them."

"Wait! What? Then...you'll be putting microphones in their cleavage?" (Because everyone knows that a woman's cleavage is the best place to hide a microphone. Unless you're me, and then sorry! Mic will be utterly and completely visible. Don't worry, I'm not sad or embarrassed. It's just a fact. Question: Is it okay to talk about cleavage on a blog my mother reads?)

"No, we won't have audio. It's just a photo shoot."

"Then why are you there? You're an audio guy. Are you just going so you can look at half-naked ladies in their underwear?"

"It's really low-budget. So....can you even imagine what these models look like?"

"Just promise me you won't think they're prettier than me."

"Done."

* * *

"My mom said Ethan's baby is super cute." (Andy's brother and his girlfriend just had a baby boy. I'm not at all surprised he's super cute.)

"I'm sure he is. But don't worry, our kids are going to be cuter. I just know it."

"How do you know?"

"Because everyone I know told us we are going to have beautiful children. Someday. And I believe them."

"Well, usually good looking people have funny looking kids." (Which, technically, I know is not true, because we have many beautiful friends with beautiful children. But this does not stop the myth from being Out There.)

"Hmmm... Maybe that's why we'll have cute kids?"

"Did you just call me ugly?"

"Technically, I said both of us are non-cute. Ish."

"Oh. Well. That's really not any better. Let's just go eat our doughnuts." And we did.

* * *

"When we have kids, they won't look like me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because look at all those kids on Jon and Kate + 8 (I'm obsessed with TV shows about women who give birth to innumerable amounts of children. TLC is a good channel for these shows). They have a white lady mom and a half-Asian dad - just like us! And none of those kids look like their mother! Not that I'm dissing your Asian heritage or anything. I'm not. It's just that the Asian gene is highly dominant, you know." (I didn't really say "dissing." I thought it though. Then I didn't say it because it felt wrong, like when a missionary returns from Chile and sounds weird speaking English with a Spanish accent. Just something sounds...not quite right.)

"I'm sorry."

"I kind of am too. I have some good features that would be nice to see on our kids. Like, I have nice feet."

"And also your face."

That Andy. He sure does know how to save us from my uncomfortable-ness. Thank heavens because that was almost more uncomfortable-ness than a person can stomach in one night.

Are you a Fridge Thief?

2008-09-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

While in the breakroom at work today warming up my lentil soup, I caught sight of a menacing letter taped to the giant stainless steel refrigerator.

It read something to the effect of:

WARNING!
There is a Fridge Thief in our midst. I have had several sodas stolen out of my bag over the last few days, and I am not happy about it.

I want you to know that this is stealing, and it will not be tolerated. I will call Corporate Security when I find out who you are.

Even though I am not the Fridge Thief and have nothing to refute, I am thinking I should respond also via a letter taped to the fridge. If I were to write such a letter it would read something like this:

ATTENTION!
Maybe you shouldn't put things in your lunchbag that others will want to steal. This is precisely why I bring lentil soup, apples, dry wheat crackers, and fine foreign cheeses for my lunch (all of which I buy in bulk at The Greatest of All Stores Ever, Costco). No one wants to touch that stuff! Including my husband, who I am forever trying to convince to eat in a healthful manner for his own general well-being in addition to my own peace of mind.

And by the way, I would not tolerate someone stealing my soda either - soda is delicious and lovely to drink while eating lentil soup and dry wheat crackers. Unless you are drinking cream soda (of any brand), in which case I would think you would praise heaven that someone took the wretched poison from your sack.

At one of the many and numerous jobs I have worked in the years since I left graduate school, I was once upon a time a Fridge Thief. I will tell you the story.

I was so very sick and on the verge of going blind and passing out due to the insanely painful migraine that was striking my head, just behind my eyes. I so desperately wanted to avoid this, as embarrassing and unhappy things happen when I pass out, which you will never know unless you call me and ask me. Then, of course, I will be happy to tell you if, and only if, you swear to a vow of secrecy.

Anyway. At this point (the point of being on the verge of passing out, not the point of telling you my passing-out secrets), I remembered two important pieces of information:

If I catch the migraine early enough, food can help it go away.
I stored some string cheese in the refrigerator several days prior and I should go eat it, because it was early enough to fix the migraine.

So. I went to the fridge, took the string cheese back to my desk, opened it, and ate it. Upon throwing the wrapper into my trash can, I noticed a first string cheese wrapper already in there.

Of a different brand. Now. I feel it imperative to inform you that I do not make it a habit to purchase string cheeses of various brands purely for my amusement, or actually, at all.

At this point in the story, the pounding had left my head, and I came slowly to the realization that I was a Fridge Thief! I had stolen some poor, unsuspecting soul's string cheese with nary a thought that I had already eaten my string cheese and this string cheese might not be mine. (In case you are wondering, I am trying to go for the world record for using "string cheese" the most times in one sentence.)

Utterly freaked out and unsure of what to do next, I promptly quit my job and started another one, located miles and miles away from the scene of the crime. To my knowledge, I have not yet been reported to Corporate Security. Or perhaps I have been reported, but there is still a warrant out for my arrest.

Which begs the question, are YOU a Fridge Thief?

Sometimes it's hard to know what to do, or should I really buy this?

2008-09-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

If there ever was a time in my life when I need a distinct and personal revelation via the Holy Ghost, it is now.

This is because right now I am trying to plan my fall/winter wardrobe. This is because the end of summer has officially descended upon me and after a very thorough review of all contents of my closet, dresser, Rubbermaid full of winter-type clothing (sweaters), and twenty boxes of clothes that no longer fit me and are waiting to be delivered to Goodwill, I recently came to the realization that I have one pair of jeans that fits me, one sweater, and a bunch of T-shirts. And five coats. Because let's be honest, it's really tough to outgrow a coat, as hard as I might try because I really want to get a bright orange wool coat with a hood and cute buttons, and I can't justify buying a new coat as long as I have five working ones in my closet.

So upon great contemplation and much starving, I mean fasting, in my wardrobe's behalf, I have crafted four very specific and distinct questions that I am hoping my forthcoming revelation will answer so as I know how to proceed due to my current wardrobe dilemma and current money fast (have I told you about our money fast? another post for another time).

These most important and hopefully revealing questions are, in no particular order:

1) Am I going to be fatter (perhaps in the midsection area only thanks to a great and long-awaited and prayed-for blessing) anytime soon? Like before the end of the fall/winter season?

2) If the answer to question 1 is no, then: Am I going to be skinner before the fall/winter season really gets underway, due to the excessive amounts of exercising in which I have partaken, and my great efforts at eating only those foods which will make my hair shine, my skin glow, and allow me to be constantly overdosed in folic acid? Oh, and some M&M's, but those don't count because it is during That Week of My Monthly Visitor, which we don't have to talk about, but all know that any and all M&M's eaten during that week do not count due to being excessively depleted in chocolate and sugary minerals during such a strenuous time in a woman's life. And exceedingly sad because I am not yet getting fatter in my midsection only.

3) Should I give in to the fashion craze because it's just so hard to withstand temptation and buy the cute pair of pinkish-reddish-orangeish Mary Jane Crocs that I saw at Costco, mostly because the color is so very happy, and I have a hard time passing up Mary Janes, even ugly ones? (If the answer to this is "yes," I must move fast. Things do not last at Costco.)

4) And lastly, should I buy a bright orange wool coat with a hood and cute buttons?

I know that if the Holy Ghost were any one of my sisters, I would be directed to replace my entire wardrobe and ship the current contents to Bountiful, Utah, whereupon the sharing of much joy and the saving of money would be celebrated amongst the females in my family. Probably by eating ice cream, because let's face it, who doesn't like to celebrate by eating ice cream? Hmmm...this attitude will most likely have a direct effect on the answer to question number 2.

If the Holy Ghost were Andy, I would be directed to clean out my overflowing and abundant closets, dressers, and boxes and deliver the contents to Goodwill to share with those less fortunate than me, and to just choose only those clothing items that would allow his clothing items to breathe and feel at home in their own home. They currently feel like homeless orphans who used to have a whole huge room to themselves and a parent who loved them enough to hang them up and put them away, but now the evil stepmother (me) has moved into the house and displaced them to the dungeon to clean the floors, and to move in all her own frilly girly clothes to take their place, not allowing them to be hung up and put away. What? You didn't know clothes had feelings? It's true, they do.

It must be noted, Andy has never once said anything about the displacement of his clothes. I just know it because his clothes whisper mean things to mine. Like, "Get out of our room, you brightly colored ruffly frilly things! A man needs space to breathe around here, and we feel suffocated! Who needs so many polka-dots anyway?" And other such nonsense as that.

Since the Holy Ghost is neither my sisters or Andy, I wonder what direction I'll be given? Maybe to just hang in there, continue sticking to my budget, and be patient that someday I will be bigger in the midsection area in the way I want to be bigger - the good "I am finally carrying a child and I have wanted to be this fat for such a long time now" bigger.

And maybe I'll be directed to buy bright orange wool coat with a hood and cute buttons. Stat!

Because nothing says, "I've been working my butt off all summer and haven't dropped a size - please reward me" like a bright orange wool coat with a hood and cute buttons.

Choosing an arch-nemisis is never an easy thing to do

2008-09-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

When it comes to having an arch-nemisis, you want to make sure you pick a good one. Like those Dalmations. They picked a great arch-nemisis, who really gave those cute spotted dogs a run for their money. Now didn't she?

I only know of one other person (besides myself, of course) who has an arch-nemisis. If you already have one, (publicly proclaimed or secretive), you will be familiar with how to pick a good one. If you do not already have one, allow me to offer you some extremely useful tips when choosing an arch-nemisis. Because we all know that everyone needs an arch-nemisis in order to live a full and balanced life.

An arch-nemisis may or may not, depending on who the nemisis is nemis-ing, have any or all of the following characteristics. When choosing your arch nemisis, please ensure that potential said nemisis has at least two (2) of the following characteristics:

a) A gratingly high voice, much akin to an evil cackle.

b) The propensity to proclaim to one and all throughout the land that she (or I suppose he, if you must choose a he as your arch-nemisis) knows all, when really, you and I both know that she (or he) does not.

c) The incessant need to pontificate wildly about the room each time a public meeting is held. Said pontifications entrance those in her (or his) presence to the point where she (or he) becomes much like The Pied Piper and those in the room are the mice. And they follow her (or him) right off a cliff. Or into a disastorous and expensive business situation and you are left to pick up the pieces with people asking questions like, "Why did this happen? It makes no sense. Such and such said this would work!" When all along you knew that would happen, despite such-and-such's pontifications to the contrary.

d) Is much skinnier than you. Even after having a bazillion children. Or even after not having a bazillion children - it only matters if it matters to you.

e) Asks you to do something and tells you how great you will be at it, and then goes back to redo it just because she (or he) was worried it wouldn't get done right. And then lets everyone know she (or he) did it, confusing all in the land.

f) Responds to your email inquiries with snotty comments that start something like, "This is why..." and ending in multiple exclamation points. And cc'ing your manager or the person in charge, I presume to get you into trouble.

g) Wears a goatee minus the moustache, much akin to Ye Olde Non-Beards that people wore in the Days of Yore when Brigham Young was in charge of the Mormons.

h) The ability to incite in you the desire to wave your fist wildly about in the air while shouting, "I'll get you for this, you evil arch-nemisis, you!" Or some similar exclamation.

i) An evil laugh delivered while steepling the fingers together. The laugh will usually go something like this: "Mwa ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha. Mwa ha ha."

