Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
As they say here in the south, "Whew fellas. I'm whooped."
Friday, March 18, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
He sang about all the grand gestures he would make for his lady love and I found myself slurping a strawberry milkshake and pondering the situation.
"I'd catch a grenade for ya, I'd throw my hand on a blade for ya...."
In this culture of grand gestures, I find myself a bit skeptical. Women fantasize about men who do extraordinary things. We watch The Bachelor, where men whisk women off to exotic islands, propose with gigantic rings on cliffs overlooking the ocean and declare mind blowing eternal love. We immerse ourselves in fantasy books about sparkly vampires capable of superhuman feats and werewolves who burn hot and carry women like nap sacks through the woods.
But truthfully, women don't really need these things. Oh sure. We like giant diamond rings. We enjoy reading about cutie patootey teenage supernatural beings. But in the end, I think I speak for all of us when I say, we really just want a man willing to tie our shoes.
Let me explain.
He knelt down, pulled my leg out straight and tied my shoelace. Then he took my other shoe and put it on, tying those laces as well. As I gazed at the top of his head, I realized this was real romance. Women don't need other-worldly super heroes. We need men who will fill up our cars with gas and cook us dinner. We need someone who cares whether or not the taxes get paid, or the front yard needs mowing.
Who needs The Bachelor? Bruno can keep his stupid grenades. All I need is a man who considers it his job to tie his fat, pregnant wife's shoes.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Purple in the blueberry muffin mix.
Purple in the overcast, rainy sky.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
To enter in the giveaway leave a comment! I'll draw a random winner on Monday!
Secondly, I feel I must answer a question. I received an email from a gal who wrote, "Liz, I've enjoyed your blog for a while now, but all this baby stuff is getting a little old. Are you becoming a mommy blogger? Please say no."
Today I talked my mom. I said, "Hey mom, how are you doing?"
She responded, "The dog farted on my pillow."
Know what my very first thought was?
"That's hilarious. I must blog about it."
Why? Because as a writer and a blogger, my life is subject matter.
People who have kids, out of work husbands, and brand new houses blog about them. People with tiny apartments, peanut allergies and gardens blog about them. That's what a blog is. It's not fiction, it's real life. And my real life, right now, consists of heartburn, swollen feet and an unfinished baby nursery. I will continue to blog about Matt's cooking, our house projects and my book. I'll blog about my mom's gaseous dog, my sister who eats fried scorpions and the blue-haired woman down the street who walks her poodle while wearing a puffy jacket with the word "sassy" embroidered on the back. I'll blog about life. And sadly, for those who don't like babies, Jane will be a big whopping part of it. Hopefully that answers the mommy blogger question once and for all.
But back to the giveaway... don't forget to comment to win Steph's cute blanket!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
In other news, remember those black shelves I hated? Well, I couldn't get away from them that easily. They've ended up at home in the nursery, and surprisingly enough, I like the way they look in there. Plus, they were free. Now THAT'S what I call a good investment.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
And when I'm not washing load after load of baby clothes in the most expensive laundry detergent known to man (anyone else think this is a scheme to prey on inexperienced moms?), I'm writing thank you notes. And feeling so very thankful for the closet full of diapers, clothes, crib sheets, medicine, baby lotion and burp cloths. Matt walked into the house yesterday, sniffed the air and said, "It smells like a baby in here." Looks like we've officially entered kiddytown.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
These days I just walk. With no arm weights. No bouncing. No spring. I do this for 15 minutes until I gasp, heft myself into a chair and yelp for someone, anyone, to bring me ice water.
Plus, the little coils are starting to squeak in protest beneath my great girth. I'll be glad for warmer weather so I can walk outside again.
But back to the topic at hand. My mini-trampoline does not make me feel like a winner.
But back in the day, THIS made me feel like a winner. I felt like a winner despite my gigantic granny panties, Elton John purple sunglass frames (with the lenses poked out), and wavy mullet. I felt it deep within my baby-soul. You can tell it by the expression on my face. That's a "dang, I'm stylin' today" face.
And now, many years later, despite my creaky trampoline and penguin walk, I feel like a winner once again.
Remember way back in the fall when I was asked to participate in the BHG blogger/craft contest? I won. I know! So exciting! There aren't any nailed down details yet, but it means I'll get to be in the magazine again this fall. So until then I'm trying to brainstorm some ideas. And don't worry. You have my solemn promise that despite my feeling like a winner today, I will not don those Elton John sunglasses with the lenses poked out. As for the granny panties, I make no promises.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Boring because when I go out for a snack, all I see is the friendly smile from the local Sonic waitress as she hands me my Cheddar Peppers with ranch and says, "Can I bring you extra napkins?" I do not go to the nearby Deep Fried Turtles, Sea Creatures and Scorpion booth on the corner. Like Rebecca.
You know that rhyme "She sells seashells by the seashore"?
I've got one for Becca.
So yeah. My adventurous little sister is roaming the streets of China eating scorpions. But hopefully not the seahorses. That makes me sad.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
"Psstt... in case you haven't noticed, you're getting more than you deserve."