Sippy Cups-Are You a Straw Cup?

In my youth, I did some babysitting.  In the course of babysitting at one particular mother's house, I was unloading the dishwasher (because I was the go-above-and-beyond type *pats self on back*).  I went to put away a sippy cup and a mountain of brightly colored, different shaped cups cascaded out of the cabinet.  After several tries at a better way of stacking, I backed across the room, threw the last cup in there, and let loose a clever Rube Goldberg machine to slam the cabinet door closed.  Not quite, but I did toss the cup in and slam the door as quickly as possible and mentally apologized for the mess it was going to make later.  After the mental apology, I kind of judged those cups and that disorganization.  Oh the wisdom of a teenage babysitter!  "I couldn't handle that sort of cup chaos falling all the time!  I'd do something about it!"

What precisely would I have done?  Because on the other side of that cabinet, I would LOVE to know what my grand plan was.  Suffice it to say, sippy cups are slowly taking over my house.  I still can't handle the chaos and the constant falling out of cabinets, but am at a loss to both fix it and to stem the never ending tide of new sippy cups entering the house.  It's like that scene in Harry Potter, where the goblets keep multiplying in Bellatrix's vault each time they touch one, except there is never a cool dragon ride, just lots of cups.

We started with the basic pink, two handled, training cup.  It molded like nothing I've ever seen.  I could not keep it clean.  It would mold in little crevices that I had to use special brushes to get to and even the sanitize cycle on the washer couldn't cut through the fungus.  I still have it.  Why?  I don't know.  Then we went through a trial period of several different types of handled sippy cups because she didn't want to drink out of anything.  I have those cups too.  Still.  Languishing in the cabinet.  Now we are past the handled cups and into the very slick-sided plastic ones.  Soon we will move from that kind that has a spout to the straw kind.  All these cups will take up space in my cabinet theoretically for the next 15 years depending on the age differences of our future hypothetical children.  Well that's a depressing thought.

Here's a more fun thought.  In the course of thinking about all these sippy cups, I have decided that sippy cups could be a personality test, each one has distinctive characteristics.  

The Leaker:  You are so full of life and joy, so full in fact you can't keep that joy in.  It just spills out of you.  Joy everywhere.  This means that people either love you or hate you.  Some people just rub that joy on their face and through their hair like it's a deep conditioner.  Other people look at you and say "you are a hot mess of emotions" and put you in the back of the proverbial cabinet.

The Handled Cup:  Who can use a cup?  You can!  You can!  Cup!  Cup!  Cup!  You are a never tiring cheerleader.  You cheer, you help, you eeeeease people out of the old into the new.  You meet people at their level and take them to a new one.  But then they leave.  And you're okay.  Okay-ish.  You just want to be LOVED okay???  You are a freakin' Giving Tree of love and devotion and help and then people just move on to newer flashier cups leaving you to pick up and...wait...is that a new baby?  Who can use a cup?  You can!  You can!

The No-Handled Cup:  Yep, don't mean to brag, but you have arrived.  Look at all these freshmen.  You're big man on campus.  You know what's what and you don't mind to shove a few smaller people out of the way to get it.  You just got your first credit card and you are using it!  Why have one outfit when you can have every color, every Disney character, and even monogrammed.  Go big or go home.

The Perfect Cup:  You are part of a couple.  It's the two of you all the time.  When you go to sleep, you're clutched in their arms.  When they wake up, you are the first thing they want.  You go everywhere together.  Everywhere!  Do NOT possibly forget to take you somewhere!  Fury will rain down upon your head!  Other people might say this is unhealthy, but you don't care.  You're world is completely taken up by your one person, the rest fades to black...until a new cup comes to the cabinet.  Dun dun dun!

Straw Cup:  There are a lot of words that could describe you, we'll call you a mother lovin' bad bottom.  Oh yeah.  You are a world traveler-the park, church, the children's museum, what what!  You are independent.  You love new things and aren't afraid to give them a try.  Coconut juice anyone?  The world is your oyster and you are going to put your sticky hands on all of it!

The Glass:  You are the black tie, pearl draped, only eat things with five adjectives person.  You are delicate.  You are what everyone aspires to be.  No one can touch you.  Look down to those lower shelves and judge all the plastic flotsam you see!  Bwhaha!

So, be honest, who are you?

Who Am I Doing This For?

I have a mini soapbox today.  It has to be brief because I am on coat number four of silver spray paint on angel wings.  You can imagine how much help Cordie is with the painting process.  The weather is also being super cooperative as it is and has been raining all day long.  The painting came after the dying of a previously white, now sort of gray/blue, dress.  Why am I doing all this?  Halloween.

