Normally, I'm not a fan of completely inane humor, particularly humor that seems to be equal-opportunity at offending just about every group of people out there. However, being married always changes things. Living with my husband has meant that every night at 10pm, almost without fail, whatever is going on in our house stops, or gets put on hold, or at least gets quieter, so that we can watch...
Family Guy.
I used to let him watch it and do other things, because I thought it was a dumb show. And then at some point, I must have been bored, or overheard the dialogue enough that I was somewhat familiar with the characters, the settings, and I sat down to watch. I must have sat down again to watch, and I was probably shaking my head in disgust the whole time, but at some point, I stopped shaking my head and started watching, and even started - you know - LAUGHING.
And now, unfortunately, when 10pm rolls around, I have to tune in, too.
Like I said, the show is pretty equal-opportunity about making sure every group of people is made fun of, ridiculed, or otherwise offended at some point. I still laugh. I know I'm probably not supposed to, but I do. And one of my favorite caricatures is Ollie Williams, the weather forecaster that has to be some kind of ghetto Al Roker. As badly stereotyped as he is, I can't help but think that life might be a little more straightforward, a little simpler, a little less verbose and complicated if we all adopted such succinct candor:
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
thank you
It's not often that I'm rendered absolutely speechless by the kindness of others. Normally, I can at least scrape together a couple of poetic sentences to say thank you. Today, however, words are failing me.
So I'll just say it with all my heart to the many people who made today so very special for me, who loved on me, who made me feel a little less nervous about becoming a mom, who blessed me with their presence and their incredible generosity today: thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I may have left today with a lot of blue- and green-colored "loot" in tiny sizes, but your friendships are the real gift to me. I'm proud to bring my son into such a wonderful group of people.
Much love,
Anne
So I'll just say it with all my heart to the many people who made today so very special for me, who loved on me, who made me feel a little less nervous about becoming a mom, who blessed me with their presence and their incredible generosity today: thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I may have left today with a lot of blue- and green-colored "loot" in tiny sizes, but your friendships are the real gift to me. I'm proud to bring my son into such a wonderful group of people.
Much love,
Anne
Friday, June 27, 2008
activities not designed for this very pregnant woman
Bending down to pick up a cupcake off the plate placed on the floor. For a little bit of frosted bliss, I had to make at least four different positional adjustments in order to squat properly to get the cupcake. And it wasn't pretty.
Going to Magic Kingdom. EPCOT, oddly, was not as bad tonight, but from the moment we got on the crowded Monorail to visit Magic Kingdom, it was just down, down, down the hill of progress. First of all, I do not do well with crowds, even without the added pregnancy hormones, particularly crowds composed of sweaty, overtired families in ill-fitting clothes with bright sunburns and a bad case of We-Will-Get-Our-Money's-Worth-Itis. Second, Jason and I kept getting stuck behind rows of people who decide to walk twice as slow as the rest of the crowd, eight people across, with large double strollers and always with at least one member of the group being rather obese, waddly, and unable to walk in a straight line. However, the highlight of the evening was watching my life flash before my eyes as two different moms with strollers nearly ran me over at 80 mph in order to get a premium seat for the evening parade.
Trying to sleep. Which is exactly what I feel like I need more of these days, but I can't seem to get comfortable, ever.
Going to Wendy's when I'm really, really hungry. I have had the worst luck with that particular fast-food establishment: I'm always walking into a Bad Times Wendy's. It took - I kid you not - ten minutes just to get my hands on a baked potato and Coke, and I was only the second person in line, AND it was nearly ten o'clock at night, AND the person in front of me was only ordering a value meal for herself. Ten minutes.
Buying a Furminator and using it a very squirmy cat. While I will totally attest to the effectiveness of that comb (I am still covered with fur), it probably was not a good venture for a tired, impatient human and a tired, impatient, squirmy cat.
