Friday, October 31, 2008

Amish Friendship Bread

Well, my first foray into baking the Amish Friendship Bread was last night, and I think that overall it went pretty well. I've monitored the loaf I left in the reference office very carefully (because I'm like that; it's the Type A personality) and more then half of it is eaten. Score :) Took me longer to bake than I anticipated, though. Events transpired as follows:

- While Hank is quietly looking through his books, I gather necessary baking items and make a huge mess on the counter. Because I am how I am, I try to wipe up every little flour spill as it happens. I end up with a layer of white paste covering the counter at all times.

- I begin to mix ingredients, and realize the sheer volume of sugar this recipe calls for. We have this pathetic little sugar can that Mike insists is better than a real bag of sugar. I quickly eliminate the entire contents of the can, but luckily have just enough.

- As I measure out the other "starter kits" that are spawned off every time you make this recipe, I make a giant, giant mess emptying the batter into gallong ziploc bags. Hank is next to me, spreading water everywhere as he plays in the sink. See "white paste" as described above, supra.

- I put the starter kits on top of the gas stove, and one of them molts onto the back display. Apparently there was heat radiation going on that I wasn't aware of. I have to replace bag, and make yet another giant mess.

- I get my batter assembled, and it's real lumpy. I'm decidedly anti-lump. I stir it for far too long to get all the lumps out. Pretty soon, it's nearly 7:30 pm, and I'm still working on finalizing the batter. It's a sickness.

- Recipe says to mix some sugar and cinnamon and dust the loaf pans with it. I do so. Use up all the cinnamon sugar, and then realize that the recipe said to put some if it on top of the bread. F*ck! Oh well.

- Mix in optional chocolate chips, and suddenly Hank's chocolate meter kicks in and he comes sniffing into the kitchen. He demands to get up on a chair and "help me stir" and manages to nab several of the chips.

- In relief, I pop the loaves into the oven, and the entire house quickly smells divine. A baking success; what a rarity!

So, I'm pleased. Next weekend, I'm going to make a low-cal version with Splenda, and add raisins and walnuts to put out at Hank's birthday party. We'll see how it goes :) Anybody want a starter kit?

Thursday, October 30, 2008


Well, I made my Pillsbury pre-everything cookies last night, and unsurprisingly, they turned out rather well :) All I had to do was pop open the package, place the pre-cut balls on my baking stones, slap in oven for fifteen minutes, and voila! I'm terrible at measuring out cookie dough. I either make them too small and they get all crunchy, or I make them too big and they spread out too much on the sheet and run into the other cookies. I *hate* when that happens. Then the edges look all straight and weird. Anyway, I'll buy those again for when I need to quickly bake cookies on a week night. After work, I'm way too tired to drag out the beaters and attempt to bake something edible. Like I said, baking doesn't come naturally to me. Not only that, but my attempt will inevitably involve profanity, use of force on household appliances, scraping batter off the counter, walls and possibly ceiling, cloud of flour forming in the kitchen, and throwing away of deformed first product. Tonight I'm baking the Amish Friendship Bread. Thank God I talked to Bridget yesterday, or I would have used olive oil, not nearly enough pudding mix and only baking soda. Baking soda, baking powder, what the heck is the difference? Apparently, an important one.

Hank liked the cookies. I had to stop him from eating the raw dough and chewing on the spatula, but other then that, things went great.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008


I'm real inspired about baking and cooking lately. Some of it stems from my weight loss efforts (down nearly 7 lbs! *halo*) and some of it stems from my new obsession with the wedding cake show. But at any rate, Hank and I are baking cookies tonight for his Halloween party at daycare tomorrow. I'll fess up right now: they're Pillsbury pre-mades. What an invention! But I'm a better cook than I am baker. Cooking, I can say "what? ground coriander seeds? yeah, I'll use something else instead." With baking? Not so much. I once attempted to make this cream cheese ball for a dessert at a Bunko gathering I was to attend. It had chocolate chips in it and all kinds of fab sugar and spices. Generally, you'll dip graham crackers in it. My friend Adrienne gave me the recipe. Well...*heaves sigh* It didn't turn out so well. It tasted fine, but let's just say that it didn't turn out in a ball. The consistency was all wrong. We don't own a stand-up electric mixer, and that was part of the problem. Trying to slowly add confectionary sugar while using those portable beaters = goop on Tiffany's kitchen ceiling. So, with baking, my improvising doesn't work out so well.

My next project is the Amish Friendship Bread starter kit that Bridget gave me. I've been happily mashing the mixture for 9 straight days, just like the instructions tell me. I'm a good rule follower. Tomorrow is the true test. I'm planning to bring some into work on Friday assuming it doesn't turn out disastrously, so be sure to check the reference office on Halloween :)

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Being an instruction librarian...

Last night, I was a guest speaker at the library school class of my good (read: fabulous) friend and much admired colleague, Chris. He teaches a user education course, and asked me to come speak on librarian teaching anxiety. For the girl voted "Shyest" in her senior class in high school, I have much anxiety to speak of.

I really wanted to keep it informal, so with Chris's permission, I wandered in in jeans and a sweater, sat on the desk in the front of the room, and chatted for about 35 minutes about my introverted personality and how I managed to find, and thrive in, a position that requires me to do something that I had always hated - public speaking.

I tried to mix it up with funny anecdotes. I always try to do that when I teach, anyway. A smattering of personal stories will always capture attention much more than a straight lecture with zero drop of personality. I generally try to let the stories be spontaneous; things that I plan to be funny rarely turn out to be as funny to others :) Last night, the biggest laugh I got was after someone asked me what I did to psych myself up before I taught a class. Warning them that this was perhaps a bit tmi, I said that right before a class I often feel precisely like I did when I was in labor with my son - as in: well, there's no going back now, is there? Yep, pretty much stuck. So, I come to terms with that, make an effort to greet students as they come in and try to develop a positive rapport, and suddenly, I will feel more comfortable right before class begins.

But they did laugh, which is such a refreshing change over the undergraduate faces of stone I usually see when I look out into my classroom. And they seemed interested. Always a big plus. There was no guy in a hooded sweatshirt and headphones sleeping in the back row. Bonus. So, overall, I think it went pretty well. As would be expected, I was very nervous. But that was sort of the whole point of me being there :) Librarians are not natural born teachers, necessarily. It's an acquired skill, and one that can be acquired and a fondness developed for despite a distinct lack of enjoyment at being in front of a group of people. It felt good to address a group of budding librarians and share some librarian kinship. Hopefully, I'll be invited again :)

Monday, October 27, 2008

Seriously procrastinating...