For example, I have several arch-nemises. One displays characteristics b, c, g, and h. Another displays characteristics b, d, f, and of course, h. Yet another nemisis does e and f on a regular basis. I think all three have done i at one point in time. And thus I know I have done a terrific job of choosing an arch-nemisis, because I have not one, dear readers, but three of them!

Now. What if you are having trouble choosing an arch-nemisis because you are just generally an all-around nice person who looks for the good in all humankind? To that I say, "Liar!" Just kidding. If you are having trouble choosing an arch-nemisis then you probably shouldn't read my blog because I choose and even switch them out on a regular basis, much like I used to choose and change the outfits on my paper dolls as a little girl.

And then: What if you choose an arch-nemisis, and she (or he) turns out to really be a nice person, albeit deep down inside? Keep looking - it's probably waayyy deeper than that. Well, that's okay. Even nice people can be someone else's arch-nemisis. In fact, I consider myself to be a very nice person, despite my blog postings of complaint and general unhappiness, and I am fairly certain I am someone's arch-nemisis.

But at least I don't have a weird non-moustache-goatee hybrid.

Do you have a nemisis? What does she (or he) do that made you choose her (or him) to hold that special arch-nemisis place in your heart? Or are you someone else's nemisis? What did you do that made them choose you to hold that special place in their heart?

How to love someone when you really don't want to: a step-by-step guide for overcoming the grumpies

2008-09-23T08:46:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who I love. Except for one problem: sometimes This Friend is completely, unabashedly, frustratingly, unloveable. Unloveable, I tell you! Unloveable!

So yesterday I said, "Self, you need to be better at loving This Friend. You need to stop the complaining. And the whining. And the wishing this This Friend was different. And you need to just love This Friend until you can't love anymore." Except we all know that it is difficult, almost completely next to impossible, to run out of loving for someone. Unless they pay with a check at The Wal-Mart. But if they do you could think, "How quaint - paying with a check. They are so Old Fashioned." Then you would love and admire them for being quaint and Old Fashioned. See? I even surprised myself with that one.

Note: While I do not smile upon check-writing, I only frown upon it when people are slow about it. Mom and AnJ, this does not apply to you. Feel free to write all the glorious heart-dotted i checks your tender little hearts desire!

But loving someone when they say mean things to you like, "Woah. You sure look all wide and jiggly (yes, wide and jiggly - super bad combination) in those pants. Maybe you should just stay home in your pajamas instead of going out where people will actually see you." Or, "It's really too bad you tried to cook an amazing exotic dinner of macaroni and cheese, because your homemade sauce turned out a little gluey, which we all know happens when you use too much flour and not enough milk. You usually do better - I'm so disappointed in you." Or even, "Good grief, lady! Why can't you keep up with the laundry so your husband doesn't have to ask you why his clothes are always in the dryer and never make it into his drawer?"

So. This Friend of mine can sometimes be a little tough. But, just in case you have a similar friend, you are in luck! You have come to the right place! Because you are going to find out just how to love such a friend who is not always nice, but maybe sometimes is nice like when they buy a Cranberry-Lime slush for you from Sonic because they know you're having a bad day. It makes it just a little easier to overlook the chronic grumpiness. But still. We have to know how to handle friends like this when they are not buying you Cranberry-Lime slushes of delightful wonderfulness.

Step 1: Find out what your friend likes and what makes her happy. Does she collect red lipsticks in her search to find the perfect one? When she sees fresh bouquets of flowers, does her face light up? Does she absolutely adore Chipotle burritos? Chocolate chip cookies? Tap dancing? Just find out.

Note: You might have to ask lots of questions, or be very observant. This is hard work. Hard work, I tell you! I never said it would be easy-peasy.

Step 2: Give your friend something that she likes and that makes her happy. Maybe all it takes is just your time. Spend time with your friend. Do whatever she wants to do. Even if it is just writing checks at The Wal-Mart and laughing at Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's choice of names for their children.

Step 3: Say something nice and supportive to your friend. Maybe try something like, "Hi Friend. You look so beautiful today! You should wear red more often - it is most definitely your best color." Or maybe, "Dear Friend. I'm sure happy to see you! I know you're struggling right now, but NO MATTER WHAT I am here, and I love you. And you will get through this bout of the grumpies."

Step 4: Give your friend a hug. Or pat her on the back if you are afraid of hugs. If you are afraid of hugs, that is a completely different post.

Step 5: Repeat steps 1 through 4 over. And over. And over.

How will you know you have successfully loved your friend? Well, sometimes you might not know until way later that you were successful. Sometimes, you might not ever know. Ever. But the secret is that you just keep doing it. Even when it's hard and you don't want to. Even when your friend is YOU, and you don't want to be nice to yourself because you're grumpy. Which in my case it often is and let's be honest: only I would be thismean to myself. If I had a friend who was thismean to me, would we really be friends?

Anyway, you should still do it. Because it's what Heavenly Father does for us, and because we are worth it.

All the time.

A suggestion for all you check-writers out there, or one of my biggest pet peeves

2008-09-22T12:46:00.000-07:00

Just last week, I made many a trip to The Wal-Mart, otherwise known as The Downfall of Society Today. Or at least I think that's what the people who wear those "No Wal-Mart" t-shirts really think of the giant superstore.

On each occasion, while waiting in line to purchase my goods, the cashier rang up the goods of the shoppers in front of me. On each occasion, the ringing-up took several minutes. Just for your reference: several=more than three, less than 10.

On each occasion, said shoppers watched as their goods were rung (oh shoot, is it rang? ringed? all three look funny) up by the cashier. At the completion of the ringing-up process, the cashiers cheerfully (as full of cheer Wal-Mart cashiers will allow themselves to be) proclaimed the final total for all to hear: "That will be seventy-two twenty three" or "Nineteen thirteen please!"

On each occasion, said shoppers then responded with something like, "Oh! Okay." And then, it was as though a giant light bulb went off and they realized that they actually had to pay. Pay for their goods. No, scanning goods is not just a requirement so The Wal-Mart can track inventory - they had to provide something, namely cash money, in exchange for their basic life necessities, like 20-lb bags of dog food and feminine hygiene products. And Skittles.

On each occasion, said shoppers then (after a good thirty seconds of confused staring), then reached into their purse to pull out a checkbook. A checkbook. One more time: a checkbook. A blank check - that had nothing filled in, by the time the cashier was finished ringing up their purchases, and the line had grown from two people to 10.

Now. I'm all about taking life a little slowly, savoring the roses and whathaveyou. And I have nothing against paying with a check. Nothing. I don't think everyone has to use a credit card, or a debit card, or even cash. But I would like to make one teensy, weensy suggestion to those of you who write checks: Please Be Prepared.

It would help those of us hurrying home if you could start writing your check before the final total is proclaimed. Three to 10 minutes is sufficient time to write the date, the store name, your signature, and start an entry in your check register. Plenty of time. I know this, because I used to be a check writer myself. Then, when the cashier proclaims the final total, you can just zip, zip, zip, write the amount on the line, in the box, and in the column in the register and be on your merry way.

Which means that the rest of us waiting in line will not have to be grumpy at you and the cashier (even though we know it's not the cashier's fault we are now missing the beginning of our favorite TV show). Which means the rest of us waiting in line will not have to sigh loudly and shake our head at your being unprepared. Which also means that the rest of us waiting in line will not have to put the People magazine back, ready to get our order going, only to realize we put it back too early and we could have actually finished reading that article to find out what boy-name-ending-in-X Brad and Angelina just gave their seventeenth adoped son.

Please, check writers: it's just a small request to help make our shopping experience at The Wal-Mart a little more enjoyable.

New

2008-09-18T11:20:00.000-07:00

If you don't work in corporate America, you will not know the nightmare hell that is IT Services. Sorry IT readers, but it's true. In my experience, IT Services is most generally extremely very un-helpful.

Where I work now, when I have an issue, I go online and submit a helpdesk ticket. That ticket is routed and re-routed until it ends up in someone's "Crap To Do" pile. Depending on the nature of the issue, it will go to India. Wait, no; it always goes to India, regardless of the nature of the issue.

Then, someone calls me. Now, I do enjoy the people of India. Unless they are trying to get me to ride in their rickshaw/buy their handpainted sarong/get in their cab/give me a tour of a fort/etc. They are a very generous people. But when I speak to an IT person in India on the phone, I have such a hard time understanding him (yes, it's usually a him). We go back and forth trying to resolve my problem, and the ticket is ultimately re-routed. Usually back to India. At some point, we figure each other out and either the issue is resolved, or we don't figure each other out and I realize that living with the problem is easier and much less painful than the conversation I'm having and give up.

So. Wednesday morning I came into the office, submitted my ticket, and prepared to wait it out. At approximately 4:00 pm Wednesday afternoon, I received an e-mail stating that an item had been shipped and would arrive at my desk on Thursday. I assumed it was a new power cord, docking station, or maybe just maybe a new hard drive.

Giddy and light-headed at the prospect of receiving some gift in the mail, I arrived this morning to find a huge box on my desk. After ripping it open and digging through styrofoam and plastic, I shrieked with glee to find a laptop!

Ah, the little things that make my heart go pitter patter. It was new. Brand. Spanking. New. My ticket had been resolved, and I had to just swap out the hard drives. And that was it - I was back up and running in less time than it takes to change a baby's diaper. (Well, for me to change one anyway, because let's be honest: first you have to undress the kid, then do the whole diaper-removal process, then you have to chase after the kid when he runs away from you stark naked. Then you have to apply booty condiments and such, and then you put on the new diaper and clean clothes. Then you clean up the mess he made when he peed across the room...suffice it to say, it takes me a while to change a diaper.)

I guess this is how IT rolls at my office. What is your issue? Your laptop won't start without the docking station? Send a new laptop! Your "H" key is sticking? Send a new laptop! Your monitor is a little fuzzy? Send a new laptop! You have ants marching across your keyboard because they know you eat at your desk and drop cheese crumbs in there? Send a new laptop! Okay, I'm exaggerating, but I did find it a little odd that no one even called to discuss the problem with me. They just placed an order for a new laptop and here it was today.