Trying to think of another activity that I probably should refrain from. I had more in my head as Jason and I were driving home from our date tonight, but I'm drawing a blank. Which might be why that perfect sixth activity I cannot do should be THINKING.
Going to Magic Kingdom. EPCOT, oddly, was not as bad tonight, but from the moment we got on the crowded Monorail to visit Magic Kingdom, it was just down, down, down the hill of progress. First of all, I do not do well with crowds, even without the added pregnancy hormones, particularly crowds composed of sweaty, overtired families in ill-fitting clothes with bright sunburns and a bad case of We-Will-Get-Our-Money's-Worth-Itis. Second, Jason and I kept getting stuck behind rows of people who decide to walk twice as slow as the rest of the crowd, eight people across, with large double strollers and always with at least one member of the group being rather obese, waddly, and unable to walk in a straight line. However, the highlight of the evening was watching my life flash before my eyes as two different moms with strollers nearly ran me over at 80 mph in order to get a premium seat for the evening parade.
Trying to sleep. Which is exactly what I feel like I need more of these days, but I can't seem to get comfortable, ever.
Going to Wendy's when I'm really, really hungry. I have had the worst luck with that particular fast-food establishment: I'm always walking into a Bad Times Wendy's. It took - I kid you not - ten minutes just to get my hands on a baked potato and Coke, and I was only the second person in line, AND it was nearly ten o'clock at night, AND the person in front of me was only ordering a value meal for herself. Ten minutes.
Buying a Furminator and using it a very squirmy cat. While I will totally attest to the effectiveness of that comb (I am still covered with fur), it probably was not a good venture for a tired, impatient human and a tired, impatient, squirmy cat.
Trying to think of another activity that I probably should refrain from. I had more in my head as Jason and I were driving home from our date tonight, but I'm drawing a blank. Which might be why that perfect sixth activity I cannot do should be THINKING.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
random updates: blank brain edition
I've been trying to come up with a meaningful, or humorous, or at least slightly interesting post all day. ALL DAY. No luck. It's just one of those days. I thought about a post imparting my sage wisdom about surviving nursing school, but I realized that it would end up being a lengthy, hormone-fueled treatise, and that's not very interesting or useful. I'm just grumpy and scatterbrained right now, and every idea I have for a post, even some short, random updates, sound more like negative complaints and whining.
So I'm going to barely fulfill my June NaBloPoMo promise with just under 30 minutes to spare, tell you that my brain will return with positivity and promise shortly, and head to bed.
Good night!
So I'm going to barely fulfill my June NaBloPoMo promise with just under 30 minutes to spare, tell you that my brain will return with positivity and promise shortly, and head to bed.
Good night!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
my Orlando
One of my favorite blogs, Slice of Pink, recently did a post called "My Davis", where she was able to brag on her hometown. It's a take on one of Real Simple's fantastic My Hometown series, but as only 14 cities are listed - and there are so many more lovely cities and towns to be profiled in the US - she took matters into her own lovely hands. Plus, she put out the call for other bloggers to respond with their own My Hometown posts, and I am answering the call! Here is My Orlando:
(Note: I live in a suburb of Orlando called Maitland, but as I am relatively new here and have lived in several suburbs of Orlando throughout my life - Maitland, Oviedo, Casselberry, and Winter Park - I didn't want to be too exclusive. So, here is my all-encompassing profile of all those places.)
My Orlando: Anne Vermeulen
Age: 31
Occupation: Registered Nurse
I've lived here for: 27 years, with some interruptions here and there
I live here because: my husband and I just bought a lovely house here, plus I work at the hospital downtown and our awesome church is just around the corner
My neighborhood: Maitland
My favorite restaurant: Hot Dog Heaven - we go almost every Saturday
If you go to this restaurant, be sure to order: french fries with your dog - best around
My favorite museum: Morse Museum in Winter Park - largest Tiffany collection in the world
My favorite tourist destination: Disney and New Smyrna Beach
Best insider spot: authentic Irish fare and cold brews at Fiddler's Green
My favorite area: Lake Virginia, scene of our first date
Best place to go shopping: Park Avenue
When you visit, don’t forget to pack: Sunscreen and layered clothing
But leave room in your suitcase for: treasures from the Sat morning Winter Park Farmer's Market
The one local cuisine you should try when you’re in town is: skip the Starbucks and grab some java and free wi-fi at Austin's Coffee House on Fairbanks
The best way to get around: by car
If I had to describe this city in one word, it would be: diverse - we are a melting pot!