I should be writing a book review, but here I am. Daydreaming about the cakes on Amazing Wedding Cakes. It's true - I'm a closet frosting addict. I will eat it right out of the can. Usually, that sort of desperate measure was only employed when I was really down about something or had just broken up with a boyfriend. In other words, I haven't delved down this path of frosting-related destruction for quite some time. But still. Whipped cream doesn't really do it for me, but cream cheese and buttercream with or without fondant make me weak in the knees. I want to eat my tv just watching this show. Why are you still talking about this Tiffany, it's a show about cake. Yes, I know. I have a problem. At least I can admit it. I watched with rapt fascination while they rolled out the fondant sugar dough and crafted it onto the cake for that seamless, perfection look. Felt my mouth water when they prepared those little bakery bags to squirt designs out of. Good Lord.

In other We Go Bridal night news, I thought I'd complile a list of my favorite moments from the bridal reality shows the past few weeks. The winners are:

3. bridesmaid riding in the backseat of Amanda's car (this is the girl who wanted to only pay her venue $80; remember her?) sits in such an unladylike way that WE has to arrange a modesty splotch in a very compromising location. Sometimes I miss my US Weekly subscription.

2. Several brides try to make demands on their bridesmaid's hair. And I don't mean "oh, allow me to set up your updo appointment for you for the morning of the wedding." These brides actually told people to un-dye their hair or otherwise make drastic changes because their new cut or color wasn't what was envisioned for their dream wedding. Some people have an astonishing amount of audacity.

1. The bridesmaid dress from last night. I actually snorted when I saw it, talk about unladylike. It was pink. It was puffy. It had *crenoline*. It had this brown sash thing that flattened the chest of anyone within a mile wide radius. I've seriously never, ever seen a dress that awful before. The matron of honor really, really looked like a giant pink powder puff. It was *bad*.

New shows to discuss...

Mike is going to just die. Last night, when I blissfully had the tv all to *myself*, I watched not only Bridezillas (I would write about it, but it was pretty unmemorable this week. If I come up with anything, I'll post) but My Fair Wedding and Amazing Wedding Cakes. The cakes show just makes me incredibly hungry. Flowers made out of fondant? Sweet Mother of God. It's good though. It chronicles three bakeries and the crazy cake requests they get, and fill.

My Fair Bride is seriously decent. This really fabulous wedding guy named Anthony (incredibly good-looking, amazingly sweet and funny, but gay; doesn't that always figure? :) goes through and completely re-designs a wedding for a given bride. Last night's episode featured a bride who wanted a South Beach theme. She had chosen a sickening green and Halloween purple as the colors, and the poor bridesmaids were subjected to dresses in those colors. You should have seen Anthony's face. He selects three Jim Hjelm dresses instead, which are *fabulous* and tells them that he will pick one and they'll find out which one on the day of the wedding. He does the same with the bride's dress and the reception venue decorations. It comes out smashing, of course. I enjoyed :)

Tired librarian...

This weekend, my husband was out of town, so I was on full-time Hank duty. I can assure you, working full-time is not nearly so exhausting as wrangling a toddler for two straight days. Weekend progressed as follows:

Friday night: Bellydancing class. Catholic Librarian = *happy*. We didn't have class last week, and we don't have it this week due to Halloween, so I was relishing my belly time. We practiced hip pistons, which are just as exhausting as they sound. We also learned a new turn. I get dizzy pretty easily, so turns are always tricky for me, but I did well.

Saturday: Did some shopping for Hank's upcoming birthday and Christmas. I know it's October, but I'm Type A, remember? Wore Hank out sufficiently such that he fell asleep upon 20 minutes after arriving back home. Victory is mine.

Sunday: I walked around the house for the entire day with Hank clung on to my leg like a koala bear. He claims that a witch scared him in Yo Gabba Gabba. As if I need one more reason to *hate* that grating show. I couldn't leave him alone for a second lest the witch "get him." *sighs* Hank spent the rest of the day trying to lay claim to the present I bought for my nephew Finn, a Diego rescue pack. "This is mine; I have this." "No honey, that's for Finn." "I press button." *Diego rescue pack songs plays incessantly for five straight minutes* "ok sweetie, that's enough, you don't want to wear the batteries out." "This is Henry's." "no sweetheart, it's Finn's, remember?" "I play with it. I *open* it." "no honey, you can't open it." It was a bit of a long day.

Monday morning: Hank announces that "my eaors are hurting me!" Catholic Librarian = worried. May have to make yet another appointment with the pediatrician. This would be fourth in the past seven weeks. *sighs again*

Friday, October 24, 2008

Being a working mother

We had a tough night with Hank last night. As has been the case since June, one of us had to stay with him in his bedroom for him to fall asleep ("mommy, I *scaored!") About 12:45 this morning, I thought I was dreaming. In the dream, Hank was annoying me by pulling my hair, and I was trying to get him to stop. Then I realized that I was awake, in bed, and Hank was standing by the side of the bed, actually pulling my hair. When I told him to go back to sleep, he demanded to get in our bed. As I always do, I told him he couldn't, because then there wouldn't be enough room for mommy and she would get no sleep. I speak from experience on this one. We have a double bed. Three people cannot comfortably fit in it. Hank looked at me, and then commenced a giant, ugly temper tantrum. By the time we got him back to sleep, it was nearly 2 am. He woke me again at 5:30 am, asking to get into our bed. Another turn down, another pout session, although not nearly so violent this time. By the time 6:45 rolled around, I was exhausted. And I had to get up, get ready, get Hank's stuff ready to go to my parent's house for the day, and then get to the "relaxing" part of the day, which is working full-time at the library.

I love my job, and I feel fulfilled as a working mother. But it's difficult. I often feel like I'm shortchanging one arena of my life, and that's not an enjoyable feeling. I'm *always* tired. And I'm often insecure about whether or not I'm a "good mother" or a "good Catholic" because I work full-time. It's true that I'm at a stronger sense of peace about things than ever before. I'm a hard working mother, that's for certain. Not because I work outside of the home, but because I do the best I can with the situation God gave me. But I still worry that other mothers look down on me because I work. And because my son goes to daycare four days a week. I really, really worry about this. I will grant, I worry about more things than most people. But it's a struggle for me.