Just don't tell my boss. She has an ancient laptop and her requests for a newer, faster one have repeatedly been denied. Shhhh...

My commute ain't half bad, if you can ignore the crack

2008-09-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

Remember, I commute now because my laptop got fried when the power went out a few days ago. Turns out I have to have my entire hard drive replacedm or whatever is in this giant box sitting on my desk. It seems much bigger than a hard drive. Bigger than a breadbox, even. Until IT opens it and puts whatever is in the box into my laptop, I will be driving into work every day.

Anyway. Even though I was commuting, and sitting in this (in a stick shift, no less), I tried to think positively and focus on the things that were nice about my commute. So, I enjoyed this. And very much enjoyed this. And also these - brand new, and I'll enjoy them all day long, and for a long time after that. Actually, I hope I don't enjoy them much longer because they will be a) too big because I lost weight, or b) too small because I am pregnant. No, I am not saying I am pregnant. Just that I wouldn't say no if the opportunity presented itself.

See? There were lots of nice things about my commute. And then. I tried to avoid it, but drove behind this on a motorcycle for a good three minutes. The guy with the crack, not the little girl with the balloon. Come on - I'm trying to be a *little* tasteful here and not show a real picture of a guy on a motorcycle showing crack. That would just be crude. And okay, I'll admit it - a little bit funny.

All in all, a delightful commute. Despite the crack.

Good news

2008-09-17T19:29:00.003-07:00

When Andy and I were dating, he surprised me one day by filling my freezer with Graeter's ice cream. If you are not from, nor have ever been, to Ohio, you may not know the delicious wonderfulness that is Graeter's. That is the best ice cream ever! It must come from happy, relaxed cows.

So imagine my surprise and delight when I opened my freezer, just two years ago, and found several pints of my favorite flavor, Black Raspberry Chip, and a couple of other random, yet equally delicious, flavors. My tiny freezer was filled with love.

On Saturday, we received some good news akin to that of finding my freezer filled with love: Graeter's is now going to be sold in select King Sooper's grocery stores in the Denver Metro area. Hip hip hooray! And to make it even better, we get a free pint. Two pints for the price of one! Have I died and gone to heaven? Or Ohio? Not that they are the same thing - they most definitely are NOT.

What's making me laugh right now

2008-09-17T19:29:00.002-07:00

Read these comments about my recent IKEA post. Call me crazy, but it sounds like Karlenn is calling me cheap aaaaaaaand cute. Okay. Thank you?

Time for a change

2008-09-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

I originally started (and named) this blog, thinking that it would be about me. And Andy. A+A = Me and Andy. Well. Turns out this blog's mostly about me. Not that Andy's not completely interesting, but he has his own blog to write his own thoughts, so what's it matter anyway?

So. Here I am, changing up my blog, to be about ME (Lish). This is to prevent some man friend of Andy's from happening across this blog and mistakenly thinking they are going to get information about the both of us, and then all the sudden he's reading about struggles with trying to get pregnant and complaining about church callings. I don't think Andy wants his good name dragged through the mud being associated with topics such as that.

So there you have it. Enjoy just lish in all its glorious, girly pinkness.

If you want to know what Andy finds interesting, head on over to his blog. You'll find a mighty fine video that was part of Daniel & AJ's wedding video - we shot it about a month ago. In one of them, I look fat. Fat-ish. And I walk clumpy, and I am a terrible actress. But it's still pretty flipping funny. Enjoy.

Will a hearing aid improve your marriage? It might just help mine.

2008-09-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

Andy thinks that when you get married, you lose your ability to hear. Or, to be more exact, you lose your ability to hear anything that comes out of your spouse's mouth. "Not true." I said. He then proceeded to list no less than five examples of our friends experiencing this baffling phenomenon. It took him almost as long as it just took me to write the word "phenomenon." Twice.

Well. Sometimes in a marriage, your husband is right, and okay, today, I realized that mine was right. For today. Yes, our comments, requests, musings, and whatnot have a tendency to fall on deaf ears. On occasion. Take for example, an innocent exchange between Andy and myself via phone this morning:

Him: Did I get any checks in the mail?

Me: Yes, you got one from Dave. A big fat one.

Him: Did you deposit those other checks?

Me: What other checks?

Him: The checks I asked you to deposit. Yesterday. And the other day when I was on the phone with Chris and I said, "I'll have Alicia deposit them."

Me: I have no recollection of that conversation. But you bet your cutey booty those checks will go into the bank today. Along with the new check from Dave. (Okay, I didn't really say "cutey booty," but now at this moment I am wishing that I did.)

Him: Thank you.

Me: Excuse me now, but I have to go into the office. Because the power went out yesterday, my laptop is now refusing to start. Apparently, I need to lock it into my docking station and that is the only way I can turn it on to check MSN, write blog posts, and send emails to Relief Society sisters about our upcoming activity, of which I am in charge. Oh, and get some work done writing training materials.

Him: Okay, goodbye and I love you.

A phone call four hours later revealed that I am not the only one in need of some sort of marital hearing aid:

Him: Are you at home?

Me: No, I'm at work.

Him: Where are you?

Me: I'm in the office.

Him: Oh. I needed you to find something at home for me.

Me: I'm in the office. My laptop wouldn't work - remember? I had to come into the office. Can I take care of it from here, or when I get home?

Him: No, you need to be home. Gotta go.

Me: Okay, goodbye, I love you.

Hmmm...do they make a Miracle Ear for this ailment? I sure hate when Andy's right.

To my friends who are mothers

2008-09-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend,

Ho much I love you! When we met, I had no idea what a close bond we would develop. I have loved serving with you, laughing with you, and have so appreciated all the times you were there for me. Especially through those really rough spots - remember those? Yikes. But I made it - thanks in part to you, my dear friend.

Over the years, I have watched as you became a mother. I have loved sharing that experience with you - anticipating the new life, watching your family change, and seeing you flourish in such amazing ways as you fulfill your role as a mother. But I have a confession to make to you, dear friend: sometimes I am happy for you, and at the same time am reminded of my own struggle to fulfill this role. It seems the reminders are becoming more and more constant.

I have several friends experiencing this happy occasion for the very first time, and I must confess, I have not been a very good friend to them. In a little over a month, a new friend will become a mother for the first time. When she first shared her happy news with me last February, I could barely eek out a smile and whisper a tiny "Congratulations." Sadly, seven months later, it is still just as difficult for me to watch her stomach expand and feel happy for her.

I have certainly loved hearing about all the fun, wonderful joys that come with being a mother. I have enjoyed sharing that motherhood experience with you. But with each birth announcement that arrives in my mail, each updated family portrait I see on your wall, I have to wonder - will I ever know what it feels like to become a mother?

I don't share this with you because I want you to stop sharing your motherhood experiences with me. And I don't share it with you because I want you to feel sorry, or tell me that I'll have my turn. and I definitely don't want you to stop telling me about your motherhood experiences. I share this because yesterday I received some news that a very dear friend is struggling - she is in the middle of recovering from a molar pregnancy, and she will be unable to attempt to become a mother for a very long time. When I heard this, I wasn't sure which was worse for me - hearing that someone is pregnant and knowing of my own struggle, or hearing that someone close to me who desperately wants to be is unable to become pregnant.

I'm sharing my thoughts about this to let you know that if it seems as though I am not happy for you, or if I become quiet when the topic turns to children and families, you will know why. You don't have to change anything, just please be patient and understanding with me.

Please know that I love you. I love knowing that you are (or are going to soon be) a mother. I love what that means for you, and I am learning how to have faith that someday, those of us who desire this above all else will get our chance to call you with that exciting news. When that happens, I hope that you will be more gracious with me than I have been with you.

I do love you, dear friend. And I thank you for being so understanding while I struggle through this.

Alicia

Blackout

2008-09-16T10:39:00.001-07:00

My morning started out like any other: I got up at 5:30, drove to the track to run with Anna, drove home, and started up my laptop. I had just logged in and opened my inbox, when the power went out. Yep, complete blackout at 7:30 am. Luckily, it was morning, so the house wasn't totally dark, but everything I thought I would do wasn't possible without power:

I couldn't cook my breakfast in the microwave.
I couldn't cook my breakfast on the stove top.
I couldn't take a shower and get ready for the day (unless I wanted my hair to look like a frizzy poodle).
I couldn't work.
I couldn't watch TV.

I always knew I liked electricity, but it's been a long time since the power has gone out. After calling the power company, they said they didn't know what had caused it, but over 100 houses had been affected, and they likely wouldn't have the power back on until 11:15 am. Yikes!

So I decided I might as well get out in the sun and go for a walk. Only, I didn't want to carry my keys (we have a garage door code I usually use instead). I had a great walk, and came home to find...I couldn't get into the house. Duh! You need electricity to use the garage code! Then I found out that our gate to get into the back yard was locked. We never lock that gate. And if I could get back there, would any windows be open? I decided to scale the fence and find out.

Luckily, I found an open bedroom window (a tiny one) and squeezed through it. Ten minutes later, the power came on, and I was able to function again. I guess I need to be better prepared next time. And always leave one window unlocked. But I'm not telling which one...

Oh great

2008-09-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

We just got news that Andy will be flying to Houston next Monday through Friday. "Umm, isn't that right in the path of Hurricane Ike?" you ask. Yeparooni, it sure is!

Andy has a tough job - he cannot turn down work because he never knows when he'll have it. So. He has to always take the work that comes his way. Especially a job like this that is five days worth of work. Even in hurricane territory, when people are being told to leave or face certain death. Wow. That's exciting, right? Rebecca and Amy: Is it really that bad? Do I need to be worried?

Oh great. Looks like I won't be sleeping until next Friday night when he's safely home.

An apple a day

2008-09-12T09:19:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of September, I bought some apples from the grocey store. I decided to buy enough to have an apple a day until the next time I went to the store. I know you're dying to know why I would do that, and why I would post about it. Well, I love apples. They're a delicious, quick, and easy snack, plus they're full of fiber and great for my teeth! And heck, if they keep the doctor away, even better.

But little did I know that September is National Apple Month. I found that out today, and decided I'm going to eat an apple a day for the entire month of September in honor of National Apple Month. Here are some fun facts about apples (courtesy of the LDS Living online magazine that ends up in my Spam folder each week):

7500 varieties of apples are grown throughout the world.
Apples are grown in all 50 states in the U.S.
Two pounds of apples make one 9-inch pie.
A survey by the American Pie Council and Crisco found that apple pie is the favorite flavor among one in four Americans, followed by pumpkin, chocolate, lemon meringue, and cherry.
The term “as American as apple pie” can be traced back to the sixteenth century. Pilgrims brought their pie-making skills and apple seeds from England to the American colonies. As the popularity of apple pie grew, the phrase began to symbolize American prosperity.