I tell my friends to stay at: Westin Grand Bohemian - or with me
The one thing most outsiders don’t know about this city is: there's SO much more to this city than the Mouse
They say “Virginia is for lovers.” So fill in the blank: Orlando is for families
Want to post yours? Send a comment to Janet and she'll post on a permanent page with your Hometown profile.
(Note: I live in a suburb of Orlando called Maitland, but as I am relatively new here and have lived in several suburbs of Orlando throughout my life - Maitland, Oviedo, Casselberry, and Winter Park - I didn't want to be too exclusive. So, here is my all-encompassing profile of all those places.)
My Orlando: Anne Vermeulen
Age: 31
Occupation: Registered Nurse
I've lived here for: 27 years, with some interruptions here and there
I live here because: my husband and I just bought a lovely house here, plus I work at the hospital downtown and our awesome church is just around the corner
My neighborhood: Maitland
My favorite restaurant: Hot Dog Heaven - we go almost every Saturday
If you go to this restaurant, be sure to order: french fries with your dog - best around
My favorite museum: Morse Museum in Winter Park - largest Tiffany collection in the world
My favorite tourist destination: Disney and New Smyrna Beach
Best insider spot: authentic Irish fare and cold brews at Fiddler's Green
My favorite area: Lake Virginia, scene of our first date
Best place to go shopping: Park Avenue
When you visit, don’t forget to pack: Sunscreen and layered clothing
But leave room in your suitcase for: treasures from the Sat morning Winter Park Farmer's Market
The one local cuisine you should try when you’re in town is: skip the Starbucks and grab some java and free wi-fi at Austin's Coffee House on Fairbanks
The best way to get around: by car
If I had to describe this city in one word, it would be: diverse - we are a melting pot!
I tell my friends to stay at: Westin Grand Bohemian - or with me
The one thing most outsiders don’t know about this city is: there's SO much more to this city than the Mouse
They say “Virginia is for lovers.” So fill in the blank: Orlando is for families
Want to post yours? Send a comment to Janet and she'll post on a permanent page with your Hometown profile.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
war on the homefront
All those roaches I mentioned a while ago? We had the pest control guy come out the next week to spray them all dead, dead, dead. My kind, loving, compassionate heart simply does not extend to bugs. Particularly disease-spreading, scary-looking, good-for-nothin' bugs.
However, I still can't get the memory of a bug falling on my head out of my brain.
Roach 1, Anne 0.
After the bug guy came and sprayed his lovely roach-ridding spray, I've found several very dead roach carcasses. Finally, our house seemed to be inhabited by only humans and one feline.
Roach 1, Anne 1.
Were we really even? I'd had no more bug-on-head incidents. No unidentifiable poop pellets. No more reasons to scream in terror at 2am, or any other time of the day or night. It seemed it was all over.
Tonight was Taco Salad night. We really look forward to Taco Salad night, because it's one of our favorite dishes, a special favorite with Jason, and I get to win easy culinary accolades with minimal effort. Cook up some ground beef, add a few seasonings, grab some toppings, and throw it all over tortilla chips. Easy peasy.
I'm heating up the stovetop burners to cook the beef and warm up the beans, and there's this... odor. And this... scratching.
You know where this is going, right?
Yeah. One live, huge cockroach, caught in the burner, cooked alive.