I'll just keep doing the best I can. Unsurprisingly, I'll keep worrying, as well.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Winged Migration

I recently viewed a film called Winged Migration, a chronicling of migratory birds on a full cycle of their spring and fall migrations. It was one of those movies that I'm still thinking about weeks after I saw it, which means that it touched something in me very deeply. So, bear with me while I debrief :)

A handful of bird species were highlighted, including the arctic tern, the African white pelican, some storks and cranes, Canada geese, snow geese, barnacle geese and absolutely gorgeous red-breasted geese. The film includes very little narration, yet keeps the viewer engaged for about an hour and a half, just observing birds flying, interacting, breeding and generally surviving.

The most fixating element of the film is the quality of the footage. The camera appears to be strapped to the back of one of the geese, you feel so close to them. You can actually see their little faces as they fly. This is going to sound strange, but the geese, in particular, have *very* cute faces. And they look so earnest as they fly. They're taking their job very seriously :) They fly and form their giant V patterns with the utmost concentration.

So, throughout the film, there are events that made me smile, and some, of course, that made me cry. The director does a good job leaving the most upsetting things to the imagination and off camera, but still. In particular:

1. Scene in which a caged Canada goose hears fellow compatriots flying overhead and honks to them. He tries to fly away and join them, and when he can't, I swear his face actually falls. He watches them fly away with a look of utter dejection.

2. Baby bird of some kind nested in the grass, about to be run over by a tractor.

3. Red-breasted geese waddling through a toxic plant of some kind. One of them gets stuck in muck and is trapped as his friends get spooked and fly away, leaving him behind, panicked.

4. Baby penguin gets lured away from his parents and attacked by some nasty ass scavenger bird and...well, you know :(

5. White bird (tern?) has a broken wing and is abandoned by his flock on an African beach. Hideous looking crabs chase him down and he is powerless to fly away :(

The two that disturbed me the most were 4 and 5. Baby anythings these days make me think of my own son. Everything changes when you become a parent. Not that I ever would have enjoyed seeing a tiny chickling harmed, mind you. But now, the baby penguin and hook beaked predator in my mind become the cherubic Hank and some vandal trying to rip him from my protective arms. Someone whose very heart I would rip out with my bare hands should they attempt to hurt my baby. The penguin parents also tried to fight back, but Mr. Nasty Ass easily pushed them away. I swear it, on a scale of 1 to 10, this bird's face slappability factor was a 15.

And then that poor white shore bird :( It was pathetic watching him struggle, knowing exactly what those awful crabs wanted to do. It was then that I wondered to myself how the filmmakers restrained themselves in these situations. If I were anywhere in the vicinity, there's a zero percent chance of the following NOT happening: me, with a baseball bat, swinging at the crabs shouting "back off, you little f*ckers!" This of course ignores the fact that these particular crabs were anything but little. These were some gigantic crustaceans. They probably would have turned their attention from the bird to my leg, but never the mind.

I dwelt on these scenarios for days, weeks even. Despite the happy sequences of parent birds cavorting with their little ones, baby loons riding on their mothers backs, even a wild mackaw escaping from being caged and sold through use of his beak and sheer ingenuity, my mind wandered back to the vulnerability of these animals. All they are doing is minding their own business, not bothering their human friends in the least, trying to survive and raise their young. And all of these terrible things can befall them.

Well. Then I saw the "Making of" featurette on the DVD. I'm still mulling over my thoughts on what I learned there. As I mentioned, of course I wondered how they filmed the birds so closely. Turns out they did something called "imprinting." They raised the featured geese and company from the egg, bonding with them and getting them used to the noise of the equipment. In particular, that's how they got those unbelievable flying segments. The birds allowed them to fly right in their formation with an ultralite, a small flying machine with mounted camera. This information really tainted my view that these birds were filmed "in the wild." For instance, for the African footage, they actually flew the relevant birds to Senegal in an *airplane*. This film was just much more staged then I anticipated

In other respects, the "Making of" showed a fascinating side angle of the filmmakers interaction and relationship with the birds. When the pelicans fell ill with a parasite, they nursed them back to health. In one amusing scene, a handler is trying to get a food-boycotting pelican to accept a fish:

Pelican: snaps pouch closed tightly and looks away.

Handler: waves fish in front of mouth.

Pelican: "no, I really don't think so." Moves face in other direction.

The bottom line is, the birds were mostly domesticated, at least in my view. Very sweet the way they were taken care of. And I loved seeing their ability to interact with people. But it wasn't what I realized I was seeing when I viewed the film.

Here's the good news: many of those cry worth scenes mentioned above were totally staged. The baby bird was rescued from the tractor. As was the white tern from the invading crabs. And the red-breasted goose from the muck. In fact, that wasn't even mud. They planted him in some handmade concoction just to film that scene. Unfortunately, I think the baby penguin situation actually happened :(

So, I'm still dwelling on my feelings on all this. I understand that the ability to film animals in the wild is limited in scope and the footage may not be so gripping. So, maybe we need to accept some "staging" to make for a compelling film. I still definitely enjoyed the film. I got a closeup view of some beautiful birds and learned about some of their migration habits. Good stuff. Very, very thought-provoking.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Dear St. Anthony, please come around...

Hank and I call upon St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items, frequently. And he has found quite a few things for us, to Hank's delight. Our list so far includes:

1. little garbage can from Hank's Tonka garbage truck.
2. Sir Topham Hatt from the Thomas the Train Lego set.
3. rectangle from shape sorter.
4. piece from our bedroom overhead fan that Hank hid behind our bed.

And now last night, we added to the list:

5. Mr. Potatohead's eyes.

We're still on the lookout for that one, but I'm confident we'll locate it soon :)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Really getting into my afghan...

I really, *really* sound like a little old lady before my time :) I crochet and knit, read lots of books, and go to church a lot. But I also bellydance, so that redeems me a bit, I suppose. At any rate, I've refreshed my recollection of basic crochet stitches, and am up and running with a partially complete Christmas afghan. What I'll do with it once I'm done, I have no notion. Drape it on the sofa in November and December, I suppose. But I do find it a soothing evening occupation to sit on the couch and crochet or knit, a glass of wine or tea by my side. My goal is to finish up these as yet incomplete projects, and then move on to new things. Shauna'h is lobbying for an afghan for her new living room :) As her living room is decorated in autumn colors (red, cream and brown) I completely approve. (I read on another blog last week a comment that the writer "didn't like autumn." I was totally scandalized.) I'm sure my readers will be unsurprised to learn that my main pattern book is entitled "A Season of Afghans." I'm a season girl.