My favorites are Gala and Golden Delicious. Sometimes I eat them with peanut butter. My mom likes Granny Smith apples; I think she used to sprinkle some salt on them. What's your favorite apple? Happy National Apple Month! Now go eat an apple.

Me in an SUV

2008-09-12T05:57:00.001-07:00

On Monday a whole new world opened up to me: I started driving an SUV. Holy cow! I had no idea how many people drive SUVs until I got in one. Now they're everywhere - I see them! (They must be copying me.) I love being so high up. I love not feeling like I can be squashed in one blow. I love being able to look other drivers in the eye when they cut me off (and I later pass them), instead of turning my head to look up and seeing them look down on me, like I'm some lesser life form. I love knowing I could run someone off the road and be just fine - only if I had to of course. It. Is. Bliss.

Why the heck am I driving an SUV you ask? A few weeks ago I was in a minor accident - a little old man changed lanes and didn't see me. He put a dent in my little Saab's driver side door. Little Saab has been in the dealership since Monday getting all prettied up. I got Big SUV in his place - Big Jeep SUV.

This Big Jeep SUV to be exact; same color and everything. It has been fantastic driving him this week - all of driving it home from the dealership, to Borders, to the Outlet Malls, and back home. That is, it was fantastic until I realized how much gas Big SUV eats - his appetite is insatiable! Little Saab seems to stay full much longer.

Come to think of it, Little Saab has so many good qualities - she is sleek and shiny, not big and cumbersome. She can sneak quickly into places where Big SUV can't even dream of going. Parallel parking is much easier in Little Saab. Hmmm...now I miss her. Not only is she cute, but she costs way less to feed.

Today I get to return Big SUV to the dealership and pick up Little Saab. I hope she missed me as much as I now realize I missed her.

What goes with grilled cheese?

2008-09-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

When I was a little kid, I hated tomato soup. Not the Andy Warhol version (which I happen to loooove, by the way), but real, actual, tomato soup. Even when I was a teenager, and then on to becoming an adult, I still hated it. In fact, I hated tomatoes, green onions, squash, green peppers, and milk.

I have very few memories of my childhood, but one of the most vivid memories I have is sitting at Miss Linda's Preschool with her daughter Amber, refusing to eat the tomato soup Miss Linda has so lovingly poured from a can, into a pan, and then my bowl. Tomato soup was nasty. Tomato soup just tasted like watery ketchup.

So, you ask, how can I be sitting at my table eating tomato soup right now WHEN I HATE, HATE, HATE IT?

I think the turning point might have been a couple years ago when I visited Chedd's. Chedd's specializes in grilled cheese sandwiches, and they claim to have the best tomato basil bisque. Well...when you're eating a grilled cheese sandwich, you need something to dunk it in, and I knew that my free cup of water wouldn't do. So I ordered up myself a teeny tiny cup of tomato basil bisque (it was that or some sausage chowder something - gross!) and dipped one corner of my sandwich into the creamy redness. Holy taste explosion! It was awesome. That was a whole new bowl of soup for me, and I was hooked.

And ever since then, I eat tomato soup - even the boring out-of-a-can Campbell's variety when I don't have anything else handy. But only with a grilled cheese sandwich. Of course.

Help! I'm addicted!

2008-09-11T14:26:00.000-07:00

I bought these last night at Whole Foods (yikes! look at all those calories!), and I can't stop eating them. I think you might have to come over to my house and pry them from my cold, dead hands. Or not - I doubt I'll die while eating them, but as Andy says, anything's possible.

I bought them because I wanted a snack to eat while I watched Mama Mia!, and the movie theater happened to be across from Whole Foods. I also happened to have to go there to buy Pero for Andy (a post for another day). I knew I liked these, but had forgotten how much I like them. Kind of like gummy Coke bottles. Man, I love those, but for some reason I always forget until I eat one, which isn't often because I don't buy them since I don't remember I like them. But with these, I eat and eat and eat until my jaw hurts and I'm all hopped up on the sugar. Oh, the sugary goodness...

By the way, I do NOT recommend Mama Mia!. Boo. Double-boo and two thumbs down. I have to say: Pierce Brosnan should just avoid singing. At all costs. The one good outcome of the movie: it did make me think back to my youth, when I'm pretty sure I had an album of Erasure singing ABBA songs. I seem to remember hearing them sing, "If you change your mind, I'm the first in line - honey I'm still free! Take a chance on me!" AnJ: am I right? I know you'll know...and if I'm right, do you still have the CD? I want it!

Good news

2008-09-11T07:41:00.001-07:00

How appropriate that I hear this news from my Swedish friend Anna. I was beginning to think this day would never come. Oh happy day! Now if only it were here tomorrow...

Run Forrest, run!

2008-09-09T13:51:00.000-07:00

A while back I wrote a post about how my mom had inspired me to start running. I tried to be like my mom and run for 20 minutes every day, but once my knees started hurting on the second day, I pretty much quit. So much for that inspiration; it lasted all of three days, and I decided maybe I'm not cut out to be a runner.

Despite the fact that I have bad knees and quit easily, I have always wanted to be a runner. And for a while now, I've wanted to to complete a 5K. I thought about signing up for a couple of them, and even started training using the Couch Potato to 5K training program. For lots of reasons (most of them quite lame), I never completed the training program, and never actually ran a 5K. In fact, the closest I've ever come was a couple of years ago, when Andy filmed a 5K and I rode next to him in the truck so he could film the runners. Now I'm not 100% clear on 5K rules, but I think that's considered cheating. I probably shouldn't have eaten the bagel and banana they provided to all the runners. And I probably didn't deserve the T-shirt. So I pushed the goal of actually running (or let's be honest - I'd settle for walking) a 5K way, way, far back into the nether regions of my mind, where it has sat dormant for several years now.

Then, a few weeks ago, Anna mentioned that she was training to run a 5K at the end of October. Hmmm...should I actually go for it this time? So I loaded up on some Glucosamine HCl (for optimum joint health and mobility), and pulled out the Couch Potato to 5K program. Last week, I officially started the program again. In fact, I specifically drove into work to use the "free" treadmill at the gym there. I say "free" because that's only if you don't count the gas I'm wasting driving 20 miles to use a treadmill.

This morning, Andy had the car, and I couldn't drive into work. So I figured, it was a beautiful fall day, I might as well run outside. Let's just say that was a little rough - running outside is nothing like running inside on a treadmill!

For starters, my watch was broken, so I carried my cell phone to keep time, so I would know that I was running for for 1.5 minutes/walking for 2 minutes. Running for 1.5 minutes/walking for 2 minutes. I guess the tight feeling in my chest and thoughts of dying a slow death being better than running for 1.5 minutes weren't enough of a clue to tell me I was running for 1.5 minutes/walking for 2 minutes. Not to mention the strange looks I got from all the skinny moms pushing their three children in one stroller, wondering why I was holding my phone open while running and panting like some crazed madwoman.

That phone really put a damper on my run; I couldn't carry my water bottle and my phone. I think people thought I was weird, leaning over a big puddle, gulping water for fear of dehydration. It was a little awkward. Those darn judgemental skinny moms.

Without a treadmill, I'm not very good at keeping the same pace, even if it's only for 1.5 minutes. Now that I think about it, maybe the low-hanging tree branch that whipped me in the face while I was looking down to check the time on my cell phone was what slowed me down. Or maybe it was the group of guys playing baseball, watching me run into a tree was what made me slow down. I can't really say for sure.

At any rate, I completed Week 2, Day 1 of training and I am writing this post to put it out there: I will be running/walking into tree branches, I mean in a 5K in October. I wish you could be there to yell "Run, Alicia, run!" on the sidelines.

PS: No, I did not really drink water from a puddle. I was so thirsty, I thought about it though.
PSS: I really have nothing against skinny moms; only when I'm running past them and they look so chipper and carefree, while I am dying a slow death running for 1.5 minutes.

Man on Wire

2008-09-06T07:21:00.000-07:00

Because Andy's been so busy lately, we haven't had a chance to really see any movies. After things calmed down a bit, we decided we needed to fit in a couple of movies. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anything out there that we wanted to see that wasn't rated R. What to do? Thanks go Andy so diligently reading reviews for all movies in existence, we learned about a little documentary that was a PG-13 movie with the highest ratings - 100% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Since I was in charge of planning our date night, I decided we'd go see it. Man on Wire tells the story of Philippe Petit, a completely crazy Frenchman who decided to tightrope walk between the Twin Towers in the early 1970's. It was inspiring to watch him and his co-horts prepare and plan for this event, of course only to get arrested when it was all over.

I laughed, I cried, I gasped in terror, and stared in amazement as the incredible tightrope walker executed his lifelong dream. What a wonderful story of following your passion. If you're into documentaries (and French subtitles), I highly recommend this film.

My collection

2008-09-05T06:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I posted about how I don't really have a collection. Yes, Stephanie, I am collecting the letter A - I'm glad you reminded me. Right now it only has three items, so it's a pretty sorry collection.

But when I looked in the fridge last night to decide what to make for dinner, I realized that I have started a collection of sorts. Apparently, I love and am currently collecting cheese. I have 11 different kinds of cheese in my fridge at the moment. They are, in alphabetical order:

Babybel mini wheels
Blue cheese
Feta
Laughing Cow light creamy swiss
Laughing Cow light garlic & herb
Mild cheddar
Mozzarella
Parmesan
Sharp cheddar
String cheese
Swiss

Holy cheese wheel Batman! That is a heckuva lot of cheese. Andy has told me on several occasions that if I drank alcohol, I'd be a wine drinker. When I asked him why, he said because all I need to be happy is some bread, some good cheese, and some chocolate, and wine goes with those things. He's probably right. I don't know that this collection will keep too long - maybe I better look for something else to collect?

44 ODD things about Alicia

2008-09-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

I got this in an email, and decided not to spam anyone with it. Anyone who cares reads my blog, so here you go. Feel free to do your own on your blog!