At this age (Cordie just turned one), Halloween says way more about me than it does about her.  She can't pick her own costume.  This is one of a precious few years that she gets to be what I deem cute or cool.  However, because I am a suburban SAHM people start asking in August "Oh are you going to make her costume?"  Because that appears to be part of the job description.  In August, I blithely replied "Yeah, I probably will.  No sense spending money on something I can whip up myself!"

Oh the optimism of August.

Now it's October though and I am in throes of a post-birthday craft funk.  I'll make a little confession to you, oh Internet, great keeper of secrets...I looked for a pre-made costume.  I know, I know!  I stay at home, what else do I possibly have to do with my scads of free time?  Costumes are expensive though!  Especially for being such cheaply made bits of nylon that will inevitably rip when I put her in the car seat.  It's not like she's three or four and into dress up yet.  That, in my opinion, is the time to go pre-made.  Then just chuck it in the dress up box on November 1st.

The cost and the fact that there seem to only be insect costumes for one year olds made me revisit making my own, I mean HER own, because Halloween is about the kids after all.  Eye roll.  I decided Cordie would be a Weeping Angel from Doctor Who.  This checks the box of "hip costume that reflects well on parent's interest" as well as "not a bee, butterfly, or ladybug" and "crafted not bought".  I am winning at Halloween.  So I bought dye, wings, and spray paint.  Suddenly this costume was not necessarily cheaper than store bought.  What's so wrong with a butterfly anyway?  Everyone loves butterflies!

I have now somewhat successfully dyed the dress, painted the wings, considered different methods of face painting, and found a silver hair bow.  I'm looking at the costume and thinking, "Yep, those wings will be lucky to stay on long enough to get a picture."  The arms of the dress may be short.  She can't, or shouldn't, eat that much candy so is trick-or-treating even an option?  So why I have done all this?

Over compensation for not seeing her on her first Halloween when she was Cinderella in interim care.  Not wanting my kid to be the only kid without a cute costume.  Getting to influence her to like cool things like Doctor Who.

And because I get to eat her candy.

How to Make Seventeen Choices for the Low Price of $1.25

I have a mini rant today.  Here it is:

Can you tell from the picture?  There are SIXTEEN different types of teethers here.  Sixteen.  Cordie used to have a key teether but it got poop on it.  Yes, poop, on a teether.  There is poop everywhere in my life right now.  Anyway, I tried to boil the teether to sanitize it, but I was still a little icked out by the possibility of giving her a previously poopy object back to stick in her mouth.  So I wasn't really sad when the gel in the keys expanded too much and burst.  I wasn't sad until I stood in front of this section and went "are you kidding me??"  Parenting is filled with a plethora of decisions of various weights that you have to make every single day.  This should be a priority level one, but all of these options suddenly make it more complicated than it should be.  Should I get a vibrating teether?  Should I get the three pack with different shapes for different teeth?  Should I get the cheapest thing because we may need to buy a few of these over the course of all the teething?  Then, once you decide that, you're faced with the constant question of should I buy a gender specific or gender neutral color?  That question alone has gender political connotations that get brought up in the Mommy Wars all the time.  It's just too much.

You know what else is too much?  The number of car seat choices and the price of these things!  Cordie is 27.5 inches tall and her infant carrier goes up to 30 inches, so it's time to start looking for a next level car seat.  Hold me, I'm scared.  

I started with a fairly broad search on the Babies 'R' Us website and had forty-seven different convertible car seats to choose from.  Even when I narrowed it down I had twenty-seven.  I don't need that many options!  I want five, five choices with easily distinguishable characteristics.  Instead I have almost thirty that look incredibly similar and yet some cost almost $400.  That's the brilliance of this though, from the manufacturer's perspective, you HAVE to have a car seat if you ever want to leave the house and what price would you put on your kid's safety?  There isn't one and they know that, so they can charge hefty amounts and you'll pony up the cash because you have no choice.  Well, you have choices, twenty-seven choices plus the color choices of each seat.

By the way, I went with the cheap teether in pink.  Judge me if you must.

"So What Brings You Here Today?"

It's soapbox time!!!  Hands in the air!  Woo hoo!

We live an information age.  Technology pervades our existence practically every waking moment.  And yet every time I go to a new doctor I am presented with a ream of paperwork, each page of which asks the same information again and again and again.  How many times do I really need to fill out my name, DOB, address, phone number, and the date??  Can you please refer to the previous fifteen pages where I wrote all that down?  Or, here's a wild and crazy thought, use a computer system that allows you to access this when I'm in the same healthcare group!  Save a tree, save my time.