With knitting, my goal is to finish the scarf I'm working on, and move on to more ambitious items. The book I'm reading now, Back on Blossom Street, features a knitting shop and classes that are offered there. The current class project is to knit a prayer shawl. I'm fascinated. This seems to combine several important elements of the Catholic Librarian's life :) Maybe I can also attempt mittens and hats, and possibly move on to sweaters. Oh the possibilities!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Re-ignited hobbies...

Yesterday, I ventured into my storage to pull out my old crocheting and knitting projects. I'm a decent crocheter, although things take me absolute ages to finish. I'm a simpleton knitter, meaning my talents are limited to scarves and afghans. Exhibit A being the results of my search: a crate full of yarn, needles, three (yes, 3) half finished afghans, and one quarter finished scarf. I excitedly dove in. In the process I mysteriously located a beautiful wine velvet hip scarf, a kelly green veil, and a black beaded top. I won the belly dancers lottery! My sister (also a budding belly dancer) must have given them to me years ago. That's how long it's been since this beleaguered crate has been dusted off.

So anyway, I happily began work on the half finished Christmas afghan, and felt contented. It also helped that it was 8 pm, Bridezillas was on, and I had a glass of Pinot Grigio by my side. And Hank was comfortably sleeping. Life is good.

Bonus: I get to wear my new hip scarf to class this Friday :) We haven't had class since the Hafla, so I'm doubly excited.

Church with a toddler...

On Sunday, I went to the early 8 am Mass instead of the 10 am family Mass, since we had afternoon plans to go apple picking. What I liked is that the 8 am Mass lacked the contemporary worship music and instruments and just had an organist. Nothing wrong with guitars and flutes, I'm just more of a silence person in Mass. So, that was good. What was bad, you ask? Well, the 8 am Mass attracted, let's just say, a non-child crowd. Hank was the only child there. And he was bad. *Real* bad. Here's a sampling of dialogue:

Hank: "MOMMY. I want my Sponge Bob fruit snack."
CL: "Honey, remember, shhhh. You have to whisper in church."
Hank: "MOMMY. I *ARE* whispering." In a voice loud enough to be heard by half the congregation.
CL: "Honey, no you're not. You have to be quieter."
Hank: "I NO WANT to be quieter."

Later, he threw his jacket into the next pew, and then refused to put it on. I had to force his arms in. And then drag him out of the church. And across the busy road in front, where he deliberately *went limp* in the middle of the road. I had to scrape him up and carry him, arms and legs flailing, across the street while people stared from their stopped cars.

In the car, I threw and *locked* him into his car seat, and in no uncertain terms told him that (a) he embarrassed me, (b) I was *very* disappointed in him, and (c) he was never coming to church with mommy again. This led to Hank bursting into tears and screaming for the whole ride home.

Who can't wait to have kids?

Friday, October 17, 2008

Twenty Wishes...

I'm reading a cute book right now called called Twenty Wishes. The premise is based on a group of widowed women who get together to socialize and commiserate on a regular basis. On Valentines Day, in an effort to perk everyone up, one of them suggests creating lists of things they've always wished to accomplish in life. The goal, of course, being to accomplish at least some of these wishes. So far, I like certain storylines better than others. I'm enjoying reading about Anne Marie, the main heroine, who wishes to perform volunteer work and be more involved in her community. Through a school program for at-risk children, Anne Marie meets a little girl named Ellen, who helps her to overcome her grief and bitterness over losing her husband at a young age, as well as later finding out that he had been unfaithful to her. However, there's one woman who decides to treat herself to movies more often, and meets this jerk of a guy in the theatre, and somehow deduces that he's in need of nurturing and pursues him. That one just isn't doin' it for me.

So anyway, all of this got me to thinking of things in my life that I've always wanted to do. Travel to certain places, definitely. Alaska, Rome, Ireland. I hope to do that someday, but it won't be until I no longer have small children. I have wanted to take belly dancing lessons for a long time, and I'm actually doing that, so pleased with that one. *gold star* I'm honestly not sure what else I would put on my list - but it's an interesting thing to dwell on. When I don't have a toddler hanging off my leg, that is.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Disturbing discoveries of the day...

and it's not even 11 am. This doesn't bode well.

(1) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #2, broken for the previous week - now functional, but some sort of grafetti symbol has been spray painted onto its surface.
(2) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #1 - now broken.
(3)There is a large section of *wet* toilet paper *in one of the the library elevators.*

I'm sure this list will be added to throughout the day. I reserve the right to amend as events dictate. Today *really* sucks.

Long term effects of reality tv

I was sitting here trying to come up the names of the brides from this past Sunday's installment of Bridezillas and I realize that I cannot recall a single one of them. Am I insensitive? Or is reality tv rotting my brain?

Anyway, there was a real winner on this past episode. Whatever the heck her name was. Try to follow this logic:

Reception venue tells her (we'll just call her "Bride) that her next payment is approximately $3,000. She says that the check is in the mail, and based on that, signs a document stating that her remaining balance is $80. Two days before the wedding, Bride goes in to "pay off her bill" and hands the reception people $80 in cash. They tell her that she actually owes them $3,080, because they never received her prior check (which, of course, she never actually sent. She leaves that part out). Bride actually tries to argue that because they both signed the contract stating that her remaining balance was $80, that's all she should have to pay. She just flat out didn't send them the prior $3,000, and then tries to say that it's the *venue's* mistake and thus she shouldn't have to pay it. That takes a lot of nerve. They should have knocked $50 off just given that she could make that argument with a straight face. They ask for a certified check, and Bride refuses, saying that "she doesn't have time for that, I'm planning a wedding." The reception people do her a favor by accepting a personal check, but then they call the bank. *snorts* Yes, this gets good. The bank kindly lets them know that there is no money in the account. Bride gets called into a side room during the rehearsal and informed of the situation. When told that if she doesn't pay NOW, she can't have her wedding there, she acts offended, as if *she* has been wronged. I suppose we have to remember that this *is* a show about women who feel no shame in labeling themselves with a word that ends in "zilla." Classiness isn't exactly their forte.

