Valentines Day Giveaway (How's That For An Original Title? I'M A GENIUS)

Dippidee was my first official sponsor (yes, even before my brother - who I adore, but - blood is not thicker than frosting).  The owner Marcee is my friend and neighbor (she lives five houses down the road) and I've long been a possibly too zealous fan of her cupcakes and amazing cakes.

Marcee is generously donating a FIFTY DOLLAR gift certificate to her bakery in American Fork.  FIFTY BUCKS.  (You can do some serious sugar damage with fifty bucks.)

You can read about the bakery on her blog, or on her website  (Oh, and you can become a Facebook fan here.)  Thanks so much Marcee!

The Wild Grape Bistro is a romantic, cozy restaurant - a perfect place for Valentines Day - and now you'll have a FIFTY DOLLAR gift certificate (are you sensing a theme here?) to use courtesy of the gang over at Sassy Scoops. Vanessa and her merry band of critics visited the restaurant and they swear it's delicious.

You can read their review here, and see what else the Sassies have been up to here.  They frequently give away gift certificates to the places they visit, so if you're up for free food you should check them out.  (You can become a Facebook fan here.)  Thanks guys!

Use this $50 gift certificate towards the spa service of your choice  - couples massage, anyone?  (I'm so jealous, you have no idea.) (As is my husband, who wants to know why we are GIVING THIS STUFF AWAY instead of running for the hills with the loot.  I'm - still pondering that, actually.)  You can learn more about the Sego Lily Spa here.

One lucky winner will get ALL THREE gift certificates.

To win leave a comment, or blog/facebook/tweet about the giveaway for extra entries - I only ask that you make a separate comment for each entry - otherwise my brain gets confuzled.  The contest ends Friday night at midnight, mountain time.  

Thanks so much to all of my generous sponsors for their contributions.  I hope you'll check out their blogs and websites.  Without their sponsorship none of these giveaways would be possible.

Oh and please don't forget to sign up on the Bloganthropy post if you're planning to get involved, even if you can't come to the blogger brunch this month.  I'll announce a location next week.  I'm so excited to get together and plan some really great projects -  it's even overriding my trauma over letting people see how fat I am. (That's REALLY EXCITED.)

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Interested in being part of a future giveaway? Click here or
email me at suelikestoblogandwastetime at gmail dot com for more information 

Super Hopeless Rides Again...

In honor of Valentines Day, I'm continuing to share embarrassing stories about my romantic misadventures.  If you want to play along on your blog, there is a McLinky below where you can link to a related post on your blog - old or new. 
   
A few months later I was still wildly in crush mode, exacerbated by months of spending way WAY too much time with him.  My friends and I had an apartment and when we weren't out on the lake water-skiing, everyone was usually at our place. I spent a lot of time hanging out with my crush, running errands with him, lounging around the apartment with him, and sitting out on the lawn talking.

One Friday night he picked me up and we drove up to the base of Sunrise Mountain and parked next to the temple. "I love looking at the city lights from way up here," he said.  My heart was wildly fluttering as I tried to decipher WHAT THIS MEANT and WHAT COULD HE BE TRYING TO TELL ME.

(What he was probably trying to tell me: "I love looking at the city lights from way up here."  What I THOUGHT he was trying to tell me: "Soon we will be married.")

We talked for three hours about this and that and the other, I made him laugh as much as I possibly could, and the conversation was full of what I was sure were meaningful pauses and gazes.

By the time he drove me home I was positively GIDDY, even giddier when he gave me a big hug and said, "I'm so glad we're friends," because obviously what he really meant was "I LOVE YOU BUT AM AFRAID TO SAY IT."

WELL NOW. I couldn't have THAT.  Clearly what was called for was for me to go first, to tell him how I felt so that he wouldn't be afraid anymore.

Once I got home I was so completely stirred up and full of affectionate excitement that I did the worst thing a girl could do in the pre-text era:  I wrote him a LETTER telling him all about how I felt. ALL about it. (I'm groaning right now, remembering.) (OY.)

And guys?  I had a LOT OF FEELINGS.  I don't remember exactly what I said but I remember that there were a lot of exclamation points.

I raced over to his house, handed him the note and then ran away so that he could read it and process it (and have time to write me back with something equally thrilling).  I could barely sleep that night - I half expected that he would come knocking on the door, ready to carry me off into the sunset.  But I didn't hear from him that night. Or the next night.

He finally came by on Sunday with a note of his own - a very sweet, kind, I love you but am not in love with you note that cracked my heart into a million pieces.

I felt humiliated (obviously) but at the time I couldn't understand that the humiliation had been of my own making. I just knew I was hurting and it was all his fault.  How DARE he not reciprocate?

I can be very sarcastic when I'm angry, and for the next couple of months, every time I saw him I turned the sharp side of my tongue loose on him, mocking everything he did, the poor guy. Since I wouldn't sit down and talk to him, he wrote me a few more notes - very sweet notes saying how much he valued my friendship, how sorry he was that he didn't feel the same way. He tried that three times, and when he showed up the third time our apartment was full of people.  I snatched the note out of his hand, marched over to the sink, ripped it into about a hundred pieces and turned on the garbage disposal before glaring back at him.  I was such a brat.

He stopped showing up for a while after that.  UNDERSTANDABLY. 

OK, that's enough for today...  Your turn?

Related Posts:

• LOVE, EXCITING AND NEW
• HA! HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! HAHA!(And Such) (aka Nine Kisses)
• Speaking of Super Hopeless

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Speaking of Super Hopeless....

In honor of Valentines Day, I thought it would be fun to share a few stories of my tragical romantic misadventures - and they are legion - so all this week I'll be posting about my ridiculous pre-marital love life.  (And when I say "love life" I am seriously stretching the definition of the phrase. My romantic life consisted of a series of hopeless crushes and dysfunctional relationships. It's a miracle that I ended up in a functioning marriage.)

When I was 21, I fell madly in love with one of my best friends, and in an effort to spend more time with him, I decided that it was important for me to learn how to snow ski. 

Of course, I didn't want to actually learn how to ski in front of him, what with the falling and the wobbling and the mockery.  I wanted to learn from OTHER people, and then the NEXT time, I wanted to swoosh in front of him, spraying snow in his face and impressing him with my sassy skills and general awesomeness.  

One chilly weekend we went with a bunch of friends up to Brianhead, this little ski mountain in Utah about three hours from Vegas. My crush headed off for the big slopes while my buddy Dave took me over to the bunny hill and showed me a few basic moves designed to insure I didn't plunge over the edge of a cliff. I'll admit I wasn't listening very closely to what he told me, partly because, HELLO, so many cute boys around and so I must bat my snow covered eyelashes in their direction as much as possible - and partly because I rollerbladed every day and I was convinced it was pretty similar, and therefore, his instruction was pretty much a waste of my time.

After a few minutes I waived him off and took off down the hill, all smiles, swooshing and swushing my little heart out. LOOK AT ME.  SO CUTE!  SUCH NATURAL TALENT!  SUCH FINESSE!  I waved at my friend Terri, who had broken her arm and was spending the weekend sitting on the ski lodge deck.  LOOK AT ME TERRI, DON'T YOU AGREE THAT I'M QUITE AWESOME?

Everything was going smoothly - really, really, really smoothly.  In fact I was sort of - um - RAPIDLY gaining speed and after a minute I realized WHOOPSIE, I didn't know how to stop.  I was tearing down the slope, panicked, sure that if I tried to slow myself down by deviating from my straight-down-the-hill path I would lose my balance and end up cartwheeling down the mountain. Helpful bystanders suggested that I "PLOW, PLOW, PLOW" and "TURN, TURN, TURN," but I ignored them in favor of careening my way downward, screaming and waving my arms until I finally glided to a rest out in the parking lot, humiliated but also strangely exhilarated.

Skiing was AWESOME.

Dave came racing out to the parking lot to make sure I was still alive (thanks Dave), and like a little kid after a roller coaster ride I proclaimed that I wanted to do it AGAIN, and AGAIN and AGAIN.  And I did, but sans Dave, who, after making sure I understood how to slow down and stop, skiied off to pick up on more rational girls.

