Thinking of You...

Last night Craig picked me up from work after picking his kids up. We were driving down the road and Ali said “look at my owwie”. I looked back and Ali’s injury was, apparently, on her middle finger. I started laughing hysterically and told Ali to show her dad. She did and then we launched into a list of choice people that Ali should "show her owwie" to.

Craig and I laughed so hard that he practically had to stop driving. I then asked her to show us again so that we could take advantage of the perfect photo opp.

Craig just sent me the picture in an email with the subject line “Thinking of You...”.
Awwww, thanks Honey!

It's all relative.

So, I did these color tests yesterday. I have a feeling that there is really no particularly scientific evidence backing them, but they did seem pretty accurate. I’m not sure what the difference is between a “signature” color and a “true” color, but I do know that, as it turned out, both of mine started with “B”. B for boring. Brown and sterling blue (which, it looks like is the most neutral shade of blue around). Now, I mean, seriously, I’m not boring. People think I’m funny—well, sometimes anyway. There’s nothing wrong with being impartial, steady, interested in challenging my mind, being a problem solver, being curious, or logical.

I like myself a lot and my husband likes me a lot and so do my friends and my parents…most of the time anyway!

Here’s the thing though…I’ve been realizing more and more that I’m kind of weird. I grew up in a family that put a very high value on intellectual achievements. I remember one occasion a few years ago where several of my cousins and my brother did a Sunday crossword start to finish in no more than 15 minutes flat. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes. Growing up in this type of environment, I made it through high school honestly believing that “nerds” were actually the “cool” ones and that “jocks”, who really didn’t even exist in my world, actually wanted to be “nerds”. I wanted to be nerdier and was proud of the fact that I was part of the brainy crowd. I spent my time trying to act smarter than I really was. I never was ashamed of the fact that I hated parties and liked staying home playing speed scrabble with my nerdy family and friends.

I was sitting in one of my graduate classes last semester and my professor said something like “now, keep in mind that those of you sitting in this room are in the minority—you are in graduate school, which means that you’ve, of course, spent some time during your life covering up the fact that you are smart. Don’t pretend that you’ve never been embarrassed about being a “nerd”. I know there’s been a time when you’ve kept it a secret”.

I quite literally almost interrupted her lecture to question my classmates about the validity of this statement. It was quite the epiphany for me as I realized that I’m supposed to be embarrassed about being smart! I probably would fit into normal society much better if I would just take the time to tone down my dorky side once in a while. I realized that reading books at parties and counting cars by color while standing on the street corner and doing crosswords while walking down the street and studying organic chemistry in my free time just for fun aren’t really normal things to do.

I did think for a while about what I would be like if I stopped doing nerdy things—would I be more fun? Would I have more friends? Would I be more interesting? Maybe, but I actually like me for who I am, so I guess I’ll be proud to be a “true brown” with a signature color of “sterling blue” and I’m really hoping to get a new Bill Bryson book at the library today, but only after I memorize my library barcode number like Amy Vecchione who works for the Idaho State Historical Society. She has her barcode memorized which is, to date, the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s even dorkier than me…she’s totally my mentor.

My "Signature" color

What's Your Signature Color?

My Result: Sterling Blue

You've got a good head on your shoulders and you're not afraid to use it. Serious, intellectual types like you meet their match with a cool color that sparkles with the same striking intelligence as you do. That's why Sterling Blue is the ideal match for you! This is not to say that you've always got your head in a book. Not by any stretch. While you may not be the person at the party kicking off the karaoke, you're probably the one starting up stimulating conversations and making your cohorts chuckle with your quick wit. You're likely to have an insatiable curiosity that's catchy, and friends who know that you are a great person to turn to when they need a logical head to help them sort through their problems. So keep it up with your sterling hue of blue. You probably have a way of keeping things deep that people truly appreciate!

What are you?
http://web.tickle.com/jumpto?test=signaturecolorogt&c=50652

My True Color

What's Your True Color?

My Result: Brown

You're brown, a credible, stable color that's reminiscent of fine wood, rich leather, and wistful melancholy. Most likely, you're a logical, practical person ruled more by your head than your heart. With your inquisitive mind and insatiable curiosity, you're probably a great problem solver. And you always gather all of the facts before coming to a timely, informed decision. Easily intrigued, you're constantly finding new ways to challenge your mind, whether it's by reading the newspaper, playing a trivia game, or composing a piece of music. Brown is an impartial, neutral color, which means you tend to see the difference between fact and opinion easily and are open to many points of view. Trustworthy and steady, you really are a brown at heart.

