Tremendous Blondette

It’s true, I was nearly arrested at the local coffee shop this morning as I enjoyed my almond poppyseed muffin and soy latte.

Having survived an intense week with my morale intact, but my energy slightly depleted, okay significantly depleted (is it naptime yet?), I decided there was no reason to change out of my Missouri State tee (it’s a privilege to be a Bear) and Snoopy (THE RED BARON!) pjs, nor did I feel it necessary to tame my bedheaded, floofy hair. (hey I showered before bed so I’m clean at least!)

I think my appearance was a surprise. I do generally muster up the initiative to at least put on a pair of jeans and a shirt and control my hair, but not today. Now that you have that pretty picture in your head, let’s move on.

Not long after my arrival at the coffee shop, Tammi said hi to a patron who had just entered the shop. When I turned around I was staring at a uniformed, on-duty member of the Kansas City Police Department. (he confirmed that Cops hover at QuikTrip)

Being the punchy charmer that I am, I joked a bit to break the ice (okay, maybe it was a joke about saving a cat from a tree which means I’ve confused my uniformed rescue operatives, but I HADN’T HAD MY COFFEE YET). And then he took out his notebook. Dude, wait, what?

Apparently, policemen’s are now awarded points for meeting citizens. I may be receiving a call from the policeman’s supervisor to confirm that we did, in fact meet. Dear Supervisoring Police Person of Interest, this is to declare that I did in fact meet, or actually he met me, Officer Mark Carrel on July 25th at The Friendly Bean. We all chatted about our Blackberries and Officer Mark taught us many valuable items about the law and being responsible citizens. We also discovered that everyone knows Officer John Lozano. (I met him while working at KCPD Headquarters the summer after my freshman year of college.) I digress…

Somehow, my appearance (I PRETTY!) became an unlawful act. It’s true. It SHOULD be illegal to look this good so maybe I should have been arrested for disturbing the peace or “the piece.” *wink wink*

Our new buddy, Mark indicated that I was not in fact disturbing the peace and would not be arrested.

Can’t win em all.

He was my favorite newsman.

Happy Birthday just looks prettier in French. July 18th is more than just Saturday today. It is my mom’s birthday. (age omitted) Last Saturday at this time we were getting ready for Brian and Beth’s wedding. I’m pretty sure I was in a chair at Estee Lauder having foundation painted on my face (oh yes, they use a big paint brush type item to apply foundation- que fancy!)

For her – - birthday, Mom would like to go see the new Harry Potter movie. I know, life is tough for me. I do hate Harry Potter so much… I digress…

For Father’s Day, I wrote about a few favorite memories I have of my dad. In that same vein, I’d like to share with you some of my favorite things about my mom.

1. She read to me and instilled a love of reading. When I was little she would read and re-read Cinderella, but she read Brier Rabbit and did all kinds of voices; then it moved on to A Little Princess and The Secret Garden, making all stories something special to me.  She also read at mass on Sundays. I remember her preparing and practicing and really trying to understand what she going to read to the congregation.
2. I remember my mom painting her nails. She’s always had nice nails that I was never able to replicate. I got close once my 3rd year of college, but it required me to do my nails almost daily including the use of cuticle oil and it lasted only about a month. I think my brother picked up the good nail trait. She just naturally has nice, strong nails.
3. Broccoli. Mom freakin loves broccoli. Frozen or fresh, my mom could eat an entire plate of broccoli. She can’t really eat it now because of the blood thinners she takes, but man.
4. Popcorn. Is it a snack? Is it dinner? IT’S BOTH! A lot of nights Mom would just eat popcorn for dinner. She was an RN and worked 12 hour shifts, so a lot of times she didn’t get home from work until 8pm or later. Eating a full dinner didn’t make sense. I eat popcorn (well I don’t really eat it anymore because of the whole wisdom tooth thing and my nerves) out of the bag. Mom would pop it, put it in her white bowl, spray it with PAM, and salt it. (and spray it with more butter flavored PAM.)
5. Stories from work – being the best stick on the floor (stick for IVs etc.) Mentoring new nurses. Chronic kids who were more than just patients.
6. A very big heart. She’s one of the most compassionate and generous people you’ll ever meet- to a fault. If she’s got it, she’ll give it to you. Trust me, I know.

This is just a tiny bit of what I think of when I think of my mom.