I loved skiing.  It made me feel athletic in a way that I'd never felt athletic before, with my short stumpy legs and general roundness. I learned how to plow, and turn, and, yes, STOP, but I would still shoot straight down the hill, wanting to go fast, faster, fastest.  When I finally did go skiing with my crush, he was suitably impressed and from then on we were ski buddies.

We would go on group trips to Brianhead and Elk Meadows, or we would go night skiing together after work at the block-of-ice ski slopes up at Lee Canyon (45 minutes from Vegas).  We usually all went out together on Friday nights, and at midnight he'd pull me aside and say "let's go up to Brianhead tomorrow," and the two of us would meet up at 5AM and drive up, spend the day skiing and drive back.  We would talk and laugh the whole way and I thought things were going just swimmingly.  He never asked me out, but we would sit outside and talk (and sometimes we would sit there and NOT talk), and he would stare at me, a speculative gleam in his eye.

One evening, after three hours of night skiing up in the canyon, he drove me home, pulled up in front of my house and shut off the engine. He said he had something to ask me, something he'd been thinking about for a while. And then he gave me one of his patented warm smiles, the kind that made even fairly rational girls melt all over the sidewalk, to say nothing of NON-RATIONAL girls like myself.  I attempted to play it cool, but my internal dialogue was something along the lines of  "Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

He leaned forward and I assumed - well, I assumed he was making his move and so I reciprocated, leaning forward too, closing my eyes, the whole cliche bit.

Turns out I assumed INCORRECTLY.

When I opened my eyes he was giving me a rather alarmed look as he leaned around me, picked up a brochure off the floor of the car and handed it to me.  It was a brochure for a ski resort in California he thought we should all go check out.

But actually, now that he thought about it, it was probably too far away, too expensive and not really that great of an idea after all, and oh, OOPS, look at the time, he really needed to get going.

Oh, the humiliation.  I don't remember how I managed to get out of the car and up to the door, but I clearly remember stomping around the house crying and whispering "stupid, Stupid, STUPID."

To his credit, he managed to act like nothing had happened, and before the week was out he seemed to forget all about it, calling me as much as ever and jabbering on about our next ski trip.

But it was a few weeks before I could bring myself to look at him again.  And when I did, I made sure to be extra sarcastic and biting, just so that he would know that despite what had happened, I wasn't actually INTERESTED, in fact there was no way in Hades that I would ever, ever, ever be interested.  Probably he hallucinated the whole thing because clearly I was ONLY associating with him for skiing purposes. 

And that probably would've been fairly effective had I not - done what I did next.  But I'll save that for my next post.

(If you want to play along, feel free to post about your romantic misadventures - I'll have a McLinky up in tomorrow's post so that you can share your (hopefully equally humiliating) post with us.)

Related Posts:

• LOVE, EXCITING AND NEW
• HA! HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! HAHA!(And Such) aka Nine Kisses

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And The Winner Is....

...Lissa - from Lissa - Like It Or Love It! Congratulations Lissa - check your email!

904 COMMENTS. Holy Mackerel.

I was counting down to the deadline last night and for a minute there it looked like it was going to stall out at 878, which would have driven me completely insane, so I twittered this:

"My blog giveaway has 878 comments and closes in two hours. If it doesn't go over 900 I will cast myself into a volcano, I swear it."

Luckily, a few more people commented and so no ritual sacrifice was required.
 
Those of you who haven't called or emailed Mark yet REALLY should - he spent all week thinking up snappy one-liners to amuse you with, and he'll feel so rejected if he doesn't get the chance to try them all out. 

I'll be back in the morning with an actual post - right now I have to finish writing this horrifically detailed, never ending user manual. (The volcano is actually looking - not so bad right now.)

PS: Next week I'll be hosting a pretty amazing Valentines giveaway, so be sure to check back for it.

PPS:  Utah bloggers - are you coming to the brunch deal?  I hope so. It's going to be AWESOME and LAVA FREE.

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If you have a product or service you'd like to promote in a future giveaway, 
please contact me at suelikestoblogandwastetime at gmail dot com.

Bloganthropy Brunch

Right now I'm working to meet a horrendous (HORRENDOUS) deadline on a software user manual (I've been up till 4AM for the last three nights if that gives you any idea), so I'll make this super quick...

If you're planning to get together with us for the Utah Bloganthropy Brunch on February 20th, please put your name and blog link in the McLinky below. This way everyone can start getting to know each other prior to the big day by visiting your blog.  (There's no need to link back, tis not a carnival.)

If you can't come this month, but still plan to be involved, please still go ahead and sign up in the McLinky so I can get an idea of who is GENERALLY interested.  If you want to be involved but can't come this month, just let me know in the comments.

I do need to get a feel for how many people plan to come, so I can nail down the location. From emails, comments and tweets, it looked like around 45 women were tentatively planning on it, but that was before I announced an actual date.  Turns out it's much easier to commit to an imaginary event.

Date: Saturday, February 20th
Time: 10 - 12 PM
Location: TBA
Bring: Cans of food for the Utah Food Bank, and, if you are so inclined, some kind of brunchy treat (not required though, I know Saturday mornings are nutso).

(Oooh, and if you'd like to bring paper cups, plates, or napkins (CLASSY), please shoot me an email.)

That morning we'll start off by getting to know each other via speed dating Enforced-At-Gunpoint-Friendship-Rotations.  This is so you don't end up spending the whole morning talking to the same two bloggers you happened to sit down next to when you walked in the door.

After that, we'll throw around a few ideas for projects we'd like to try to tackle over the next few months. The idea is to pursue projects that have both online and real world components, so that our efforts aren't limited to what can be accomplished by local bloggers. HARNESSING THE POWER OF THE INTERNET and all of that jazz.

You are welcome to invite anyone and everyone - blog about it, tweet about it, even {EGADS} TALK about it - because non-bloggers are also completely welcome. I'm hoping to bring along a few non-blogging friends and relatives and I hope you'll do the same. The goal is to be like an internet based Junior League, but without the snob factor and wealth.  Accomplish some good stuff and have a little fun.

Thanks guys - hope you can come.


UPDATED TO ADD: I'm also looking for a co-captain volunteer - someone who wants to be heavily involved and who is comfortable talking to the press. Once we've decided on our projects, we'll need to spread the word about what we're doing, and that will include utilizing traditional media outlets. I'd prefer someone who is actually passionate about service as opposed to someone who mainly just wants to be on TV. (Not that there's anything wrong with that ;>) Send me an email if you're interested and are one hundred percent sure you can commit your time.

PS: I want to give another shout-out to the amazing Ms.Caroline, who redesigned my blog for an awfully, awfully low price. AWFULLY low. In fact, I'm feeling sort of guilty. Go check her out here.

PPS: The giveaway is still going strong - you can enter until midnight tomorrow night. I talked to Mark yesterday and he said he's gotten a number of legitimate calls and requests but not a single prank call. (How crazy is THAT?!!) I'm so disappointed in the internet. ;)

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Giveaway: $100 Best Buy Card (Yes, Really)

My very first sponsor (see the little ad over there in the sidebar, with the green logo deal?), Distinctive Insurance, (a.k.a. my brother Mark) has generously donated a $100 gift card to Best Buy to giveaway to one lucky reader.  YEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

So.  Here's how this giveaway thing is going to work.

I sort of have to do the whole "tell everyone about it and get more entries" thing, since the whole point of this is to, you know, GROW MY BLOG so that I can eventually build that money-swimming-around-in room.

{{pausing to eat crow}}{{deep breath}}

• To enter the giveaway, leave a comment.
• To receive an additional entry, blog, Facebook, or tweet about it and then comment again letting me know you did it. 
• To receive an additional entry, grab my blog button or put your smiling mug over there in the follower area where THE COUNCIL is gathering..  (No fair taking it back off later, my delicate self esteem cannot take it.  It's a COMMITMENT is what I'm saying.  FOR LIFE!  And BEYOND!! EXERCISE CAUTION.)
• Follow me on Twitter and get ANOTHER one (@suelikestoblog)

 Aaaaand.... that's it.

