Monday, December 29, 2008

The Nursery Is Ready!!

The nursery is ready! We had it painted by a wonderful woman named Kathy...and if you know anyone who would like painting done in their house, she is great! She took the images right off of my bedding, but I know she does creative free hand as well. Here are some pics!
The crib...

The changing table/dresser...

The bedding...

The closet that Workaholic created...

And of course my Fonz just loving it...!!


Hey all...if you get a chance to watch Oprah today, it's about dogs, and rescue. Well, at least the last 10 minutes are. That's all I saw. BUT, BUT, another great thing is that Jen Lancaster, one of my favorite authors who happens to be from Chicago (and who my brother-in-law's girlfriend was sooo lucky to be able to meet) is on there via Skype. Which is some sort of webcam service I guess? Anyway, watch it. Because I met a few women a couple of nights ago who know all about puppy mills, yet still "saved" their dogs from a local pet store. I don't understand how reasonably intelligent people can be so stupid.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


It’s snowing!! I know that we are only supposed to get a couple of inches, but I would skip if I could. The Fonz is going to be sooo excited when I get home and let him out. Zoomies for everyone!!

Monday, December 15, 2008


So this weekend I went to the parental’s house to visit with my sister and her brood (yes, anything after 3 kids becomes a “brood) and my cousin. He’s my cousin for sure, I think our dads are first cousins, so I am not quite sure what that makes us. (3rd cousins, something removed?) But anyway, he is a referee for high school and college basketball, and he was working my old high school’s game on Saturday night, so off we went.

(There is this blog that I read where instead of using her husband’s or friend’s real names, she just uses their initials. Sounds great right? Except each of my 3 sisters have the same initial…so that wouldn’t work for me. My sister who lives overseas asked to be called Cleopatra, Queen of all the Universe, which I shortened to Cleo. This sister, I’ll just call her Elizabeth, after another queen…because we all are)

Anyway, so Elizabeth and I can’t remember the last time we have been back to high school, and we are amazed at how it is exactly. the. same. Same ugly blue tiles on the walls of the lunchroom, same ugly pink tiles on the walls of the bathroom. Of course, they did get rid of the death bleachers and replaced them with slightly less dangerous ones. (Makes me wonder how many little kids fell through before they thought that just maybe it might be a good idea to have bleachers that the students couldn’t rock 3-4 feet side to side.) The bathrooms still had that weird strawberry smell. The only thing that really changed was the names on the doors of the head guys…now they all are people that Elizabeth went to high school with. Including the basketball coach, the assistant basketball coach, and maybe the AD?? I digress.

So the game starts and immediately Elizabeth starts taunting my cousin, which he seems to ignore, apparently rowdy fans are rowdy fans, no matter if they are related or not. She gave up pretty quick. He did a good job, he won over the little boys that sit in the front row, and we won the game, so that’s always a plus. (we decided that if there was only one water bottle left for the 3 referees, the kids would give it to him…because those same kids were the water boys. Plus, he gave his water boy a dollar for his hard work. And did you know that sometimes referees in basketball games are called umpires? Talk about confusing) Afterwards I only had to have one awkward conversation with an old high school classmate, while my sister visited with 2 or 3 ex-boyfriends. (Meanwhile her youngest decided to run away from me, but she came back, so I only had to chase her halfway around the gym. Gotta love the small high schools where everyone sort of watches out for everyone)

Another thing that really amused me during the game was this little boy…he was maybe 3 years old. He was wearing this lime green T-shirt. Which I thought odd, most of the little kids were wearing blue or white or a shirt that said their elementary school on it. So I first noticed him running along one of the ends of the gym in the first half. And then I noticed him running up the stairs next to us…on the opposite end of the gym. And then I realized, that for almost the entire game, he did laps around the gym. Across the gym behind one basket, through the cheerleaders, past the kids sitting in the front row, up the bleacher stairs, down the back hallway stairs, outside the doors behind the other end of the gym, in the door, up our stairs, across the length of the gym to the other end, down the stairs and start the whole process over again. I do have to say that I understand why he was wearing a lime green T-shirt…you could always spot him. After the game, he was doing cartwheels on the court as the older kids shot baskets around him.

All I have to say is, his poor mother. If he has that kind of energy every day…poor thing!!

Friday, December 12, 2008


So Workaholic listens to the radio a lot, because he drives a lot. (sometimes, I think he drives just for the sake of driving, you know, to listen to the radio…because he drives that much) Anyway, he heard on the radio yesterday a story about someone who paid for the following experiment.

A researcher took 2 groups of dogs, and put them on opposite sides of a room. One group, the dogs were taught a trick using treats, and were continued to be given treats every single time they did the trick. The other group, the dogs were taught a trick using treats, and then the treats were abruptly stopped. The first group of dogs continued to do the trick every time they were asked, and the second group of dogs? Here’s the groundbreaking research that someone paid for…they eventually stopped doing the trick…once they realized that they would no longer get a treat.