My Mom, Bob, and Grandpa Boyle at Mom and Bob's Rehearsal Dinner

Right, I’m not a natural when it comes to cleaning and keeping my home in a state of domestic bliss. My priorities have never been with housekeeping and chores. For some, they cannot rest until everything is put away or washed. Eh. As long as I have a path and a place to park my ass, I’m good. Or so I thought.

My friends have all taught me bits of how to keep house. I learned some from my parents, but most of what I do now, was done with a little help from my friends.

One, I’m a packrat. OMG. I’ve gotten better about this and learned that one must assess things in the following way: Is this something I’d miss if I threw it away or gave it away? Have I used this in the past month? Do I need it? Is it replaceable?

Two, I work a lot. And truth be told, when I get home from work I really don’t feel like cleaning.

From Tara, I learned to embrace compartmentalization, aka use of boxes and bags.

From April, I learned that she’s way better at organizing my cleaning supplies than I’ll ever be. April helped me clean and organize my kitchen before Thanksgiving last year and she helped me clean out and organize my desk. She dove right in, threw shit out, and grouped things in logical sense.

From Tammi, I learned how to complete the laundry process.  Let me clarify. For me, doing laundry has always involved digging out the items I care about from a pile of everything dirty and clean (because the clean stuff ends up mixed in with the dirty, thus making it dirty again) and putting them in the washer. After they are dried, I usually either use them straight from the dryer, or I put them on my bed…where they often end up on the floor. Yes, my process did not involve actually putting the laundry away. This lead to a carpet of laundry in my bedroom and the need to shut the bedroom door if guests are over. Slightly inconvenient if you know what I mean.

My brother, Brian, re-organized my kitchen cabinets (by the way, I’ve been spelling that word incorrectly for years) for me. Yep.

What I learned about cleaning: it really doesn’t take that much time. It’s when you let it pile up and get backlogged that it takes a lot of time and effort. Well, son of a bitch. You’d think that alone would motivate me. Right? HAHAHAHA. Oh dear.

This is not to say I’m completely incompetent when it comes to housekeeping. I’m actually quite detail-oriented in most of my life and great at things like bill-paying and budgeting. I’m also great with furniture re-organization and moving. In fact, moving my furniture usually motivates me to clean. It clears my chi and brings a bit of zen. When I do clean, it’s usually not half-assed. Part of being a perfectionist is the mentality of all or nothing. I don’t usually like to do things unless I know I’ll succeed.

So, here’s to working on my habits and becoming a domestic goddess…in training.

What would someone learn about you from your trash? Investigators use trash analysis not just for evidence, but to figure out who someone is. (Or is that just something I saw on TV?)

You can learn a lot about someone based on their rubbage (yay thesaurus!) Assume you know nothing about me- not my gender, my name, age, income level, whether or not I have pets, etc.

So, here’s what’s in my trash today:

• Lean Pockets Box
• Weight Watchers Dessert Boxes
• Sweet Potato Chips empty bag
• Gluten Free Cheese Puff empty bag
• Moldy Coffee Grounds and filter
• Empty Sugar-Free Cherry Cola Box (Jones makes sugar-free!)
• Empty Sparkling Water Box (I enjoy Lemon, Lime, and Berry flavors)
• Assorted Mail Marketing Pieces (Direct Mail) aka “Junk Mail”
• Used tissues
• Sourdough Bread Bag (with one last slice- slightly moldy)
• Kashi TLC Fruit and Grain Bar empty box or two
• Empty Burrito Bols from Chipotle (x 3 or so)
• Chipotle Brown Bags
• Chipotle Cup (large)
• Empty Purina Complete Cat Chow bag
• Empty pasta box
• Empty can of black olives
• Empty can of corn
• Empty “Parma Rosa” sauce packet

Accessory trash includes used cat litter!

So, who am I?

Take the next step, does your trash reflect who you want to be?

Brian and Beth Engagement Dinner?

I just returned from Springfield, MO where I was part of a tiny little event called “Boo-Boo Takes a Bride” or “The Wedding of Beth Medley and Brian Leas.”  Oh, by-the-way, Brian is my older brother and Beth is now my sister-in-law (which feels totally cool to say, but still sorta weird!)

