Marbles. I've lost my marbles.

Me:

Minus the curlers, apron, and rolling pin. Because there's been no baking and certainly no hairstyling in my house lately. Oh, also add a few pounds. And wipe the lipstick off too.... Turns out I've got nothing on this lady.

I've been a complete psycho wife lately. And I can't really say why. I think most of my general sourness is coming from the lack of fun I've been able to have over these past couple months. Right now Sam is so stressed out (he had 19 FIRST round interviews last week and is just scratching the surface of this forsaken process) that he has had not ONE MINUTE of extra time. Oh, and not ONE SMIDGE of personality left over to toss my eager-waiting-for-your-scraps-desperate-little-wife way. More than anything, I think being at the mercy of all these business school/company beyotches has left me feeling a little out of control.

When I was in 4th grade, my friends and I were enjoying one of many outings to Starlite Skating, a roller skating rink in my home town. Starlite Skating was THE place to be in elementary school... except it was the most delapitated, mangey skating rink imaginable. Complete with old, broken furniture and old record players stored under sheets at one end of the rink. Anyway, we all squealed and high-fived when the skating rink DJ (how can I land m'sef that job) announced it was time for a "girls only" skate. The girls only skate brought me great pleasure... second only to the "snowball" skate where boys lined up on one side of the rink and skated over to take the hand of the girl they wanted to skate with until they were told to switch partners... For some reason, I always thought I looked extra desirable under the illumination of that snowball disco ball.

Anyway, the "girls only" skate was particularly invigorating because all the boys would have to leave the floor and hold their hands out for you to slap as you skated by. It was expected that you emphasize the smack of the hand of the boy you wished to seduce for the evening (locking in the first skate of the snowball) and that night I had set my sights on a boy just over a foot shorter than me, named *Taylor.

I remember it in slow motion... sailing around the curve of the rink past the furniture storage as I approached the line of boys. Hair blowing. The sound of my baggy jeans flapping behind me. I zoned in on Taylor's hand stretched out to me and envisioned the smooth, sexy slap I was going to give it. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and practiced a post-slap wink, just to seal the deal. And then I went for it. And I winked. And instead of slapping, he squeezed my hand for a split second. And it disrupted the flow of my skating. And I lost my balance. And I proceeded to do the try-not-to-biff-arms-flailing-skates-stomping-spaz-out for 15 seconds straight.

Why even try to recover, Vanessa? Why not take a graceful spill and be done with it? Why not turn your fall into an EXTREMELY cool shoot-the-duck skate move? No no, your right, that spastic, near fall, skate stomp recover attempt was better.

And that's exactly how I've been feeling lately. Like I'm in a constant, near-fall, roller skating spaz attack.

My mom always tells me I have to "enjoy the process, not just the arrival." Thanks, mom. I'll remember that. In the mean time, **send some cash, attention, motivation, and happy drugs my way. Thanks.

*Taylor became one of my best friends and his family moved to Utah when we were in 6th grade. We lost touch for 10 years--later reconnecting when I discovered his family lives behind my in-laws in Alpine. During our first conversation as adults, much to my delight, he recounted our little skating incident.

**Mom, I fully recognize I live a charmed life and in no way need to be reminded of how much worse off some people are than me. Merely feeling stinky, and getting over it as I write. No need to alert the troops.

P.S. Is there anything hotter than roller skating?

A rare picture taken of Sam and me the night Leah was conceived:

Just for SLEs

*Serious Leah Enthusiasts

This morning I woke up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"Ok, sweetie. What's today's gameplan?"

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"First I want to go to the gym."

"Ok, go now and we'll do something fun after."

Then I looked out the window and noticed the Chicago skyline was missing:

I did get into my workout clothes. And under a blanket. And into my big recliner chair.

I figure what I really need to accomplish on this dismal, foggy, frigid morning is a little Turkey Sub documentation. She does brighten my day, after all.

Paparazzi stealthily approaches T.S. enjoying favorite show:

T.S. attempts ignoring Paparazzi in hopes Paparazzi will go away:

Paparazzo is undeterred. T.S. flashes Paparazzi "money shot" to placate Paparazzi:

T.S. bares razor-sharp teeth in attempt to intimidate Paparazzi:

Paparazzi heckles T.S. T.S. gets up to regulate on Paparazzi:

T.S. takes sweet time due to general belly size and lack of coordination skills. Paparazzi points and laughs:

Paparazzi stops laughing and vainly attempts to back away to make peace with T.S:

Last image captured on Paparazzi's camera. Paparazzi never seen alive again:

What in the world would I do without this little munchkin?