It all just becomes so much more fun when I'm filling out the paperwork in Cordie's name instead of my own.  It's like all the questions take on an air of confusion that I find difficult to push through.  Least of which is the fact that we still don't have a SSN for Cordie.  Dear heavens.  Have you ever tried to exist without a SSN?  You don't.  You are a ghost, invisible to the great governmental eye.  People look at you like you are a baby snatcher when you try to explain that you don't know your own child's SSN.  I seriously take her adoption paperwork to new doctors to prove she's ours.

At each doctor you are given the list of possible symptoms of interest to the doctor and by "of interest to the doctor" I mean everything that could possibly ever hurt.  Do I have testicular torsion?  Not today, but this paperwork feels like you're busting my balls.  "At last," I mistakenly think, "something worth filling out."

I'm wrong.  I'm wrong because I've already told the receptionist why I needed an appointment when I scheduled, now I'm filling out this interminable questionnaire, and then I will be asked by a very upbeat nurse who will, once again, write down why I'm visiting this doctor.  And yet!  And yet when the doctor comes in he/she will ask again. I would put this down to polite conversation except the doctor ALWAYS ALWAYS says "oh yes, I see that noted here" after I've given the five minute spiel about why I'm there.  ARGHH!!!  Of course it's noted!  It's noted in three separate places!  I've been in this waiting room and sitting on this cold table for half of my life, you couldn't possibly have taken two more minutes of my time and read what your upbeat nurse wrote???  Do you know you employ her?  She does work here right, she isn't just wearing those scrubs and using this job as a front to steal my identity?  Listen to her!  Read the form I filled out!

I think from here on out I'll just pass out in the waiting room, then Josh will rush to my side and I'll weakly open my eyes and say "You know what would make me feel better?  If you filled out this form."

Birth Mother's Day

Today is National Birth Mother's Day. I am having some mixed feelings about it that I figured I'd share with all of you lovelies.

Well let's try again. I wrote a huge rambling paragraph to try to explain my feelings and it was even more convoluted than my brain. Maybe a list is the trick.

-Cordie's BM is a mother, pure and simple, she has as much right to celebrate on Mother's Day as anyone
-Separate days imply inequality, that there is a different level of "motherness" depending on whether you are parenting or not
-Cordie's mom has other children. What if Cordie wants to celebrate with them one day? I don't want her to feel like she has to celebrate her BM on Saturday while other children celebrate her on Sunday, because her siblings are somehow different.
-It brings an already potentially painful day into the spotlight by declaring "Hey, here is a day all about how you are a BM, but apparently not a mother because you have a different day." Guess what? Everyone is aware of the status of things thanks. We are trying to build a family and relationships with Cordie's birth parents on a basis of equality, not constantly pointing out our different roles. That hurts everyone.
-This seems like yet another Hallmark holiday that has been invented for additional sales.

Here is the one caveat as I see it:
-If Cordie's BM wants to celebrate BM's Day to feel special, by George we will! Hopefully one day I can talk to her about this and see how she feels and what makes her happiest. Until then, I will celebrate her on Mother's Day because I don't want her to feel separate or different.

This is all totally my opinion and every adoption situation is different. This is my disclaimer, so no yelling.

What's the Difference Between Formulas? That You're a Bad Parent.

So I have been wanting to blog again for awhile, but I didn't feel like I could come back from a six month absence and be like "Hi!  I'm here again."  And then I saw this:

and I was like "Oooh yeah I can blog about that."

There have been a lot of attention on breast feeding lately.  I've read maybe a dozen articles about it.  People are so passionate about it on both sides.  The comments on the articles are generally much more balanced than the actual article which is a complete anomaly on the internet.  I personally have gotten only one comment about breast feeding instead of bottle feeding.  I have definitely felt unsaid pressure to defend the fact that I bottle feed Cordie, but if I go around saying "We adopted her" all aggressively every time I get that vibe then I look  like a crazy person.  I look crazy often enough that I don't need to add to it so I just bottle feed on!

However, this pop-up got under my skin.  I was researching the difference between Stage 1 and Stage 2 formulas and happened upon the ForBaby website which had some Q&As about formulas.  I was reading and suddenly the above popped up.  Here's the issue, you know, in case you can't get the galling-ness from reading it, no one should never have certify that they have read a remonstrance from a website before getting information on formula (or anything)!  I don't need the "lecture" telling me that "partial bottle feeding may adversely affect breastfeeding" and that the social implications should be considered before choosing how to feed my child.  No.  Just no.  What other people think should NOT play into what is the most effective way to get necessary calories into Cordie!  Who thought this was appropriate to post?  It literally says that "unnecessary...use (of formula) could be harmful to the health of the baby."