Brian and Beth met for the first time on Sunday, February 2nd, 2004. Apparently, I also met Beth that day but had no recollection. (Did I mention it was my friend Carrie’s 21st birthday party where they met?) They didn’t start dating until a coworker/friend matchmaking scheme hooked them up in 2007. Brian had recently purchased a house and Beth was working on her MBA. Before too long, they had a dog and two kittens together and Beth moved into the house where she slept on the couch.

Proof of their first meeting. Brian was the one "with the sister." And yes, I was that fat. See, makes my current level of fatness seem almost skinny!

The courtship had its bumps, but isn’t that the true test of a relationship? If you can’t move past challenges because you truly care about someone, then you shouldn’t be in a relationship. (the same is true of friendship) I don’t think you can say you are in a relationship until you have to deal with the fact that people are not always going to act, react, or think the way you want or expect them to.  Let’s get off the soapbox and move on to the fun stuff…

Every girl dreams of a giant engagement ring and a sweet proposal. Brian delivered on that dream when he proposed to Beth with a Ring Pop at Mr. Bulky’s (a candy shop) at Battlefield Mall in Springfield, Missouri. After she said yes to the candy ring, they headed to the jewelry store and picked out a real engagement ring, which he later used for his formal proposal.

Much to both mother’s delight, the vows took take place in a Catholic church thus removing the pretense of a chastity cot as the couple is no longer living in sin.

So Happy Together- la la la

Driving down to Springfield on Thursday I thought about how quickly the weekend and the wedding would be over. That before I knew it, the event would be a memory and I’d be on my way home again. I think that is the key reason why I feel disconnected to major events in my life. I try to avoid them because the time will pass anyway and the event will be over so quickly.  I often ponder how I will feel or what I will think. Standing on the altar watching the vows was an interesting experience. I felt sort of removed, yet, there I was, my feet hurting and my knees locking, contorting my face as I struggled to keep my composure. It was some sort of mixture between crying and smiling that I just wouldn’t let myself express.

As I drove home Sunday night, the day after the wedding, I pondered that drive from 3 days prior. Yes, the time had passed. I’d been busy. I sweated. I hugged. I cried. I showered a lot. I wore pretty clothes. I got a new sister. I realized that my brother’s life had just changed forever and with that change in his life, a change in my life came- a good change.

Beth is good for Brian. I questioned the relationship at a point when Brian didn’t seem happy- he’s my big brother and he takes care of me! He’s a great guy and deserves nothing but the best. Once I met Beth and saw how much Beth loved Brian, I was sold. They really just “fit.”

Two topics that come up with family when your brother gets married: 1) when are they going to start having kids? and 2) when are you going to get married? HALT. I confess to enjoying and openly participating in baby-having (and baby-making; duh, of course I’m the one cracking the somewhat crude one-liners ever so subtly) conversations. I want to be Aunt Katie. They’re going to have adorable, smart, wise-ass little babies and I need to help cultivate the youth and I need someone other than cats to spoil.

Beth plays the coy bride as she prepares to toss her bouquet.

It was a bad sign when the bride threw the bouquet and it hit the ceiling- dropping to the ground at the feet of a little girl. I tried to grab the bouquet from the little girl while it was still on the ground and then as I recounted the incident to my cousins (who saw it) I said I wasn’t proud but  kids shouldn’t be able to stand to catch the bouquet and in an effort to further assert my rightful claim on the winning catch I proclaimed a zealous, “I’m 28 bitches!”

I call this "bouquet of humiliation." This is perhaps the most flattering picture ever taken. H-O-T. My hair is thinking about auditioning for a remake of the Flying Nun.

Keep in mind I was the third oldest woman in the group, followed next by the Maid of Honor and then the age dropped off to 21 and younger. MY TURN, kthnxbye! Or at least one of the two over 25. I ended up with a single  flower from the bouquet which I said meant I’d just have a child out of wedlock. *sigh* The American Dream. Maybe I won’t even do it the old fashioned way. Yeah, maybe I’ll get artificially inseminated!

Family congregated from all over the country to witness the vows. My mom’s family is a bit larger, so they naturally out-staffed my dad’s side, but how great was it to see my uncle Steve, my step mom, Joanne, and my dad!

