Fresh Laundry Smell

I hate laundry.  I would really like a family closet in the laundry room so that I could cut some steps out of the "wash-fold-drop-refold-carry to multiple locations-unfold to hang-wear-carry heap to laundry room-wash" cycle.  I don't know why it annoys me so, but it does.

I do however love the smell of fresh laundry.  Usually I just use candles to imitate it instead of actually doing laundry, but anyways.

As previously stated, I hate running.  I also hate spending money and at this point I haven't been able to justify a gym membership.  Since I almost threw a brick at my TV when Jillian Michaels last yelled at me, this leaves me with the side walk, my feet, and my growing-in-size- ass.  (Unless my kind husband reads this and wants to steal an Xbox Kinect for me with the dancing games.  Nothing says "love" like thievery.)

In the past week I have ran three times.  That's three more times than in the past six months.  And I can tell.  1.5 miles felt like death.  The 2 miles I just did gave me a side stitch so bad I doubled over and pretty much mooned the mail man.  You know why it is so hard?  Because my subdivision has hills.  So much for the flat and boring Midwest.  I'm guessing they are as big as in California.  Am I being a bit dramatic because I don't want o admit how grossly out of shape I am?  You bet. But are there massive hills I can't handle?  Uh huh.

See, look.  Off in the distance, how it goes up...  I've learned to not take this street.
And my husband didn't believe me.  That fool.

So when I'm running up the massive hill and get a whiff of the delicious fresh laundry steam coming from a nearby home, I imagine I am in a field of flowers in California, instead of the sleet and ice covered Midwest hill I'm actually trying to make it up.  Makes it a little bit easier to swallow.

My sister wants me to run an 8K with her.  I want to run it because they give you beer when you are done.

Aside for the running, I would like to live my life more like this:

I barely danced at my high school prom because I was so self conscious, and now look at me.  No shame.  I want to keep growing and getting comfortable in my skin.  I want to embrace the free spirit that is trapped so deep down in my soul, that I kind of doubt she exists.  But every now and then she sneaks out.

Here's to a wonderful free spirited week with some miserable running mixed in.  Wish me luck.

Wedding Birds

For a friends wedding a year ago I made her cake topper.

It was frustrating and time consuming, but I loved the finished product. I'm wondering if birds would still be cool and worth recreating, or if they are a thing of the past and I should learn how to make giraffes or something.  Is there a market for this? Thoughts?  Interests?

I used an image from their photographers website.  www.twobirdsblog.com

Teeny Bopper.

I've already confessed my love for Twilight.  I love it for its terrible triangular drama that I would rather read in a book than experience in my life.  I have a new love.  My sister convinced me to read "The Hunger Games."  I don't really know if this is a teeny bopper book or not, but I read the entire second book from 10:30-3:30 on Friday night.  Given my previous tastes in books, I wouldn't be surprised.

Please don't judge that we were in bed by 10:30 on Friday night.  It was a long week, but not long enough for me to put the dumb book down and go to bed.

I want to forewarn you that this is a boring post.  No deep thoughts.  Just some boring January documentation.

While I am spilling my guts and embarrassing myself about my reading choices, I should share the picture of what my mom dug out of the garage.

Yes, that is my prom dress.  I loved it.  From it's unique color to it's awesome beading, it was special.  Please do not judge my dirty hair, lack of make up or my arm pit fat that wants to jump over the side of the dress if I take a breath. My mom thinks I should cut it up and make pillows.  I think I should figure out how to drop 15 lbs and have a prom party.  I could even have a balloon drop at the party.  How awesome would that be? Maybe I should also have a "re-wear your wedding dress party."  OK enough of my brainstorm.

Here is another embarrassing photo.  My new Tupperware organizational system.

I would like to get rid of Tupperware all together.  It melts, and there is no good way to put it away.  Drives me insane.  So I decided to just start chucking it in my laundry room and it usually makes it into the basket.

Jon spoke at an event at church today.  He did fantastic.  My heart grew in my chest just like the Grinch as I swelled up with pride for him.  That is about as mushy as we get, but I was honored to call him my husband today.  What a stud.

Have an amazing Sunday and week.

Luvabull.

I like to make up words.  Bir-Ver-Mas =  Birthday + Anniversary + Christmas.  My husband and I are cheap. When I want to make said quality sound more attractive, I call us frugal.  Call us whatever you want, but we don't spend much money on each other.  We give gifts like free hugs and kisses, and the guy does the dishes most of the time, so I'm a pretty content lady.

We decided not to get anything for each other for our birthdays (November), Christmas, or our anniversary (December).  I really want a camera that is out of our budget, and he got sexy glasses that cost way more than they should have.  (Those new glasses weigh less than my eye lash. Seriously.  How can something with so little material cost so much?  I digress).  So basically we would save our money and get the one big ticket item we both wanted.  Well then fate messed it up and we pulled eachother's names in the grab bag with his side of the family.  So we had to get each other something.  If we didn't we would have become not only cheap, but tacky cheap.