There are a lot of reasons mothers choose not to breastfeed.  It is not the place or right of this website to prevent you from looking at potentially useful information about formula until you acknowledge that you are making the "wrong" decision. I get that it's just clicking a button and isn't this actual big deal.  It's just that they are forcing you to acknowledge and accept this one sided, unhelpful, condescending information at all.  I don't like for third parties to stick their noses in where they don't belong.  I did go to this website from different devices and several different times and it pops up every single time, you can't get away (insert evil laugh).  If you click "cancel", you can't read the website.  It takes you back to the ForBaby homepage.  Way to be in your face about it, ForBaby

Here's the summary:  Feed your kid.  Use a boob, use a bottle, use a spoon, just feed your baby.  Don't get down on yourself no matter what method you use.  No one else has the right to make you feel inferior about doing your best as a parent, especially pompous, pseudo-controlling websites.

So this is my reintroduction to blogging.  Aren't you thrilled that it was a rant?  Here's to new posts coming soon!

The Golden Age

Today I was driving around listening to some music and a song I had never heard came on.   I'm not sure I even made it through the first singing of chorus before I started laughing out loud. It was one of those moments when I was glad I have a blog to share this with all of you. Read the lyrics.

We drove right past

That no trespassing sign

We sat on the tailgate

And watched the planes take off

We thought we had all night

There was no need to rush

That's when those cops

Came pulling up

And I thought

Man, ain't this some shhhh

[Bridge:]

Your daddy's gonna kill me

But if I survive tonight

I wouldn't change one thing

Baby, yeah

I know it sounds crazy

[Chorus:]

But there was somethin bout the way

The blue lights were shinin

Bringing out the freedom in your eyes

I was too busy watching you

Going wild child

To be worried about going to jail

You were thinking that

Running for it

Would make a good story

I was thinking you were crazy as hell

And you were so

Innocent

But you were stealing my heart

I fell in love in the back of a cop car

Man, they weren't playin

They sure threw those cuffs on quick

You tried to sweet talk 'em

They didn't fall for it

But I did

You were on the left

I was on the right

I knew you didn't smoke

When you asked him for a light

And I laughed

He got mad and slammed the door

[Repeat Bridge]

[Repeat Chorus]

Side by side

And locked in tight

They were taking their time

But we didn't mind

We talked

And we laughed

We sat real close

By the time they let us go

I was already gone

At first I thought it was a really bad commercial and then I thought it was sarcastic/satire...it isn't.  Yes, this was actually on the radio.  Yep.  We live in a golden age people, a golden age of music.  I think that this would be an Awesome theme song for a reality tv show!  I mean we also live in the golden age of tv, where shows like Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and Keeping Up with Kardashian's are prime time shows.  I can completely see that chorus leading into a shot of a woman detailing the beginning of her relationship, stars in her eyes, or maybe just the reflection of the infamous blue lights.  You know it would be a hit.  Haha, I'm sorry, every time I look at the lyrics I chuckle some more!  Welcome to the Golden Age!

Keypads Make Me Go Grrr

I'm on a small soapbox tonight. I'm soapboxing about, of all things, keypads. Can we just agree on a format?  This is not a difficult or particularly noble goal, but I think if we put our heads together we can come to an amicable conclussion to the keypad dilemma.

It never really bothered me that a computer number pad goes from the bottom up while a phone keypad goes top down until I started this new job. Now I use the number pad constantly and the phone a lot and it drives me bonkers!!  I have nightmares that I'm in an emergency situation and keep dialing the wrong number.

I feel like this is a more modern version of the immigrant/emigrant debate. Either is sufficient,but both  cause unnecessary confusion and heartache. Yes, my heart aches over the phone, or I could be feeling a wee bit melodramatic.  We have developed cutting edge technologies. We can talk to people in real time across continents, but dang if it isn't difficult to dial them!  I, personally, vote for the number pad style, with the #1 on the bottom left, but if everyone else agrees on top right then I'll get on board! Start a petition for the standardization of keypads!