(Is it normal to feel kind of dirty afterward?)

The giveaway ends Thursday at midnight, mountain time.

Tell your friends, tell your relatives. Come one, come all.  Ready? Set? GO.

But first, read about my Totally Awesome Brother - The Insurance Agent Heaven Smiles Upon.   (And yes - THERE WILL BE A QUIZ.)

-------------------------------

About the Giveaway Sponsor:

My husband and I were with Another Company That Shall Not Be Named for 14 years (obviously, we got married when we were TWELVE), but when my brother Mark got into insurance he was able to get us a policy that halved our auto insurance costs and is now saving us twenty percent on our homeowners. (Distinctive is a broker, which means they can shop around to find the best prices.) 

But the best part is that now I get to have Mark as an agent. Mark is not only smart and responsible and professional and hard-working and all of those other things you want your insurance agent to be (although he is NOT balding, and I kind of always thought you had to be balding to be good at insurance, it's in the training manual or something), he is also definitely the funny one in our family, the one with the dry wit and the snappy comebacks. 

(I blogged about him once, pimping him out for FREE (SUCKER) and calling him hilarious, and afterward he said he was feeling a lot of pressure to be witty.  I told him I'd be happy to call him a dullard, if that would make life easier. BUT I CANNOT TELL A LIE.) 

And now I must stop bragging about my brother or I'll feel really dumb at our next family reunion and I'll have to punch him a few times to make up for it.

His name is Mark Hutchings, his work email is mhutchings at distinctive dot net, and his work cell is 702-588-9176. He's licensed in Utah and Nevada for home/auto/commercial liability/workers comp/malpractice, in California for home and auto, and for individual and group health in every single state. 

If nothing else, call and prank him.  (That way he'll know this whole sponsor thing is paying off.)

KIDDING, DON'T DO THAT.  


(unless you really feel like it)

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Interested in being part of a future giveaway?
Email me at suelikestoblogandwastetime at gmail dot com for more information 

I Have a Confession To Make

You guys.

I tried the HCG diet.

(I KNOW, I know, I know.  "Crash dieting never works."  "You have to make lifestyle changes."  "Moderation in all things."  I KNOW.  You don't have to tell me.)

But if I'm going to have to meet a bunch of people in February, I would prefer to be - not in the largest pants size I've ever owned.  That would be my preference.

If you haven't heard of the HCG diet before, it is basically - complete insanity.  Basically, you starve yourself  and you take HCG hormone shots, you can't use lotion or oily make-up or cook anything that would require you to even momentarily touch something fatty, and you - I don't know - spin around three times in the dark and whisper "please make me beautiful" until it all works together to make you lose weight. (Or else, as I suspect, it's just the fact that you are STARVING YOURSELF that is effective and the rest is all complete BS.)

You can't exercise, which means my running program went on a temporary hiatus.  The official reason for this has something to do with burning calories from the "wrong" fat stores, but really, I think it is because they know you would KEEL OVER AND DIE, and they don't want to be responsible for it.

The diet has phases - Phase 1, where you eat like a crazed hippopotamus for two days (this is called "Fat Loading" and it was my Very Favorite Phase); Phase 2, where you eat 500 calories per day for 23 or 43 days, depending upon how clinically insane your doctor is; Phase 3, which they call "Stabilization" and where you basically eat no carbs; and Phase 4, the maintenance phase, where you ease in a few carbs, gain everything back, and start all over again.

(Listen.  I know how crazy it sounds. I have read billions of nutrition/diet/fitness/healthy lifestyle books. I am very good about READING about how to get and stay fit, just not so good at the actual implementation. I know all about how crash dieting effects your metabolism, your muscle mass, etc., etc., etc.  I know about all of it.  I'm not fat because I don't understand these things.  But desperate people do desperate things.   And after viewing Certain Christmas Pictures That Have Been DESTROYED, DESTROYED, DESTROYED, I would say that desperate just about sums it up for me.)

I started reading The Literature (from back in the 1950s - so - Highly Credible), and it sounded vaguely convincing, if you squinted and really WANTED it to be convincing and were willing to ignore all of the other things you knew about nutrition, fitness and metabolism.  And I know a lot of people who have done this diet, who have done WELL on this diet - people who are NOT actually clinically insane, but rather rational, intelligent people.  So I thought - what do I have to lose (besides, as it turns out, large clumps of my hair)? 

I tried it.  For the two fat loading days, and then for eight days of starvation.

The Pros:

• I lost 14 pounds in 8 days. (I suspect 80% of that loss is water, since I look not a smidgeon different.)
• My carb and sugar cravings are completely gone.
• I am completely off the sauce (Diet Dr. Pepper)
• I wasn't hungry, strangely enough.

The Cons:

• The aforementioned hair loss
• Overwhelming fatigue
• Skin like an alligator
• The inability to form complete sentences
• Migraines and vomiting (A HA!)
• Lost work time (due to staring at my computer wondering what the little buttons with letters on them were for)
• Irritability (if by irritability you mean completely losing my nut twenty times each day) (my children LOVED this diet)

Yesterday I started blacking out, so - as of yesterday, I switched to a sensible low carb plan that will allow me to - not starve. OH, SWEET FOOD. SWEET EGGS AND SALAD AND CHICKEN.  SWEET NOT DYING OF STARVATION. SWEET BRAIN CLARITY.

So now here I am, 14 pounds lighter but still having vertigo today.  I'm going to jump back into my running / weights program tomorrow (or as soon as the constant dizziness goes away).

And THAT is My HCG story.

Please folks, don't try this at home.

(Do I win for the craziest crash diet story ever?)

Pretty Much All Over The Place

My friend Vanessa has this group that goes to local restaurants and hotspots, and then blogs about their experiences there - what they ate, what they loved, etc.  As a part of the review, they DO mention a few things they didn't like, but in general the reviews are pretty positive.  This is great, but I think I see an opening for a new review group.

A more SINISTER review group.

(DUN DUN DUN.)
 
I am going to start my own  review group, and it will be called THE COUNCIL. (cue lightning and thunder)

We'll all wear black jackets like the Pink Ladies gone goth, and we'll say things like "SNAP TO IT, WAITER," and "THIS SOUP IS COLD" and "BRING ME MY WRAP" and we'll write things about our experience like "It was slop!" and "my five year old makes better gelato than this" and the businesses will TREMBLE when they see us coming.

Our reviews will make or break them here in Utah County because we will be RUTHLESS and we will TELL THE TRUTH and they will FEAR US.

(Aaaaaand now that I think about it we will probably not get invited to very many restaurants.)

(Hmmmm.....)

(Back to the drawing board I guess.)  

---------------------
Now and then I think I'm going to share a few links with you, LIKE SO:

• Sometimes I find really funny bloggers, and I think - I should share this link with people, but then I think, well but then why would they ever come back and read ME again, because this person is obviously eclipses me a million-fold in the funny department.  And then I think, Sue, CHILL.  So I hereby introduce you to the fabulous Linda over at All and Sundry (or I would introduce you, if I actually knew her in any way/shape/form). (Warning: Occasional Naughty Language).  I loved this particular post veddy veddy much. It completely describes my life.

• Do you read Julia?  She doesn't know me from Adam, but I love her so.  She mostly writes about her children, but in such a lovely, charming way.  You will feel you know her and her family after you read her for a bit.  I like to pretend we're cousins.

• A post I really identified with over at Jennifer's place, Playgroups are No Place for Children

• Also, a lot of you probably already know Annie, but she is in a bit of a pickle.  So if you like (wince) Twilight or (non-wince) Annie, see if you'd like to buy what she's selling.... 

The End.

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The Hedgehog Returns

So first order of business - my long-time, LONG-LONG time blog pal, Caroline B (aka MomBabe from the Bingham Diaries and MMB) just made over my blog for me.

She offered to help me out a long time ago (way back when I had that lovely cloud header on my blog for the longest time) but I have issues.  I'll just quote an old post and explain how I "work" when talking to blog designers:

Here is the thing about having me work with a blog designer. The process goes kind of like this:

"So, Sue, what would you like your blog to look like?"

"I don't know."

