Green Eggs--no seriously!

I always thought Dr. Seuss was just being goofy when he asked if “you like green eggs and ham” but did you know that some chickens really do lay green eggs?

Check it out!!

I love to eat farm fresh eggs but they are so astonishingly expensive at the grocery store. Turns out that one of Craig’s scouts raises chickens and sells the eggs for $2 per dozen. Totally worth it and totally green (pun intended).

Of all of the blogs on my daily blog roll, I think ours is about the only one who hasn’t posted anything about a Christmas tree or decorations.

Truth is that we’re trying to sell our house and it is staged which means that we’ve completely removed every ounce of personality from our house (except for our cat) and it has become Pottery Barn central—gag. Yes, I gag, because it looks nothing like “us” but actually it looks awesome. For some reason the decorator was not a fan of our Cosmo Kramer portrait or the large empty frame on our living room wall, or our Dia de los Muertos dolls…or even our piano for that matter, but I won on the piano.

Our house has its very own URL for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy.  

Art.

I’m a perfectionist (stupid 1st child syndrome). When I was in 2nd grade, we had an assignment in art class. I don’t exactly remember the specifics other than we were (as I understood it) supposed to find a picture in a magazine and then paint this picture (as best we could). I wasn’t exactly an artistic kid, but I did my best on the assignment and was pretty happy with the finished product. I showed it to my art teacher and she said “that wasn’t really what I had in mind”. I think I cried and then decided that I was not artistic and that was the end of my career as an artist.

About 6 months ago, I decided that it was about time I got over being offended by my 2nd grade art teacher and I was going to learn to be artistic. The internet is full of people who produce such amazing, peaceful, inspiring things and they have me enchanted. Unfortunately this doesn’t seem to be the kind of skill you can just decide to develop and voila, you’re an artist. I’ve been trying really hard, but I’m not sure that I’m progressing. (See my fully developed art skills here.)

One of the things I love about my husband it that he is such a “guy”. Between the two of us, we couldn’t paint our way through a halogen lit tunnel. The colors would clash, the figures would be unidentifiable, and we’d both sit down halfway through and decide that it was a stupid project and we should go eat pizza or something.

My mother-in-law made me a shirt for my birthday. This was really sweet of her and I wanted Craig to take a picture of me in the shirt so I could send a thank you card and she could see how well she estimated my size (I was pretty impressed). Craig and I had the following conversation yesterday morning.

Maryn: Will you please take a picture of me in this shirt?
Craig: Why?
Maryn: So I can send your mom a thank you card.
Craig: Oh, that’s nice of you. (He is so sweet.) (Retrieves the camera.) Smile.
Maryn: No, not in here, I want the picture to be more artistic.
Craig: okay, what do you mean?
Maryn: I dunno, you know how people have pretty pictures on their blogs? I need pretty stuff in the picture or something.
Craig: You’re pretty. (Aww, he is so sweet)
Maryn: I think I need to be holding something.
Craig: Okay, hold this Coke.
Maryn: Laughs. Okay, fine.

So, this was the picture we ended up taking. Craig did a great job—especially considering that a) he’s a boy and b) he has no idea what it is I’m asking him to produce something that is only defined in my own head.

I’m convinced that I need the following before I’ll be able to create an artistic photograph. 1) a 12.1 megapixel camera, 2) a Mac, 3) Photoshop, 4) an interior designer, 5) a chest full of vintage knitted pieces, 6) rainboots, 7) a personal trainer and 8) a weekly manicure. Alright 2nd grade art teacher, it is almost Christmas time. Pony up. *

*I feel really awkward joking about my 2nd grade art teacher since she died in a car accident. I’m not really trying to blame her for anything, I’m just screwing around like I always do. It is actually all my mom’s fault. :-)

Cruise Report

I try to keep this blog from being a) all about my cats and b) a photo journal. I wanted to write about our cruise though, so you’re gonna have to put up with a little photo journaling and next week you’re gonna have to hear about my cat (and yes, I know that gonna isn’t a word).