An Open Letter to the Motion Sensor

Mr. Motion Sensor,

I regret to inform you that a formal complaint is being lodged against you by the occupants of the home outside which you reside. The complaint stands as follows: inadequate illumination in times of need and excessive increase in power bill in unnecessary moments. The occupants of the home wish to remind you that your job is to come on when a person or large being approaches the door.  There is no need to constantly go on off when leaves or small woodland creatures run past. The home is located near woods wherein live an abundance of squirrels.  They do not require a light to find their way among the tree branches. The person trying to use the keypad does in fact need light. Please make adjustments in accordance with this complaint or you will find that your service will no longer be required at this domicile.

Sincerely,
The Committee of Unruly Household Objects

Then I Was Flabbergasted and Speechless and Angry

I've told you guys that I'm not big on confrontation.  I don't think many people really relish confrontation, but the second anyone voices a dissenting opinion I have a hard time standing up for my own because I don't want to ruffle feathers.  It's not a great quality in all actuality and I've been working on it the past couple weeks.  I've stood up for myself to a couple of different people and it gets a little easier each time.  I started a conversation with this guy I knew and for a little bit I tried to explain my side, but then he said something so...dumbfounding, maddening, URGH!  that I was completely at a loss.  Let me tell you about it.

This man that knew that Josh and I are trying to get pregnant (because who doesn't?) asked me how that was going the other day.  I am not that close to this guy and I never really meant for him to know these intimate details of my life so I gave him the most basic recap possible in hopes of just moving on.  I told him that I had had surgery, it went okay for what it was supposed to do, but caused another problem that I was now taking meds for.  Now we had three months for that to work and if it didn't then we would be at the end of the line and have to decide between IVF or adoption.

He listens to all this, nods and says "Well, I'll tell you, I think you should get IVF if at all possible."

Most people I know take the other side so I asked him (here was at least the first mistake):  "Oh and why is that?"

He responds with, "There is nothing like your own child.  Even though I don't think you would want to show favoritism, you can never love another child like you would love your own.  You need to have your own."

My mouth fell open a little.  I have Strong feelings about adoption which I went on to explain to him:  "No, an adopted child would be "my own child".  Even though I won't birth that kid, I will be that child's mom and take care of in every way a bio mom would.  I've known that I wanted to adopt since I was 16 and I've been praying for my adopted baby since then.  I wanted this child before I knew a bio child would be an option.  I wanted this baby when I didn't know if I would get married and thought I would be a single adoptive parent.  I've been praying for this kid for a 1/3 of my life and I can't Wait until she is home with us and I will love her the same as I will any child that comes from my body."

That was hard for me.  He's an older guy and I don't like to say anything opposing an elder, but still, touchy subject.  Okay so I figure this conversation is over and it should have been.  I tried to excuse myself, but no, he had one more thing to say:  "You aren't a real mom until you've had a baby."

Hold the phone.  He did not.  Oh yes he did.  So all the parents who have opened their homes to children who had no where else and loved them and cleaned up all manner of body fluids at 3am, those people aren't real parents, but a woman who stays so drugged or drunk out of her mind that she completely neglects or abuses her kid, that woman is a "real mom" and the other isn't?  A parent isn't made by the person who contributed DNA to the child, it's who takes care of that child, who loves that kid to distraction, who sacrifices for that child.  I was furious.  Even typing it makes me mad.  I guess I shouldn't have expected anything different from the same man who said that "breastfeeding" is an offensive word.  Eye roll.

I'm Going to Become Samson

Let's chat. I'm married, you know that.  I love Josh more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Our marriage is different than anyone else's. That is a basic principle of a relationship, be it marriage or dating, it is specific to the people in it.

That was the preface to this rant. What in the name of all that is good is something doing weighing in on the dynamic of my marriage??  As I'm typing this I wonder if I've written this before. I honestly might have, I'm this far in on the iPad so I'm finishing. There is this woman I know who feels the need to give her opinion. I like to consider Josh's thoughts in how I cut my hair. It's on my head so I don't see it that much, but Josh sees it. I like to think about what Josh likes. He will think I'm pretty no matter what, but I know he thinks my hair looks nice one way or another.

This Kills me! Not her place!  If I want to ask Josh, that's my business. Grrr, just irks me. I don't want to give my thoughts on someone else's marriage unless they ask for it specifically because I don't know everything about them, about how they work, how they interact, etc. I know that a lot of women who are very much "My body, my business!"  That's fine, that's cool, that's just not me. I think that my marriage vows make my body not entirely my own.

Okay that's all. Now I'm going to stop. I'll figure out what I want to do with my hair and ill ask Josh what he thinks because I value his opinion so there!