For those of you who haven't seen her in action, let it be known that I filmed her for 15 minutes straight. You are the lucky recipient of one and a quarter:

P.S. Directly after this video was taken, Sam was feeling a little huffy because Leah was trying to play with him while he was doing homework. Not being one to stand for this type of behavior, I said,

"She's just craving some male attention! She's gonna have to go looking for it on the streets!"

I know how to get what I want.

Random musing, compliments of moi

If you've ever been one to interrupt someone with, "whoa, whoa. TMI!" you and I were probably not meant to be friends. The way I see it, there's no such thing as "too much information." If someone shares something with me, even if it makes me cringe a little (very hard to do), I figure she just needed to get it off her chest, or at least felt close enough with me to share. So I take it as a compliment. And I'm usually thrilled. Because that means it's no holds barred as to what I'm allowed to share.

This is my general rule of thumb. Well, except for one TMI intervention my sister, Meradith, and I had to have with our other sister, Bethany, who, in what can only be described as a fit of turrets, would describe in great detail the presents she would find in her little boy's diaper. It was always the same. We'd be chatting on the phone, she'd mention he was stank, and in a matter of seconds I'd hear, "OH.MY.GOSH....." and the description would begin. The size, amount, color, and texture. And exactly where it was encased. After several appalled discussions about our sister's rank tendency, Meradith and I had to draw the line and threaten her with an impeachment from the sister's club. "Bethany, we need to talk to you about something that has been detrimental to our sisterhood. What you do with this information is up to you, but you have been warned of the consequences." She was exasperated and yelled, "WHAAAAT!? You witches!" We really can't blame her, after three girls, she finally had a boy and just didn't know quite how to handle the surprises that awaited her during each diaper unveiling. Poor little lamb. You may think this story itself is too much information, but if so, again, we probably shouldn't be friends. Oh, and sorry for outing you so publicly, Bethany. You really have come such a long way in regard to your poo fascination.

Those of you who know me well already know this about me. Which means I probably know more than I should about your husband. Or your menstrual cycle. Or whatever. Because, honestly, the things we probably shouldn't talk about are usually the things we really want to talk about.

You probably think this is all some grand build-up to me spewing a bunch of "too much information" on this blog. But no. I don't have anything spicy to share at the moment. I was simply eavesdropping on two ladies chatting in the mailroom today and one of them cut the other off with a snappy, "Whoa! TMI!" and it annoyed me so badly, especially because I could see how stupid it made the girl feel, that I've been stewing about it ever since. And I nearly B-slapped that lady for making her friend feel embarrassed.

I guess I have one little thing I could share before I go, that, if you're a real prude, I guess could be considered TMI. But you'll probably just think it's funny. Leah, who is a late talker, had the greenest poop I've ever seen this morning! Just kidding. Totally kidding. What I wanted to tell you is she's decided that her favorite word, nay, the ONLY word she says with any amount of regularity is the word our family uses for her little girl parts. She says it all day long, dancing around and pointing to the front of her diaper. I'm delighted. Next we're gonna really work with her on the F word.

Moral of the story: if you need a safe place to say something inappropriate, I won't be judgy. Oh, and don't hang out with people who make you feel stupid for things you want to share. Oh, and share more of your juicy secrets with me.

Hair Affair

I'm cutting my hair tomorrow. It's longer than it's ever been in my life... and sometimes I get all big headed about it, like when my sister says I have "mermaid hair." But it's driving me insane.

I've been going for this:

But due to my overall lacking in other areas... as well as my general approach (or lack thereof) to getting ready these days, I've been startlingly more in line with this:

'Cept without all that shine.

Side note--I actually saw Camryn Manheim at Fisherman's Warf in San Francisco when I was in high school. I snuck up and touched the back of her jacket and then told everybody I talked to her.

So anyway, the hair's gotta go. I'm not sure what I want to do yet. Today I was fantasizing about this transformation:

Holy smokes that new blonde hair is so smokin' I can hardly contain myself. But again, I'd probably end up closer to this:

(Demi + Bruce = the most unfortunate combo ever)

SOOO I'm at a loss. And feeling frumpalicious. And may just end up getting a perm.

So Long 2009

You're probably getting sick of me talking about how weird and sad and blah blah blah I feel. So I'm going to try to make this my last weird and sad and blah blah blah post for a while. But mostly just if I don't feel that way for a while. Otherwise there will probably be a few more of these kinds of posts coming your way. But I really do think this will be my last one for now. Maybe.