"What colors do you like?"

"All of them."

"Do you want a cartoon person at the top?"

"Yes. No. Probably no. I don't know. Maybe yes. No."

"OK, I'm not really getting a sense of what you want here."

"Yes."

"Help me out here, Sue."

"Read my archives, then it will probably just come to you. Like in a vision."

"Huh."

"When could you have that done by, do you think?"

So yeah.  It took a while.

On Thursday I came crawling back to Caroline, begging for forgiveness and mercy and cute sidebars and she whipped up my blog make-over in something like fifteen point five seconds flat.  It was astonishing.

Come see my blog now, I look like a Real Blogger. She's like the Blue Fairy of blog-land. Go see her and take a peek at her portfolio. (She's not paying/bribing/blackmailing me into saying this, I'm just VERY VERY EXCITED.)   (I even have a blog button.)  (I don't even know what to think about that.)   

----------------------

I got a package in the mail yesterday from my sister Diana, opened it up, and found this t-shirt:

(If you don't get the reference, go read the 1st P.S. on this post.)

How much do I love it? 

Oh, so very much.

(I'm full of love for inanimate objects this week.)

(And sisters.)

I wore it when I ran walked stumbled around on the treadmill last night.  It motivated me to keep going instead of lying down on the bedroom floor, weeping.  My "running skills" have pretty much evaporated over the last week, but I'll get it back.  I'LL GET IT BACK. I'm going to start running outside, I think. But only in the dark.  I'm not quite ready to take this bouncing, jiggling show on the road in broad daylight.

I sort of miss my crazy diet, with it's daily losses and it's reassuring routine of daily starvation.  It's much harder to have to choose what to eat.  I end up wandering around the kitchen, feeling confused and unable to decide and thinking about carbs. Yesterday I ate three hard boiled eggs and then finally broke down at 9PM and choked down some chicken. I'm not doing it on purpose, it just turns out that eating is just not as much fun without sugar.

But even though I MISS sugar, I am not craving it.  It's so bizarre.  Seriously, there is a cupcake on the counter right now, and you guys, for all I care it could be BROCCOLI.  This is quite the change, because during the first three days of the diet all I could think about was sugar.

I kept buying my husband and kids treats in an effort to live vicariously through them.  I made brownies for my kids and then sat and watched them eat and asked questions like:

"Is that good?"
"Do you like it?"
"Tell me about it."

I kept feeding my husband candy bars and then trying to make out with him just to get a calorie-free taste, but he said it made him feel cheap and used, so I had to quit it.

Party pooper.

I haven't had breakfast yet so I think I'm going to go wander around the kitchen staring at things for a while.

Happy Saturday everyone.

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I Promise I Will Quit Talking About Service and Get Togethers For a While... RIGHT AFTER THIS

Today was the quilting thing and if you want to know how it went, you should go HERE.

I took some pictures, but I think I may be one of the seven bloggers in the world with no photography skills, because they all turned out looking rather dark and tragic, very The Sad Little Depression Era Quilting Bee:

It was actually NOT sad, it was fun and busy. A bunch of friends from my ward came out to help, and it was great to be able to just ignore our children sit and talk to them for a while.

I was trying to be friendly and welcoming to the people I met, but I also had the beginnings of a migraine, and was fighting the corresponding severely upset stomach (NOT CONTAGIOUS - IF I AWKWARDLY HUGGED YOU THERE, DO NOT BE ALARMED).

(And then I thought I felt better and ate some carrots and celery from the snack table and actually DID throw up, but that is probably much more than you needed to know.)

Despite pukiness, I got to meet a few bloggers like Arianne and Clisty and Sharla and Shanna and Jami and Cricket and a bunch of other people whose names and blog URLs are now lost to me as I'm currently floating away in a fluffy pink pepto and excedrin flavored fog. I think maybe Collette was there, but I didn't get to talk to her.  Possibly I hallucinated Melanie as well. I saw a few bloggers who I already know and love like Shannon and The Other Sue and Jenny and Corrie.

I'm sad that I didn't get to meet everyone, but look at it this way - at least I didn't vomit on you.

(Really kind of a win for you, when you think about it.)

The monthly get-togethers are going to start up next month (Saturday, February 20th, 10AM, location TBA). So far I'm expecting about 50 women. I figure we can pretend we're at a BlogHer party, but without the pretension and expense.

I got a few emails after I first started talking about this, blog friends who were supportive but also a little on the dubious "nobody likes a goody-two-shoes" side.

Friends, trust me.  I'm the last person who will ever pretend to be an angel.  I swear too much, I skip church when the mood strikes me, and half the time when we manage to get there we skip Sacrament Meeting. I have my doubts about the practicality of a year's worth of food storage, I hate to read my scriptures and I watch The Real Housewives of Orange County. I'm seriously the person they're talking about when they say "oh ye of little faith."  I'm not a role model.  I'm not trying to sell you an idealized picture of who I am.  (PHOTOSHOP, YES - MORALITYSHOP - NO).  I just really like service, and not just because it makes me forget about my own problems for a while.

I'm empathetic and stubborn and impatient, so when I hear there is a problem I want to rush out and try to solve it immediately.  I've been lucky to have friends like Cristina and Jessica and Heather and Jenny (NON-BLOGGERS, EEP!) who have the same inclinations.  We've become such great friends as we've worked on charitable things together, and we've been able to accomplish good stuff in our own small way. And that's great.

But I keep thinking - look at all of these good women, all over blog-land.  Look at what they do whenever there is some kind of tragedy or disaster or need:  They post about it.  They organize benefits.  They sell stuff on Etsy to help.  They don't just rubberneck and stare at the wreckage.  I've seen so much empathy and compassion, and so many people with a genuine desire to help others. I keep thinking - if we could just get together as a group, we could accomplish HUGE things. We could be a real force. I really think we could.

(And now I'm starting to sound like a very uncharismatic televangelist, so I'll knock it off.)

For the February meet-up, I'm asking everyone to bring a few cans of food for the Utah Food Bank.  We'll spend most of the time getting to know each other, and then we'll bounce around ideas for our first Mighty Act of Fantabulous Headline Making service.  (We're definitely going to do the speed dating thing.  Yes, slightly dorky, but it really is a great way to get to know and talk to everyone, so that you don't end up spending the whole time talking to the three friends you came with.) 

I'll tell you more about it as we get closer to the date - I have to go throw up now.  (If I owe you an email/tweet/fb message/carrier pigeon, rest assured I will get to it right after I'm done being violently, violently ill.)

Read This and Read All Of It, All Of It, ALL OF IT, Or SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES! The DIRE, DIRE Consequences!

Actually I am still mulling over the consequences.  BUT THEY WILL BE SEVERE.  And DIRE!

!!

So I want to start hosting a monthly get-together for locals - everyone brings something to eat, we get together, we talk, we meet new people, we blogger speed-date (MAYBE.) (MAYBE THE SPEED DATING IS TOO NERDY, I HAVE NOT DECIDED), we get our friendship thing on.  We bring the kids if necessary. 

(And also we do a service project.) 

(See how I'm sneaking in the service part?  SNEAKY)

It's true though.  I'm forming a BRAND NEW blogger clique.  The Utah Bloggers Who Like To Eat and Do Painless Service clique.  (We're better than most of the other blogger cliques because we also get to feel legitimately self righteous. WOOT!)

I want my friends and family who don't blog to feel welcome though, so I will probably call it the Not Necessarily Just Utah Bloggers But Also Real Life Friends Who Are Not Bloggers Plus Random Facebook Friends and Relatives Who Like to Eat and Do Painless Service clique.  (CATCHY!)

It will be TOTALLY painless service, I promise.  You will barely even know you are doing it. In fact, you will probably drive home thinking, "Wow, what a fun get-together, I just met the most awesome, friendly, hilarious women who will probably be my FRIENDS FOR LIFE, to the extent that I will NEVER BE LONELY AGAIN, and I will ALWAYS HAVE COMMENTS ON MY BLOG, and then - then - I think there was something else we did, but I can't even remember what it was because of all the FUN FUN FUN we were having."

Like that.

