I'll Have Mine Toasted...

I feel like I've had a lot of random things to talk about lately, which can mean only one thing: the turkey sub hasn't been getting nearly enough air time. I realize, even though I've been taking a slew of pictures of her, and capturing all sorts of tasty moments to share, I've been a complete blog hog. SO, I plan to redeem myself entirely with a post so full of pictures of the sub your head might explode. I've already blown three fuses .... But mostly because my little girl is so grown up and beautiful these days that I feel like crying and laughing and having a panic attack all at once... which pretty much sums up what it feels like every day to be a mother.

Warning:

***NO NON-S.L.E.s (serious Leah enthusiasts) ALLOWED ***

Haters of posts consisting solely of child bragging and oogling need not continue

On Monday, the Hives (other wives currently replacing void left by absentee husband. husband+wives=hives. thank you) and I ventured to Indiana for the requisite fall appleorchardpumpkinpatch extravaganza. Leah was really getting into the spirit of this place with her tractor and rake.

Until she realized raking is for suckers and bull rushed me at the speed of light, swinging and chopping that rake in an attempt to take my life.

Whenever Leah would disappear for any amount of time I would find her here. Peeping.

We interrupt today's programming with a Quick Blog Post Progress Report:

Thus far this post has taken me no less than 2 hours to complete. The process has been as follows:

...click back and forth from picture to picture. Zoom in. Grin like tard. Zoom out. Grin like tard. Swell with pride. Brim with tears. Grin like tard....

.... fight Leah off with left hand while hunt-peck typing with right. Get annoyed. Find something within reach to distract. Throw with precision into bedroom. Contemplate running and closing door with her inside. Feel a little guilty. Consider putting computer away. Reconsider....

.... cue tard grin.

Just look at her!

*photo by Amber

We took a little tractor ride out to the orchard. The driver calls out the different kinds of apples as you pass and then you tuck and roll when you hear the kind you want to pick.

We opted for Gala... or Fuji? Leah was gleeful and greedy, dutifully gathering up her loot.

They carved and painted faces into some of the trees at this place and each time Leah would reach to pluck an apple, this ogre would slap her little hand away. Don't think for one second Mama didn't whip out her trusty pocket knife and hack that limb right off. Normally I don't resort to violence, but I had to make an example out of him.

Seriously though, how disturbing were these abusive apple trees from the Wizard of Oz? I will burst into tears right now.

Luckily, Leah was left unscathed.

In other news...

Lately, she loves to watch Backyardigans... under very specific conditions. She starts witching around if I try to start the show before she has settled into her "go to" position on the lambskin rug that sits directly in front of the TV. She also requires not one, but two pillows. Whenever I try to prop her up on one, she inevitably gets so excited by the splendor she is beholding on the screen that she rolls off... which all but ruins her entire Backyardigans experience.

Notice the hand up the sleeve in this one. She does this as a friendlier version of an old self-pinching habit some of you may remember from this post.

I thought this was a good one to end on. This is her, "clearly you have no clue what you are talking about and therefore I must patronize you" face. I laugh out loud every time she does it. She generally tops it off with a little pat to the forehead

She makes me very happy, my little turkey sub.

Wait, what? What's that you say? Why isn't Sam in any of these pictures? Oh, he's been loving life doing this:

Poor guy. We miss him.

A Lesson in Self-Awareness... and some other stuff

Whenever I make eye contact with someone on the street/hall/whatever, I always make a point to smile. Not like a big toothy grin or anything, more like one of those slight, closed mouth, minimal effort smiles. You know, the "stranger smile." This particular point has been a source of some stress and annoyance because I rarely get a smile back. More often than not, my little gesture of camaraderie is met with a hurried glance to the ground. I've attributed this discrepancy to my Idahoan upbringing starkly contrasting the guarded streets of the big cities that have been my home these last few years. Recently however, my sister snapped this little jewel, and I was faced with a startling reality...

Turns out my "stranger smile" looks like this:

Meet Chester McPervy. It's sobering to discover that my making a conscience effort to smile at strangers (something I've secretly always congratulated myself for) was in reality, only seriously creeping them out.