Can you say NO SHIT??? Has this person ever owned a dog??? Maybe I should start “doing research” with my dog and my friend’s dogs and see how much we can get paid.

The other one that Workaholic found interesting, although again, for me, it was a huge DUH, was that dogs get offended. If you take two dogs, have them sit side-by-side, and have them perform the same trick, and only give one dog a treat, eventually, the second dog will become so offended that he will never perform that trick again. Hell, my dog gets offended if I ask him to get off of the bed. Doesn’t mean he won’t get back on the bed, but when he farts in my face and huffs his way down, I am pretty sure that I have hurt his feelings.

I don’t know who did this incredible research, or why, or why they didn’t just interview any dog owners, or ask to borrow their friend’s dogs, but I thought it was an interesting way to spend some money. Maybe the guy just wanted to play with dogs…in which case, I totally understand.

UPDATE on yesterday’s post: My best friend Drew Brees lost last night, in overtime, by a stupid field goal. Which means that my other Purdue pride-and-joy, Kyle Orton, won last night. What amazed me when watching the game is that it is obvious that Drew just throws the football too damn hard, because no one on his team can catch it, even if it is thrown directly to them. My favorite part of the game though, was afterwards, they showed Drew and Kyle talking, and then there was Joe Tiller!! Don’t get me wrong, I think Joe should have moved to Wyoming a couple of years ago, but all Purdue fans should be proud of where the program was when he got there and where he took it. So…if anyone finds or sees the picture on the internet of Drew and Joe and Kyle that was taken after the game by someone (I saw it being taken on TV) can you pass it on?? It’s got to be a pretty cool picture…and I want one. So thanks!!

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


So I have pretty much passed off most of my work. Don’t get me wrong, I still have some stuff to do, but umm…not 7 days worth. Or really, even 2 days worth. (Let’s no share that with my boss though, because I don’t need a new “project” right before I go on vacation right before maternity leave.) So that is giving me lots of time to eavesdrop on conversations that go on around me. (not like I don’t do that usually, but now I have nothing else to concentrate on…except this, which I am not doing a very good job at)

Anyway, I usually don’t care much about professional football, but the boys in our office love "Da Bears", and I get to hear about them all. the. time. And the Bears are playing the New Orleans Saints on Thursday. Why do I care? Because of him….

My dear Drew Brees. He not only is a pretty darn good football player, but he gives tons of money to charity too. And he married his college sweetheart, the *&@%$# who kept him occupied so no one else on campus would even have a chance. (and yes, that included me!!) He lived a floor below my high school friend who played with him, and the only chance I got to meet him, he was sitting in a bathing suit in a hottub. And I did not have a bathing suit, and was not about to get into a hottub in my underwear (even though I know that they matched and were cute). So there went my chance to be Drew Brees’ new best friend.

So anyway…GO SAINTS!!!!

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

What .The .F*@^.

So my butt has started to feel a bit achy and sore again, but there is no sharp, stabbing pain this time, so I really am not complaining. But, I do find a direct correlation between Lumbergh’s comment, and the following story told to me by a friend of mine about her co-worker, and the start of my butt pain….

"My co-worker just told me that when she built her house (about 4 years ago) and they did the final walk-through she got really upset b/c they put bright pink carpet in her living room. And that wasn’t the carpet she picked and she was soooooooooo upset………because that wasn’t what she picked………so she was really upset…….because she didn’t pick that carpet…….so she was really angry…….because she picked a different carpet…….not that carpet…… she was really upset. Then her husband told her that wasn’t the carpet – it was the padding."

OK, there are multiple problems with that story…not even beginning with the fact that a married woman in her 30s did not know what carpet padding looked like. Or the fact that they were doing the final walk through without carpet. But why you would ever even admit that happened to you to anyone!!!! Seriously????

Monday, December 8, 2008

Bah Humbug!!

Anybody who knows me pretty well and sees me on a regular basis will know that I hate the holidays. As in, really. don’t. like. Bleh. We don’t decorate our house (gave up on that a couple of years ago after a really whiny tree-cutting excursion with Workaholic…and I’m sorry, fake trees are just not the same as the real thing. They’re so….fake!), we rarely go to other people’s Christmas parties (this year though, we got invited to one that we’d really like to go to…but we have a wedding that night!) and even our gift-giving isn’t very exciting. Workaholic is hard to shop for, mainly because if there is something that he wants, he just goes and buys it. (besides, what do you get a guy that has no hobbies? I am not going to buy him tools that he will just break at work) Me? I cannot ever for the life of me make up a Christmas list. (a couple of years ago, he wound up getting me a camera that he wanted…which I love, but am not very good at using)

There are several reasons for my Scrooge-ness. It’s not the shopping for other people that I don’t like, or even the Christmas music (as long as it is after Thanksgiving), but it’s the general stress of it all. The planning, the rushing, the trying to make everyone happy, (but no one really is) of it all. I feel like there is such a high expectation on Christmas, it’s when everyone gets together, it’s supposed to be the time when you see everyone that you are supposed to, and all is supposed to be jolly and well. But invariably, something goes awry. Someone doesn’t show up, there is a snowstorm, or it is just impossible to be in two places at once. No wonder depression rates hit the highest during the holidays.

