American Girl

She waits another week to fall apart...

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. ~ Thomas Paine

Do you see that?  It says I have 100 days to go.  100 DAYS!  That's nothing!  Tomorrow I'll be in double digits.  I have SO much to do.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:34 | link | comments (14) |

last night I had a dream that I was walking down the street, away from my house, after a heavy rain.  It was such a heavy rain that there were a bunch of worms on the sidewalk.   As I looked down at the worms, I noticed that they were starting to form words.  So I watched, and two words appeared.  "Broke" and "Baby".  Then I woke up.

 

What the heck is that about?

 

I mean, does that mean that having a baby is going to crush us financially?  Or does it mean my baby is somehow broken, and that in my dreams I suffer from poor grammar?

 

So of course, I had to look it up.  And I know you're just dying to know, so here:

 

Rain - To dream that you get wet from the rain signifies that you will soon be cleansed from your troubles and problems.  Rain also symbolizes fertility and renewal.

 

Ok, so that makes perfect sense, right?

 

Worm - To see a worm in your dream represents weakness and general negativity.  You have a very low opinion of yourself or of someone in your life. 

 

Hmmmmm.....

 

Reading - To dream that you are reading signifies that you need to obtain more information or knowledge before making a decision.  You should review your thoughts, think things through and consider other options.

 

It's a little too late for that, huh?

 

Letters - To see letters of the alphabet in your dream symbolizes any object, animal, place associated with or resembling that particular letter.  For example, the letter "T" may refer to an intersection in a road.  Alternatively, you may still be trying to understand some concept or emotion that is still in the primitive stages.

 

I couldn't find any interpretation of the word "Broke", but "Broken" sure didn't mean anything good.  (Or relevant)

 

Baby - Happiness, rebirth, trust.

 

Ok, so what I'm really saying is this - my dream made no sense.  And my feeble attempts at interpreting it taught me nothing. 

 

So why am I sharing this useless info?  Because I have insomnia.  It's only 11:30, but I'm wide awake, and I can't go to bed.  Ryan's having nightmares that keep me awake.

 

And I need a hug.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 23:26 | link | comments (12) |

Ok, here's what I want to talk about today.

 

Freakonomics.  Anyone read it?  Thoughts?

 

In Green Day's "American Idiot", (The CD, not the song) who or what is St. Jimmy?

 

Oreos - Regular, Double Stuff, Chocolate, or Golden?  Or mint?

 

I'll be back later to elaborate.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:19 | link | comments (17) |

I'm not especially proud of this fact, but I've never needed a drink more badly in my entire life.  But of course, like any good pregnant person, I can't have one.

 

Sooooo, I'm having an open house.  Come on over, pull up a barstool.  I'll serve the drinks for now, unless someone wants to take over as bartender.  We need a DJ too.  I'll start by putting a dollar in the jukebox and we'll hear a little U2.

 

Pick your poison!  I'll have a Black and Tan followed by several shots of Jameson.  (Yeah, it's just been that kind of day.)  Free drinks for the first ten customers!! 

 

It's a beautiful day....don't let it get away...

posted by: AmericanGirl at 18:18 | link | comments (79) |

Four year old funnies

 

Yesterday my nephew proudly informed me that he's going to be a really good swimmer some day.  After just coming off of a summer full of swimming lessons, I thought this was great.  So I said something like "That's great!  Are you going to keep taking lessons and practicing a lot?"  and he said "No, I'm going to talk to my doctor about Aleve." 

 

What?!

 

As it turns out, there's this commercial for Aleve that's currently running.  It shows a woman who's so stricken with arthritis that she can't  do any of the things she used to do.  Then she starts taking Aleve, for 10 hour relief, or something like that, and suddenly she can do all of her activities again.  Then to prove it, it cuts to a scene of her swimming laps in a pool.  And of course it comes with a warning about all the bad side effects, and to wrap things up, a nice voice saying "So talk to your doctor about Aleve."

 

Aleve = the magic pill that turns you into an excellent swimmer.

 

Now we're just hoping he doesn't see any of those hiking/kayaking happy couples on the Valtrex commercials. 

 

Same nephew was playing with his sister's paper dolls this morning.  She doesn't let him touch the actual dolls, but the clothing comes in the form of stickers, so she let him have the outfits that she didn't particularly like.  He was on his own to draw in their heads:

 

 

 

 

Aren't they the prettiest?  He also wrote his name, but it comes out "Ikot" because he doesn't know how to spell yet.  Do you not just love him to pieces?

posted by: AmericanGirl at 17:13 | link | comments (5) |

One of the best gifts I've ever been given was a coffee maker.  I don't drink coffee, so I don't think I've fully appreciated this gift until recently.

 

I remember so well the day I received it.  It was a bridal shower.  MY bridal shower - EEP!  I look back at that time and I don't recognize myself.  Here I was, getting married to a guy I would soon hate with all of my being.  I had a stuffy job in the banking industry - my first "real" job.  I spent all of my money on fancy suits to wear to the office, and consumables, ie: alcohol and food to help shed the daytime stuffiness at night.