Sam had a "self-awareness" moment like this a few months ago when I happened upon him peeing himself with laughter on the couch... no doubt thinking back on something hilarious and brilliant I had done that day. I just so happened to have my camera in hand and immediately began snapping pictures. He suffered through a small identity crisis and a brief stint in therapy after seeing these...

Of course I think these pictures are completely adorable and am over the moon when Sam laughs... especially if I'm the one making him do so. BUT, have you ever caught an unintentional glimpse in the mirror, or had a picture taken of you mid belly-laugh? It's never anything like you imagined you would look... and it's usually quite terrifying.

I remember when I was in 3rd grade and a group of my friends were swimming at the Aquatic Center, an indoor swimming pool in Idaho Falls. There was one boy I loathed more than anything named Brad Vuccovich. I write his name unabashedly because he knew very well that I hated him. Anyway, after various attempts to dunk him under the water (I was a brute of a 3rd grader and he was a complete pip squeak of a 4th grader and when you're in elementary school it's still okay to practice violent dominion over those smaller than you) we actually started having a real conversation. For some reason, I was explaining to him and showing him all of the different kinds of "smiles" I had in my repertoire. I remember one was "flirty" and one was "cheesy." I don't remember the others. I had never practiced these smiles in the mirror, or differentiated my different kinds of smiles before, but it seemed super interesting at the time and I was sure the feelings I was having on the inside were showing through perfectly on my face.

After our conversation, my feelings of hatred towards Brad had, of course, transformed into feelings of true love. When I got home I was anxious to get to a mirror to check out the different smiles I had showed him... just to make sure I had indeed been as sexy and charming as I thought. I can still picture exactly the ridiculous, chestery, creepy little girl that looked back at me from the mirror when I reenacted my "flirty" smile... hair still slicked straight back from swimming (not a good look for me) with the little bit of my mom's make up I had secretly applied that morning, forming dark smudges beneath my eyes. Come to think of it, it was pretty much the 3rd grade version of my "stranger smile." It was hideous. I had made a complete fool of myself. And making a fool of yourself while trying to be flirty (seductive) is ten times more foolio than any other kind of fool you can make. If that makes sense. At that moment the only obvious choice I had was to start hating Brad again.

I realize this post has gotten off topic... hence the addition of "and some other stuff" to the title. Here's where I attempt to tie it all in. Ahem.

I can't even count the number of experiences I've had like the one I had with Brad, or the discovery of the "stranger smile." Not over the top humiliation (those I'll save for another post) but just times where I was completely lacking in self-awareness. I wish that I could go back and talk to my teenage, or pubescent, or pre-pubescent self and tell me not to worry, and that I wouldn't even remember the times I made a spectacle of myself... and to take comfort in knowing that the adult version of me is super confident and graceful and pretty much awesome in general. But I can't. Because the truth is, I still get a wave of embarrassment down the back of my neck when I think back on my "flirty" smile from 3rd grade. And I still make a big fat fool of myself on the regular.

I Yuv Estrogen

One thing they don't tell you when you apply for business school is that you will be required to sever all relationships not pertaining directly to the enhancement of your career. This includes spouses, children, extended family and all (non b-school) friends. You are also expected to devote all remnants of extracurricular time to kissing professor/alumni butt, fellow student butt, recruiter butt, and any and all butt deemed necessary by career services... which includes many different kinds of butt but absolutely no wife butt. SO, those of us who are officially "Booth Wives" (U of Chicago Booth School of Business) have decided to take a collective stand against being lonely and have vowed to seek comfort in each other's arms. Oh, and be deliriously happy... with or without our better halves.

In keeping with this theme, on Saturday, Booth Wife, Carina, sent out a text saying, "I wanna do something fun today." Of course this sent all on the receiving end of the text into a gleeful, giddy scurry... something akin to the way a dog dances around when you finally notice it needs to be let outside to pee.

After deliberating over what we should do, we settled on a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry. Don't let the name fool you--this place is hoppin'. Mostly because there's an expansive, gated area with all sorts of child mind-boggling things to look at... which allows for minimal tending and maximum blabbing.

Booth Wives Club (BWC): Mimi, Amber, Carina and Moi....

There's also one more first year Booth Wife named Dianne... but she's a newlywed so she still waits around at home just in case her hub gets some free time. Pfshhhff whatever newlyweds (little bit jealous).