Seriously, did you know that serving with other women is an amazing way to make friends?  IT IS!  Especially with ME.  Not only because I will love you instantly for coming, but also because I have VERY LOW FRIENDSHIP STANDARDS.

(I realize this may not actually be a draw.  I'm just saying. You'll have at least ONE friend there, right?  And if you come and you are feeling initially uncomfortable, just come hang out with me, I'm the acknowledged leader of the socially awkward.)

The first get-together (and I realize saying "get-together" repeatedly sounds extraordinarily dorky, but "meeting" sounds too clinical and "event" sounds too ridiculous and unfortunately my brain is currently suffering from total-synonym-fail) is going to be in February, time/date/location to be announced once I get a feel for whether or not there will be one hundred of us or three.

If you think you'd be interested in coming, (AND YOU SHOULD BE INTERESTED IN COMING) (ALONG WITH YOUR FRIENDS) (AND RELATIVES) please let me know in the comments or via email (or Facebook or Twitter or carrier pigeon or doorbell ditching, etc., etc.) so I can start to figure out how many people we're talking about.  

In the meantime, my friend Kalli dreamed up a wonderful way for us all to help with Haiti. She's hosting a quilting bee THIS MONDAY in American Fork.  I'll just quote from the post on her blog:

"Did you know that within 48 hours of the quake, LDS Humanitarian Services and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints had commissioned two planes loaded with 160,000 lbs of relief supplies with additional supplies to be delivered via truck through the Dominican Republic?

My friend Melanie and I got in touch with LDS Humanitarian Services to ask how we could help, turns out their greatest need at this time is full size quilts.

This is where you come in.  We need your help.  Let's help an organization so busy actually helping those we only wish we could.

On Monday, January 25th we will be hosting a quilting bee at a church in American Fork.

The details are:

Where: American Fork LDS Stake Center at 240 S. Center St.
Time: 10:00 am to 1:00 pm
Bring: A surger if you have one!
**Supplies will be provided BUT batting donations are ALWAYS appreciated (hint hint)!
Email ME (if you're planning on it): kallikverb@gmail.com

Doesn't matter if you can't sew, your help can be used cutting, ironing, tying or somewhere else. I know this is a somewhat inconvenient time, but I am begging you to do what you can to make it work. Even if you can only stay an hour, or a half hour, come on your lunch break, we need you!

Bring your kids, mine will be there going batty because that's smack in the middle of his nap time. Sweet!

We are doing this! Come and do it with us. Here's how you can help."

You should come!  We'll meet.  We'll be friends. We'll pretend that we know how to tie quilts and do things with batting.  And you'll meet Kalli, who is hilarious and wonderful and one of the very few bloggers I know who looks just like her picture. (And I am including myself in that statement.)

See you there?


PS:  I'm speaking at CBC.  (I know.  TRAIN WRECK ALERT.)  (Actually, I used to be a corporate trainer, so it will probably be mildly entertaining.  Let us pray.)

And So We're Back To This Again....

You know, if my life were a movie (or more likely, considering my non-photogenic status - a really cheesy novel) we would've already Faced Down Financial Adversity, Fought Hard to Overcome Seemingly Insurmountable Challenges, Learned Important Life Lessons, Regained Economic Footing (and House), and Lived Happily Ever After.

Aaaaaaaaand.... SCENE.

Of course, the problem with thinking of yourself as the plucky heroine in the movie of your life, is that life doesn't actually STOP right there at the good part.  You can regain your financial footing, start building savings and then a series of unexpected things might start to happen. A two week maternity leave.  A rash of medical bills.  Increased sitter time due to presence of small infant type creature. A client who fails to pay the over TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS owed for work performed.  State mandated unpaid furlough days.  Tornado.

(OK, possibly not that last one, but who knows - THE DAY IS YOUNG.)

If my life were a movie, the audience would be saying "BOO.  HISS.  PLOT RECYCLING.  CREATIVITY FAIL!"  Probably they would throw popcorn at the screen.

Plucky heroines would likely Put Their Nose To The Grindstone and Save the Day.  This won't really help me in real life because my nose has already BEEN on the grindstone - in fact it's worn down to practically a NUB (and a nub does not look nice on camera, trust me on this)).  I work each morning for 4-5 hours while the sitter is here, then work 3-4 hours every night after the kids are in bed.

I'm nubby.  I'm tired.  I am seriously lacking in pluck. My husband is gone every day from 7AM till 6PM.  This would never be acceptable in a movie. Movie romances require much more than the occasional grunt and wave as we pass each other in the hallway. (Also, heroines shower occasionally.)  (And I'm guessing they also don't stress-inhale Malomars.) 

It doesn't help that last year was pretty awful, all the way around.  Some stuff happened - stuff I won't get into here (OOOOH, LOOK, A BOUNDARY!), but suffice to say that it kicked me off balance and made me question a lot of things I'd taken for granted for a very long time.  Hence the not blogging.  Hard to blog in a lighthearted way about things that are hurting your heart.

(Also, hence the service.  Service = total selfishness for me.  It is easier to think about someone else's problems than it is to percolate on my own. A child is cold? A child needs a coat?  This is a problem I can try to fix. Not all problems are so easily dispatched, so tangibly dealt with.  Service makes me feel as though I'm doing something right, when all too often I feel like I'm doing it wrong.)  (So basically, expect to see me posting about a LOT of service projects in 2010.)  (In fact, count on it.)

(Ooooooh, speaking of:  If you text HAITI to 90999, $10 (charged to your phone bill) goes to the Red Cross to help with relief efforts there.  SO EASY.) 

On the other hand:

So, yes, 2009 was not ALL bad.   

I was just kind of hoping (praying) 2010 would start off a little more smoothly.  And it might get better from here.  You never know.  New, higher paying jobs could appear.  Clients could suddenly decide to pay me.  Unicorns could prance merrily through the streets.  It could happen.

In the meantime I will TRY to keep reminding myself that I can't JUST be happy when things are easy.  I think that's the difference between people who are generally happy and people who aren't.  If you wait to be happy until everything is smooth sailing and wonderful, you are going to waste most of your life, because real life isn't like that.  It isn't a movie. (UNFORTUNATELY.)

So I'm going to choose to be happy.  I'm going find the joy in the journey, even if it feels like I'm only traveling in circles on a tricycle with a broken wheel.

Even if it makes people who know what is going on wonder if I am in full possession of my faculties.

I WILL BE HAPPY IF IT KILLS ME.

SO THERE.

PS: I am not walking a marathon.  It was a worthy goal, but I realized pretty quickly that I did not have four hours available each day to "practice walking." In December I started the Couch-to-5K running program.  (If you've never heard of it, it's basically a nine week run/walk interval training program).  (I won't admit how far that means I can run now, because it will probably make you point and snicker. "You had to TRAIN to be able to run that far?  Oh Sue.  Sue, Sue, Sue."  Yes.  I KNOW.)  I keep waiting to experience the famous "runner's high" that everyone keeps talking about, but so far no go. I usually feel pretty great right after I finish running, but I'm thinking that's less runner's high and more BECAUSE I STOPPED RUNNING.  I'm not well suited for bouncing around a track - my legs are too short and my chest is too large - I am not streamlined or aerodynamic, I am clumsy and slow.  I'm not a cheetah, I'm more like a very determined hedgehog. 

 
PPS: We haven't changed Joshua's name.  Thanks for all of the advice and comments about your experiences with name changes.  I think we just needed a few weeks to get used to it.  We call him Joshie right now, and it seems to fit him.  He was a pretty happy baby for a month or so, but now he is teething - gnawing a hole in his arm.  We've tried everything - teething tablets, teething rings, tylenol, orajel - he still mainly just wants someone to rub his gums for him.  Someone needs to invent a robot for that.  (Many mornings, I'm tired enough that I probably qualify.)

PPPS: My cousin Annie took that wonderful photo, by the way.  She took a bunch of pictures that I am just completely in love with.  She took the pictures for me as a favor, since I was being very subtle, whining about poverty and poor pictureless infants and saying things like "man, wouldn't it be nice if I had a cousin who was a photographer?" (She isn't actively working as a photographer right now, but I'm sure if you threw large handfuls of cash in her general direction she might be able to squeeze you in.)

