For Pom.

Ok, here I am, updating a blog that hardly anyone reads anymore because I don't post anymore. It kinda feels like the chicken and the egg merry-go-round.

Well, let's see. Pom said to write about the mundane, or take an adventure, so...Wiley has a job interview tomorrow at a university. Tonight we tried to figure out how to fold a suit jacket so it would be as little wrinkled as possible.

Yeah. Right.

I have started two part-time jobs...one is helping out a friend with some marketing things, and the other is being an admin assistant to an older guy who doesn't want to retire. Last weekend I spent some time typing up his original war letters from 1944. Right now, we're in the jungle of New Guinea and the military men only get 1 candle at a time. Being the entrepreneur that he was, my guy got the melted wax from all the other guys in the unit and melted it all together, stuck some rope in for wicks, and put a metal can behind it to make it quite bright. He has a beautiful house, and in addition to being smart, he's pretty nice. He hired me because of my wit, he said. "You hear something, and then you take it and kick it back out in an unusual way," he said. So far, so good. In addition to typing, I also am a bit of maid. I cook breakfast and lunch and clean up the house a bit. Unfortunately, he doesn't care one bit that I hate fish of any kind, and on three occasions now, I've had to cook some sort of fish, or at the very least, prepare it. Smoked salmon with crackers. Sardines with crackers. Fish soup. Gag gag gag.

The most fun thing lately is taking care of friends' 2.75 month old baby for the past month or so. Usually just once a week, Baby Boy and I get together at his crankiest time and figure out how long I can keep him from crying. Wiley also helps most days. Sunday was difficult, though - I was all alone, and everything was going swell until his nap time before bedtime. Before I knew it, he was inconsolable, and for 14 minutes, I held him, changed his diaper, made sure he wasn't too hot or cold, tried to use a pacifier, and came to the realization that he just needed to tire himself out. Into the swing he went, and after 1 good suck on the pacifier, was out for about 35 minutes. Then, he was happy to coo until bathtime, when he screamed again (Mommy said it was her ice cold hands).

So cross your fingers that Wiley comes home with good news! That's all for now Pom!

Howdy Stranger.

What a busy time this has been. Wiley and I moved into a townhome, did I tell you this, Dear Reader? We are no longer renting our friends' house with our friends' possessions still in it. This townhome we have rented has only OUR belongings in it, and it makes me so happy. So happy that I can even deal with evil college students who don't know how to shut up because their neighbors have ears.

A friend had a baby, and I've gotten to spend time with the little one. The day after he was born, we went to the hospital, and he cried like a little donkey. It was darling. Well, now he's got some lungs, and it's slightly less darling, though I understand that you just want to figure out what they're trying to tell you. I'm told the feeding is touch and go, so some days are better than others, but hopefully he'll get the hang of it soon or else my friend's twins are going to fall off. They were told not to introduce a bottle until after a month of feeding, which to me sounds awful for them. Syringe feeding so there's no nipple confusion? Gack.

This could be one reason I'm not a mother.

But in light of that, the baby is doing well. This weekend is a baby shower, and I made the diaper cake and fondant for the shower cake. Fondant is sticky business. The premade stuff tastes rather awful, but if you make it from scratch, it's much tastier...it's still powdered sugar, but with a hint of almond, it brightens it up. Working with fondant could turn out to be a disaster, as this will be the first time I use fondant on a cake. I know, I know, I should practice, but I am baked out. In addition to the fondant, I made pumpkin cupcakes with cream-cheese frosting and peanut butter cup cookies for the holiday weekend. I got good marks from people on both counts. But that also means I'm not interested in baking until later in the week, and I also find that sometimes on the first try, I do really well, and then the second time, it's a disaster. So while I've made the cake and the buttercream icing before, and know that will be fine, then I'll see how the fondant does. If it doesn't work, I can always take it off and make some more buttercream icing. I'm not worried except I still need to figure out the shape. For a planner, it's not really like me to wait until a few days before something is due to decide.

But this is what I call "living a little".

And hooray, it's fall!!!

Ketchup.

Nothing about ketchup, sorry, but instead a post to catch-up.

Wiley and I are moved into our own living space...still renting, but everything inside is ours. No more three kitchen tables, two couches and two pianos. No, Dear Reader, it's a treadmill, a couch, a chair, and an ottoman! With 1 dining room table! And some end tables! It's marvelous. Our two-bedroom townhome is close to work so I can walk on the days it's not too hot (oh yes, I will drive .5 miles to work; I've done it, and I'm ok with it). It's on the busline so Wiley can bus it to school when it's rainy. The walls don't seem to be too thin, though we live next to unknowns on one side and an Indian couple on the other. I'm tempted to ask them to come over and make Indian food with us, as we are big fans, though Wiley makes a wonderful coconut curry chicken already.