What are you?
http://web.tickle.com/jumpto?test=colorogt&c=50652

From my rainbow colored soap box

Ah—the first day of spring. There is nothing in this world that is better than the first day of spring. Well, I mean, there’s (not in any particular order) hot chocolate…and riding a bike (not at the same time)…sitting in the hot tub…laughing…the feeling of accomplishment…buying a new and fantastic skirt…being in love…the smell of Clorox wipes…digging in the dirt…buying new shoes…smelling flowers…the downhill part of Robie…water skiing…snowboarding…cuddling…an exhilarating song…garden fresh vegetables…okay, I guess there are better things than the first day of Spring, but my point is that it is pretty fabulous. I came to work this morning and realized that today is the first day of spring so I thought I’d update my blog to be a little “springier”. I completely fell in love with my new template. Isn’t it glorious and springy and retro and colorful? Oh, speaking of colorful…insert soap box. Clearing throat…

I have a little…okay, huge infatuation with color. I like all colors…mixed together…a color menagerie or a rainbow of color, if you will, in pretty much all areas of my life. I have a little one man (or one woman) vendetta called “reclaim the rainbow”.
I like to wear rainbows of colors; I like to write with rainbows of colors, I like to look at rainbows of colors. When I decided to actively and blatantly pursue my resolve to wear rainbows, my husband said “you know people are going to think you’re a Lesbian, right?” (Sorry if I wasn’t supposed to capitalize Lesbian—I was trying to be respectful). Anyway, I said that I didn’t care if people thought that and he said he didn’t care either, so I continue to wear rainbows and rainbow colored things and it keeps life pretty interesting.

It is my personal feeling that it is selfish of one particular group of people to claim the rainbow as their symbol. This has nothing to do with my personal feelings about homosexuals. I can think of several other groups of people who also would have upset me if they had taken the rainbow. Cowboys for example—also cheerleaders, scrapbookers, stay at home moms, Republicans, handicapped drivers, professional soccer players, pro wrestlers, the NRA, Type 2 Diabetics, butchers and vegetarians.

Anyway, my new template is quite colorful and fun and I am in love with it, so I decided not to choose the rainbow striped template titled “gay pride”. I’ll leave that for another day when I’m feeling particularly strong about reclaiming the rainbow. I think for today, I’ll just enjoy this first day of spring and walk with a spring in my step, happy to be wearing my rainbow colored mary janes.

My Funny Valentine

Every once in a while, my husband says something that absolutely cracks me up to the point that I can’t function properly. We were sitting at Wendy’s today talking about the subprime mortgage crisis. We are both of the opinion that the government shouldn’t bail people out of paying the consequences of their decisions. (My purpose is not to argue that point, but only to set the context of my new favorite Craig quote). So, anyway, we were talking about how if people don’t have to pay the consequences of their actions, they’ll never learn to use good judgment and Craig said sarcastically “I made a mistake when I got married the first time. Where was NAFTA on that one?” I don’t know why this made me laugh/continues to make me laugh so hard. I think it was the combination of the idea of the government paying for all of our mistakes and the absurdity of the North American Free Trade Agreement aiding Craig in his marital woes. (For the record, Craig does know what NAFTA is). Sigh…he’s so witty. I love that man…

What can you do with $100

My husband works at a medical residency and as part of the training, doctors have to practice various medical procedures and examinations. One such examination is the ultrasound. I am a big supporter of education and probably would have volunteered myself to have an ultrasound done at no charge, but as it was, they offered me $100 for said examination. Score! This post really is not about the ultrasound, but as long as we are on that topic, I might as well digress. I’ve never heard of an ovarian cyst discussed in a positive or even neutral light. Normally you hear “she had to have her ovaries removed because she had a cyst the size of a football” or “she passed out because of the pain caused by a cyst on her ovary” or “ she spontaneously combusted because the doctor told her she had a cyst on her ovary”. Because of the contextual implications of having overheard such discussions for the last 26 years, I was shocked to be sitting in the exam room, legs up on the table, with 6 doctors surrounding me and hear the words spoken casually “see that dark spot there—that’s a cyst”. I went into a state of panic and couldn’t figure out why no one else in the room seemed at all alarmed. Finally, after what seemed like 5 minutes, one of the doctors explained to me that cysts come and go and that there wasn’t anything wrong. Whew.