So I went to church yesterday, (I just joined this new church, and it’s weird to say this…but they are a bit…preachy?) and the homily was all about how this is the time for preparation, and basically we are supposed to remember the reason for the season. So I think to myself, “Self…maybe that is why you hate the holidays. Maybe you just need to put it all in perspective.” And then the priest talked about how today is a holy day, (and I had to go home and look on wikipedia to find out exactly why it was a holy day) and how this week we’ll be doubly blessed, and there will be a special blessing for all expectant mothers at all masses. So I think, “Hmmm….there is a 7am mass that I could make…I’m up anyway, might as well go. At least I’ll get a little blessing out of it and maybe it’ll help me get more in the spirit.”

So I go (and BTW..I was shocked at how many people were at the 7am mass…about 10 times the number I thought would be there) and it was pretty quick and I was feeling OK about life, until we got to the final blessing…and guess what??? No blessing for me. (And BTW??? I was sitting about 5 feet from the priest) You mean to tell me that I dragged my sorry 9 months pregnant butt out of bed at 5am and I didn’t even get my stupid blessing?? Geez. (either it's a sign that God is mad at me or he doesn't feel like me and the baby need to be blessed) So that’s how my week is going to go. As I walked out, I purposefully walked near the priest, but not so close as to where I actually had to shake his hand, and he said hi and sort of gave me a funny look. I’m sure that he just forgot, and my belly reminded him of his error, but still. Not a good sign. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax and just enjoy the season…either that or I am sure that I will go into labor on Christmas Eve. Ruin Christmas for everyone.

Monday, December 1, 2008


I have read this over and over in pregnancy books, but I didn't really believe that it would happen to me. I don't sleep well. At all. And you are talking to the girl who has to sleep well, otherwise my head spins and I become a major, raging, bitch. To put it nicely. (I get mad if someone says "Good Morning" to me. Why do people insist on talking to each other before noon!!)

I wake up at approximately 3:30 every morning, and it's not because I have to pee. It's just because. And since it is "just because", I have decided to blame Workaholic. You see, his alarm typically goes off around 4am every day. And since he gets about half the amount of sleep that he should, it doesn't wake him up. So it wakes me up. And the baby. And I have to "gently" wake him up. (Apparently I am so gentle, the poor boy really thought that it was his alarm that woke him up every day...until I stayed at my parent's house on Thursday night and he came home because he had to work on Friday. Let's just say that he overslept. A lot.) I am sooo happy to be right about something. Na-na-na-na-na-na.

Anyway, so I wake up every day at 3:30am. Even in different time zones, I wake up at 3:30am. Which amazed me. It amazed me so much, that when I woke up on Thanksgiving morning, I was just staring at the clock, trying to figure out in my fog of morningness exactly what time it was at home, when my cell phone lit up and buzzed. At 3:34 in the morning, I had a text message. Who in their right mind would be texting "Happy Thanksgiving" at 3:34 in the morning???

So I opened my phone, and I recognized the area code, but not the number. So I figured, What the hell? I'm up. So I texted back a cordial Happy Thanksgiving, and BTW...who the hell is this? Almost immediately, I got a text back saying that it was my cousin Timothy, and WTF was I doing up at that hour??? (never mind that he was the one who started this whole thing) Tim is great fun to go out with and can drink most people I know under the table, so I was sure that was the fuel behind HIM being up at this ungodly hour. So I just told him to have fun and be safe. Makes sense...basically I am saying, don't drink and drive. And from what I found out...he didn't. Good boy. (unfortunately, there is more to the story, but I can't share because there is just no way that I can write it that doesn't make me sound like an idiot. Maybe someday I'll share.)

So I hope that all of you stuffed yourselves as much as I did on Thanksgiving. At one point, my 16 year old nephew looked at me and said "Wow, Aunt Gail just keeps eating and eating. She hasn't stopped." He was truly amazed. Also, fun sister informed me that I have been having Braxton Hicks contractions. I was whining about being uncomfortable and my stomach being unusually tight as we were wandering around Penney's at 6am, and she let me know that's what that was. Hm! Good to know!