This picture brings me great joy. Look at Mimi in all her sassy glory. Amber was refusing to harness her inner sex kitten for this picture... but don't let her fool you... she was merely considering the children and married men within the vicinity.

This was the exact position Leah and Mimi's Josh stayed in for pretty much the duration... Mostly I'm just including this picture as proof that Leah was actually there, considering like TWO of the pics I took turned out.

This little afternoon delight is Amber's Avery. She is the single most squishable baby I have ever seen. She's only 7 months old and seriously, look at her mop on top. This picture alone makes me feel as though I might huck my laptop across the room. I can't take it.

After the museum we ditched the littles and went out for a girl's dinner. It was a glorious occasion spent laughing and talking and pillow fighting and tag-team wrestling. One real highlight was when Amber attracted the attention of a gawker who STARED at her the ENTIRE meal. The weird thing about it was she was a woman... a rather hostile looking woman. Of course we all huddled in over the table, whispering, giggling, feeling a little frightened, and taking turns peeking to see if she was still staring. Every time...

..........

Didn't budge an inch....

Aside from our intimidating admirer (we'll just say she was admiring) we were miffed because we ordered the four cheese pizza and after one bite we agreed immediately it needed to be sent away. When I talked to the waitress about it she said, "Oh yeah, this happens all the time with the four cheese pizza." Are you kidding me? Now, I'm not a restauranteur or anything, but it's probably a good idea to take the poo sandwich off the menu.

Anyway, the whole day was fab and I guess the real, A.D.D., roundabout point I'm trying to make with this post is that I've found this little group of beautiful women here in Chicago who seem to fit like a glove. Women that my mom would refer to as "soul sisters." In my experience, that doesn't happen very often. Needless to say, I'm twitterpated...

Has Anyone Ever Told You You Look Like....

My entire post-puberty life I have been told I look like Tiffany Amber Thiessen. Not so much the Kelly from Saved by the Bell Tiffany, but more the Valerie from Beverly Hills: 90210 kind. People always make a point to make that distinction. I'm guessing it's because I'm such a sexy, sultry vixen.... Funny enough, I was even asked for her autograph once. Except I don't really remember any of the details of how it happened... which kinda makes me think I might have made it up.... Hmmmm....

Anyway...

Strangely, I haven't gotten the comparison much since I gave birth to my body altering, celeb look-alike destroying little cherub... BUT last night I got a text from my friend Brad saying he saw Tiff on the tube and it took him 5 minutes of pondering why in the world I was on TV to realize it wasn't me. Which of course threw me right back in the zone and gave me all of my peoplethinkIlooklikeTiffanyAmberThiessen confidence back.

So, I started musing about all the lookalikes I know and wanted to share...

***Disclaimer: after perusing pics of my peeps and their celeb counterparts for like 5 hours trying to find perfect, identical matches, and showing each picture to Sam for his approval only to get a "no, they don't really look alike in that one" I realized my laptop was singeing my thighs and I was all sweaty and frustrated so I had to settle... and now I'm starting to think none of them even really look alike at all (including mine) so just use your imagination. And I say these things in the name... just kidding.

My sister, Mera, always gets Mandy Moore. Cept' let's be honest here... Meradith is way hotter than Mandy. And she sings better, too. No disrespect, Mandy, but even you know you're a little annoying.

Mera's husband Jason is twins with the Italian Stallion... which is precisely why he holds a Rocky movie marathon annually.

I have to give Meradith friendly little reminders to keep the fist fights in their marriage to a minimum.... heaven forbid Jason ends up looking like this:

BFF Shalyse looks a lot like Debra Messing. Except she's a lot hotter, too! Come on celebs! I guess I should add that I've always thought the resemblance was stronger when Debra's on film, not in still frame.

This next one is an interesting comparison because Lady Gaga is kind of the fugly version of my friend, Jenna. Or maybe the not so cute big sister who's always been way jealous of hotter little sister and therefore acts out in a trampy, weirdo with lots of heavy make up, version. BUT, there is a total resemblance--in a one's hot and one's not kind of way. Sorry Denny.