Have I mentioned the appetite-killing effect of a flailing, burning roach, even when faced with some seriously yummy taco salad? Ugh.
It might seem that this was another victory for my 6-legged arch nemeses. (Nemesissies?) After all, before the burners were on, that roach was quite alive and apparently not the least bit affected by a house-wide roach spray. And the scent of Roaches Flambe? Oh, oh, oh.
However, I think I sent a powerful message to that underground community of bugs just waiting to terrorize me: if you mess with this chick, I WILL COOK YOU WITHOUT MERCY.
Roach 0, Anne 156.
HA.
However, I still can't get the memory of a bug falling on my head out of my brain.
Roach 1, Anne 0.
After the bug guy came and sprayed his lovely roach-ridding spray, I've found several very dead roach carcasses. Finally, our house seemed to be inhabited by only humans and one feline.
Roach 1, Anne 1.
Were we really even? I'd had no more bug-on-head incidents. No unidentifiable poop pellets. No more reasons to scream in terror at 2am, or any other time of the day or night. It seemed it was all over.
Tonight was Taco Salad night. We really look forward to Taco Salad night, because it's one of our favorite dishes, a special favorite with Jason, and I get to win easy culinary accolades with minimal effort. Cook up some ground beef, add a few seasonings, grab some toppings, and throw it all over tortilla chips. Easy peasy.
I'm heating up the stovetop burners to cook the beef and warm up the beans, and there's this... odor. And this... scratching.
You know where this is going, right?
Yeah. One live, huge cockroach, caught in the burner, cooked alive.
Have I mentioned the appetite-killing effect of a flailing, burning roach, even when faced with some seriously yummy taco salad? Ugh.
It might seem that this was another victory for my 6-legged arch nemeses. (Nemesissies?) After all, before the burners were on, that roach was quite alive and apparently not the least bit affected by a house-wide roach spray. And the scent of Roaches Flambe? Oh, oh, oh.
However, I think I sent a powerful message to that underground community of bugs just waiting to terrorize me: if you mess with this chick, I WILL COOK YOU WITHOUT MERCY.
Roach 0, Anne 156.
HA.
Monday, June 23, 2008
tickled
Recently, our student pastor Norm asked the rest of the church staff for pictures of themselves when they were in junior high/middle school. You know, sort of a reassuring photo collage that Awkwardness Happens, that you do eventually grow out of it, and hey, compare the photos to the hip and handsome staff group of today!
Jason unearthed a whole bunch of photos to find one to give to Norm (Norm! Yes, I can't resist saying it a la Cheers), and eventually chose a pretty straightforward shot: no funny poses, no bizarre what-were-you-doing-THERE backgrounds, no tell-tale clothes reminiscent of Bad Fashion Days Past. He's just looking at the camera with these clear blue eyes, smiling as much as a middle schooler will let himself smile. It's a nice picture.
There is a picture I like better. He's not in middle school, so it doesn't qualify for Norm's (Norm!) Wall of Hormonal Angst. But I think it's my favorite of all:
That's Jason to the right, his younger brother Josh to the left. I don't know how old he is in this photo. I don't remember which state he was living in when this was taken, though I know this was the backyard where he used to raise chickens, and where those chickens would squawk and run around madly after being decapitated, terrorizing the neighborhood children. But I love the way he's holding himself because this is the EXACT pose he still takes today when he thinks I am about to launch into a major ticklefest with him.
Mostly, I love this photo because it reminds me how God knew that I like to settle into some major funks sometimes, and He knew that the one person who knows how to make me laugh harder than anyone else? The guy in the photo to the right, using a major ticklefest. This photo reminds me so much of his willingness to be goofy with me, to connect with me on a silly level that really extends so much deeper into the heart than just surface humor. I love how much I laugh with him, and how very easily I laugh with him, over silly things, every day things, random things. Just a few days ago, we were laughing hysterically together only a short time after one of my random pregnant life-is-too-overwhelming cry-fests, joking about naming our son Forceps. (Just say it out loud: Forceps Vermeulen. You can't help but smile.)