So the move went smoothly, with A Better Way Moving and Storage loading us up and unloading us at the new place. No scratches, no dings, nothing broken, and all in less than 2 hours. Couldn't have been more beautiful. We thought we lost 3 books and a vacuum cleaner attachment, but all of those items showed up yesterday as we went through our unpacked bins for the third time. As students move in for the year, I'm sure my rosy glasses will become a bit more purple when it comes time to fight for parking spaces, but for this weekend at least, I will enjoy. Wiley also bought a charcoal grill/smoker and has been a caveman ever since he got it. Anytime he can, he's outside playing with his new toy. I can't complain (except he did burn the grass, and it looks a little bad) because the food he's cooked has been fantastic, and all I have to do is set the table and eat.

For one weekend, I was a kennel attendant at a local kennel. I cleaned kennels of 20 dogs, inside and out, on Saturday and Sunday, and when time allowed, I was even able to walk and romp with the dogs. Such dogs included two Great Danes (who were the best-behaved dogs of the whole group), two German shepards, a border collie, a Boston terrier, a collie/shepard mix, a St. Bernard, a Labradoodle, a Bichon Frese, two Schnauzers, a golden Retriever, and a little yellow dog that looked like a fox (bushy tail and pointy ears and just a doll). There was also a dog named Starbuck that scared me to death, so he was walked by others. Call me a coward, but when I see you foaming at the mouth when I'm trying to put water in your bowl and you're trying to chew a hole in the fence to get at me, I'm going to leave you alone. The Retriever tried to have his way with me, but I was able to fight him off by telling him to sit. The Labradoodle was impossible to put a collar on, but with the help of my boss, I got it on him, and he was just as giddy and jumpy. I'd had enough by this time and realized if I was ever going to be able to actually walk him, I'd have to show I was top dog, so I said, "Sit." Nothing happened except more bouncy. "Sit." This time, a lap around me. "SIT." He sat. And stayed sat until I said, "Ok, let's go." I patted myself on the back. Sadie, the St. Bernard, however, had a mind of her own, and refused to go back into her kennel after her walk. Tugging on a St. Bernard's collar is not going to work. Pushing on a St. Bernard's rump also has no effect. I think Sadie just got a little tired of my pleads because she finally went in after about 5 minutes of me throwing up my hands.

In addition to cleaning out the kennels, I also got to experience just what a dog feels when that door is closed because I ended up locking myself in the kennel no less than three times. I was able to get out one time, but the doors were a little stickier on the other two, so I was glad my boss was there to get me out. She said she used to do it all the time, which made me feel better.

Unfortunately, the job was short-lived, and I am not working there anymore, though I have made a new friend who shares my love of Indian food, and I'm hopeful that we will get together for lunches around the kennel schedule. When I got home, I picked up my cats and danced around the room with them, telling them how happy I was that they were little so I could pick them up and place them wherever I wanted them to be (not that they stay, but that's ok).

Moving Day is Coming.

As has become the norm in my life, I am moving. How "norm", you ask? Well, for being 32, I've moved a total of 14 times. I find it kinda funny, considering that I never thought I was one who moved a lot, like Army families.

I'm excited to move and live in a space where everything in it is mine. I am trying to be a minimalist and not have crap/clutter, but with others' belongings in the same space, that proves difficult.

The only downside is that we're still renting, and in my opinion, still throwing money away. Wiley disagrees, saying it's nice to call someone else to fix something that has broken (like the clothes dryer). In connection with that, we will be living in a complex, and you know how noisy community living can be. But I'm close enough to work to walk, and Wiley's still on the bus line, so it should all work out. And no mowing or weeding!!!

And now off-topic completely and better suited for Twitter, but I haven't made the leap yet:

Brett Favre, it's terrible that you string teams along, but really, it's what people now expect from you. I think you should have retired long ago.

Wiley and I have started watching Cake Boss on TLC. It's gotten my creative juices flowing, and I have been playing with icing and decorating with it, and I made my first fondant (guess what - the taste is actually pretty good!) in preparation of making a baby shower cake in a couple of months.

We have also been hooked on Deadliest Catch. If you haven't seen this show (and I managed to avoid it until this year), these guys are completely nutters. I can say with absolute certainty that while I like boats and I like water, this is a job I would NEVER attempt.

Basil Fingers

It's been awhile since I've posted, so this will be a bit of a mish mash because I have a little to say on a few topics.