Our cruise started with a lovely bus ride to the port which I always love because it gives you a good overview of the port city. With a degree in urban planning, I like to pretend that I know a little about city development, suburbs, etc and I like to watch these things go by.

Since I live in a city with no big breathtaking bridges, I am obsessed with them and took about 20 pictures of this bridge. (Craig totally made fun of me.) I’ll just post the one which includes both the bridge and the cruise ship.

Here we are being cute in Cabo.

Cabo San Lucas was a beautiful port. We went scuba diving right next to the ship and the dive ship was outfitted with all of the gear so there was no long boat ride to the dive shop or to the dive site. Freaking awesome! There were sea turtles, hunting seals, a wrecked ship (still think that was orchestrated by the dive company), dolphins jumping in the ocean (that was in the morning before we got to Cabo, not while we were diving), and all of the pretty fish.

I loved Mazatlan because we went downtown instead of the tourist strip. I don’t think that Craig was too crazy about it, but I am a nut for culture and for old stuff, so I had one hell of a time looking at the old cathedral and shopping in the real deal Mexican grocery store. We also got to ride in one of these sweet little VW golf cart taxi cab things. I’m totally asking for one for Christmas. :-)

We decided to do a bike ride in Puerto Vallarta, which ended up being a lot of fun. Here we are at a little church. How quaint.

I think I’ll just leave you and your thoughts to come up with the story of this photo…

Okay, since Halloween is over, this was something at the distillery where we started our bike ride. I don’t know what it is, but I’m hoping that it has to do with the process of making tequila.

Craig and I go on cruises to have fun in the sun, but also to read…okay, we’re dorks, whatever. We always have to find our favorite reading spot, on the ship. This was it.

Comfy chairs, sodas, cookies, books, my favorite person, and peace and quiet. Oh yeah.

Here comes the sun...or perhaps the hurricane...

We're boarding this cat (spoiled rotten; but the alternative is to come home to a bird blood bath) and we're going on a cruise (tomorrow)! I'm so excited (wahoo!) to get out of dodge with my honey (husband of my dreams) and take a week to decompress. (Plus, they have cheese plates on cruise ships! I love cheese!)

Doesn't hurt to ask...or does it?

You know the phrase “it never hurts to ask”? Do people really mean that? I, for one, think that it does hurt to ask sometimes. Sometimes people say “no” and that can be unpleasant for both the inquisitor and the respondent.

Now maybe it just hurts me because I’m kind of a highly sensitive person, but I really wish people would start saying something more like: “if you want to increase the probability of getting what you want, perhaps you should ask—even if it crushes your heart into millions of pieces and makes you realize that everyone hates you”. See, isn’t that a bit more realistic?

(Okay, don’t worry, my heart has not been crushed into millions of pieces and I do have friends, this phrase has just been running through my head and pestering me.)

Story Time.

People often ask me what it is like to have an “insulin reaction” (low blood sugar).
Sometimes it feels like I have the flu and I’m totally unable to function.
More mild reactions feel more like I’ve had a couple of beers and can’t think quite straight. I had one of those yesterday and ended up with this:

Cereal in my Coke. Yumm?

Later on, after having eaten some sugar and having put cereal in a bowl as I had originally intended, I sat down to read some blogs and instead got this:


Seriously—this is Pavlov’s cat. He hears the chink of a spoon in a bowl and then bounds inside and waits anxiously for the little bit of milk that we leave in the bottom of the cereal bowl. He’s a dork. (Oh, and he really doesn't have that snotty look on his face--he's very cute, but the camera flash makes him blink so I can't ever get a picture of him with his eyes open.)

One last story for today. Let me preface this by saying that my husband helps around the house a lot especially with dishes and laundry, making the bed and edging the lawn. Plus he does all of the hard things that I'm to chicken to do like bug bombs and sprinklers and sawing big limbs. I’m very appreciative of his help and am in no way discounting it by telling this adorable story.