Later, our bride throws numerous, embarrassing fits of temper. She eats pizza for a straight week and then blames the pizza delivery guy when her dress doesn't fit. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. Something about how the pizza didn't arrive until after 8 pm, and everyone knows that that is the magic hour after which the pizza will go straight to ones thighs. Oh, to live in her universe. On the day of the wedding, despite it raining all morning, the instant it clears (and about an hour and a half prior to the ceremony, HOURS after the inside venue was already set up and past the deadline on which she needed to let the reception people know if she wanted to move the ceremony outside) she insults her mother, says nasty things to the long suffering reception venue coordinator, and demands to move the ceremony outside.

I just remembered that I also don't recall the name of her new husband (poor soul). They rarely feature a large part in these shenanigans. I'll offer up my crappy day for him.

Stay tuned for next week :)

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Morning stuff and weight update...

I will try to make time later to comment on Bridezillas from this past Sunday. It was a doozy :) Otherwise, I'm just having a busy morning. I just got back from a meeting with a faculty member about an information literacy assessment plan we're conducting with his class. Not exactly light stuff for 9 am :) The farmers market is today, so I'm plotting my pasta purchases. I've lost another couple pounds. *halo* I'm very pleased. I feel a lot better, both mentally and physically. It's a combination of eating more nutritiously, and being more physically active. I've started running again twice a week, and I try to get a walk in once a day. I've actually been enjoying cooking more, a first for me. So if you have recipes, let's share :)

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Ladies room update of the day

Total # of stalls: 5
# of stalls with no toilet paper: 2
Total # of paper towel dispensers: 2
# of paper towel dispensers with no paper towel: 1
Total # of sinks: 5
# of sinks with absolutely disgusting *gobs* of hair littered on their surface: 2 (I'm serious - this person must now be bald).

Morning musings...

I'm currently on looking at book's for Hank's upcoming third birthday. The child loves books, no doubt about it. They're tucked into every corner of our house, as well as loaded onto the full bookcase we had to put in his room to organize them. Over the weekend, I heard him awake from his nap. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard a plaintive, "mommy?!" I open the door, and the smell nearly knocked me unconscious. Hank was standing right at the door, book tucked under his arm, eyes wide with alarm. "Hank honey, did you go poo?" "YEAH." And he had a book, all prepared to entertain himself during the ensuing Pull-Up change. His strategy is very familiar to his mother, who wishes every time she is waiting in line somewhere that she had remembered to tuck that thin Harlequin romance into her purse. Even one minute of spare time is too long to go without a book to read. I think I'm going to get him his own copy of Curious George Goes to the Hospital. We had to return it to the library, and he's crushed. He keeps asking for it, poor thing. I've been on amazon for close to an hour now. I don't think I can ever tire of looking at books, even when they're not for me.

My husband, despite also being a reader, is much more of a movie person than I am. Every evening I have my nose stuck in a book while he tries to convince me to watch something on Turner Classic Movies with him. He tells me last night that perhaps this weekend we can have my parents watch Hank, and he and I have some time to ourselves - dinner and a movie. Unless the movie involves an enormous bucket of butter covered popcorn (for which I've starved myself for, saving calories during the rest of the day) I'm not interested :) Or, unless the movie is a sappy romantic comedy with a predictable happy ending, usually involving Jennifer Aniston. Mike's not so much into those. Anyway, he says "there's this movie I really want to see, but you may be too excited about the description. I hear it's excellent though, I promise!" "Ok, what's the description?" "Just remember what I said...Ok, so, it's about the guy who invented the intermittant windshield wiper..." "Right, well, I have to admit honey, this description is not exactly off to a roaring start." "But it gets better! The movie is about him losing the patent rights and then trying to get them back!" "Not exactly sweetening the pot, honey." *sighs*

Monday, October 13, 2008

My bellydancing debut...

So, B-day came and went, and I think it was a success. The Catholic Librarian is relieved that it is over, and that her only task now is to fill everyone in on it :)

We had a dress rehearsal on Friday, and that was my first inkling of the extent to which costume malfunction possibilities are a reality in belly dancing. Claire lent me a costume (a lovely bell sleeved, short blouse with a matching skirt in copper) to go along with my green hip scarf and veil. She had to re-sew elastic into the waistband of the skirt, so she couldn't bring it for me until dress rehearsal. After assessing the less than adequate ladies room situation, we gradually threw caution to the wind and changed right in the hallway (I overheard several murmurings of "I hope the janitor isn't around.") Routines commenced. I *really* liked the advanced class Spanish fusion dance performed to Hakim's Ah Ya Albi. My intermediate level class did our number - Entel Hob from the Bellydance Superstars 2 collection. The advanced class very sweetly and graciously applauded and encouraged us, which I truly appreciated. As we ran through the number, aforementioned costume malfunctions began to present themselves. Veils began to stick to sequins on blouses; sleeves began to get caught on hipscarf coins; and, most maliciously, veils began to catch on skirt hems, threatening to lift said skirt and expose the underwear of the bellydancer in question. Anxiety ensued. Modified manuevers were practiced. Bellydancers with furrowed brows went home, recalcitrant costumes tucked firmly under their arms.

Saturday morning I spent extra morning time with Hank and Mike, since belly dancing was going to consume the majority of my day. I arrived at the venue at noon for the combinations workshop that was being given by a well known local dancer. I perused the tables of fancy hip scarves, silk veils and other shiny costume things but didn't buy anything, for which I deserve a medal. Our workshop began, and four aching hours later, we finished. My hips *still* hurt. I don't think they've seen that much activity before, ever. There's only so much a girl can shimmy.

I went home for a quick bite to eat and for some more Hank time, and then returned, laden with my costume, for the Hafla. I went up to the dressing room, where coins and chiffon abounded. I dressed, practiced, and managed to convince myself that I had lost my veil only to discover that it was actually wrapped *on my body*. I was a little nervous.

Finally, it was time for the level 2/3 class veil number. We solemnly proceeded to our spots. The music began, and I began my hand undulations with rapt attention to detail. I unwrapped my veil, check. I draped my veil, and did my hip lifts perfectly. Gentle spins with veil swoop, check. Veil flip with undulations, better than average. Veil drop with hip sways, no prob. *sigh of relief* Then comes the tricky part. Veil forward, drop. Flip over head. Attempt to smile. Flip veil to front and step over carefully (allegedly saucily), while re-arranging fingers for upcoming envelope. I carefully begin raising my veil when I feel *it*. *It* being the distinct feeling of my veil catching on the back of my skirt, and lifting it for the world to see. I panic. In a graceful move, I reach behind myself and yank my skirt down off the offending veil. Well, maybe it wasn't so graceful. But at least the audience didn't actually see any flesh that they weren't supposed to. And Mike claimed that he didn't even notice, for which he was rewarded appropriate husband bonus points. Anyway, I envelope, hip sway, wrap veil into what Claire calls the "burqa" and proceed into our circle. Dismantle burqa at somewhat near the appropriate time and do pinwheel stuff with veil. Finally, we reach the end, and I have to do my 16 count solo. I walk forward, trying not to run right out of the room, do a veil swirl and a hip circle, and walk out, trying to look graceful again. The advanced class greets us with perky applause and well wishes, which make me feel better. I am assured that audience members did not notice skirt mishap. I feel relieved and go to change.

