The Bet 2012

It’s almost that time! I keep seeing references to Super Bowl snack recipes, so I can only assume it’s coming up soon. This will the fifth or sixth year Chris and I place The Bet: Who Can Go The Longest Without Finding Out Who Won The Super Bowl.

I won last year. I eschewed all social media for a few days and made it past the news cycle, but a few months later it was randomly referenced on a tv show. (Chris got spoiled from a music magazine article about the Air Force Super Bowl commercial that used a White Stripes song after a week or so.)

It’s not an anti-sports thing. I mean, sports are definitely not my bag. At all. But it’s not about raining on anyone’s boring, overhyped parade, but more about finding a way to participate in the hysteria without having to actually watch the game.

Game on.

Harper, it’s your birthday

Harper it’s your birthday…Happy Birthday Harper

We don’t know Harper’s biological birthday because he was a stray picked up and brought to a shelter. They estimated he was about 15 months old, so we did some math and picked January 27th. This year he is five. I can’t believe it. He looks so young in the pictures from when we first brought him home:

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I think a lot about how sad I will be when his life is over, and how it seems to be going so quickly! I can’t believe I was only 25 when we adopted him. I’m feeling extra emotional about it after a friend lost her sweet dog this week on Tuesday. I chipped in at the office to send her some flowers. I know I would be a wreck.

When you don’t want to have kids, though, and you’re totally nuts about your dog, people think that you have pets instead of having kids. This is not at all the case with me. Kids are hard. You have to do things that will make your children productive members of society. They grow up and move away. But a dog, you just have to feed and cuddle and play.

Harper has never called me “Mom.” (I know, no one’s dog has ever really called anyone “Mom,” but you know what I mean.) We have always thought that obviously Harper doesn’t consider us his parents, and he doesn’t know our names. He can probably tell that one of us is a male and one’s a female, so we’ve always thought of him as thinking of us as The Man and The Lady.

I know he’s a happy dog with a good life, but I wish I could spend more time with him. Is stay-at-home-dog-owner a thing? I have taken him into work with me a few times, but he’s not really allowed to be there all the time.

Happy Birthday, Harper. Even though you don’t even know what the internet is. (Except for twitter.)

Commute Regulars

So, I think this is a thing that mostly happens to people who take the bus or walk or ride their bikes to work, but there’s a group of people I see every morning, or almost every morning. Because most of us are on a pretty steady schedule in the morning. When I take the bus to work, I walk out my door at 6:28. Occassionally 6:29, but never 6:25 and never 6:30. If I Walk to work, it’s 6:25. If I ride my bike I leave by 6:42.

So, as a consequence I see the other people who leave their homes at 6:37 or what have you, and end up at the same intersection every day at the same time I’m there. There’s the guy with good bike lights I see riding up my hill as I coast down. If I walk, I see a man who is a little person and a lady who has spikey hair cut to one inch. On the bus I see the lady with the Crazy Eyes get on at the stop after mine.

So, I wonder if they have ever been like, there’s the lady walking in the light blue coat! Or…there’s the lady riding her bike in a dress! But I don’t know. Because I mostly recognize the people who look a little odd. I remember a lady I always see in a calf-length, Barbie-pink puffy coat. I’m never like…hey, there’s that brown haired girl with a black bag.

Yesterday Chris pulled a coat off a rack at Target and asked me to try it on. Because he said he liked the way it looked and thought it seemed, “So Mel.” (I’ve been known to turn a corner and exclaim, “Ooh, YELLOW!” at a rack of sweaters.)

I was ultimately sold by the fact that it was probably just a good safety investment as a bicycle commuter.

Anyways. I just think that someone, somewhere, someone is going to refer to me as “Yellow Coat Girl.”

I’m sorry to do this

Yesterday was one of those days when I got fired up. Like, stuff happened that was so dumb I couldn’t stop complaining about it and feeling self-righteous and annoyed and wronged. I got myself worked up into a “Seriously?! Are you kidding me with this? You really just said that? Ridiculous!” tizzy.

I was getting riled up about two things: work, and Gossip Girl. I was in a State after work and thought a bubble bath plus guilty pleasure tv might make me feel more relaxed, but then this week’s episode of Gossip Girl turned out to be maybe the worst 42 minutes of television I have ever watched.

I don’t care to put much of anything on the internet about my job (I love my job, this was just random ridiculousness). I’m going to channel all of my ire from work silliness and my exasperation at this tv show into a list of things that were utterly stupid and ridiculous about this week’s episode of Gossip Girl. I’m sorry. Move along. It’s fine.