Moving on—so, I got my check for $100 and when I went with my husband to the bank to deposit the money, he suggested that I cash the check rather than putting it in the bank. What? Seriously? See—when a check is cashed, there is no longer any obligation associated with that money. Cash means that there is no record. Cash means that this money has no responsibility. Cash means that I don’t have to think that maybe I should have paid the Geico bill with this money rather than buying a new t-shirt. Cash is the best thing in the world because I can put it in the waterproof box in my sock drawer and think for weeks, months, even years about what I can buy with my cash. It is better than gold or cold fusion, or a 0% interest no payments for 3 years credit card with my name on it. See—if money is in the bank and we talk about buying new shoes with it—that offer is only good until the money is spent on something else and then the shoes are no more; but cash, well, cash is different. Cash is a dream. It must be savored. It must be treated with respect. It must be cherished.

So far, I’ve thought of the following ways to spend my $100: office supplies, a coat, garden hose, water bottle, workout clothes, yoga videos, titanium mugs, warm socks, hiking boots, shoes, earrings, camisoles, cardigans, funky short dress pants, nice jeans, a swimming pool (okay, I know that one doesn’t add up), books, take my husband to dinner, dish towels, bath towels, anything Dragonfly sells, nail polish or a massage.

So, basically I’ve spent the money 6.8 times, but at the same time I haven’t spent it all. Cash glorious cash. I think I’ll spend it another 10 times before it is gone…or else I’ll blow it all on Wednesday—I have the day off of work!

Some Things Never Change

I loved the game Candy Land when I was a kid. I loved the colorful board, the Rainbow Trail, the dreams of a peppermint forest, a lollypop land, a chocolate swamp…in fact, the only thing I loved more than playing Candy Land was winning Candy Land. There’s not a lot of strategy that goes on in the game. You basically just draw cards and move your game piece based on the color on the card you selected which means that the only way you can actually maintain any really interesting elements over the long term is to cheat at Candy Land.

I have a younger brother. He’s 23 and I’m 26. I should be really ashamed of what I’m about to tell you. Actually, I was really ashamed of what I’m about to tell you, but then I told my brother this same story and I think once he got over the initial period of devastation he had a good laugh about it.

When he was 4 and I was 6 Candy Land was starting to get a little uneventful. I figured out that if you place the Queen Frostine card not at the top of the stack, but the second card down and then let your younger, sweet, and unassuming brother go first, then you look like a good sister for letting him go first, and then 9 times out of 10 you’ll win the game. I don’t know how many times I actually pulled this scheme off. I did it enough times that I remember it well. (Sorry Tony!)

On Saturday, my step-daughter and I played a round of Memory. She’s 5 and she’s getting better at the game, but she’s in that phase where she doesn’t like it if you are giving her the answers, so you can’t do that, but if you let her win on her own merits it takes a Monopoly length of time to play Memory. So, I beat her at memory, with the understanding that we’d be playing Candy Land next and hopefully she’d win that.

So, we started Candy Land. It was exciting—I hadn’t played in years and I felt my well honed, but rusty skills coming back. I hadn’t planned on cheating…but then it happened. Twenty years later I cheated at Candy Land again. Okay, calm down everybody. You know I’m a bigger person than that. So, yes, I did cheat, but here’s how it went down. We were playing and everything was going along just fine. It was my turn. I drew the pink card with the sparkling ice cream cone on it—Queen Frostine!!!! I, almost without thought, moved my game piece to where my mind knew Queen Frostine’s land lie on the board. I was then taken by shock when I saw the words “Princess Frostine”. What??!! Why would the makers of this most time honored, beloved game change the name of our great candy queen? I still haven’t fully recovered from the disappointment and shock, but I pulled myself together enough to re-focus on the game at hand. It was at this moment that I realized I had much bigger problems than the renaming of a practically religious icon. I was going to beat my step daughter at game number 2 for the day. This couldn’t happen. She was supposed to win Candy Land. Crap…what could I do? I panicked as I took my next turn…the double red. This was seriously bad news. A double red meant that I would be too close to the end! I’d only have two, maybe three more turns to somehow get my stepdaughter from the Gumdrop Mountains to King Candy before I did. So, I reverted to the only real Candy Land skill I have. I cheated. Ali had looked away as I drew my double red…so I drew again. This time a yellow. Whew…that I could deal with. So, the game went on and fortunately, as a result of my cheating, I then proceeded to also draw the Peppermint Forest and then my troubles were over.

Yes world—I lost at Candy Land.

It was a great moment for me as I realized that, even taking into account all of the dumb things I do on a regular basis, and contrary to many people’s beliefs, I’ve actually grown up a little bit.