So, all in all, it went as well as it could have. Really, as one of my fellow belly dancers put it, no one else but you (and your classmates) know what is supposed to be going on, so as long as you smile, show no panic, and shimmy something cutely, the audience will be none the wiser.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

B-Day approaches...

My Hafla is Saturday, and the Catholic Librarian is decidedly nervous. I managed to practice my routine several times last night before Hank sabotaged me. My envelope is much improved. I discovered that I just need to adjust my finger placement on my veil right beforehand to make the envelope flawless. Or, well, not look stupid.

So, the envelope is better, but suddenly the veil is slipping out of my fingers at other inopportune times. My teacher, Claire, says of the veil: "they're very much like children. You train them, think you have it all figured out, but suddenly - they'll embarrass you in public."

We'll get there. Goal tonight: practice with my costume top with the giant belle sleeves. This could get tricky.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Attempting to use the ladies room at work...

I feel the need to whine about something. I work at a large university. Never before, in all of my years, have I encountered a ladies room situation as abysmal as the one in the library. I will grant, I have never traveled to a Third World country. But really, if it has to be compared to that, it must be pretty bad, right?

Here is a typical ladies room encounter in the life of the Catholic Librarian:

Enter ladies room. Nearly twist my ankle on a stray square of the toilet paper that is littered about the floor. Regain composure, and the hunt begins. The hunt...for a stall that has toilet paper actually on a roll in its proper location and not: (a) ripped and thrown to the floor, (b) already in place on the toilet seat and *previously sat on* by the last occupant, or (c) otherwise crumpled up and used in some sort of unpleasant, yet mysterious, fashion. Sometimes nefarious option (d) rears its ugly head, which means that the paper has already been used in the traditional sense, and then scattered in location (a) or (b) or possibly stuffed near the flusher.

Contender #1 - Oop, none there.

Contender #2 - Once again, big fat zero.

Contender #3 - Oh look, toilet paper, but...Dear God, what *is* that?! Quickly walk over to...

Contender #4 - Pitiful looking, nearly empty, roll of toilet paper, but whoever was last in there did not flush the toilet. Moving on...

Contender #5, the handicap accessible stall - Has toilet paper. Toilet has been flushed. *feels guilty, but rushes inside and locks the door*

Catholic Librarian: *delicately uses facilities*

Student in next stall: *clatters inside* *lots of rustling* *cell phone rings* *quickly answered* "Hello? Um, like, hi!! Yeah, yeah, I'm in the library...*cut off as toilets flush in abundance* yeah, I know, right?! It was totally, totally stupid. Can you believe she puts up with him? I mean..."

Catholic Librarian: *stays frozen in stall, desperately not wanting to flush toilet while student on phone* *realizes that if student doesn't care, why should CL?* *flushes toilet as discreetly as possible* Unlatches door and moves to sinks.

Student in next stall: "uh huh, uh huh, right!" *leaves stall noisily* *exits ladies room without washing hands*

Catholic Librarian: *sighs*

I stick my hands under the nearest, ridiculous, annoying motion sensor faucet. Seriously, how hard is it to turn a knob? No water comes out. Move to the next sink. Water comes out, freezing cold. Twist little switch to warm water. Wait a full 10 seconds. Water warms. Turn to soap dispenser and give it a good press. No soap comes out. I swear. Press again. No soap comes out, so I yank my hand away. Approximately .57 seconds later, soap gushes out and slops to the floor. I swear again. Move to the next sink in disgust. Rinse hands. Turn to the next soap dispenser and...oh, that's right. There IS no next soap dispenser. The only other soap dispenser is several feet away from the sinks, next to the door. I glare at myself in the mirror and move to the far off soap dispenser. Press it. Nothing happens. Move hand away and soap slops to the floor. I punch it again, and this time I'm ready. I hold my hand there and refuse to move, despite the people behind me jostling me in their anxiety to begin their toilet paper hunt, until the soap reluctantly falls onto my palm. Scrub, rinse, move to the paper towel dispenser. Hit release bar. Nothing happens. This is probably because it's empty. I swear. Move to paper towel dispenser #2. Hit release bar. Nothing happens. Discern that it remains jammed, as it has been for a freaking week. Shake water off my hands as I exit ladies room in disgust and nearly collide with another cell phone laden student.

I stomp off, resolved to use the other ladies room next time, the one with the gaps between the stall doors large enough for a small animal to pass through, and anybody to view the entire proceedings should they desire to do so. I don't know that it's possible to write a nastier response on the survey that was done last year by Campus Facilities than I already have, but if so, I'm on it.

The Simple Things

Last night, I finished reading "Curious George Goes to the Hospital" to Hank for about the, oh, fifteenth time in four days. It's his new library book, isn't that a scream? The child loves books, the true son of a librarian. Incidentally, Hank now claims that he wants to have an x-ray, just like George; I'm not encouraging him in this endeavor. And besides, Curious George had to have an operation to remove a jigsaw puzzle piece? This premise is a tad far fetched to me. I'm thinking the puzzle piece would make it out in much less dramatic fashion. And then the doctor gives him the piece back afterwards so that he can finish his puzzle. *shudder*

Anyway, I digress. After I finished reading to Hank and he went up to bed, I watched an HGTV show called Spice up your Kitchen. I usually stick to shows that demonstrate how to re-do your whole house for approximately $200, like Designed to Sell. Well ok, more like $2,000, but still. A reasonable working person's sum of money that is affordable without re-mortgaging ones whole existence. Well, Spice up your Kitchen is a bit different. It showed the kitchen of a couple who had not changed a thing since circa the year I was born. Avocado colored appliances abound. Ok, seriously people. I'm all about frugality. But how much would it cost to buy a nice NORMAL sized white refrigerator from Sears? $500? Do you know how much that avocado monster is costing you on your energy bill? Why do people live like this? Anyway, the kitchen was a travesty. The avocado competed with bright pink tile on the walls and a formica countertop that had holes large enough to swallow your Thanksgiving turkey. Ok, they needed a new look. But of course, the kitchen remodel that they did cost a cool $50,000. I know kitchen remodels are expensive, but in my lifetime, I will never pay to remodel *one room* a third of the cost of my entire house.