I was in California last weekend. I got home Sunday night and was home for just long enough to sleep; then Craig and I went to northern Idaho for three days. Upon returning home, I set to cleaning the house. As I was going into the dining room to sweep the floor, Craig cornered me and we had the following conversation (more or less)

Craig: Oh, by the way, Charlie spilled some chocolate milk. (5 days before)
Maryn: (Laughs) okay, I’m guessing you’re telling me this because you didn’t clean it up
Craig: (a little defensively—and really cutely) no! I did clean it up. I put towels down on the milk!
Maryn: (looking around the corner at the floor) And then you left them there
Craig: Yes.

I love my husband so so much.

A few of my favorite things...

Craig...Sangria...Mongolian BBQ...VW...cards...and The Eels (though you can't hear them in the picture).
It doesn't get better than that.

P.S. Forgive the attrocious color combinations that I've got on the blog today. It will get better soon.

Weekday Confusion

This morning Craig and I were discussing plans for Saturday and since things have been quite chaotic lately, we are planning a lazy weekend—specifically, we’d discussed renting a movie. That’s the background for the following Instant Messaging exchange. Ahem.

Maryn says:
How much money do you have left from the fair?
Craig says:
$28
Maryn says:
thanks
Maryn says:
so, you’ve got mad money (Craig’s $20 that he always has in his wallet) and $8
Maryn says:
well, at least we all had fun at the fair…for $100
Craig says:
agreed
Craig says:
$100, really!?
Maryn says:
yep
Craig says:
yipes
Maryn says:
no kidding
Maryn says:
well, anyway...
Maryn says:
so, now you have $8 to rent a movie and buy a treat for our stay at home date tomorrow :-)
Craig says:
date tomorrow?
Maryn says:
oh, remember how we talked about staying home and watching a movie on Saturday?
Craig says:
TOMORROW IS THURSDAY
Maryn says:
&$%*
Maryn says:
rofl
Maryn says:
so it is
Craig says:
LOL
Craig says:
sorry
Maryn says:
that's cool

Sigh...don't you hate it when you think it is Friday--and it is really Wednesday? The sad thing is that I'll probably forget again before the day is over.

Some Things Make me Laugh

You know how sometimes see something that makes you laugh? Not just chuckle, but like really laugh?
This humidifier did it for me. We ended up buying the Dragon instead as I was afraid I would laugh at the duck all night rather than sleep.

Do you have the time?

I’ve worn a watch EVERY day religiously for as long as I can remember. I’m thinking that it has been since I was about 12…and before that I wore one at least semi-religiously. So, I’ve been completely dependent up on a watch for at least 15 years—I mean--I go nuts if I forget it. Besides being a time keeper, my watch acts as my life management system as I time most things that I do. This rigidity has also contributed to my anxiety (and not in a good way).

Anyway, a few weeks ago I lost my watch. Don’t even ask me how this is possible, I still think my husband hid it from me. (Just kidding Honey.) I do have two backup watches, but one has a really annoying watchband and the other has a dead battery. For some bizarre reason I forgot my backup watch one day and that night didn’t look at the clock to see what time it was when I went to sleep. (Another compulsive behavior I have is to count the number of hours I’m going to sleep when I close my eyes to sleep.) It was the weirdest thing when, the next morning Craig asked me when I went to sleep. I had no idea! I had read a blog post written by a diabetic girl who said that she never wears a watch because her pump has a clock on it. I think I had this in the back of my head and I felt so liberated by not knowing when I’d gone to bed that I deliberately did not wear my watch that day and then didn’t wear it the next day and the next day and it has now been about two weeks since I’ve worn a watch. SO WEIRD

Life is so much more enjoyable when you only look at the clock when you NEED to know what time it is rather than compulsively checking the time every 10 minutes (or every three minutes if I’m bored). I’ve been running without a watch. Seriously, you should try it. Running is more fun when you can’t look at your watch every two minutes. It is actually relaxing. I’m aware that my performance will probably suffer in doing this, but um, I’m not exactly the performance running type. I’m more the—I’ve made the general observation that old people who have made exercise a lifelong routine seem to be more healthy—runner.

Yes, I do think it is mildly annoying to both Craig and I when we need to know what time it is as either he has to get his phone out or I have to get my pump out, but seriously—it is worth it! You should try it…but don’t blame me if you are late for work