I love you, Jason. I can't wait for fifty more years of goofy smiles and laughter just when I need it most.
(And yes, you have permission to post a photo of me when I was young, too.)
Jason unearthed a whole bunch of photos to find one to give to Norm (Norm! Yes, I can't resist saying it a la Cheers), and eventually chose a pretty straightforward shot: no funny poses, no bizarre what-were-you-doing-THERE backgrounds, no tell-tale clothes reminiscent of Bad Fashion Days Past. He's just looking at the camera with these clear blue eyes, smiling as much as a middle schooler will let himself smile. It's a nice picture.
There is a picture I like better. He's not in middle school, so it doesn't qualify for Norm's (Norm!) Wall of Hormonal Angst. But I think it's my favorite of all:
That's Jason to the right, his younger brother Josh to the left. I don't know how old he is in this photo. I don't remember which state he was living in when this was taken, though I know this was the backyard where he used to raise chickens, and where those chickens would squawk and run around madly after being decapitated, terrorizing the neighborhood children. But I love the way he's holding himself because this is the EXACT pose he still takes today when he thinks I am about to launch into a major ticklefest with him.
Mostly, I love this photo because it reminds me how God knew that I like to settle into some major funks sometimes, and He knew that the one person who knows how to make me laugh harder than anyone else? The guy in the photo to the right, using a major ticklefest. This photo reminds me so much of his willingness to be goofy with me, to connect with me on a silly level that really extends so much deeper into the heart than just surface humor. I love how much I laugh with him, and how very easily I laugh with him, over silly things, every day things, random things. Just a few days ago, we were laughing hysterically together only a short time after one of my random pregnant life-is-too-overwhelming cry-fests, joking about naming our son Forceps. (Just say it out loud: Forceps Vermeulen. You can't help but smile.)
I love you, Jason. I can't wait for fifty more years of goofy smiles and laughter just when I need it most.
(And yes, you have permission to post a photo of me when I was young, too.)
Sunday, June 22, 2008
missing you
I missed someone close to my heart for the umpteenth time at church today, and their absence pained me, mostly because I knew that if I asked where that person was, there was going to be the answer of "I'm too busy", "I'm overwhelmed with doing X-Y-Z", and "I'll listen to the message online later."
I can't tell you how much your presence is missed when you're not at church. It's not just a numbers thing, or filling seats, or having more voices to sing together when we're leading worship. It's not about filling your Christian duty, or going just because someone told you to, or a guilt thing, or whatever.
It's because this family, this community of people, well... they miss you. They really do. You are a part of the community. Whether you think your presence makes any impact or not, it does. While I'm always a big believer in active investment into your church community - serving in some way, no matter how trivial the task may seem - sometimes, even just being there is going to touch someone else's heart in a way that lets them see the face of God.
Maybe you see a friend who's having a hard time, and your presence lets them know that they are not alone (and hey, they've got someone to sit with, phew!). Maybe the sight of your worship, your adoration of God, sends a message to someone sitting near you, someone you don't even know, and that person thinks, Wow, I want whatever she's got going on. Maybe it's just that you wore really cool jeans to the service, and someone else is there for the first time, thinking that church had to be a stuffy, suit-and-tie-only affair, and they see your really cool jeans, and they think, this is somewhere I'd like to be, because you can actually dress like a real person. And a community - a family - flourishes and grows.
God's not up in the sky keeping tabs on how many Sundays you get to church and how many you miss. (Neither is our pastor, by the way.) And some Sundays, you won't be there. Illness happens - and I can verify that with my stuffy nose and cotton-ball-filled head right now. You go on a much-needed vacation. You have to work a weekend shift. Your car does one of these herky-jerky dances on the highway, and you spend your morning dealing with AAA instead of inside a sanctuary. It happens.