Anyway, I'm digressing again. I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to it, I do that a lot. So anyhow, yes the finished product looked beautiful. But was it all *really* necessary? Granite countertops, cherry cabinetry with glass insets, giant stainless steel appliances, a top of the line island with drawers that closed by themselves (I am *not* making that up). I will be the first to admit that I'm an enormous fan of cherry wood, and would love to afford new kitchen cabinets. Ain't happenin'. But anyway, stainless steel appliances? I'm not saying they're not sharp looking, but they're all the rage these days. Clearly, these people do not have small children, that's all I can say. Nothing makes a kitchen look special like smudgey fingerprints perpetually on the appliances. These were *gigantic* though. Adult people could fit inside of them. I'm feeling an SUV rant coming on, but I'll save that for another time. But my biggest pet peeve is the granite countertop. I hope I'm not offending any granite owners. It's lovely. And I'm not saying there is anything wrong with having it. But here's what does annoy me: it's become the standard nowadays for having a "truly modern and with it" kitchen. Mike's friend Lowell, who was visiting us last night, commented that where he lives, in Baltimore, homes without granite simply will not sell. They are seen as inferior with a clear need for remodeling. And to back up his point, every single show I watch on HGTV showcases granite.

And of course, granite costs many, MANY thousands of dollars. MANY. Whatever happened to upgrading to Corian? To be honest, I'm a fan of regular old laminate. You're preparing dinner on it, not a heavenly banquet befit only for kings.

Over the summer I read a book that I'll never forget entitled Plain and Simple: A Woman's Journey to the Amish. It was written by a non-Amish woman who became fascinated with the Amish way of life. She lived with two different Amish families and fell in love with the simple beauty of thier lifestyle and outlook on life. It's easy to romanticize a countercultural group such as the Amish. But I loved her descriptions of the way they grew their own food, created very, very little trash, made their own clothing, built their own homes, and yes, had simple, functional and extremely appealing kitchens with wood-burning stoves where (some things don't change, even amongst the Amish) not only was food prepared but women gathered to socialize as they worked. Certainly, we don't all have the ability (or the desire) to live an Amish-like existence. But it goes much deeper than that, I think. How can we simplify our lives? And what I do know is that when I make an effort to do that, I'm much happier and more grateful for the things I already own, rather than coveting new things (avocado-colored appliances aside).

Certainly, a beautiful kitchen is a happy thing. But beautiful doesn't always have to come at the expense of my yearly salary. I may be naive, but I think we can make beautiful spaces for less. We can make do generally with less. Trip to Ikea, anybody?

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary...

I love this time of year for many reasons. I love the crispness to the air, I love the food (pumpkins and cider!), and I love the anticipation of the coming holiday season. And I also love the liturgical calendar :) The Catholic Librarian is a bit of a nerd, and proud of it. The end of September brings us the feasts of the Archangels Michael and Gabriel, the Guardian Angels, and St. Therese of Lisieux. Today is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Similar to all things that I enjoy in my life, I obsess about rosary beads. I love, collect, and organize my rosaries fastidiously. I have car rosaries that I keep in my center console. Some that are wood and threaded with a heavy cord that I can keep in my pocket without those blasted little links breaking all the time. Extra pretty ones I keep on my dresser. A pair by my side of the bed for nighttime praying. A pair hanging from the rearview mirror of my car. I have many, many sets of rosary beads. Honestly, the exclusive time that I pray it these days is in the car. And I enjoy it. I'm a librarian - I like to multi-task :) It's very soothing, particularly in the morning while on my way to work. And let's face it, Our Lady -she was a multi-tasker. She understands. She had a lot going on in her life. She was married, had a home to take care of, and quite the ambitious and hard-to-manage son to raise. Whenever I read now the description of Jesus getting lost on that trip and then re-found in the Temple, I cringe. He obviously had no idea how much he would worry his mother :)

So, I thought of her last night when Hank took an hour and a half to fall asleep. Remember, Mike or I have to be *in his room* *rubbing his back* for him to fall asleep these days. And again when Hank wandered into our bedroom at 1 am, threw a temper tantrum, and refused to go back to sleep. And again when Mike tried to soothe him back to sleep and Hank *demanded* that mommy do it instead.

I especially enjoy reading about the annunciation in the Gospel of Luke. An angel appears to Mary and tells her that she will bear the son of God. Although she's a lot more graceful and articulate in her delivery, she pretty much said "what on earth are you talking about? I think you must be terribly confused about how babies are made." But despite God's unconventional and mysterious instructions, she agrees to do it, because it is His will. I love her.

I'm trying a lot more these days to emulate Our Lady. She's like us - we're all working women in some way; primarily, in the most simple of our daily tasks.

Monday, October 6, 2008

"I feel old" moment of the weekend...

Chris takes out his portable CD player with speakers to try and entice a Pileated Woodpecker to humor us and show itself. He has a CD of relevant bird calls. (The woodpecker didn't end up taking the bait - he was probably watching us from a nearby tree, positively snorting with bemusement).One of his students looks at the CD player, absolutely befuddled, and asks "they still make those things?!" Oh man.

I remember the days of making mix tapes for your friends. So, when I was in high school, this meant dance mixes such as "Groove is in the Heart"and "Macarena." Good heavens.

Hip drops and bird sightings...

It was a busy weekend. I've been excellent on my diet (running on the weekend really seems to spur things along) and have lost 5.2 pounds so far. *heavens rejoice* I still have 5 full pounds to get down to what I weighed pre-Hank. There are many, many things that will never be as they were pre-Hank (all mothers know exactly what I'm talking about; anybody else anxiously awaiting the next Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale?) but I'm hoping my weight won't be a casualty.