1. Do you like blue cheese? Love it and eat it sometimes, even though it gives me major headaches.
2. Have you ever smoked? No, but does it count if I wanted to at one point in time? Just once, to try it.
3. Do you own a gun? No, but I shot a few guns once and really liked it
4. What flavor Kool Aid is your favorite? I despise Kool-Aid. But back when I drank it, I think I loved grape. It was like liquid Jolly Ranchers!
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Not anymore, but I used to get so nervous that my blood pressure was always sky-high. So many doctors told me to go to the pharmacy and take my blood pressure in one of those machines when I was calm, and call them back with the reading so they would know I'm okay - I always was.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? I love hot dogs at baseball games, and that's pretty much it. Although I did buy a hot dog from the guy at the cart in front of Home Depot a couple of weeks ago - it was delicious!
7. Favorite Christmas movie? Elf and A Charlie Brown Christmas.
8. Favorite thing to drink in the morning? Water - an ice cold glass of water always tastes to good. I guess it's because I haven't had any to drink for the last 8 hours.
9. Can you do push ups? Yes, the girly kind on my knees. I can actually do about 25 in a row, I think.
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? My engagement ring - it's beautiful.
11. Favorite hobby? Hobbies? I love to read, love to be outdoors, love too cook, and I watch a little too much TV, although I hardly call that a hobby.
12. Do you have A.D.D.? No.
13. What's one trait you hate about yourself? Like my sister, I tend to have a glass-is-half-empty outlook. That's a tough one to change.
14. Middle name? S. I wasn't given a middle name when I was born, and instead of using my maiden name as my middle name, I just use the initial.
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.1) My stomach hurts. 2) I have so much to do today! 3) I can't wait to get my hair cut this afternoon - I hope it turns out the way I want it.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? I pretty much drink water, all day, every day. I have the occasional Fresca or Ginger Ale.
17. Current worry? I have too many to list.
18. Current hate right now? Having too much to do.
19. Favorite place to be? In my bed.
20. How did you bring in the New Year? I honestly don't even remember.
21. Where would you like to go? Everywhere - there are so many countries I still want to see.
22. Name three people who will complete this: Karlenn (if she's reading) and maybe Addie.
23. Do you own slippers? Yes, three pairs, although I rarely wear them.
24. What shirt are you wearing? A green short-sleeve sweater. Yay for sweater weather!
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I don't know - I've never slept on them.
26. Can you whistle? Kind of, but not very well. I think my five-year-old nephew can out-whistle me. How sad is that?
27. Favorite color? It used to be red, but I think it's changing to orange. It's just such a cheerful color.
28. Would you be a pirate? I am a pirate every year for one day on September 19th - National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Argh matey!
30. Favorite Girl's Name? I have no idea.
31. Favorite boy's name? Once again, no idea.
32. What's in your pocket right now? Nothing - I never put anything in my pockets. I'm bulky enough down there without making it worse!
33. Last thing that made you laugh? I don't remember what it was, but when we were playing cards last night with our friends, I laughed a lot. It felt great.
34. What vehicle do you drive? Saab 93. Everybody comments on it.
35. Worst injury you've ever had? I haven't really had a bad injury. I had a fantastically injured heart a few years ago - that was worse than any physical pain I've ever experienced. But maybe I'm a sissy-la la, as Clinter would say.
36. Do you love where you live? Sort of. I love Colorado, but I'm excited to live in a new house in a new part of Colorado.
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? We have three, but I only really use one. We have one in our family room, Andy has one in his office, and we have one in our workout room that's not even working right now.
38. Who is your loudest friend? Definitely Dottie. I don't think she'd disagree.
39. Do you have any pets? Nope.
40. Does someone have a crush on you? I certainly hope so.
41. Your favorite book(s): Dandelion Wine is always a favorite, The Little Prince, and too many children's books to even name.
42. Do you collect anything? No, but I am currently looking to start a collection of something. Any suggestions?
43. Favorite Sports Team? I don't really watch sports.
44. What song do you want played at your funeral? Seriously? I don't know that I even care what's played at my funeral - it's for all the people left behind, so let them choose something that makes them feel good.

House hunting

2008-08-29T08:53:00.001-07:00

Andy and I are getting ready to look for a house. Huzzah! I was beginning to think that day might never come. Never mind the fact that I'm going to be completely disappointed when we see what we can actually afford. Today, I will sit back and relish the idea of a cute little house, with gorgeous big trees, bright windows, and a nice spot for a garden to grow yummy, fresh food.

Or...maybe I could just move into this place? I went into Whole Foods the other day to buy some bulk grains, and I swear, every time I go in there, I feel so comfortable and happy that I just want to move right in and live in the produce/fresh flower section. The smells, the energy, the way the food looks - it is all so glorious it makes me lightheaded. Everything is bright and fresh and wonderful and even the carts are delightful - tiny and compact - it's all so very European.

I guess that's the point - they try to create an atmosphere that makes people want to stay, because when they stay, they spend money. Sigh. I suppose we'll just look for a real house, one that isn't already equipped with row upon row of fresh, organic produce, gorgeous flower arrangements, and wickedly delicious desserts. Wait - you mean I'll have to actually create that stuff on my own in my own house?

Why I hated Breaking Dawn

2008-08-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

There are too many websites for me to keep up with these days. Yes, I'm a member of GoodReads, but no, I don't post any book reviews on there. In case you haven't noticed, it's all I can do to write a blog post, let alone remember my login for another website and write a book review.

But I do want to write a post here about the drivel that is Breaking Dawn, mostly because I mentioned how it scarred me and people have been asking what the heck I meant by that. I'll admit, I was being a bit melodramatic, but by the time I finished the book, I was quite put off and unhappy about how it ended. At the risk of incurring the wrath of certain people, I'm going to tell you precisely what bugged me.

I jumped on the Twilight series bandwagon way, way late - I just started reading the books this summer. I cruised through the first, and enjoyed the brain candy - great summer reading. As I finished the second, and then the third, I grew less and less pleased with the whole story. Mostly I hated that Edward was so moody, and Bella always apologized for making mistakes. I felt that it was never really established why she loved him - just that she did. There was a lot of talk about how beautiful he was, yadda yadda yadda, but what was it about the way he treated her (going into rages, giving her the silent treatment, etc.) that made her love him?

But I kept reading. I instantly liked Jacob, but I knew Bella would not end up with him. I knew she would end up with Edward, as a vampire. Whatever - I can handle that. I even started liking Edward by the third book, by some miraculous turn of events. And then came their demon spawn. Edward, who was so intent on protecting Bella, gave in and let that half person-half vampire almost kill Bella. I'm sorry, but as her husband who loved her, he should have said no. She could have died and he would have had forever to realize that he could have stopped that.

Okay, so she didn't die; Edward "saved" her and she became a vampire. Whatever. But the whole thing Jacob imprinting on the infant? Seriously, the height of ridiculousness! It was just icky. Ew, ew, ew. Not to mention the stuipd name they gave her.

I expected a lot of this book - perhaps more than I should have. There was a lot more about it I disliked, and suffice it to say, this is one book I'm glad I didn't purchase.

Three girls and a canoe

2008-08-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

The whole reason I went to Utah a couple of weeks ago is because of my high school friends, Lara and Megan. A few years ago, we started a "Girls' Weekend" tradition - we get together sometime during the summer and spend a weekend together. We talk, play, watch movies, shop, go to the spa - you know, girly stuff. Well, this year, Lara suggested we go to her in-laws' cabin in Oakley. Here I am with Lara in front of the cabin.

Lara had the idea for us to rent a canoe. Let me make something clear: we usually get massages and pedicures. We do not hike, bike, go river-rafting, kayaking, deep-sea diving, spelunking, or anything else remotely active or outdoorsy. But we decided to rent a canoe, much to Lara's husband's chagrin. He was concerned that a) we wouldn't be able to get the canoe off the top of the car, b) we would flip the canoe once we were on the water, c) we wouldn't be able to get the canoe back on top of the car, d) we wouldn't be able to get the straps tight enough once it was on the car, and someone would get hurt - us or the car.

Honestly, I was a little concerned myself. When we arrived at the reservoir, we acted all tough, like we could do it, but I know we were all nervous. A group of teenage boys was standing next to the boat ramp, and Lara suggested asking them for help. I said in the toughest voice I could muster, "Let's ask for help when we need it - we might not need it!" But deep down I was thinking, "Alert! Alert! Damsels in distress! Come get our boat off our car, put it in the water, and row it to the other side of the reservoir for us."

Guess what? We got that canoe off the car and rowed to the other side of the reservoir and back, without tipping over once. Sure, we paddled in circles for a while. Sure, we drifted super far, super fast, because there was such a strong wind blowing and we were too tired to fight it. Sure, I got soaked because I sat on the floor of the canoe instead of the middle seat - I was too afraid of losing my balance and tipping us over. But the point is, we did it!

And not only did we make it across the reservoir and back, but we successfully got it back up on top of the car. Never mind the guy who sat in his lawn chair laughing at us the whole time, and then came over to us when we finished and said, "You should probably tighten those straps." Uh, duh. Thanks a load, mister. Check out Lara and Megan tightening those straps after we drove back to the cabin.

And now...I love canoeing. I want to buy my own canoe. I should get better about stepping out of my comfort zone - I'm always surprised at how un-painful it turns out to be.

Happy birthday Andy

2008-08-05T05:55:00.000-07:00

Andy turned 32 yesterday, unfortunately thanks to me, without much fanfare. Why is it that the older you get, the more boring your birthdays become?

According to Andy, it was the perfect day: I came home from Utah, we took a nap, got sodas and hot dogs at Sonic, went looking at houses in neighborhoods we want to move to, and then went for an evening bike ride.

All in all, a pretty good day, just not the huge birthday celebration some of his friends were hoping for (yes I'm talking to you, Joey). I suppose we'll get around to that soon.

At any rate, I'm glad it was a good day for him. Happy birthday Andy!

Running

2008-07-28T07:20:00.000-07:00

I have a newfound respect for my mother. My mom and I have both been trying, in our own ways, to lose a few pounds, and my mom is doing so well! I noticed she looked thinner and her clothes looked super baggy, and when I asked her what she's been doing, I was completely surprised.

My mom gets up at 4:00 am and runs, not walks, on the treadmill for 20 minutes. To some people, that might not seem like much, but to my knowledge, my mom has never really run much in her life. I know she's power walked, and maybe in the 80's she did aerobics, but I have never known my mom to be a runner. I figured if Mom can do it, I can do it, right? And this morning at 6:00, I jumped on the treadmill.

Five minutes in, and I'm doing okay. It's kind of boring though, staring at the white wall right in front of the treadmill. I crack the blind so I can look out onto their backyard.

Ten minutes in, and I'm seeing spots. I guess it's time to walk for a couple of minutes. After a two minute brisk walk, I start running again - I have to keep up with my mom! What does she do while she runs? I'm getting kind of bored.

Fifteen minutes in, and I'm hanging onto the handles while I run. That can't be good, right? Running while I'm hunched over and gasping for breath doesn't seem like a very effective workout. I stop to gulp 8 oz of water in about 10 seconds.

Twenty minutes in, and I made it! Well, kind of, if you don't count the two minutes I walked. It's definitely time for a cool down walk.

I am most definitely humbled. My mom can outrun me - go Mom! I guess I better step up my workouts if I'm ever going to keep up!