The container garden is growing. I just picked basil and we are having it with our tomato and mozzo, called a caprese salad, I believe. It's very tasty. Yesterday, the first cucumber got picked and eaten, and it was sooo good. Tonight I cut some suckers from the tomato plants in hopes that they'll bloom more tomatoes. Right now, I have two: one marble sized, one golf sized, and one that I don't consider a tomato just yet because it's still mainly a flower.

Over the weekend, Wiley and I went to Louisville, where we met up with family and went to Churchill Downs. We won two races - right before we left. It's amazing. For only $2 and some odd change, you can bet on a horse. Or a box. And you can do this all day long. It was really fun!!! We also went to the casino, where we lost our winnings on roulette and a slot machine. I don't like the $10 minimum bet tables - you lose too much too quickly, and it's no fun. My strategy is to stand next to Wiley and tell him red or black. We found the $2.50 electronic version of roulette, where we did much better, but in the end, we still lost.

And speaking of losses, a very close friend of mine lost someone very important to her (most of you will know who I'm talking about, but that's all I'll divulge). I've been trying to be there mentally for her due to the fact that I'm so far away, but the truth is, we all grieve differently. My mother was taken from me very quickly without warning; my friend's loss was something that was foreseen awhile ago, but that doesn't make it any less painful. And the fact is, while I am empathetic, I don't know how she's feeling. So I tell her how I felt when I had to deal with this and ask if it's somewhat similar. The first year after my mom died, I felt electric, like everything was in technicolor. She passed away in February of 1994, and the cold Iowa winter was just brutal. Nothing but grey and cold. I don't remember the weather clearing up for quite some time. But I remember one day driving down Main Street and stopping for a minute to look at the sky in the spring. It was the clearest, bluesky sky I'd ever seen, and I thought with a bittersweet smile, This is the first clear day of sunshine without my mother. And that's how it went the entire first year. First prom without Mom. She'll never get to hear about my dates or fights with the steady. First spring without Mom. This is the first year that Mom won't be able to plant a garden. First concert without Mom. She's not here to hear me practice. No more swimming and laughing at Mom when she gingerly sticks a foot in the pool and decides I'm nuts for going in at 78 degrees. (Now I get it, Mom; it's too damn cold!) No senior pictures to be taken in the summer where Mom gets to say, "I like that one best" or "Your smile was too fake in that one". First fall without Mom. No funny little paper pumpkin decoration that you paperclipped together and stuck on a table. I called that period the Year of Firsts, and every time I thought about going through something without my mom in this world, it was a shock to my soul.

So for my friend who is reeling without her rudder to steady her, the only advice I can offer is that time does heal. You never really get over the grief; you make room for it in your life, and eventually, you notice that the grief gets smaller and smaller, though it will never go away completely, and it may be that 10 years down the road, you'll remember something in the middle of the grocery store that makes you start crying buckets right then and there, while people look at you like you're crazy (and not just because you have 21 items in the express lane). I was very raw for quite some time, though I held it together, missing just a week of school but still going to orchestra rehearsal everyday because that's what you do: you go on. You already know your life is changed. You can't go back to the Life Before. But that's ok because that's what happens, and is supposed to happen. Right now is just about getting through the logistics, and when you're home, it will sink in even more. And that, my friend, is when you call me and cry your little heart out because that's what I'm here for. And I'll cry right along with you because it's really hard, and though I don't know exactly what you're going through, loss, plain and simple, really, really hurts.

Happy Spring.

Wiley and I went out for a bike ride last Saturday morning and decided to bike into campus and take pictures of flowers so I can work on my skill. These were the best.

There are actually a few more, but for whatever reason, I can't get them on the blog. So, for another 8 or so pictures, click here.

And Today's Eye Roll Goes To...

Cnn.com states that being fat is less eco-friendly. "Thinner is better to curb global warming."

You can read the article here.

I'm already in a bad mood, but this made me even more mad. Our "models" are stick figures. I'm by no means skinny, but I know I have a problem when I see normal-sized models and think they're fat because I'm so used to seeing the skinny models that shouldn't look like a 15 year-old girl. And now we have this stupid article to hang over our heads. No, we don't already have a complex, so feel free to guilt us one more time.

You know what? There are people in the world who are fat, not because they are lazy, or because they eat too much; much of it has to do with genetics. Even when I was at my thinnest, I still had a belly. That's where my fat likes to go, first and foremost. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for the gift of looking pregnant even when it isn't so. The last thing I want to read is that I'm contributing to global warming simply because I don't fit industry standards which are way out of whack. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go release my greenhouse gas.