If we are going to spend money on each other, we tend to do it on experiences, so last weekend we took an overnight trip downtown.  It was 55 degrees in January.   Awesome.  We stayed at a lovely hotel, ate a fabulous dinner, had free wine at the hotel's reception hour, went to a piano bar where the guy didn't know any of the songs I requested, and then headed up to the Hancock building before going home.  On the way home we stopped at Hot Doug's.

The Breakdown:

Wow Bao.  Twice.  I love those asian buns, and I wish they filled my whole frozen yogurt cup, not just the outside.

The hotel, The Palomar.  Would highly recommend it.  We got a great deal on bookit.com

Dinner at Quartino.  We got the Italian sample plate where you pick different Italian meats, cheeses, and salads...and then it comes with all these sides and breads.  That meal of delicious carbs and fats was so good I could have peed my pants.  Except for the duck prosciutto.  That was disgusting.  I could hear Donald Duck whispering in my ear as I tried my one and only bite.

Free wine that we could drink on a patio in January.  (We are cheap, remember).

Hot Doug's was a bust for multiple reasons.  Number one, the words "Encased Meat" make me want to hurl, and it was written all over.  Number two, we waited over an hour in the cold for that encased meat.  My chicken sausage was good, but not that good.

Going to the Hancock was neat.  Jon had never been before.  They offer "Skating in the Sky."  Biggest load of crap I have ever seen.  I think the ice rink was a whopping 20 X 30 ft.  Pretty much the size of the living room.  When you fell you crashed into the wall, no matter what.  I cannot believe that was real.

My next profession.  I like adventure, and heights.  I probably wouldn't clean quick enough.

Regardless of what we did, it was great to be with my man.  He made a comment in one of our conversations that was so true it hurt.  We continue to systematically overextend ourselves.  We are both really good at running a mile a minute, and not so good at just being.  It was so go too be able to slow down, to sleep in, and to do our best to not steal the robes and the pillows.

Over the past week I also made massive decision to postpone going back to school.  NIU's FNP program was a quick way to get it done before the requirements change, and I'm not good at missing deadlines.  Want to know a secret?  I don't like old men, diabetes, hypertension, blah, blah, blah.  I love what I am doing right now.  I love labor and delivery and being a part of a life changing moment on a day to day basis.  I love caring for babies, both sick and healthy. So maybe after getting more experience and being sure about what I want, I'll go back.  I need to slow down and smell the roses.  Unfortunately there aren't any in January in Chicago, so I'll go smell the snow. Hopefully it won't be yellow.

I am a bit stubborn and many times it takes me a while to figure out what I'm really thinking.  I am always running towards the next thing.  I haven't even been at my current job for a year and I was already running back to school?  This has been my pattern.  Always. I think when I was 5 I was seriously planning my career as a Chicago Bulls Luvabull.  It wasn't just a dream friends, my type A self had a plan and it started with only wearing dresses the puffed out when I spun around.  I don't think I wore pants for a year of my life.  Like I said, stubborn.

So this year, the goal is to find peace in the little things.  To find joy in the day to day.  To slow down and learn how to breathe.  This year I want to take it in instead of just running through.  I want to do more balloon drops, more crafts, and learn more about myself.  I want to look back and not have missed a moment in 2012.

Happy belated New Year, again.

2012 Balloon Drop

We rang this new year in with style.  After coming down with Jon's terrible cold of doom the week before New Years, a crazy celebration was a bit out of my reach...at least if it was downtown and took multiple forms of transportation to get there.  So we brought the party home.

We were going to go somewhere with a balloon drop and I had my heart set on it.  J went to the dollar store and got 50 balloons to amuse his crazy wife. If I had some higher ceilings we could have really made it a party, but we had to make due with the normal ceilings that I have.  We already had some painters tape and plastic table cloths, what more can it take.  (Originally I was going to tack up the plastic.  That would have been funny when it fell down.  Luckily my husband actually has a brain and suggested I think of a different method.)

So we blew up balloons until our cheeks tingled and I used more tape than we thought was necessary.  And here are the results.  Is it weird if I am hoping someone pins this crap on Pinterest.  It was freaking genius.

The three dollar balloon drop.

And when we let it rip, it looked like this:

Here are some other pictures from New Years.  

Cheek Destruction:

Tuxedo Wine:

 This must have been before I started loosing at Settlers of Catan.  I look way too happy.

 Anna was probably winning at this point.

 Anna knows me too well.  Christmas candy necklace on clearance.  Three things I love in one...

 My phone took crappy pictures.

Jon and I are off for a date night down town tomorrow.  Birthday/Anniversary/Christmas present all rolled into one.  Yes please.