Traveling

2008-07-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

I'm off to Utah for the next 10 days. I have a few fun things planned, so hopefully I'll get some interesting posts up here. If you're in Utah and want to see me, send me an email. If you're in Colorado, please call Andy to make sure he's not getting too lonely.

The Ahlstrom Family Band

2008-07-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, Andy and I started a family band, with Andy on drums and me on bass guitar. Occasionally we rotate - I play drums, and he plays guitar. When someone else comes over, we take turns singing. All thanks to Rock Band.

When we first heard Rock Band was coming out, Andy decided he must have it. We started with multiple conversations around wants vs needs. "I need Rock Band," he'd tell me. "But we don't have the money for it," was always my reply. Before Andy left for India, we borrowed a friend's copy of Guitar Hero, complete with two guitars. I was hoping it would take care of the desire and the novelty would ultimately wear off. Boy was I wrong - it was all anyone wanted to do, and the thought of having drums just made the Rock Band obsession even stronger. All the kids and the youth in our ward wanted to come over and play. Even our adult friends wanted to play! I felt like I never got a break from being the Rock and Roll Ahlstroms.

Which is why I was so nervous when Rock Band started showing up in stores. I knew it was only a matter of time before we'd have guitars and drums going in our living room. Besides, I wanted to buy Wii Fit - it's only half the price of Rock Band, and we've both been dying to try it. (Confession: I want to try the hula hoop. Why I can't just go buy a real hula hoop is something I still haven't figured out.) But after searching and searching, we couldn't find any Wii Fits in the stores, and we gave up for the time being.

And then the coupons came in the mail: one for an additional $30 trade-in value for any game system, one for an additional 50% trade-in value on 5 games, and one for 10% off the purchase of a new game. I suggested we trade in some Wii games we don't use and see what we can get for them. Andy surprised me even further by suggesting we trade in the old Playstation and the remainder of his rated R movies to get some additional credit. Sacrifices abound! We were both surprised to find out that we had enough credit to buy Rock Band, an additional Wii game, and still have some credit leftover.

So we've been rocking out the past couple of weeks. I must confess, I never wanted to be a rock 'n roll star, but this pretty great. It's super fun to sit down and play the guitar, and bang it out on the drums. It's even more hilarious to get someone singing along to the B 52's, The Police, REM, or Metallica songs. Good times, and we got it pretty much for free.

If you're ever in the neighborhood and want to come play...the Ahlstrom Family Band is always accepting new members.

Pioneering

2008-07-21T06:44:00.000-07:00

Because I just read In Defense of Food, I've been re-evaluating everything I choose to eat. It turns out, we are eating lot of food that isn't actually food. In his book, Michael Pollen claims that we are no longer eating "food," that is, the stuff we do eat is so nutrient-pumped and filled with additives and preservatives, that our great-grandparents wouldn't even recognize a lot of what we eat as food. So I went through our cupboards, pantry, and food storage, and found, among other things, many non-food items:

Rice-A-Roni
Chef Boyardee ravioli (not mine; leftover from when Andy had roommates)
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese
Ramen noodles
Cup-O-Noodles
Fruit By the Foot (leftover from when we made dessert sushi - looked cute, but there wasn't a food item at all in there)
Green apple flavored candy corn (leftover from last Halloween)
Lay's Stax chips
Sodas galore: Coke, Ginger Ale, Cream Soda, Apple Soda (yep, it's good!)

Granted, I don't always eat all of this non-food, since most of it is there for Andy, and the stuff I do eat, I don't eat all that often. But seeing it all sitting there, in my own cupboards got me thinking - what did my great-grandmother eat? Was she healthier than me? I'm not sure. I do know that the farther away from food I get, the worse my body feels. I get headaches, allergy symptoms, I'm bloated, I'm cranky, and just all-around yucky.

All this thinking about what my ancestors ate helped me decide that in honor of the upcoming Pioneer Day, I was going to try to eat like a pioneer. Well, not exactly like a pioneer, but kind of. I could definitely work on using more basic ingredients in my cooking, and try not to snack on so much junk food. So I pulled out my grandma's cookbook to see what she ate. Granted, she cooked during a time when processed food was just becoming popular, but a lot of her recipes didn't call for processed food at all.

The madness began on Saturday. First of all, it's expensive to eat food. Processed food is so much cheaper! But I decided my health was worth more than a few extra bucks, so I loaded up on fruits and veggies, and started with a homemade jam recipe. I made 12 jars of jam - mostly strawberry and some strawberry-blueberry. Then I made salmon with roasted vegetables for dinner (water only for our drinks - no soda). Andy sat down and said, "Hey! Everything we're eating is food!" How novel. We continued the madness on Sunday when I got up at 7:00 to make homemade blueberry muffins. After church I made my grandma's bread.

I think I chose the worst day to do so much cooking, because our house has been almost 100 degrees inside. I opened the front door last night and realized it was hotter inside than it was outside! Despite the heat, I did make a lot of food. Real food. And I have a great respect for those pioneers. Not only did they walk across the country pulling handcarts, but they prepared food every single meal of the day. No running to Taco Bell. No popping the Rice-A-Roni in the microwave. No opening the can of soup to warm up in three minutes.

I don't know that I'll cook like a pioneer every day, or that I'll entirely give up non-food, but I'm definitely going to make a better effort to prepare and eat real food. The payoff is much greater than the work I put into it.

Memories Post

2008-07-18T07:53:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm getting caught up on blogging, I found this on AnJanette's blog. I'm a little curious to hear your memories!

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. Enjoy!

A night with Joseph and Emma

2008-07-18T06:55:00.000-07:00

The other night a small group of sisters (+ Joey) went to see Emma Smith: My Story. It was playing in Golden for just one week, and am I glad I was able to see it! I'm not usually a fan of the churchy movies; they can sometimes get cheesey and trite, but I have to say, I was touched by this one.
A few things I loved:

I saw Joseph Smith as a man - someone who wasn't perfect, who struggled with his responsibilities, who had fun playing with children, who always tried to do what the Lord wanted him to do.
I saw that Emma really went through such a wide range of trials in her lifetime. Anything that could have gone wrong in her life, did. She lost so many children, was forced to move and leave her life behind so many times, never saw her parents (who didn't support her choices), and supported her husband through times of severe trial. She had even more trials with her second husband. Sheesh.
Having been to most of the church sites, it's so fun to see them in movies - see how things were back then. It's amazing to me how much technology has changed things in such a short period of time.

The thing I loved the most though, is the love story between Joseph and Emma. Their relationship was so loving, so sweet, so tender. And so fierce! Emma loved Joseph with everything she had, and I so loved seeing his respect for her opinions, her talents. They were such a great support and comfort to each other.

So....if you get a chance to see this movie, I say take it. Just be sure you bring lots of Kleenex! We all cried so hard I don't think there was any toilet paper left in the restroom after the movie!

How long has it been since you had a ticket?

2008-07-07T14:46:00.000-07:00

Today I went to Chipotle to pick up lunch for Andy and the guys helping him finish our fence. When I turned into the parking lot, I noticed a cop was behind me, and he turned on his siren as soon as I came to a stop. I know I wasn't speeding - what on earth provoked him to pull me over?

After I rolled down my window and gave him my license, insurance, and registration, I noticed not just one, but two cops - one outside my driver's side window, and one outside the passenger side window. What? Now they're ganging up on me?

It turns out I crossed a double yellow line and turned into the parking lot in an "exit only" driveway. I seriously wasn't paying attention. I knew he wouldn't give me a ticket, but the entire experience was a little strange. One cop took my information and both cops went back to the car. 15 minutes - yes 15 minutes later - one of them came back. Here's basically how the exchange went:

Cop: "Alicia, when was the last time you had a ticket?" Um...I don't know? Shouldn't you know since you just looked at my driving record? Or were you just back there organizing your coupon book to look busy?

Me: "I honestly don't even remember, it was so long ago."

Cop: "Well, I won't give you a ticket. But I will give you my card. This shows you that I pulled you over on this date for this offense. Be careful, and don't turn in that driveway anymore. We've had a lot of accidents, which is why we're patrolling the area."

Me: "Okay, thanks, I'll be sure to turn in the right area next time."

The weird part - he gave me his card. Is that normal? Have any other cops given you their card? When I went into Chipotle, a customer in front of me made a comment about speeding. After I told him what happened, he said "It sounds like the cop was hitting on you." Okay, didn't think of that. And it's not like he wrote "call me" on the card - just a regular old card with the city logo, his name, phone number, and a handwritten description of my offense on the back. But how often does that happen, cops giving out their cards? Strange.

I'm back!

2008-06-23T08:45:00.001-07:00

Since Andy's been home, I haven't had any time to blog. I think we decided we'd try to cram an entire summer into three short weeks! Needless to say, it's left me very tired at night, and exhausted during the day. In the last three weeks, we have done way more than I ever expected we would. We have:

Watched five movies, including Hulk, Wall-E, Kung Fu Panda, and Hancock
Played dozens of different card, board, and video games
Spent a weekend at Cherry Creek Reservoir, barbecuing and boating
Watched fireworks and parades
Invited the youth to our house for a fireside on India
Spent the weekend at Andy's parents' house with our friend
Replaced a rotting fence in our backyard
Weeded our entire yard (it was more weeds than yard!)
Met with a realtor to start our house search process
Eaten more junk food than I ever thought possible (good-bye, weight loss!)

My favorite part was spending the weekend at Andy's parents' house the last weekend in June. They have a huge house in the woods, with three extra bedrooms. So a bunch of us went up for the weekend. We made fondue, played games, went for walks, and just pretty much enjoyed each others' company. It's also the only time we have any pictures - thanks to Joey! I hope you enjoy these pictures that Joey took as much as I did.

Friday evening we made fondue: cheese for the bread and veggies, broth for the meat and veggies, and chocolate for the desserts (fruit, oreo- and graham cracker-covered marshmallows, and brownies - yum!). Apparently I was happy that Andy was about to stab me with a fondue fork.

I got to spend a lot of time with my favorite little girl, Maya. She is such a good baby!

We also got to know Daniel's fiancee, AJ, a little better. We're so happy for Daniel that he found AJ. She's a great catch!

Saturday morning Chris & Barb made Swedish pancakes, while I went for a walk with my Swedish friend, Anna, her husband Joey (the photographer), and their two beautiful little girls - Alicia & Maya.
Isn't Anna amazing to carry Alicia on her shoulders and Maya in the Baby Bjorn? Talk about being a Supermom!

So, we've had a good three week "summer." And the good news: we found out last week that Andy isn't going back to India/China, so we get to continue having a good summer. Which means hopefully you'll see more regular posts now that I won't be exhausted from doing so much!

Skadoosh!