I'm so progressive that my celebrity comparisons even span across racial boundaries. Now hear me out. For some reason, my friend Stacy has always reminded me of a white Tyra Banks. I told her this once and she called me a freak so I'm looking for some validation.

This next one is really legit. My friend Tawny and Jessica Simpson. Don't pretend you don't see it.

Back in the day (like 6 months ago) my sis and I would fall to pieces watching our two little munchkins together...

Because we are demented, we became particularly slap happy when discussing their resemblance to...

A few weeks ago Sam's brother, Seth, Sam, Meradith and I were all sitting around the dinner table talking about this very subject. Seth piped up and said, "People always tell me I look like Will Ferrel." Of course we all gasped and objected. Seth, looking defensive, said, "What? I don't mind, he's a good looking guy." We were stumped, but Seth was adamant so we just moved on with the conversation. After a bit I noticed Seth staring down at his dinner plate, looking contemplative, when he looked up suddenly and said, "Oh wait, not Will Farrell. I meant Colin Farrell." Then he went on eating as if nothing had changed.

Seth and Colin....

Seth and Will....

Pretty much the same thing.

And last, but not least....

Sam's step mom, Kathy, always goes on and on about how much she thinks Sam looks like George Clooney. That's right. Good ol' Georgy. Sam, of course, thinks this is completely preposterous and gets all agitated and huffy whenever she says anything. When I told him I was going to put it on the blog he said, in the words of Ron Burgandy, "You do that and I'm gonna punch you in the ovaries."

SOOO, just for that....

I have a few more but they involve a couple of Sam's exes, which he told me would be weird... and a couple of my exes... which he told me isn't allowed. So, that's all she wrote. Now, tell me about your celeb comparisons.

Big Willy

For those of you who filled your drawers when you saw the little teaser picture on my last post, here it is again:

You're welcome for that. Chilling, right? Our first official Chicago tourist destination was a visit to Big Willy... aka the Willis Tower... aka the Sears Tower (rest in peace). Needless to say, it was pretty awesome and provided some sweeping, other-worldly views of the city.

A little family shot out on the skydeck. Notice the glass floors. You need not take this picture lightly....

I say this because what you don't see here is the trembling, icy-handed mess that was my husband seconds before the shot was taken. While his smile is all charmy and convincing, he was suffering from a severe case of what I like to call "terror rage." The symptoms of terror rage manifest themselves in many ways, but generally include extreme irritability, paranoia, heightened reflexes, potty mouth and occasionally, violent flinches or outbursts.

Sam denied having any issues (typical in terror ragers), but his condition became undeniable to me when I, upon pretending to heave my body weight against the outer glass of the skydeck, felt a fist land squarely between my shoulder blades. And, in what can only be described as the voice of Satan, heard the words, "You better. Freaking. Knock. It OFF."

Sam never so much as uses a stern tone with me so it was almost as if he was another person entirely. I secretly kinda liked it. Just sayin'.

Anyway, these hot little numbers are a few of our new found besties here in Chicago who braved Big Willy along with us. Lincoln and Carina with littles, Brooklyn and Carson:

ANNND.... Mimi and Matt (not pictured, their little guy, Joshua):

We're pretty much in love with them already.

I'm hoping documenting all of the cool things there are to do here in Chi-town will prompt some of you to come visit... so be prepared for some tourism advertising, mixed with lots o' pics of the turkey sub to try to entice you.

*photos taken by Lincoln and Carina

Blue Moon... You Saw Me Standing Alone.............

Two weeks, folks. It's taken two measly weeks for my intrigue and elation with this place to turn into slobbering, sniffling homesickness and disdain. Well, not really disdain... cause I still really love it here... just mostly the homesick part. Many of you told me, "Oh yeah, you'll be fine until winter hits." Well, you severely overestimated my tender, little, wuss of a heart.

A small caveat; I'm PMSing and just started my post vacation diet... which means endorphin decrease + hormone increase + favorite thing in the whole wide world (food) decrease.... so don't be judgy.

Oh yeah, and I've also been feeling miffed this morning because I got out of bed all shivering and quivering and checked the weather... 56 degrees out. Not that bad for 6:30AM, right? Then I notice it says "feels like 42." WHAAAT?? How 'bout 56 degrees going ahead and feeling like 56 degrees. Thanks.