BASK IN MY GENEROSITY

Because it is Christmas and I want you all to know how much you mean to me, I am giving away ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.***

REALLY.****

Entering my giveaway***** is a piece of cake. Here is how it works:

To get one entry, leave a comment.

To get TWO entries, Blog/Facebook/Tweet about my giveaway! Your blog post must include the words "ethereally gorgeous" and "surprisingly humble."

To get THREE entries, hypnotize twenty-seven of your closest blog friends into sending me notarized affidavits pledging their blog allegiance and stating that they will not rest - NAY - CANNOT rest until my blog is the most famous blog of all the blogs, ever.

To get FOUR entries, stand up, touch your toes and softly whisper “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” And then come back here and leave a comment letting me know that you did it.

To get FIVE entries, pray very hard that my subscriber count goes up and instruct your children to do the same.

For SIX entries, hold a fast.

For SEVEN entries, build a weather balloon, pretend to put your kid in it, hold a press conference and when it is your turn to speak say only “http://borrowedlight.blogspot.com - YEAH baby!” (No need to come back and comment. Trust me, I will know that you did this when you do this.)

Happy Commenting!

---------------------------------------------

*** This may or may not actually be Monopoly money. I'm leaving that part a SURPRISE.

****Not really.

*****It isn't a giveaway. But this is. So is this. And this is and this is and this is and this is (hands off the last one, I’m totally winning it.). And if after all of that you are still feeling hungry for giveaways you can go here and here and here. Also here. And here. Andhereandhereandhere. Aaaaaand here. And if all of that materialism makes you cry (/TAMN), then try this one.


THE END

If This Doesn't Make You Smile, You Are DEAD INSIDE

My sister said that if I don't want people to be startled by my non-glowy appearance, then I should probably post a picture and/or video of my Actual Self.

Therefore, I give you:

A Video Of The Side Of My Head

(YOU'RE WELCOME.)

For Your Reading Pleasure: Extremely Long, Rambling, Pointless, Transitionless, Sort of Depressed Sounding Drivel. Please To Enjoy.

The coat drive resulted in around 112 coats, 46 light jackets, several pairs of gloves and mittens, and a few pairs of boots. Thank you so, so much for participating and for being so generous and goodhearted. It was heartwarming and inspirational, like any Christmas service project worth its salt should be.

I am discovering that I would make a total emotional wreck of a humanitarian aid worker. I don't know how people like Amy handle it. I stood in Walmart the other day trying to decide between a toddler parka and an infant coat. I could not stop picturing little round cheeks turning red with cold all because I CHOSE THE WRONG COAT, and I burst into tears right there in the baby aisle.

(I struggle with humanitarian stuff the same way that I struggle with caring about the environment. I mean - does it matter that I recycle my cans if I drive an SUV too? Do I really have to switch all of my bulbs over to those awful flourescent ones? Should I stop buying name brand whifflesnatchers so we can donate more to people who have nothing? Is it all or nothing? How much is enough?)

(Man, where is the Lorax when you need a little help focusing your middle class guilt?)

Anyway, we went out on Thanksgiving morning to hang doorknob flyers about the coat drive. We went to a neighborhood a few streets over, because my friend Jess had already hit up our neighborhood a few weeks prior. I knew our haul would probably be a little on the small side since many people were gone for Thanksgiving, and they might have already donated to something else, or they might not have children, or they might have given at the office, or they might have no coats because they are actually space lizards in disguise - or, you know, blah blah blah excuse excuse WHATEVER.

I wasn't counting on huge participation is what I'm saying.

But what I didn't expect was that not a single household would donate a coat. NOT. A. SINGLE. HOUSE.

(This baby's picture was on my flyer. COME ON. How do you resist that?)
(A heart of STONE, that's how.)

I looked around at all of the Christmas wreaths and porch displays and elaborate decorations and wondered exactly whose birth they thought they were celebrating? Certainly not the birth of little baby Jesus, the world's most famous shivering-in-the-cold refugee. (I mean, HELLO - "a child, a child, shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold fleece lined sherpa jackets.").

But I know that one neighborhood does not represent the world - Jess and her kids gathered up over 70 pairs of mittens, and look how incredibly great and generous YOU all were during the coat drive. So I'm not turning cynical on you, but I am fighting a serious urge to toilet paper certain Christmas displays in the neighborhood over yonder.

------------------------------------------------------
Can I just tell you that I'm having post-baby-naming regret? We named him Joshua (although Fernando he will always remain in my heart). His name doesn't fit at all. It seems like such a serious, somber name, and when he is feeling good, he is such a jolly, happy, little (Frosty approved) soul. I wish we'd named him Benjamin - he seems like a Ben to me. Is it a big deal to change a baby's name? Has anyone actually done it?

Gentle Ben

(Er... I've never read/watched that, so I'm not actually sure what I'm implying about my child)

Speaking of blog names, I am abandoning them, because it just feels stupid. Put me on the bad parent list, but - I don't think anyone will be any more or less likely to kidnap my children if they know their names are not Sarah, Abby, Carter and Fernando, but are actually:

Megan

Emma

Jacob

and Joshua.

If you think I just used that little naming exercise as an excuse to post cute pictures of my kids, well, then YES. YOU GOT ME.

We haven't had professional pictures taken of the baby yet, partly because we are broker than broker than broke (as per usual) and partly because pictures make him angry. (Doesn't he look kind of like a little mini-Cesar Chavez, all "Babies Against Flash Photography!" and such?)

Cesar Chavez

Josh

FIGHT THE POWER!

(Ummm.... PLEASE IMAGINE TRANSITION TO ENTIRELY NEW TOPIC HERE.)

I am EXTRAORDINARILY fat this year. I met a few blogging friends for lunch the other day, people I'd never actually met in real life, and even though I warned them my picture was photoshopped and I was actually horribly troll like and multi-chinned, I think they were still unprepared for the reality. One of them dubiously said "well, you SORT of look like your picture," and I had to limp around with my ego on the floor for the rest of the meal.

Aught Ten is going to be my year though, I can FEEL it. I'm sick of myself, ready to be strong and powerful and not weak and sluggish and sloth-like. Thinking about times when I've successfully lost weight in the past, it was usually when I had a goal or a deadline or something I was working toward, like a revenge meeting with an old flame or something like that. I am fresh out of old flames though (unless you count my husband) (KIDDING), so I need a different kind of goal.

I would like to someday do a triathalon like a lot of the other women in my neighborhood, but I really struggle with running because of my chestage. (If Santa would like to bring me a reduction for Christmas this year, I'd be seriously in favor.) Sans that particular Christmas miracle, my big plan is to start training to WALK the Salt Lake City marathon in April. I'm following this "Walk a Marathon in 18 Weeks" program I found online. If anyone wants to do it with me, let me know. I could use a friend to help keep me accountable.

Speaking of friends (SEE? A TRANSITION! I CAN TRANSITION! HOWEVER AWKWARDLY!), my friend Michelle is coming to Salt Lake City during the holidays and wanted suggestions for fun things to do. I gave her the standard list, stuff like the lights on temple square and going tubing in Park City and skiing and the Christmas thing at the pioneer village, but honestly - most of the stuff we do is based right in our neighborhood - church parties and stuff with friends and neighbors and things here at home. So I'm throwing it out to you guys - do you know of any fun Christmasy things to do here in SLC during the holidays?

We took the kids ice skating at the Gallivan Center's outdoor rink last week and the kids had a ball. Here's Megan, who told me she was pretty sure this guy was not Santa, but she wanted her picture taken with him "just in case."

And speaking of the HOLIDAYS (JUST GO WITH IT), my friend Aubrey Mace just wrote a really cute, charming, LDS Christmas romance, Santa Maybe. You should go buy it. Buy a cupcake while you're at it, because the story is set in a bakery and my mouth was constantly watering. It's a very sweet book - it'll make you laugh and smile and feel warm seasonal fuzzies.