But staying away because life is getting overwhelming or too busy with other stuff calls for a readjustment of priorities. Believe me, I heard that loud and clear today when I realized that my incessant planning and obsessing over the upcoming arrival of my first child left me little to no time to hear that still, small, loving voice of the One I love most. Never mind, too, that taking an hour out of the busyness, even if you think you cannot spare one minute, helps to quiet and calm the chaotic heart and refocus back on Him, and all those other life things that pressed on you with unbearable weight are suddenly... lighter.
And I will only say this about listening to messages online in substitution for actual face-time with your church family: an MP3 player is no substitute for community. Never has, never will be. Imagine never hanging out with your closest friends, but promising to always listen to their voice mails, or look at their Facebook profiles for any updates. You get a paltry fraction of their lives, and they get... nothing. And a community feels the void and is that much less. The disconnect grows, you believe the lie more and more that you do not matter, your presence doesn't make any difference, and you stay away longer. Don't believe that lie.
It's just not all about you - it's about His bride, the church, and as imperfect and human and screwed up and plain messy as we the church can be, we need you. We miss you. We miss your interaction, your friendly smile, even just to hear that hey, we're having really crazy times in our lives, too, and thank God I'm not alone, we are going through this together, and He is always with us, too. Just setting foot inside the door and being there makes a difference, realized or not. Don't stay away any more.
I can't tell you how much your presence is missed when you're not at church. It's not just a numbers thing, or filling seats, or having more voices to sing together when we're leading worship. It's not about filling your Christian duty, or going just because someone told you to, or a guilt thing, or whatever.
It's because this family, this community of people, well... they miss you. They really do. You are a part of the community. Whether you think your presence makes any impact or not, it does. While I'm always a big believer in active investment into your church community - serving in some way, no matter how trivial the task may seem - sometimes, even just being there is going to touch someone else's heart in a way that lets them see the face of God.
Maybe you see a friend who's having a hard time, and your presence lets them know that they are not alone (and hey, they've got someone to sit with, phew!). Maybe the sight of your worship, your adoration of God, sends a message to someone sitting near you, someone you don't even know, and that person thinks, Wow, I want whatever she's got going on. Maybe it's just that you wore really cool jeans to the service, and someone else is there for the first time, thinking that church had to be a stuffy, suit-and-tie-only affair, and they see your really cool jeans, and they think, this is somewhere I'd like to be, because you can actually dress like a real person. And a community - a family - flourishes and grows.
God's not up in the sky keeping tabs on how many Sundays you get to church and how many you miss. (Neither is our pastor, by the way.) And some Sundays, you won't be there. Illness happens - and I can verify that with my stuffy nose and cotton-ball-filled head right now. You go on a much-needed vacation. You have to work a weekend shift. Your car does one of these herky-jerky dances on the highway, and you spend your morning dealing with AAA instead of inside a sanctuary. It happens.
But staying away because life is getting overwhelming or too busy with other stuff calls for a readjustment of priorities. Believe me, I heard that loud and clear today when I realized that my incessant planning and obsessing over the upcoming arrival of my first child left me little to no time to hear that still, small, loving voice of the One I love most. Never mind, too, that taking an hour out of the busyness, even if you think you cannot spare one minute, helps to quiet and calm the chaotic heart and refocus back on Him, and all those other life things that pressed on you with unbearable weight are suddenly... lighter.
And I will only say this about listening to messages online in substitution for actual face-time with your church family: an MP3 player is no substitute for community. Never has, never will be. Imagine never hanging out with your closest friends, but promising to always listen to their voice mails, or look at their Facebook profiles for any updates. You get a paltry fraction of their lives, and they get... nothing. And a community feels the void and is that much less. The disconnect grows, you believe the lie more and more that you do not matter, your presence doesn't make any difference, and you stay away longer. Don't believe that lie.