 

The coffee maker was from - let me think about this...my Grandma's niece.  What is that?  A cousin of some sort.  My dad's cousin.  I don't know what she was to me.  But anyway, I remember I opened it and everyone oooed and aahhhed as they will at such an event, and "Aunt" B said that it was for when I invited her over for coffee.  I need to mention that this was the part of the family that we only see for three events - weddings, funerals, and showers.  So the chances that I'd be calling her up and inviting her over - for coffee - were pretty much non-existant.  The next gift was a basket that included coffee and filters for said coffee pot.  I looked at her and she wagged her finger at me and said "See?  No excuses!"  And I thought "Sure.  Maybe I will.  Maybe I will call Aunt B, after I'm settled in and all, and we can sit on a Sunday afternoon and drink coffee after eating cold cuts that I rolled up and placed on a platter in an artistic circular pattern.  Maybe I'll make a crumb cake, and we'll sit and gossip about the family..."

 

Clearly, I was heading in a direction that I didn't like.

 

So now it's many, many years later.  I have a new husband, a new job, and I wear yoga pants to work and a very un-stuffy company in an equally un-stuffy industry.  (Thank goodness, because they're all that fit these days)  But the coffee pot, it's still here.  I haven't seen Aunt B since my Gram's funeral, and to be honest, I don't even know how to make coffee.  I tried once, and my brothers complained about how bad it was so much that I said "Screw you!  You can make your own damn coffee!"

 

So they do.  Each morning, for the past few years, we tend to gather around the coffee pot in my kitchen.  I'm not sure how it started, how my house became the meeting point.  I guess it was when I started working from home.  No one calls to say they're coming over, and no one calls on the days they're not.  I'll just be brushing my teeth and I'll hear keys in the door, a brother or two, coming from or heading to a shift, in various states of uniform of whatnot.  Ryan will be coming or going too, and whoever gets there first starts the coffee going.  On a good day one of them brings donuts or bagels.  On an extra good day in the summer there will even be a few kids running around.

 

Not one of us will admit how important this ritual has become.  (Ok, I guess I just did.)  There's nothing to it really.  We don't discuss anything deep, and sometimes one or more of us is actually just sitting there reading the newspaper.  Sometimes it's just a ten minute visit, and sometimes it's an hour, and sometimes they sit there long after my phone starts ringing and pulls me away from the table.  There's no real tradition or pattern to it.  But on the days that it doesn't work out, when everyone has things to do or places to be and the coffee pot sits clean and empty, I feel it. 

 

When you come to a place that all of your childhood memories are suddenly excruciatingly painful, it becomes rather important to place emphasis on making new happy memories.  Some of my best new memories are centered around a silly old coffee pot.  It's the little things, really.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:03 | link | comments (8) |

I know, I'm so slow.  Sorry!  I've been BUSY!

 

Ok, as promised, cute boys at the pool:

 

 

 

I just feel "wrong" posting the one of him bending over with the dustpan, sorry.  Here's more, different boy:

 

 

I know, I know, it's blurry.  That's what happens when you pretend you're taking pictures of your nephew. Here's another one of him:

 

 

Ok, those who only came for beefcake, you can go now.

 

Here's my adorable new purse:

 

 

And my other similar, but still very, very different purse:

 

 

And the matching wallet/checkbook cover.  The jury's still out on this, because I do love my current wallet, but I can't resist things that match.

 

 

 

And just for fun, as I was switching from my old purse to the new, I took a picture of the crazy contents.  Who says I hold back on my blog?

 

 

So, who's brave enough to do THAT?  Go ahead, I dare you.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 16:20 | link | comments (10) |

I almost hate to admit it.  I never thought I would become one of "THOSE" bloggers.  The ones who edit and/or come up with mundane things to write about because she doesn't want to talk about any number of subjects with the whole world watching.  (Or, more realistically, having the ability to watch)

 

There's plenty going on to write about.  But sometimes it involves children, and I don't really feel right about going into details about their lives with the creepy "unlogged visitor" type people looking on.  For that same reason, I don't want to go into details about my husband/marriage - which are both perfect, by the way.  I could go on and on about pregnancy for days, but really, you've either been there done that and have the burp cloth to prove it, or you're not even the tiniest bit interested.  (It's all very fascinating to me, but then, it's happening to me, and I realize that mothers tend to think that their own babies are the most wonderous creatures out there, when really they're just quite plain.)  I could go on about the renovations being done on my house, but I've probably exhausted that topic.  I can't talk about work.  Jury Duty hasn't happened yet, and even if it had, I really wouldn't be able to blog about that, till it was over anyway.

 

Hmmm.

 

I got a REALLY cute new purse, and a matching wallet.  In fact, I love it so much that I got another purse in the same exact pattern, but a different shape.  It's like a disease, really.  Wanna see?