The truth is, there's really only one reason I'm feeling all blue and lonely today:

These beauties: My marme and daddy

And these beauties: My sister Meradith, hub Jason and their little beaut, Lucy

And these beauties: My sister Bethany and her 4 munchkins Ally, Elyza, Olivia and Isaiah... oh and Meradith... who is taking the place of Beth's mysterious hub, Walid... who has never been captured on camera...

And let's not forget my two brothers, Abe and Jesse, and their respective broods (Tiffany, Kinley, Cal, Ethan and Carson)... who have no decent full family pictures to speak of and therefore are remaining "unpictured" as punishment for not being better picture takers. Don't screw with me.

I guess that's more than one reason... but that doesn't change the fact that they are to blame for my feeling so disenchanted. Come to think of it, it was most likely the phone call I got from my two sissys, laughing and cackling away together, that really sent me over the edge. The reality is, I will never really love a place unless it comes fully equipped with all the bells and whistles.... my fam.

********

In the mean time....

We have been doing all sorts of really cool and exciting things. More on that later....

A Night to Remember...

So... I had a "you're in a new place with lots o' weirdos" experience the other night. Not that I'm not used to it... I've been living in San Francisco for the last 3+ years. And by San Francisco, I mean Weirdo Mecca. BUT, this was my first intro to the Chicago brand of weirdo. And it came in the form of the cable guy.

To start, Sam was off at a friends house watching BYU get spanked so I was all alone. Which makes having a strange man in your house especially invigorating. I knew I was in for a treat when I got a frantic call from an unknown number:

***I'm typing this in my very best eastern European accent, so read it like that***

Ahem...

Cable Guy (CG): Ummm... miss Vanessa? I can't find parking ANYWHERE! (stream of expletives) YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! I'M GONNA WRECK MISS VANESSA! OH (expletive) I'M GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN A ONE WAY STREET! (honking) YOU GOTTA FIND ME A PARKING SPOT!

Me (trembling in fear): Uhh, ok, let me go to a window and see if I can see a spot.

I lead him to a spot pretty much directly in front of our building.

CG: Oh man I am such an (expletive)! You are my SAVIOR Vanessa! I'm so stressed out. Today has been a very very bitter day.

At this point I was super excited to hang out with this guy, so I said a quick prayer that I'd know not to let him in if he was gonna kill me, and opened the door.

The first thing he proceeded to do was snoop around in the kitchen. I was surprised, but I thought for sure there was a cable related purpose to his snooping so I didn't intervene. When he emerged, he shouted in a whisper that he needed a soda and asked if I had any. I got him a drink and he stood there in the middle of my living room, head thrown back, guzzling like a drunk, gasping and smacking his lips in satisfaction after each swig.

He busied himself with the cable wires, etc. in a very dramatic, frustrated fashion, peppering his expletives and grunts with small talk about his life growing up in Serbia and his transition to the States. He asked me where I was from and I immediately regretted telling him I had just come from San Fran. This sent him off on a tirade about homosexuals. He shook his fist in the air and told me, "If you try to be gay in my country, my people will bloody you!!" Then he asked if I was gay...

Don't you worry, there's more. My very FAVE part....

Just before my Serbian Stallion was about to leave, he told me he wanted to run one more test on the cable outlet, which was located in one of the coat closets. I sat back, anxious for him to be done. He disappeared into the closet and reappeared suddenly in the doorway, arms clasped and stretched out in front of him in a Charlie's Angels pose, pointing his power drill at me like a gun. I gasped and wet my drawers.... he threw his head back IN LAUGHTER and gave the drill two revs to show me what it was. Even now, as I type this, my heart is pounding out of my chest remembering the feeling that washed over me when I thought this maniac had a gun.

Needless to say, I was a bit jumpy and a little irrational for the rest of the night. I checked on Leah like 10 times.... I called Sam and witched him out for not being more protective and allowing the cable to be installed when he wouldn't be home.... pretty standard post think-you're-gonna-get-shot-or-at-best-maimed behavior.

Now that it's over and I'm past the trauma of it all, I'm probably gonna get myself a power drill and pull that little prank on some of you. It was a pretty good joke.

THE END