When I first walked into the hotel lobby, I was truly struck by the similarities in mannerisms between Brian and my dad. After 12 years, I’d forgotten that they walk the same, hold their heads the same way, stand the same way. I also saw myself at times (around the eyes.) Maybe it’s only with your parents that you can have a long gap in time but when you finally see each other again, feel familiar. The image I will always have of my dad when I think about him will always be slightly younger, shining his black shoes at the kitchen table. I wonder, is his image of me always of the little blonde girl? Will I forever be 6 years old in his mind’s eye? Will Brian, now married, always be 8? It may not be possible to accurately describe the feelings. I found myself on the low end of loquacious as I was absorbing the situation and just “being.” I also find it odd to be around both my Dad and Bob at the same time. I love them both as fathers because that’s what they are. They’ve both known me at different times and only now are overlapping in their experience. What would this post be about or how would it read if penned by one of them? Both would be proud of Brian. Very proud.

Post wedding, the Wedding party, including the Bride and Groom, congregated back at the Maid of Honor’s house to finish off the beer. I am still debating with myself if it was a mistake for me not to go and socialize with the other people who were close enough to be included in the wedding party. To be honest, I was exhausted, there was drunk potentially being gotten at the gathering (which I really just don’t do any more),  and I really just wanted to shower, get in my jammies, and chill with family. My entire family is never together and even on my mom’s side, the family is usually only all together once a year. I also truly enjoy chatting with my aunts, uncles and of course, my cousins. I also figured the Bride and Groom would only “make an appearance” and then be on their merry way to go about relaxing .

I got to spend quality time with family though which was capped by good, girly cousin time. When did those girls get so old, smart, and pretty? And when did they all get so busty?

So, now the couple is in Carmel, California enjoying the cool, rich people’s beach and maybe running into former Carmel mayor, Clint Eastwood. I hope they at least eat at his restaurant.

Brian and Beth Photo Booth- or "We're a couple of goofballs."

When I don’t know how I feel, I go to Target. It allows me to wander around and process.  I gave a neighborhood bonus points last week while scouting homes because of its proximity to Target. In fact, I can be quoted as saying, “few things make me happier than Target.” Okay, so you may be thinking I’m crazy and have no life because I wander around Target when I get restless or confused by what I’m feeling or when I’m just bored. I also can’t walk in for actual shopping without looking at areas that are not on my list.

I like Target. I like browsing. I like being somewhere other than my apartment. Wandering around Target with nothing more than ideas or moodiness just lets me see what could be. It allows me to visualize and have tangibility to my ideas.

Some people go to parks, museums, the gym, or do housework (yeah, that one baffles me too.) For me, I’m always looking for some sort of emotional connection to what I’m doing. That connection can come from intellectual stimulation, creative stimulation, or physical stimulation. (ha. that’s NOT what I meant you dirty, dirty readers. oh, Hi Dad!) Target just happens to be a convenient location with lots of stuff that appeals to me.

I usually get ideas for posts when I’m not near a computer or still at work. This proves to be highly inconvenient because generally by the time I am near the computer, I’m too tired to do more than save a draft with a few random thoughts and a catchy title.

Tonight I’ve been working on the epic post about the last four days (all tied to my brother wedding.) Trust me, it’s a doozy and it requires pictures that I do not yet have which perplexes me as I want to get everything put together and posted.While I’ve gotten a lot done, I know I will not finish and publish the post tonight.

Here’s what I can tell you that won’t appear in the epic post:

The Holiday Inn Express has DELIGHTFUL cinnamon rolls which I’m going to be missing tomorrow morning.

There is a time honored tradition that comes around only once a year. It’s called “blowing shit up.” This is how men, young and old, celebrate our nation’s independence. What better way to say, “Go America!” than by making things explode. Let’s scare small animals! Let’s baffle the women-folk! You may lose a finger, but DAMN! DID YOU SEE THAT?!

Now, most of these items are illegal in city limits around the KC Metro area, but does that stop folks?! Of course not! You can’t see a law so maybe it’s not real. And, if God didn’t want them to blow shit up, he wouldn’t have places outside city limits where it’s legal to sell the necessary items.

I don’t like blowing things up, but if I had to participate, here’s what I’d blow up:

• Flarp
• A knitting project gone bad (via Tammi)
• A cake
• A jug of bubbles
• Paper Mache

Laundry- folding it, putting it away, blah

cleaning the litter box- uh, eww

anything related to cleaning floors

yes, that includes vacuuming- i kill vacuum cleaners and hate the loud noise

cleaning the shower