  • The previews/commercials all showed scenes from the hospital, the immediate aftermath of the car accident. So why was the ENTIRE episode set a few months (weeks?) later? I kept thinking I had missed an episode.
  • The opening scene I really thought was one of those movie dream sequences. It felt so awkward. I kept thinking we were going to realize this was someone’s coma dream in the hospital.
  • Promises you make to god when you’re scared don’t count. No one thinks this. They are not a reason to marry someone if you don’t want to.
  • Even if they were, what kind of promise is…”I will marry this man I don’t love if you let this other guy I DO love live”? No. Promise to be a good person! To give to the poor! To be nice to the minions! Marrying someone when you don’t want to isn’t the kind of inherently good thing you promise to god.
  • If Chuck was just in a bad car accident, didn’t it seem weird that he was totally unrattled when he almost got hit by that taxi?
  • I’m so sick of Chuck and Blair realizing they love each other and then coming up with stupid reasons they can’t be together. Divine intervention is even dumber than when Chuck sold her to his uncle or when they broke up because Blair didn’t want to live in Chuck’s shadow, or when he slept with Jenny, or when he stood her up because his dad said he should, or when she ditched him because he was mean to Dan. Enough!
  • Here’s a plausible reason Dan and Blair were photographed sneaking around: because Dan and Serena are secretly dating! Wait…what?
  • Gossip Girl is inexplicably kaput. What happened to her? And now there is NO gossip on the internet now that one site is down?
  • Why would everyone randomly start emailing Serena? That makes no sense. And why do people still care about her? She’s still sort of famous in this fake NYC? What is she even blogging about?
  • If the family is so famous, why doesn’t the real Charlie Rhodes recognize Lily? If not because she’s this allegedly high profile person in the newspaper, wouldn’t she have, you know, SEEN pictures of her aunt ever?
  • Oh yeah. PS, by the way, Blair miscarried. No big deal. Mentioned off hand, given something like a 30 second scene.
  • Nate wants to investigate this car accident by talking to the driver so…invite him to my New Year’s Eve party!
  • Why is the NYE episode airing in mid-January?
  • Why does Louis (a world famous, tabloid fodder prince) think that it’s a good idea to publicly accuse Blair of cheating on him in a room full of journalists?

It’s like they fired all of the writers and just pieced together scripts from bad fan fiction. I just can’t. I’m too old. I think I’m done.

So, I got heckled the other day while running. Called ugly, which was kind of weird because I expected it to make me feel really rattled, but I just didn’t.

Too bad, random yell-y dude! There are lots of things you could have yelled at me that would have actually made me feel bummed.

“You slow!”

Good god I am. And it makes me sadder than it should. I’m just not built for running, I find it incredibly difficult, and I always languish somewhere close to 12 minute miles. I wonder if I will ever be faster.

“Just give up on the resolution now!”

Heh. It’s January, meaning the resolution makers are out in full force. I normally do not mind. My gym is small, so it gets crowded fast, but whatever. You wait a little. You do something else. I actually kind of like it because there are people who are running even slower than I am on the treadmill, and people swimming even slower than I do in the pool. I know it’s bad but it makes me feel a little awesome. Privately, in my head. And on the internet.

But no matter how much I swim, bike, run, lift, yoga, or whatever, I always feel like I look like a beginner. When I run outside, people on the street will give me random encouragement, “Keep it up!” as though I look like I’m about to die or something. Even if I feel fine, I just don’t look like a runner, which brings me to…

“What up, jiggle-puff!”

So, this isn’t, like, the very best picture of what I’m talking about, but I snapped this the other day, because I have these new compression tights I got for Christmas and mother they are tight! So I was sort of taking photos to assure myself I didn’t look too ridiculous (because as Cher Horowitz taught us…don’t trust mirrors!), plus I wanted to document how you can completely see them digging into my waist (without a top on I look…it’s just ridiculous. I don’t understand how it’s not painful…)

Anyways. I ended up on a treadmill the other day that was like right in front of a mirror and so I had to watch myself for 30 minutes and I was like, wow, that’s what I look like?

“WOW. Boobs. And Hips. And thighs. And boobs! They’re just…there they are!”

This is part of the reason I always look like a resolution-er and I’m very slow. I don’t have the right body for running, and sometimes I just feel rally wrapped-in-spandex-but-naked.

Which is all to say that sometimes I hate running, and sometimes it’s because it makes me feel really, really self-conscious, but honestly random dude telling me I’m ugly doesn’t really throw me off because slow and awkward and jiggly? Yes. Ugly? Not buying it.

I’m still putting my house back together after Christmas. I mean, I took down the stuff from outside so my neighbors wouldn’t start rolling their eyes. But I’ve been slowly taking the inside decorations down and they’ve been living in piles and in boxes (and in piles of boxes) here and there.

I had a revelation when I started to put the boxes back into our little storage room. (It’s also where the furnace and hot water heater live…I suppose it’s our equivalent to a basement.)

We always put the Christmas stuff in the back. Since we only use it once a year. But looking around today, I took stock of everything else: boxes of old photos, an over-the-bed-net thing I got as a gift years ago, the box and all the styrofoam packing my iMac came in, tennis rackets from that summer I was going to take lessons.

We use all that stuff once a never, so it’s time for Christmas to move up in the world, and for old college snapshots to move to the back of the bus.

(PS I am so glad facebook only got popular as I was finishing up my college years. All the photos of me being foolish and embarrassing myself are on glossy paper and in a box behind my Christmas decorations, the way god intended.)

I am a (salad) genius

I’m not normally one to take a picture of my lunch. Unless it was especially awesome or I made some recipe I’m in love with. But here I go. This is the salad I ate twenty minutes ago. It’s making me feel like a damn genius.

I really love salads, but I have a mental block on making them because for some reason I have in my head that it’s SO MUCH work and ENDLESS chopping and it’s HARD to make them ahead of time because they get gross sitting in the fridge too long.

Until I had the genius idea at the grocery store on Sunday to make no-chop salads. All ingredients that do not need any further attention before they go in the bowl.

Pre-washed greens
Tiny tomatoes
Bean sprouts 
Feta cheese

Voila. Amazing. Delicious. Filling. Easy. 

What else could I use here? Blacks beans, I guess? Chickpeas, corn. Raisins if I was a person who eats food that looks like bugs.

If I was a real blogger this is where I would end with my bolded, italicized question to prompt you to comment.

What are your favorite lunch time shortcuts?

But I’m not. So here’s a cute picture of Alaska instead. I put this polar bear toy on top of her. Because it was funny.