Doggie Treadmill: When a Leash Is Too Low Tech

There are a lot of things I see on tv that make me go "What???"  Most of those things are reality tv shows, but occasionally you come across a commercial that has the same effect.  Enter the dog treadmill by Cesar Millan.  Just watch:

What???  We have really reached a new laziness low.  Granted, there are some people who have health problems that preclude them from walking their pets, but for Most people, taking their dog outside isn't beyond their capability.  I love that this is a tv commercial too.  It's like he's saying "I see you there, sitting on the couch, your fingers orange from cheese puffs.  I know you don't want to get up and take your pooch outside to walk.  I've got your solution!"  If he had only offered a free ironing board attachment he could have upped sales, really cover all the reasons for having a treadmill.

Someone is going to buy this though.  They are going to spend a great deal of money on a doggie treadmill when they could have modified the treadmill they have (or a neighbor or relative because those things don't get a lot of use) or just gotten up and gone outside!!  I wish I could sale something to these people.  The world, it has a limitless capacity for silly inventions.  This one barely scratches the surface.  People people people *shaking head in awe*.

Mini Cooper Radio Commercial

Have you heard the new Mini Cooper commercial?  I searched to find it and link it here, but I can't find it.  It's on the radio; I hear it on Pandora a lot.  The commercial says that it is spring and time to clean out your garage.  It goes on to say that it is a perfect time to get rid of your old dirty car and put a new clean, shiny Mini Cooper in its place.

This commercial kind of ticks me off.  Our economy has still not fully recovered from the recession of 2008.  A lot of people are still struggling to make ends meet.  A commercial like this seems to send the message that you aren't "successful" if you can't dispose of your car like outgrown clothes and excess junk.  I heard (on Mad Men, I think, so obviously a totally reliable source) that advertising's purpose is to make sure we are never content.  This is a perfect example.  There are a blue million car commercials and they are all trying to get people to ditch their old car in exchange for a new ____ whatever kind.  This one just seems over the top.  It sows those seeds of discontent in a deeper, more in your face kind of way.  It just seems offensive.

I always thought Mini Coopers were cute cars and I've heard good things about them, but I think I would be hesitant to own one now just because I don't care for their advertising strategy at all.  There is putting a desire for a product in someone's mind and there is this and this seems excessive.  Shrug, those are my thoughts.  Notice the commercial next time and see what you think.

The Socks Are Ending the World

Today I went shopping for socks because, well... this

 I love brightly colored socks and I found these on sale.  I was Just about to buy them when I noticed.  Do you see what the problem is?

They don't match.  They are six mismatched socks.  What is the world coming to when we are too lazy to be bothered with matching socks!  It boggles the mind.  Wouldn't the wearers being worried about wrecking in them?  My Momma always told me if I was wearing dirty underwear and wrecked then the EMS wouldn't help me.  Can't you just see that?  Horrible car wreck, before the injured person is taken from the car the first responder notices the person's socks are mismatched:  "Uh, sir, I don't think we should hurry with this one, this is obviously natural selection at work.  The socks aren't even matched."  

I think it just really hurts my OCD or a genius plan to make "normal" people buy two packs of socks in the hope of actually making a pair.  Don't buy into their messed up worldview where either matching doesn't matter of they are milking you for money!  Buy regular socks!

Clockwork Angel: Snobbiness and Disappointment

I read this book.  And I want to blog about it, but I kind of feel bad because I didn't like it and I feel like I complain a lot about popular books.  Josh says it is because I don't like books that most people do.  There are books I like.  You should know that.  I blogged about them here, here, and here.  Okay there.  My guilt/snobbiness is assuaged.

What is up with people copying the Twilight format?  This book was almost exactly the same.  The only difference, and why I was reading it to begin with, was a steampunk flair.  I liked that, though I didn't think it was handled adeptly.  It was like the author had never had any mechanical experience before.

Otherwise, let's look at the similarities:

Girl with unique powers-Bella has the ability to not be bent by the powerful Vampire Roman people (Venturi?), Tessa has the ability to "Change" and yet not be a conventional warlock and no one knows why.

Love triangle-These books are HARDLY the first ones to exploit a love triangle, they just seem to do it so poorly.  In both books there is the brooding handsome one with some secret buried deep down who alternately loves and scorns the heroine.  The other guy is much nicer and more constant, though also magically different (werewolf and demon blood addict [unfortunately I am not making that up]).  Despite the fact that everyone is warning the heroine that the brooding handsome guy isn't good for her, the heroine is more attracted to him than the nicer, safer guy.