(Aubrey's one of my critique partners - or she would be, if I ever actually wrote anything. Right now my participation in the critique group is pretty much limited to congratulating Aubrey and Melanie each time they get a new book published. It's mostly just a great opportunity for me to feel like a big loser...)

(Per the FTC, I should probably now disclose that Aubrey is not a sponsor, she's a friend. Thank you, FTC, for making the blogging world a safer place. /sarcasm)

I made myself a new header, have you seen it? I should probably spring for a blog makeover, but... eh. Caroline mocked up some seriously cute headers for me once upon a time, offered to makeover my blog for free, and guess what I did about it? NOTHING. I would just sit there and look at them, pondering which one "captured my essence." (Mea culpa, Caroline. Please to forgive.)

I guess I am having another blog-life crisis. I enjoy writing stuff here, and love the friends I've made and continue to make (although I struggle with responding to my email, I just never know what to say - especially if it is a POSITIVE email because then I feel like a fraud, and so I think about what to say, and think about it some more, until I completely forget about the initial email, only to discover it in horror three weeks later, lather-rinse-repeat) and all of that, but I am increasingly bugged by the self-promotional aspect of blogging in general, even though I am guilty of it myself (hello feedburner count, how are you today?).

Don't get me wrong, I have NOTHING against women making money from their blogs, nothing at all, but there is this weird line that it sometimes feels like people cross - from real blogger to trading-on-relationships-for-cash blogger. Plenty of people know how to mix sponsorship with remaining themselves, but it seems like more and more people get this really commercial, tie-it-up-with-a-bow sound to their posts that doesn't ring true, and it seems to correspond with getting ads. Maybe that's because you usually get ads when you are starting to get more readers, so you become more guarded and careful about what you post. I know there are plenty of times (seven times during this post) when I had to veto myself from saying certain things, because what would fly when I had ten readers doesn't fly now that I have slightly more.

I don't even really know how to explain what I'm talking about.

(AND THAT, my friends, is why I'm a technical writer. Because I explain things SO CLEARLY.)

Must cease rambling, Joshua is awake. I haven't proofed this and am pressing publish anyway. Egads. LIVING ON THE EDGE, I AM.

Just Be Grateful I Didn't Post My Attempt At A Heartwarming Retelling of The Little Match Girl

I'm still very serious about this coat project.

(Two whole days later and I'm still committed. Impressive. Let us pause while I pat myself on the back.)

As of 11:31 PM, we're up to 62 confirmed coats. WOOT!

(Hmmm.... I think you might have to be attempting 'ironically dorky' in order to make WOOT work. I am not exactly the ironic type, more of the actual type.)

(But still. Woot!)

If you're still on the fence about dropping the cash, just think - for around twenty bucks you can walk past the bell ringers this Christmas feeling fairly virtuous. It's a bargain my friends.

Think about what you waste twenty bucks on every week of your life:

• Random crap at Target that you never intended to buy (it is impossible to leave Target without spending $100 - I think this may be a law of nature)
• Food you will never actually eat from Costco, because it was on sale (twenty years later you will open your pantry and wonder why you thought you needed a case of trail mix) (answer: you probably didn't)
• Cafe Rio. Again.
• Doughnuts (just me?)

I'll put the rest of the coat drive info (including the shipping address) at the end of this post, so those who are sick of hearing about it (because they have no SOUL) can skip it.

But I'll leave you with this - one of my friends has been involved in refugee service projects before. One of the families they worked with only had ONE coat. And the four kids TOOK TURNS wearing it.

THEY TOOK TURNS.

Ack.

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Last week Fernando and I took a little trip to Primary Children's hospital so they could strap him to a table, insert an IV and catheter and scan his kidney function for 45 minutes. They had to try three different catheters before finding one that would work. So - insert catheter, withdraw catheter, insert, withdraw, insert, withdraw.

Fernando was not medicated during this procedure.

Fernando was NOT pleased.

The picture above was taken with my crappy flip cell phone camera and therefore does not allow you to see the tears rolling down his cheeks, or the "WHY, WHY, WHY would you betray me like this mother" look he kept shooting me. It was awful.

Possibly I fell apart and leaked tears all over his chubby, little baby hands for the entire 45 minute procedure. Possibly.

Later in the day, after a related test and one rather jaw dropping diaper explosion, we met with his specialist, who said that he's completely fine. His kidneys are swollen but it should clear up on its own - no surgery or medication needed. It was fantastic news.

Fernando would like to acknowledge all of the people who sent us well wishes and prayers and love (he refers to them as his vampire groupies, vain little thing) by sharing one of the gigantic smiles he just started handing out this week, but you know how those vampires are - afraid of bright lights. (Or is it mirrors that vampires are afraid of? Vampires confuse me.)

He went from moderately agreeable to completely freaked out in the space of four flashes.








Ah, well... Maybe he'll be ready for the paparazzi another day.

(Fernando promises NOTHING.)

He's been on Prevacid for a couple of weeks now, and the change in him is amazing. He still has reflux, but he's no longer in constant pain. He smiles and he coos and is generally pretty delightful. He sleeps like a two month old (as he should), but we are enjoying him so much. He is the sweetest, dearest little baby.

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Oh, hey! Look, we're talking about coats again!

(You've been biting your fingernails in anticipation, right?)














(Look at this cool graphic TJ made! Thanks TJ!)

If you'd like to get involved, just start spreading the word. Talk about it on your blog, or on Facebook, or Twitter, or whatever works for you. If you end up blogging about it, let me know. Eventually I may compile a list of the links and post it here so that people can check out what other folks are doing.

The shipping/drop-off address for donations is:

Gayane Manukyan
Att: 100 Coats for Kids Project
Refugee Center at AAU
1588 South Major Street
Salt Lake City, Utah 84115

If you end up sending a coat, please let me know when/how many so we can keep track of our progress and so I can keep our contacts at the Refugee Services Office and AAU updated.

If you're local, and you want to donate coats but don't want to ship them, you can drop them off at the center, or you can email me, and I'll come pick them up. (Door to door service, people. Door to door. Just think - you can see me in all of my multi-chinned, non-Photoshopped glory. LUCKY, LUCKY YOU.)

This whole thing keeps making me think of A Little Princess, of the two hungry, freezing children in the attic, and of the Indian gentleman who secretly brings them warm clothing and food.

Not that we're doing anything huge. It's a small thing - an easy thing. We probably feel more virtuous for doing this kind of stuff than we really should.

In the book, Sara says, "Somehow, something always happens just before things get to the very worst. It is as if Magic did it."

And I guess that's the lucky thing for us - now and then, we get to be part of the magic.

Now go forth and get your coat mojo on.



PS: Tracy - you won! I'll email the gift card to you this morning.

I'm Small I Know, But Wherever I Go....*

I owe you a post about Fernando's recent trip to the hospital (he's completely fine) and about the the utter pointlessness of showering at this point in my life, and I will get around to that ANY SECOND NOW, but before I do, I have to post this...

I'm working on a winter service project with a few of my book club friends.

(I know some of your eyes just glazed over right there, but I have no choice but to post about it, since I keep blathering on to my friends about how I'm going to "get the blogging community involved.")

(As an aside - there is nothing that makes me feel like more of a dork than mentioning my blog to non-bloggers. Sure, they all nod and smile supportively, but I'm pretty sure they're secretly wondering when I'm going to publish my English-to-Klingon translation of the Monty Python and the Holy Grail soundtrack.)

(It probably doesn't help that I say things like "blogging community.")

Anyway, BLOGGING COMMUNITY, we're collecting new (or very gently used), warm coats and clothing for refugee children who live here in Salt Lake City. The kids in question came to SLC from war torn areas in Africa and Asia. Most of them have never experienced snow and have nothing appropriate to wear. The refugee specialist we've been working with says they are still desperately in need of warm children's clothing for this season. It's already November, so we're going to have to do this thing QUICKLY.

I'm collecting clothing locally (the old fashioned way - walking around handing out flyers and pestering friends and neighbors) - but I also wanted to start a virtual clothing drive.

The idea is pretty basic: You purchase new infant/toddler/child/teen size coats and/or warm clothing online and ship your items directly to the refugee center. Once you've purchased your items, come back here (to this post or any other) and let me know what you donated so we can keep track of how close we're getting to the goal. (You can email me if you're feeling shy.)