**Insert: This post didn't end up being that weird and sad and blah blah blah after all so don't you worry.

This holiday season has been weird. Obviously unlike any other I've experienced in my 24 years. Tomorrow we are driving away from Idaho and leaving brings with it some strange feelings. It's not quite bittersweet. I guess bitterrelief would be more appropriate. I am relieved to be headed home, relieved to be kicking 2009 to the curb, and relieved to get back to some semblance of my life before I came here. But it's almost like leaving puts an end to the time we've been able to mourn together... like I'm saying, "Ok Jesse, I'm going home and moving on now." Part of me never wants to move on. Part of me wants to wallow forever.

More than anything I'm sad to be leaving my mom and dad and their home; this little sanctuary I've been snuggled into for the past month. Idaho Falls is such a wintery wasteland (don’t get huffy Idaho, you know I love you) and even though I've been tended to far more than I've been tending over these past few weeks, I keep visualizing my parents here all alone, shivering in the cold... with nothing to eat. For some reason, in my head my leaving translates into the heat not working and the food supply getting cut off. A slightly inflated view of my own importance, but whatever, that's how I see it. And it makes my eyes get all stingy and my throat get lumpy.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't know how to feel about all of this. SO I'm just letting it all jump around in my head and in my heart and now out my fingertips onto this blog post. And you're the lucky beneficiaries.

What I do know for certain is that I've gained 9lbs since I've been here... which definitely tips the scales (pun intended) towards the "bitter" side of this holiday season.

With that said, ahem.

Highlights and Lowlights of December 2009:

Highlights:

• Being with my family for more time than expected (especially Abe and Tiff and Co. who we left in Erie after Thanksgiving and expected not to see again until summer)
• Watching Leah and Lucy love love love and hate hate hate each other
• The gluttony that resulted in 9lb gain
• Going to Heise hot springs and mingling with true blue Idaho White Trash—the most fantastic and lovable of all the white trash variety
• Magical night alone with Sam in Salt Lake
• My dad laughing so hard telling me about his favorite "American's Funniest Video" that Sam thought something terrible had happened and flew (literally flew, like Superman) down the stairs in a panic to check on us (this could also be listed in the lowlight section due to Sam's genuine feelings of terror and subsequent "thought something happened to you" funk)
• Catching my dad kicked back in his leather recliner with not one, not two, but THREE boxes of assorted chocolates
• Pomegranate salad with whip cream. Holy shiz.
• Getting together with the Bischoffs for dinner in Utah—a little reminder of the splendor waiting for us at home in Chicago

Lowlights:

• Finally mustering up the motivation to shower and get ready only to find favorite jeans cutting off circulation due to 9lb gain
• Leah being sick and therefore a needy sleeper (she snores like an obese man, and rubs me up and down all night)
• Smelling like sulfur after Heise hot springs for three days, regardless of showering frequency
• That whole funeral thing (which in and of itself could be a whole list of mostly lows, and a few highs, so I’ll leave it at that)
• My mom getting her second hip replaced (also a highlight due to the interesting and awesome turn our conversations have been taking as soon as her pain meds start kicking in)
• Sam spending literally every extra second on evil school and interview preparations
• Waking up in the middle of the night to find my little niece, Lucy, huddled in the corner of her crib, whimpering away, surrounded by throw-up. Most heartbreaking.thing.ever.
• Not being able to visit Bethany and her family in Arizona as originally planned
• Having to leave

Hmmm… I will no doubt have more to add as I remove myself further from this experience. And in an attempt to keep things light, I’m glossing over some of the real significance of this season. I hope that’s obvious. But there you have it. If you’re lucky I just might share my list of New Year’s resolutions!

A few pictures to illustrate:

You'd think this picture was posed for a "hip replacement and you" brochure, but no. I simply stumbled upon her catching up on some helpful literature. She's a good girl.

Grammy's house is full of interesting nooks and crannies. The best part was sending Lucy down the hill behind my parent's house in that little plastic bowl. She loved it.

Leah loves planting her sizable tush anywhere and everywhere she sees fit. And she seems to think she fits in Lucy's lap quite well.

Lucy begs to differ.

Poppa and the Turkey Sub and a little squishing

Plotting something evil...

Loving...

And hating...

I love this picture simply because of Lucy's serene face in the background, admiring her cousin's handy work as she bludgeons her mother...

These two frolicked in the snow for about 3 seconds before....

Taking a spill and demanding to be taken inside.

Leah only loved her first encounter with the snow a little bit...

You can probably tell by the lame captions I am leaving that I've lost my blogging motivation and am distracted by the task of packing up a month's worth of pig sty in the bedroom we've been staying in. SO, I'll stop now.

See you in Chicago!