Predictable plot-Okay, so let's say you have the two elements above, you can still redeem yourself with a really good plot. Both Twilight and Infernal Devices have "twists" that you can see a mile away.  Then they belabor the point by explaining the "twists" over and over.

Group of people to make up a "family"-Twilight has the Cullen's and all the "siblings" in that group.  Infernal Devices has The Institute with all the Shadowhunter minors.

Then of course there are the mythical elements, all the werewolves, vampires, etc.  I'm disappointed.  I had heard such good things.  I can't make it through this series like I pulled through Twilight.  Speaking of series, I did finish the Hunger Games series and I'll update you on my thoughts on that series soon.

   

How to Drive Around a Stupid Roundabout

There are certain things that can be difficult about driving-parallel parking, 5:00 traffic, an enormous number of idiots, but there are some things that should not be very difficult.  Case in point:  roundabouts.  It should NOT be that hard!  There is a roundabout as you enter my neighborhood and there are several more in the downtown area.  They are single lane roundabouts so there is nothing wild and hairy going on.  It's literally a circle.  Drive around it without hitting anyone!

But no.  No.  Just no.  It can't be that simple.  For some reason, people cannot understand how to navigate them.  Here is what the Washington State Department of Transportation says (I don't know why them, they just pulled up on Google):

As you approach a roundabout, you will see a yellow "roundabout ahead" sign with an advisory speed limit for the roundabout. 

Slow down as you approach the roundabout, and watch for pedestrians in the crosswalk. 

Continue toward the roundabout and look to your left as you near the yield sign and dashed yield line at the entrance to the roundabout. Yield to traffic already in the roundabout. 

Once you see a gap in traffic, enter the circle and proceed to your exit. If there is no traffic in the roundabout, you may enter without yielding. 

Look for pedestrians and use your turn signal before you exit, and make sure to stay in your lane as you navigate the roundabout.

Okay of those, almost all of them should be common sense.  The only thing you really need to know is that the person to the left has the right of way.  Also, not included in this:  Do NOT Freakin' STOP in the middle of the roundabout!!!!!  People!  That is an awesome way to get hit!  I hate when people who should have the right of way are just sitting there looking at you all annoyed and you are wildly gesticulating that they are a moron who cannot drive and you wish with your whole self that they would just go!!

Finally, while we are on this topic, let's talk about giving directions when a roundabout is involved.  A roundabout (particularly here) has four outlets.  If I say, go halfway around then I mean go 180 degrees from you are you, if there was no middle planter thing that there is usually in the center then you would go straight through, take the second outlet.  All these things really mean the same thing.  Yet you would  not believe the number of people who struggle with this.  Eye roll.

Okay I'm going to climb down off this soapbox and end by saying, if the French can safely (relatively speaking) drive around the massive, crowded, multi-lane roundabout around the Arc de Triomphe, then SURELY to Goodness we can master a single lane, no traffic one.  Get it together Americans, get that $#&( together.

The Reason for the Season

 You know how at Christmas everyone wears buttons to remind you to remember the true reason for Christmas?  This is just a little perspective on the holiday.

This could be seen as just to the bad side of irreverent  but I prefer to think of it as more cynical and sarcastic.

Let us remember the true reason for the day:  the death of a priest.  The following are depictions of Valentine's death.  Feel free to use these anti-Valentine's Day cards :)

P.S.  See here for my rant on Valentine's Day last year.

Metabolism SUCKS!

Once upon a time, not very long ago I could eat as much as I wanted, whenever I wanted, and not gain weight.  Lest you be a member of my family and say "Oh, pssh, Sierra!  I never saw you eat!" let me tell you about eating.

When I was at UT I ate a LOT.  For breakfast every morning I would have an omelette with cheese, ham, tomatoes, and salsa.  I would also have a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit and a glass of juice.  Every single morning of the week!  Once a week I would go by this wonderful cafeteria where they had chain restaurants.  I would get three breadsticks from Pizza Hut, a six piece nugget box from Chik-Fil-A, and a caramel dulce de leche milkshake from Edy's.  If I stayed the weekend, which was very rare, I would eat half of a Papa John's spinach alfredo pizza and half a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream for supper on Saturday night.  Sunday was the big meal, boy oh boy.  Here we go.  I would eat four kinds of cereal (half a bowl each), a donut, a brownie, eggs (either scrambled or an omelette), bacon, ham, hasbrowns, a biscuit with either jelly or gravy, sometimes both, fruit, juice, and water.  Then I would roll down the stairs.  I could also eat Pop Tarts and Debbie Cakes anytime I wanted.  And absolutely nothing gave me indigestion.  Ahhhh, the good ol days!