My goal is to wrangle 100 new coats and/or warm winter outfits. (Gloves and boots are always good too.)

The shipping address is:

Gayane Manukyan
Att: 100 Coats for Kids Project
Refugee Center at AAU
1588 South Major Street
Salt Lake City, Utah 84115

In order to help spread the word about the clothing drive, I'm giving away a $25 gift card to Amazon.com. To enter the giveaway, just leave a comment.

I'm also going to do one of those obnoxious things where you get additional entries if you blog or tweet or facebook about it. (Those tweet/blog/facebook type giveaways always sort of make me want to punch myself in the face, but I figure this is for the good of humanity.)

(Or at least the rag-tag little portion of humanity currently shivering on the playground over at Rose Park Elementary.)

So please, please - submit this post to the social media gods at facebook or twitter or Digg or kirtsy or wherever you happen to currently do your social media worshipping.

(For those of you concerned that this is self-promotional and I will benefit in some way from the traffic - 1) I don't have ads, and 2) I'm sure that if by some miracle my blog ever became anything close to popular, I would promptly take an eight month blogging break and lose all of my readers.) (It's what I do.)

If anyone else would like to get involved - locally or virtually - please email me or leave your info in the comments. The more people we can get involved, the better.

The giveaway ends Thursday night at midnight MT. Thanks for spreading the word.

-------------------

I've gotten a few tips for buying cheap coats online, if you're looking to contribute but are low on funds (aren't we all!):

• Jen pointed out that coats are on sale (50% off) online at Old Navy right now.
• Tiffany contributed a 30% off coupon that can be used at Old Navy and Gap: http://gap.m.delivery.net/w/webView?cid=16269496540&mid=1854136713&pid=786400&vid=13665&ee=dGlmZmluZWVAaG90bWFpbC5jb20_&si=&mv=H&bv=H&oc=H&sc=&k=1kW_69
• Candice left a comment saying that Walmart is having a 97 cent shipping sale
• Janell found some good deals on eBay
• DeNae mentioned that Walmart had some reversible coats for $13 and fleece jackets for $7!

A few good deals:

• Buy a coat
• Buy a coat
• Buy a coat
• Buyacoatbuyacoatbuyacoatbuyacoat

If you have any tips to add, please let me know!


* The title is a reference to a children's primary (sunday school) song - "Give Said the Little Stream" - which contains the line, "I'm small I know, but wherever I go, the fields grows greener still." (Thanks for the correction on the lyrics, guys.)

I AM STILL PREGNANT!

I haven't been slacking and holding out on you, I've just been gestating for a very, very long time.

In fact, I'm getting ready to live-blog the birth any second now!

...
...

Alright, FINE.

I am not still pregnant.

I am actually de-pregnant. I have been de-pregnatized.

See?


(I have also been heavily Photoshopped. In real life I do not actually glow, and I have an additional chin.)

(Or two.)

The baby made his appearance on 09-09-09 - NOT on the 14th as I'd been promised.

Since I was not quite finished with my maternity leave preparations I was quite put out.

(I highly intend to write a strongly worded letter.)

At about 2:00 in the morning on the 9th I woke up out of a dead sleep. Usually when I wake up from a dead sleep it's either due to a) imaginary spider bites, or b) imaginary noises in the house, but on this occasion it was imaginary contractions. At least I was fairly sure they were probably imaginary. I mean - on the one hand there was freakishly painful pain every seven minutes or so. On the other hand - blood clot.

My husband was groggily convinced that I was just being dramatic. This is probably why he went along with me, when after about an hour-and-a-half, still feeling certain this would all be a false alarm, I decided to drive myself to the hospital. I told him that I would call him if it turned out to be real labor, which I doubted it was, because a) it's me we're talking about here, and b) I was giving birth on the 14th, and it wasn't the 14th yet, dammit.

At 4:00 AM I arrived at the hospital. At 4:30AM the nurses established that I was having actual, non-imaginary contractions. At 4:45 they finally believed my "story" (about labor = danger/exploding uterus) and called my doctor, who flipped out and scheduled a 6AM c-section.

I called my husband, feeling slightly hysterical. “Come down here now! They’re operating in an hour. AN HOUR! Call Karen, she’ll watch the kids until my mom can get there!”

He told me not to worry – he would be there in twenty minutes – twenty-five tops. I wept, feeling sure my husband was going to miss the birth of his fourth child. THE TRAGEDY.

Of course, then I pictured my immaculate neighbor seeing the condition of our kitchen floor and called my husband back. “Wait! Don’t call Karen! Do the dishes first, then call Karen. And sweep the floor under the table. And wipe off the table. Do that and THEN call Karen.” I figured if he missed the first part of the operation, no big deal. After all, you’ve seen one c-section, you’ve seen ‘em all. Small price to pay.

I texted him seven times with various instructions – all related to making sure he cleaned the house before calling Karen. I was texting him about wiping down the outside of the fridge when he walked in the door. He swears he “picked up a little” before Karen got there. (I am sure he is lying.)

Our baby boy was born at 6:07 AM on 9-9-09.

Internet, I give you...

FERNANDO THE BREASTMILK VAMPIRE!


Fernando likes to NURSE. He likes to nurse, and nurse, and nurse. Also? He likes to nurse. His sole mission in life is to chew off my left nipple. I feel like my brain juices have all melted and been sucked right out of my milk ducts. (That spot on the front of my t-shirt? That's not breastmilk, it's what was left of my frontal lobe.)

(Man, I hate breastfeeding. The La Leche League folks can suck on it.)

("It" meaning - something that is not my nipple. That's already being utilized.)

(I wonder how many times I can say nipple in this post? Nipple, nipple, NIPPLE.)

(Am I making you uncomfortable?)

(Let's talk about something else, shall we?)

In honor of having the baby, I am having a GIVEAWAY! I am giving away:

A Fussy Six Week Old Who Is
Suffering from Reflux and a Double Ear Infection!

(To enter this giveaway, simply leave a comment letting me know how soon you could get here.) (I'm really tired.)

I MEAN - WHO COULD RESIST THAT FACE??!

AND THE SCREAMING?!?

THE CONSTANT, CONSTANT, SCREAMING.

...
...

O.k., FINE.

I am not giving him away. I would never in a million BILLION years give him away.

...
...


I'd SELL him.

...
...


OK, FINE, I won't sell him either. The children would revolt. They sort of like him. He has them under his vampire mind control, obviously. See that satisfied little smile? That's the smile of a baby vampire who is plotting to destroy his evil human overlords.



I am trying very hard to recapture normal - to get back into some semblance of a routine. But this baby does not recognize routine, he spits upon our routine, he POOPS upon our routine. Routines are for mortals, not breastmilk vampires, he says.

He is a very sweet, dear baby when he is not feeling horrible. He's had a really rough start here on planet earth. He celebrated his two week old anniversary by coming down with a cold, double ear infection, and a nasty case of reflux. He's been in so much pain - for weeks, if he was awake, he was crying. His little baby voice is hoarse from stomach acid washing up and down his throat. (Ever heard a newborn with laryngitis? It's the most pathetic sound in the world.)



When he isn't in pain, he is an above average baby in every way - sweet and round and adorable and wonderful and ours. And of course, he is our last baby, so everything he does has special significance - sure, we are up walking the floor with him, but we are doing it for the Last Time, with our Last Baby Ever. Somehow that makes it all a little easier. It's amazing how much love you can feel for someone you've known so briefly.

He has the same medical issues his sister just had surgery for (the condition runs in sibling groups) and has a test scheduled for next week at Primary Children's Hospital. We're hoping to hear his condition is less severe than his sister's, and that he'll grow out of it with no surgery necessary. We'd appreciate your thoughts and if you are so inclined, your prayers. My little one could use a very large break.

I was hoping for a more clever ending for this post, but alas, the baby is crying so I must sign off.

(Somehow that seems fitting.)

Off I go.

PS: Please ignore that creaking noise you may hear as you read this post. My blogging chops are a bit rusty.