2008-06-18T06:29:00.000-07:00

This is my new favorite word, although I'm still trying to figure out what it means and when to use it. So far I've used it like this: "Andy, now that you're home, let's go skadoosh!" Which in this instance means, "Andy, now that you're home, let's go sit on the couch and watch the 12 hours of TV I DVR'd while you were gone." Seriously, isn't this season of Lost awesome?

I first heard the word when we saw Kung Fu Panda yesterday (thanks Dennis!). Thanks to the awesomeness that is Jack Black, I will now be in search of the perfect meaning of "skadoosh." Anyone have any ideas?

Oh, and yes, it is awesome to have Andy back!

My last post about weight...promise!

2008-06-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

It seems I struck a chord with a couple of recent posts regarding my obsession with my weight. What I find interesting is how many of us would change something about our bodies; even if we're happy with our weight, there is always something else we don't like.

I never intended to make anyone feel bad, or weird, or upset anyone with my posts. The only person I was judging was myself - my thoughts of getting thinner were occurring a little more than I was comfortable with. Even though I haven't taken unhealthy measures to change myself, I was spending more time thinking about myself than thinking about better things. I guess I thought that if I focus a little more effort on thinking of others, it would help me feel less angst about what size pants I wear.

Don't get me wrong, I will still have goals. I will continue to be annoyed by the fact that so many of my clothes no longer fit. I will continue to watch what I eat and exercise. I will continue to work towards getting down two sizes. Just hopefully, I'll think about it a little less and make room for other things that will help me feel good about myself.

Andy's coming home!

2008-06-14T07:19:00.001-07:00

I am so excited for Andy to be home, even if it's only for three weeks. As I type this, he is on a plane from Frankfurt to Denver, and I pick him up at 4:30 this afternoon.

He has been in India for eight weeks, and it's been five and a half since I've seen him. I have to admit, I thought the time would just drag by, and I know that for him it did. Don't tell Andy, but for me that time just flew by. What a blessing it's been to just cruise through the past five and a half weeks.

Now if only the next three weeks would go by slow. Somehow I suspect they'll cruise by just as fast as the last five.

Happy birthday Coop-Coop

2008-06-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

Some days, I don't mind living so far away from my family. It's not that I love it, but I don't always think about what I'm missing. Then every once in a while (usually when I read someone's blog), I realize that missing out on the little everyday fun things really stinks. And it sure would be nice to just hang out with my mom, dad, and sisters every once in a while, or to be able to babysit for AnJ and Clint. I have to admit, I'm envious of Grandmas DaNae and Pila and aunties Toby & Jess, Mandy, and Amber - I wish I had the opportunity to babysit my adorable nephews every once in a while.

Today is one of those "I'm sad I'm not there" days. Today is Cooper's first birthday. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but I'll miss out on the little party AnJ has been planning. (No cupcakes for me! But if you read my last post, I guess that's a good thing.) The first time I met Coop, he was this tiny. As far as I'm concerned, he still is, because I don't even have another picture of him with me and it's a whole year later! And I really hope deep down that my favorite buddy, Mason, has not forgotten who I am.

It's hard to get home regularly, and it's hard to know everything I'm missing out on. I hope everyone knows I wish I could be there - for big things, little things, and all the things in between. Give Coop a birthday kiss from his Auntie Alicia and know that I'm there in spirit.

I'm a brave little poster

2008-06-13T07:39:00.001-07:00

Thanks to Janene for pointing out how brave my last post was. It did take courage to post it, and then it took a few days for me to actually have enough courage to read people's responses. I wasn't sure if I should even say anything, especially because it seems a little self-centered, what with all the bigger problems people face, like physical health problems, money worries, natural disasters ruining their homes - you know, git stuff. But, if you can't write about what's going on in your life, why blog?

I am glad for those who responded - for empathizing, sympathizing, and offering advice. I caught an old episode of Oprah recently, and some guy she was talking to (yes, I know - it makes him sound very official) made two comments that I've been thinking about.

No matter how much you exercise, if you're not eating a healthy amount of calories (not too many, not too few), you won't see weight loss results.
Women have to be close to 100% diligent in eating healthy in order to see results. For men, it's a different story (yay for the men).

So, yes, I did start writing down everything I was eating - thank you for the suggestion! It was a little scary at first. I found that I'm eating a lot of food that is good for me, but I'm eating too much of it. Unfortunately, I am someone who would much rather exercise than consume fewer calories. I just love food! I love cooking it, I love eating it, I love watching other people enjoy what I've made. It looks like I have to get a grip on what I put in my body, and keep at the exercise.

But my biggest epiphany came when I ran across an excerpt from President Benson's talk on pride. In his talk, he quoted C.S. Lewis, who observed: "Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man. We say that people are proud of being rich, or clever, or good-looking, but they are not. They are proud of being richer, or cleverer, or better-looking than others. If everyone else became equally rich, or clever, or good-looking there would be nothing to be proud about. It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition has gone, pride has gone." (Mere Christianity, "Beware of Pride")

Really what it comes down to for me is this: by being so consumed with myself and comparing myself to others (sometimes I come out a little ahead, but most of the time I come out way behind), I am not allowing myself to really feel my Heavenly Father's love for me, and I don't have the space or energy to focus on the things I should be focused on. So I'm setting a goal: Whenever I start feeling anxious about the way I look, I'm going to do an act of service for someone else. That means...I'll be super busy serving others!

I know it's not the solution you'd find on a talk show, but after going to the temple last night, it's the solution I feel most happy about. Of course, I'll still keep working out and writing in a food journal. Ultimately, my goal is not to be a size 8 (gulp, now you know that I'm bigger than an 8 - might as well just post my weight here). My goal is to be happy with my body, regardless of the size. I know that focusing on the gospel and serving others will help me get there. Well, that and Tae-Bo.

I'm a chunky monkey

2008-06-08T11:23:00.000-07:00

It seems that for me, happy = fat. I have a little secret that only people who see me regularly (pretty much no one reading this blog) know: I have gained somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 pounds since I got married to Andy.

20 pounds on my frame translates to two sizes bigger. Being two sizes bigger is not a good scenario in any case, but when you are trying to save money, which we are, it really stinks. I don't fit into any of my clothes, and have to go buy bigger ones, which I am trying to not fit into anymore. Yes, I realize some people might look at me and say, "I'm working to be your size!" I realize I'm blessed to be healthy and have working limbs and whatnot - I get it. But going up two sizes is not a good scenario for anyone, regardless of your starting weight.

I debated whether I should blog about this issue, but am realizing that this topic has started to consume me. Since Andy left for India, I have pretty much been living in my workout clothes. Because I don't have anything else to do (and because I can), most days I exercise morning, noon, and night. I walk, I lift weights, I do Tae-Bo (not all at once, mind you). I watch what I eat, and focus on eating really healthy food, yet my clothes still fit me exactly the same - two sizes bigger than I want to be. After seven weeks of this, I'd be happy to be even one size smaller, but alas, here I sit, just the same as when he left.

Which explains my obsession. How can I be doing everything right and not getting any smaller? I blame turning 30, because once I turned 30, my body went downhill in a really scary way. And the frustrating thing is that I can't seem to do anything about it.

I set a goal to be down one size when Andy returns from India in June, and here I am, the same size as when he left. Thank goodness he loves me no matter what size I am, but the question remains and is in need of an urgent resolution: how do I get to a place where I'm happy with my body size, am also healthy, and getting more thin and fit does not occupy every waking thought?

Electrician in training

2008-06-02T07:24:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I decided I'd had enough of this unfinished house, and set out to make a few small changes. Last year, we got about 3/4 of the way through the remodel, and things just petered out because of everything that was going on in our lives.

With Andy gone, I find myself wasting time watching a little too much TV. On Saturday after taking our friends' kids to seei Indiana Jones, I thought it would be great to get a little work done on the house. I painted the wood beams on our ceiling (they were covered in white texture) and really deep-cleaned our entire main floor.

My biggest and most proud accomplishment, however, was learning how to change electrical outlets. For some reason, when Andy and I were working on the house last year, I was nervous about anything electrical, and I let him take care of it. I guess I get a little more independant when he's not here though, because I really had a burning desire to finally take care of the outlets that were hanging out of our walls, unfinished and uncovered.

I asked our friend Denver to show me how to replace those old cracked, crusty outlets with shiny new outlets and covers. It was pretty cool learning how electricity works and how to connect all the wires in the outlets. We took care of four outlets in our living room...only about 50 more to go throughout the house! I swear this house has more outlets than I thought was possible.

I think I'll keep my day job though. I'm not quite ready to become an electrician.

Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding...

2008-05-27T17:38:00.001-07:00

When I was in high school, I watched Saturday Night Live every week. That was back in the days with the hilarious Chris Farley and Mike Meyers. I stopped watching every week, but on occassion I caught a few funny episodes with Will Farrell (We need more cowbell!) and Molly Shannon here and there.

With Andy gone, my Saturday nights have not been super exciting, and the past few weeks I've started watching SNL once again. Granted, I DVR it and then record through the not-so-clean skits, but I have found a new favorite on good old SNL - Kristen Wiig.

I first saw her as "Penelope" when Amy Adams was hosting (yes, I missed her first two seasons and am now catching her in reruns). She's done a really great Suze Orman and a hilarious Jamie Lee Curtis in an Activa commercial. But by far the best character I've seen her do so far is as "Judy Grimes" on the Weekend Update.

Check her out I hope you enjoy her as much as I did. I laughed so hard I cried. Just kidding, I didn't. Just kidding, I can't cry. Just kidding, I can, just kidding, just kidding just kidding...

Can you make sense of this?

2008-05-19T13:06:00.000-07:00

"The maximum number of voice compression channels supported, using IP500 VCM base cards and/or IP400 VCM cards on IP500 Legacy Card Carriers, is 128."

This is a sentence in a course I am currently instructionally designing at work. Did I write it? Uh, no. What does it mean? I'm not sure I could even tell you. My Subject Matter Expert (SME) in all things technical gave me some rough content, and I'm supposed to look at it and decide how it should be changed to be more clear. Can you change this sentence to be more clear?

Some days (like today), while I'm working, I have to stop and wonder what I'm doing. My career has (and many days fulfills) the potential to be incredibly boring. Sometimes it has been exciting, like when I was creating training for Valvoline and got to go down in the oil-change pit to see how they did it. Or the time I got to work on dealer training for BMW dealerships. And other times, it's all I can do not to staple my own finger, just to check that I'm still alive. (Yes, I am aware that there are probably less painful ways to determine my alive-ness, but I'm going for something a little more dramatic here.)

About an hour prior to reading this sentence, I sat on a last-minute conference call with my team at work. Three people on my team were laid off last Friday. This follows five whose contracts were not renewed in April. Of course, now everyone wonders: Am I next?