Anyway, my weekend started off nicely with my Friday evening bellydancing class. I arrived to the community center where our class is held to the happy sound of coins jangling. I quickly changed into my half soles and green hip scarf for the warm-up and new movement portion of the class. We learned how to do these chest slide things with a head drop. Confusing sounding I know, but it's the best description I can come up with :) Then we practiced our routine. It's a real slow tune from vol. 2 of the Bellydance Superstars collection. Per one of my earlier posts, you know that it involves much use of the veil. Needless to say, I'm very, very nervous about the fact that our Hafla is *this* Saturday. We're much improved, but I still feel we (translation: *I*) need a lot of practice. I forget my sways very easily, and the envelope is still killin' me. Plus, our post-envelope circle looks emaciated, because we're all still so dazed from finding our way out of our veils. I also still need to finalize my 16 count solo. *heartbeat accelerates* *scared* I may practice with some of my classmates this week, which should help to calm me.

Anyway, Saturday morning I accompanied my wonderful friend Chris and his Introduction to Birdwatching students to the Iroquois Wildlife Refuge for some morning bird sightings. We had a *fabulous* time. We all carpooled, and Chris and I were in a car with two of his students. I suppose it was a compliment that I had a hard time convincing one of them that I was a real adult and wasn't also a student in the class :) We arrived with lots of good natured snickering going on amongst the students. We saw a couple of pretty things at first: American Goldfinch, some flocks of Canada Geese. Then, we stopped at an area of the refuge called Cayuga Pool. Some calm looking ducks were there, Wood Ducks, and a Green Winged Teal. Interesting, to be sure. Suddenly, Chris spots the mother lode: an American Bald Eagle. A shout goes up, and suddenly the air is filled with excitement. Binoculars are yanked onto faces, fingers are pointed. My heart in my throat, I find the eagle in my binoculars. I watch as he flies over the pond in front of us, scaring the absolute crap out of every other bird in a mile wide radius. Whole flocks of normal-sized birds spot the eagle and flee in terror. There is suddenly an abundance of bird life to behold :)

It was the first time I have ever seen a Bald Eagle. When I got him in the binoculars, I teared up. He perched on a branch, and Chris got him in the lens of his scope. Everyone took turns looking, me waiting impatiently and wanting to mow the students down so that I could see him before he flew away. When it's my turn, I step up to see him sitting majestically on a bare branch, clearly surveying *his* territory. King of the pond, no doubt about it. It was truly a memorable moment. Later, we saw a Hairy Woodpecker, some large birds of prey: a Northern Harrier (my first!) and an Osprey, a Marsh Wren flitting in some tall grass, and a really fabulous looking long-necked water bird called an American Bittern. Hard to top that eagle, though.

Now, it's Monday. I have lots of bellydancing to do this week, and classes to teach at work, sigh. Lots more World Civ. in my future, I'm afraid. I missed Bridezillas last night out of pure love for my husband, who wanted to watch the Steelers on Sunday Night Football. But I promise an update when I catch the re-run :) I *did* catch a bit of a show on WE called Amazing Wedding Cakes. If you think that there can't be much drama about such a mundane detail as a cake, you would be wrong...

Friday, October 3, 2008

Is this Church ugly?

Well, I guess the key question to me is - does it look like a church? I understand that nowadays, with the rise of megachurches, churches don't necessarily look traditional anymore. Which is fine. But Catholic churches, in my opinion, should cherish their tradition and look, well, traditional. The specimen in question is the new (multi-million dollar) Oakland Cathedral of Christ the Light (don't even get me started on the name - they wanted to avoid choosing a saint so that it wouldn't be "ethnically divisive." *sigh*)
Check out the new cathedral's website. Interesting, it's just not my style.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Bellydance practice...

Quick note on a milestone - lost another half pound. *halo*

Anyway, last night I was home alone with Hank while Mike was at his Statics class. Hank was safely esconced watching Yo Gabba Gabba (Why, God, why?! I have yet to see another childrens show more annoying than that one, and boy, is that hard to say) so I got out my veil and set to work practicing my bellydancing routine for our upcoming Hafla. I wrapped myself in my green veil, started the music, and off I went. Events transpire as follows:

Catholic Librarian (hereinafter, CL): *tosses veil over head in what is supposed to be a saucy move* The CL is *so* not saucy. *feels not-so-gentle tug on the back of veil*

Henry: *eyes wide with fascination* "Mommy, what you doing?!"

CL: "Oh, let go sweetheart. Mommy is practicing her dance routine." *attempts envelope move*

Henry: "Mommy! Can I come in there with you?!"

CL: *mangles envelope* "No sweetheart. Why don't you play with the water in the kitchen sink." *move of true desperation*

Henry: "I go get my pots and pans!!"

CL: *assists Hank up on kitchen chair by sink while trying to continue undulation*

Henry: *happy*

CL: *worries about what to do for solo 16 count step* *wishes her choice could be to eliminate solo*

Henry: *splashes*

CL: *attempts 8 count saucy walk* *combines socks, chiffon veil, laminate kitchen floor, and clumsiness - the inevitable happens*

Henry: "Mommy, are you OTay?!"

CL: *sighs*

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

My day yesterday...

A day in the life of the glamorous Catholic Librarian:

1. Go to work.
2. Come home from work.
3. Eat chili made in crock pot that I'm ever so pleased about.
4. Try to go to grocery store. Hank throws temper tantrum. I have to walk out to the car, Hank tucked firmly under my arm, kicking and screaming the whole way while I try to act as though nothing is amiss.
5. Go to grocery store. Most exciting purchase: new razor blades for my Intuition razor. That thing is awesome!
6. Come home and give Hank bath. Hank protests and has to be subdued in the tub.
7. Get Hank ready for bed and attempt to pacify him.
8. Sit with Hank so that he will fall asleep. After an hour, he does.
9. Read book.
10. Fall sound asleep.


Weight loss update...

So, things have improved slightly since that fateful morning this past Saturday. In retrospect, I suppose it would have looked pretty funny to an outside observer. I reached for my old faithful pair of jeans (that I fit into at 12 weeks of pregnancy; they sit nice and low on the hips) and attempted to pull them up. The vicious obscenities that came from my mouth are normally not things you would hear come from the Catholic Librarian. But your Catholic Librarian is not a girl to be dissuaded easily. Oh no. Those babies were comin' on. I *refused* to accept that they may not fit. I yanked them up, and by nearly asphixiating myself, got them buttoned. However, the muffin top that resulted made me tear up. NOT a good look.

So, since then, I've eaten with a halo perched firmly atop my head, and have run or walked every day. To date, I've lost 2.8 pounds. *Angels Sing* I still have a ways to go to get to my goal, but I'm making steady progress, and I'm pleased. I'm headed for the farmers market at 11, healthy foods at the forefront of my mind. Goodness, do I miss wine...