 

I took a picture of a cute lifeguard today.  He was sweeping.  With a broom.  Bet you don't see cute boys cleaning every day, huh?

 

Maybe I should just resort to a photo blog?

 

I know what you're thinking.  It goes like this..."You should write for YOU!"  Oh believe me, I do!  I enjoy this blog very much, and I hardly care what any of you think about it.    I just don't like this sudden new feeling of censorship that's developed, because it's weird and not my blogging style.  Maybe it's just pregnancy induced paranoia.  Maybe it's troll induced paranoia.  Maybe I just need a magazine rack for all of my issues.  Or maaaaybe I've officially exhausted all possible topics, and there's officially nothing left to say.  Maybe I want to ask you all to please not mention the upcoming anniversay of 9/11 and just forget it (in this forum) and promise to treat me like a regular person for the next month or so.  Maybe it's just a phase, or a rut, if you will.  Maybe I like you all so much that in the morning I'll read this and say "Gah!  WTF was I talking about?"  Or, maybe I'll say "Whew, I'm glad I got that off my chest."

 

Now, who wants to see my cute new purse(s)?  Any takers for photos of the contents?  I'm game, but someone else will have to do it too. 

 

Cute boys with brooms?

 

Anyone?

posted by: AmericanGirl at 23:35 | link | comments (13) |

Very soon someone is going to be my 10,000th visitor.  Tell me if it's you, and I'll give you a kiss!

posted by: AmericanGirl at 17:26 | link | comments (9) |

At the moment, my basement is full of firefighters.  As a matter of fact, it's been that way all weekend.  It's not on fire or anything like that.  (Not yet, anyway.)  They're doing some work, "finishing" the basement, one might say.  Funny word, finishing.  We're using the power of the brotherhood to finish the basement.  Basement, you're finished!

 

I know I shouldn't complain - I know it!  I know it makes me seem ungrateful.  But it's my bloggy and I'll whine if I want to.

 

The thing is, they're firefighters.  And they're excellent at fighting fires....every last one of them.  But the house needs some electrical work if they're going to continue with this little project, and well, let's just say that they're NOT electricians.  So far this morning I've lost two rather lengthy emails and one huge spreadsheet that I was just finishing up for a meeting that was to take place ten minutes later, because they keep blowing the fuse that runs my computer.  The first time it happened I let it go.  But now I'm ready to start threatening to cut off their beer and food supply.

 

Did I mention how loud they are?  And how their endless teasing of the poor probie just breaks my heart?  And how they make no qualms about walking by my desk in the middle of a conference call loudly disussing things like - well, things I'd rather my clients didn't hear going on in the background.

 

When the power outage swallowed up my spreadsheet, there was complete and utter silence.  You know how everything seems so still when the power goes out?  It seems to work on them too.  Nine guys suddenly frozen in silence, the only sound in the whole house was my mouse being slammed against my mousepad.   

 

Then comes one brave voice calling up from the basement.  "Sorry!"

 

They're not sorry.  They're NOT!

 

Then comes another voice.  "You should've married an electrician!"

 

Yeah, keep it up.  I just might.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:25 | link | comments (10) |

How does a seemingly irrational pregnant person get out of jury duty?  I got a summons yesterday.  I know it's my civic duty and all, but something about jury duty makes me lose faith in mankind, and I'm desperately trying to avoid that sort of thing for the next 123 days or so.  It's not the criminals that get me either, it's the idiots that are assigned to decide their fate.  I'm generalizing, basing my prejudice on my one and only experience with jury duty more than ten years ago, but trust me - it was BAD and resulted in a mistrial that let a rapist walk free.  I just can't be a part of that again.  Not now.

 

I could play the "My brother is a cop and cops are always right" card.  That would turn off the defense lawyer, right?  I suppose I could spout off his words of advice:  "Just remember, they wouldn't be on trial if they weren't guilty."

 

No judge in the land would assign a crazy pregnant person to a jury, right? 

 

If it weren't such guaranteed bad karma, I wouldn't be above faking a contraction or two.  If I were just a couple of months further along, I could bring a water balloon and pretend my water broke.  No...BAD.  I couldn't do that.  Could I? LOL  I can't claim financial hardship, because my company pays for jury duty service.  I'm pretty sure pregnancy doesn't count as a medical excuse.  And DRAT!  I've never been convicted of a felony.  I may be able to pull off some form of mental incapacity, yes?

 

I already feel guilty.  I know I talk a big story, but the truth is I'll get there and I'll end up behaving and being honest and I'll probably get assigned to a trial.  If so, I'm going to demand that I get two votes during deliberations.  It's only fair.

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:58 | link | comments (16) |

Do you ever read something on someone's blog that just irritates the crap out of you, and you want to comment and call that person out, but then you don't want to be known as the Mo'time Meanie, or worse, the crazy over-emotional hormonally overloaded pregnant girl who just can't keep her big mouth shut?

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 23:27 | link | comments (10) |

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