Corporate America has many great things - lots of money, working with really smart, driven, and accomplished people, free fitness centers, company cafeterias. (Okay, that last one can be hit or miss, but I've been to some pretty good cafeterias, namely at Sun Microsystems.) But today, after the second round of people were dismissed (in a most kind and apologetic sort of way of course), I sat here wondering what in the heck I'm doing in this career.

And then I looked out my living room window and remembered that I get to work at home, in my pajamas, with some pretty cool people (what's left of them of course). I get flexible hours, great pay, and I get to hear the birds chirping all day long and take walks through my neighborhood at lunchtime. I save money on gas because I don't drive into the office often, and I have access to a free gym. A lot of people would love to have those things. So for now, and for as long as it lasts, I will be grateful that I have such a great job. Even if I can't make sense of most of the jargon that comes my way.

A few things that make me happy

2008-05-13T13:26:00.001-07:00

I love getting letters in the mail. Actual "I was thinking of you and thought I'd mail you this letter" letters. Even better than letters are packages. Getting a package you know is on its way is exciting, but the very best thing of all is to get a surprise package - one that is completely unexpected.

Yesterday did not disappoint. I came home late last night to find this little treasure in my mailbox, from one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Not only was it a surprise package, but it contained something to add to my (very small) collection of decorative letter As. I was so excited to find this in my mailbox yesterday, I did a little happy dance in my living room when I unwrapped it. Thanks, Janene, for seeing something that reminded you of me, and popping it in the mail. This made my day!

What I'm coveting now

2008-05-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

The thought occurred to me today that this Kindle would have been really nice to have for my trip to India. Rather than dragging along seven books, I could have taken just the Kindle, which holds over 200 titles, and is very lightweight. I know my neck and back would have appreciated the lightened load; after lugging around all those books, I had huge knots in my neck. I'm definitely saving my money for a Kindle - what a brilliant idea!

The long flight home

2008-05-12T20:37:00.000-07:00

Day 13: Thursday May 8, 5:30 am - Chicago International Airport

I made it - I'm back in America! That was the longest flight ever, and I did not think I was going to survive. The first five hours were fraught with turbulence, very rough turbulence, and eventually it calmed down. It was supposed to take only 14 hours, but it took us about 16 hours. Yuck.

And on this flight, I didn't even have Tetris to distract me - just a couple of movies and two noisy kids sitting next to me.

Despite all this, I was so grateful to walk off the plane and be in America. Now we just need to get Andy back over here.

India Andy

2008-05-12T17:20:00.000-07:00

When I was with Andy in India, he carried the camera, so there are quite a few pictures of me. Well, since I don't like having my picture taken, there aren't a lot of pictures of me, but there are definitely more pictures of me than of him. I'm so glad that the people he is with have been taking pictures of him, because I think he's just adorable, er, I mean ruggedly handsome.

People are always telling Andy he just smiles so much. One of the things I love about him is his smile. Sometimes we'll be sitting there, and I'll look over at him, and he's got this big grin on his face. I love it! So I was quite pleased to go through the pictures on his camera and find these gems.
I thought I'd post them, so everyone can enjoy my India Andy.

Andy, I love ya, and I can't wait until your smiling face comes back home!

I have to say something about my hair in India

2008-05-12T16:35:00.000-07:00

I am so vain when it comes to my hair. I don't have particularly great hair - it is either partially curly, or partially straight. It takes so much product and equipment to get it to look halfway decent, but I obsess over it every morning. Perhaps it stems back to my troubled youth, where I endured so many perms I eventually took drastic measures to completely straighten it, lest I continue looking like an electrocuted poodle.

I talked to Mandy about how I was going to do my hair in India. I hate nothing more than to have a photo album full of vacation pictures of me with nappy hair. Should I take my hair dryer? Will I be able to use my flat iron? Mandy assured me that as long as I had an adapter, I'd be fine.

Um, obviously the hair dryer and flat iron did not work, and I feel I need to let you know that yes, I am fully aware that my hair looks terrible. My hair is naturally curly-ish, which has the potential to be really great. However, it's curly in some spots, completely stick-straight in others, and frizzy all-around. This is not a good combination for vacation-with-no-working-hair-dryer-or-flat-iron-hair. But now that I've posted all these pictures, I want to take you through my vacation-hair journey, and to the point where I just gave up.

Bad Hair Day 1: Andy's hotel in Delhi

After my shower, I plugged my hair dryer into Andy's adapter. Okay, it's working, wait, it's slowly petering out. It's getting quieter, drying more slowly...crap. Am I going to break his adapter? So I took a break from drying and plugged in my flat iron to let it warm up. Not wanting to break my hair dryer, I decided to just put my hair in a bun and flat iron my bangs. I hate having bangs when I can't straighten my hair - I get these curly q's at my temples, and it's just not good. So I decide, "Okay, I'll wear a bun today and try again tomorrow."

Hair on day 1: I'm not loving it, but at least the bangs are straight.

Bad Hair Day 2: Our hotel in Agra

I attempted to blow dry my hair again, but the dryer petered out. I thought, "If I can just get my bangs dry, I'll be okay." When I plugged in my flat iron, the red light flashed on and then off and then - zap! Crap - could I have possibly blown a fuse? No, it's probably just not working with the adapter, right? One more bun, and this time, I had to pin my bangs out of the way.

Hair on day 2: Grrr....

Bad Hair Day 3: Our Hotel in Jaipur

I'm not even going to take a picture here, because it just looks so bad. I don't know why I even brought my hair dryer and flat iron; at this point, all they are doing is taking up space and making Mintu curse when he lifts my heavy luggage into and out of the car. Sorry, Mintu.

Hair on day 3: Can't I just shave my head? I think they do that in India. I guess that would make it pointless for me to be dragging around this hair dryer and flat iron.

Bad Hair Day 4: Our Hotel in Udaipur

I have accepted the fact that my hair is going to be in a perma-bun while on this vacation. It actually doesn't look too bad here, and I think that maybe I have found peace and acceptance in my frizzy bun, but once I arrive at Lake Palace and see all the women with shiny, straight hair, I glower with envy at their coiffed shininess.

Hair on day 4: Okay, I accept it. It's really not too bad. And besides, maybe they'll have hair dryers and working adapters at Lake Palace.

Bad Hair Day 5: Lake Palace in Udaipur

When we get to our room, Andy was so excited to tell me that there is a hair dryer. I can't wait until after my swim to blow-dry and straighten my hair. Did I mention how vain I am? I blow-dry my hair, and it is straight, but still a little poufy and frizzy. And I still have those curly-q's at my temples. No worry, I can plug in my flat iron. Um, except it's not working. I really blew a fuse a few days ago, and it won't work! Now I'm completely hosed. I think Andy is surprised how mad I can get just because my hair looks like crap, but I try to smile through my frustration and thank him for fudging with the adapter to get my flat iron working, although to no avail. In the morning after my head massage, my hair is shiny with grease. I didn't have time to wash it before we had to check out, so all day long, it's like a shellacked helmet, sticky and immovable. Uh, all right. I guess at least now it's shiny...

Hair on day 5: Ew.

Bad Hair Days 6, 7, 8, and 9: Goa

I give up. I wanted to look my best for Andy, for him to see his wife as he remembered me - straight, mostly shiny hair, brown streaked with golden highlights. But there is absolutely nothing I can do about this mop. Pinned in a frizzy bun, it will stay until I return to America. You can't even see my highlights.

Hair on days 6 through 9: We're at the beach, so I really don't even care.

Bad Hair Day 10: Delhi

What a mess. I can't believe I have to wear this hairdo on a 19 hour flight from Delhi to Chicago, and Chicago to Denver. Not only does it look awful, it is going to be so uncomfortable to lean back against my seat.

Hair on day 10: I can't wait to wash, dry, and iron my hair. Only 24 more hours!

Good Hair Day 1: Colorado

I can't take a picture of myself, but trust me, my hair looks good. Although I did blow a fuse, and my flat iron is no longer working. At least it's straight, somewhat shiny, and I'm feeling like myself again.

Our day in Delhi

2008-05-12T16:14:00.000-07:00

Wednesday May 7, 8:00 pm - On the way to the Delhi International Airport

Once we got the luggage out of the way, we could spend the day sightseeing and shopping around Delhi. We decided to go to the place where Mohandas ("Mahatma") Ghandi was cremated. This was a lovely breath of fresh air - a clean, green park in the middle of dirty, stinky Delhi. Once more, we had to remove our shoes, since it was a sacred place, and we walked around the park.

There was this memorial to Ghandi, and a lovely pink tree that I immediately became smitten with.

We did some souvenir shopping, and then decided we wanted an American lunch, so we asked our driver to take us to the Ruby Tuesday's. Oh my gosh, I was salivating at the thought of American food! Unfortunately, Ruby Tuesday's was closed, so we settled for TGI Friday's.

I wish we had taken pictures of the wait staff here, because they were so cute. They were these Indian guys, dressed to the hilt in full-on TGI Friday's attire - vests, buttons (Andy said, "They even wear their flair here!" - too funny), and complete with cowboy hats. I think we were so mesmerized by the possibility of a decent cheeseburger and all the American decorations on the wall, that we weren't even able to even think about taking a picture. Of course, the burgers were lamb, so I settled for a fried chicken sandwich that was pretty good. We also had the fried macaroni and cheese appetizer, which was the best.

After eating, we drove to the airport. The best sight was on the way - this little lady, cruising down the street, all bedecked in pink, to match her moped. Too cute! Ravi sped up so we could get a picture of her.

All in all, a pretty good day in Delhi, despite the fact that I am about to say goodbye to Andy for five weeks.

How many suitcases can you fit in a bicycle rickshaw?

2008-05-12T16:06:00.000-07:00

Day 12: Wednesday May 7, 11:00 am - The entrance to Tara House Hotel, Delhi

While Andy and the crew went on vacation for 10 days, there was no way they were taking all their gear and luggage with them. They stored it all at a TV station in Delhi. Andy realized that he had a lot of stuff in this stored luggage that he wanted to send back with me, so we offered to go to the TV station and pick up everyone's luggage.

When Pointer heard this, he laughed and said good luck. He said there were eight bags (heavy), and that it took a few of them four trips to get it from their hotel to the car. You are not able to drive up to their hotel in Delhi. All the drivers park at the end of this long road, which leads you to an alley, and the hotel is at the back of the alley (the Diagon Alley alley mentioned in previous posts). I was not looking forward to getting all these bags from the TV station to the hotel.

Well, as we were unloading them from the car, this rickshaw driver said he could fit all eight of their bags, plus our three bags, in his rickshaw. We thought if he could do it, let's let him! It was such an amazing feat we had to capture it. Here he is with our driver for the day, Ravi. Ravi is on the left (the happy one in the uniform), and the Amazing Bicycle Rickshaw Wonder Driver is on the right. That thing was packed to the gills!