Today I had an oatmeal creme pie for breakfast, three pieces of ham and half a slice of pumpkin roll for lunch, chicken noodle and veggie soup for dinner, and 1/2 a serving of ice cream for snack.  Not awesome, but not exactly the calories of days gone by.  And yet!!  I weigh twenty-five pounds more today than I did at UT.  TWENTY-FREAKIN'-FIVE!!!  And I get indigestion.  And I try not to keep Pop Tarts in the house.  Where is the justice I ask you???


Here I am skinny:

(Don't worry, my makeup is a lot better now.  I had danced it all off that night)

Here I am not so skinny:

I have chinSSS as in plural!  I am Chin Girl!

Siiiiiigggggghhhh.  It has to stop.  I can't be Chin Girl.  Any suggestions for getting my metabolism back would be awesome because I really want some more ice cream, but I'm afraid another chin would appear overnight.

Homekeeping Room

Today was one of those days where nothing really happened that was blog worthy.  A few funny comments, but nothing worth writing about.  That's the problem with NaBloPoMo, you have to come up with something every day.  I got home from work and everything seemed to fall apart, supper was a bust, my tutoring was frustrating, and my chocolate monograms are squishy.  I decided to take a bath and headed in there with my Martha Stewart Living magazine...and that's when I found it:  my blog post.  As a bonus, it is a soapbox.

Martha Stewart has a "homekeeping room".  It is a room converted from a garage/goat shed (yes, real goats) that has all her cleaning supplies in stations.  One of the stations is a "packing" station specifically for packing things to mail.  It is also where she keeps her second tape gun, because sometimes one per room just isn't enough.  Here are a couple of pictures from marthastewart.com.

Here is the whole room.  This is not exactly a shabby room.  She describes it as a small room, but for cleaning supplies, this is big!

This is an entire drawer of cleaning cloths of all different types.  Who has that many different kinds of cloths??

This is the packing drawer.

Here is the packing station up top.  SEVEN different kinds of twine.  Really???

This is what kills me.  She has spent thousands of dollars on the cabinets and shelves, which had to be retrofitted and the renovation that had to be done on the whole building.  Then there are hundreds of dollars worth of supplies.  I think that money can be a great blessing and I'm not begrudging her her fortune, but was seven kinds of twine the best way she could think to spend it?  Was there no one that could have used this money in a better way?  This is the epitome of insane to me.  It just seems a bit selfish.  It's not even in her house!  She has to walk across her compound to get there with her big brass table to polish (that was a project she was saying she was doing in there).  You know with that much money and her schedule, she isn't doing a lot of cleaning herself.  Why have this swanky place for "homekeeping" when most of your up keep is outsourced?  It just makes me sick to see any incredibly wealthy person looking for ways to spend their fortune and that is what this is.  There are so many needs and putting in French doors out of your homekeeping room isn't a need.

I Am NOT Your "Sweetie"!

It's been a long time since I've had a soapbox.  Today is the day.  I HATE when people I don't know use terms of endearment for me!  It seriously drives me nuts. 

Today I was on the phone with the granite people.  We Still don't have granite.  It's been four weeks.  That was Not the projected timeline.  To make matters worse our granite isn't even in the state and the truck that should go pick it up has been broken TWO months (is this Enough unnecessary use Of capital LETTERS??).  So I finally get ahold of the company who is supposed to have already completed this job.  This is, in itself a feat, because for some reason they don't answer their phone.  So I am being firm, but kind.  I'm really trying to get an idea of when we could possibly have granite on our waiting cabinets.  I am dying without my sink!  There can be no sink until there are countertops.  The woman on the phone keeps calling me sweetie.  And it isn't just that she is calling me sweetie, it's the tone.  As in:

"Look, I'm just trying to get a timeframe on this.  We had deadline and we were told when these were going to be installed and they weren't and now we aren't even being contacted and told what is going on."
"Well, sweetie, I'm sure that's frustrating but the only truck we have to haul the granite has been in the shop, like, two months."

And then later:  "Sweetie, I'm working on it."

GRRRR!  In the first place, this was no small amount of money that we have given to these people.  I mean, granite does not come cheap!  I want what I paid for!  In the second place, this is a professional call so "sweetie" is not really appropriate.  Stop it.  It's annoying.  I'm not a child, I'm a disgruntled customer and your condescension isn't helping matters one single bit!  I will continue to say GRRR until I see some results!  I want to see granite in my home!