It's just not all about you - it's about His bride, the church, and as imperfect and human and screwed up and plain messy as we the church can be, we need you. We miss you. We miss your interaction, your friendly smile, even just to hear that hey, we're having really crazy times in our lives, too, and thank God I'm not alone, we are going through this together, and He is always with us, too. Just setting foot inside the door and being there makes a difference, realized or not. Don't stay away any more.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
history repeating itself
My heart is breaking all over again, watching the flooding struggles and breaking levees along the Mississippi, because I'm reminded of Katrina. I remember how helpless I felt to do anything, a thousand miles away and clueless about floods, except the only thing I knew to do: pray.
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Cor. 1:3-4)
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Cor. 1:3-4)
Friday, June 20, 2008
things that made today really wonderful
In chronological order:
--I woke up warm and safe in my husband's arms. I love waking up with with him.
--Had a nice bowl of cereal, then zipped off to the ever-swank Mall at Millenia to get my hair cut. Haircut turned out AWESOME. Thanks, Kim!
--Went to Motherhood Maternity, walking around and swishing my beautiful new 'do back and forth, to find not one, but two adorable dresses to wear to my baby shower. This is very notable because I have traditionally NOT been able to wear dresses because they never fit me right, being larger on top than I am on the bottom most times. Having a big ol' preggo belly has evened all that out. Plus, the dresses were on sale.
--Continued to swish my hair all the way to Shannon's house, where I had over two hours of good girl-talk time, as well as giggles and smiles from two very cute toddler boys. Highlight of the visit: hearing simultaneous toddler giggles as I pretended to "eat" Elmo. Toddler giggles are audible gold.
--Left Shannon's house, still swishing, and made a call that ended with an appointment for tomorrow to have a free 3D ultrasound done, thanks to a coworker's sister who is in training to do 3D ultrasounds and needed guinea pigs. Score!
--Ended the day (swishing hair, of course) with excellent shrimp pad thai and spring rolls with several good friends, plus getting to find out one of my dear friends is ENGAGED. Lots of giggling and dancing and screaming ensued and probably made a few other restaurant patrons choke on their satay, but whatever. Congratulations, M! So happy for you.
I'm still swishing my hair and typing away as my cat snuggles next to me on the oversized chair, waiting for my husband to get home from an all-guy event at our church so we can resume my feeling warm and safe in his arms again...
Happy sigh.
--I woke up warm and safe in my husband's arms. I love waking up with with him.
--Had a nice bowl of cereal, then zipped off to the ever-swank Mall at Millenia to get my hair cut. Haircut turned out AWESOME. Thanks, Kim!
--Went to Motherhood Maternity, walking around and swishing my beautiful new 'do back and forth, to find not one, but two adorable dresses to wear to my baby shower. This is very notable because I have traditionally NOT been able to wear dresses because they never fit me right, being larger on top than I am on the bottom most times. Having a big ol' preggo belly has evened all that out. Plus, the dresses were on sale.
--Continued to swish my hair all the way to Shannon's house, where I had over two hours of good girl-talk time, as well as giggles and smiles from two very cute toddler boys. Highlight of the visit: hearing simultaneous toddler giggles as I pretended to "eat" Elmo. Toddler giggles are audible gold.
--Left Shannon's house, still swishing, and made a call that ended with an appointment for tomorrow to have a free 3D ultrasound done, thanks to a coworker's sister who is in training to do 3D ultrasounds and needed guinea pigs. Score!
--Ended the day (swishing hair, of course) with excellent shrimp pad thai and spring rolls with several good friends, plus getting to find out one of my dear friends is ENGAGED. Lots of giggling and dancing and screaming ensued and probably made a few other restaurant patrons choke on their satay, but whatever. Congratulations, M! So happy for you.
I'm still swishing my hair and typing away as my cat snuggles next to me on the oversized chair, waiting for my husband to get home from an all-guy event at our church so we can resume my feeling warm and safe in his arms again...
Happy sigh.
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