Which is Funnier?

Dave has always had a problem with commercials on TV and not what you'd think. Basically he doesn't understand the message behind most of them.  Most of the time he doesn't understand who the intended audience for a commerical is and usually assumes (wrong) it's for him.  So he criticizes commericals for kids saying that what they're selling isn't fun.  Or that the commercial for a phone tells him everything he can do with it except make phone calls.  But tonight he cracked me up.  Up came a commercial for a bra and the voice-over said, "How do you know you're wearing the right bra?"

Dave: Cause it lifts my boobs up?

Me: Stop. 

Dave: What?

Me: It's not for you. i know you have a hard time knowing which comericals are for you but I promise you the commerical for the bra is not for you.

Pretty funny?  Or is it funny that this episode took place while watching Legally Blonde.  That Dave put on and is very engrossed in.

Sometimes I don't know what to do with him.

Bad Influence

I've never crashed a party before I met Cindy.  You may remember the time Dave and I crashed a wedding because Cindy wanted more friends there.  Well, on Saturday I was sharing with her that I had no plans for Sunday because Dave and his friends were making a pilgrimage to their temple, the Harpoon Brewery in Vermont.

Cindy: I'm going to a baby shower tomorrow if you want to come crash it.

Me: A wedding is one thing, I'm not going to crash a baby shower.

Cindy: It's Dawn's (her coworker who I know).  She won't mind.

Me: I wonder if I have a gift...

Cindy: It's from noon to three.  Let me know if you want to come.

So I went home, noticed that I did in fact have an appropriate baby shower gift in my stock of "gifts I buy because they are cheap and I might need them in case I have to crash a major life event or forget someone's birthday" and also remembered that I had some extra yarn left over from a recently completely baby gift (that I actually was invited to the shower for) and a pattern to make up a quick baby hat.  Game on.

I texted Cindy to find out what time I needed to meet her.  Then she asked me if I had any extra baked goodies stockpiled in the freezer because she and Dawn were remembering some of my yummy treats and she knew Dawn would appreciate something.  Except I didn't have anything made.  I asked Cindy if it was potluck, because if so I would definitely bring something.  She said it was potluck, but I didn't need to make anything because I was her guest and she had it covered. Like that would stop me, I set about to find a yummy treat to make for the party.

Which I did.

And I crocheted a newborn hat.

And I wrapped it with the gift (a book and toy).

Crap, I need a card.

So Sunday morning when I arrived at Cindy's to go to the shower, she laughed at me because while I had an appropriate card and gift (wrapped in appropriate paper) and I made a baby hat and dessert even though I'd just been "invited" the day before (unbeknownst to Dawn), she on the other hand went to wrap her gift and found out she did not have appropriate wrapping paper.  Or a card.  She ended up having to use part plain Christmas wrapping, a gift bag with realistic fish on it and a "Thinking of You" card.  And she lost the recipe for the side dish she made, so she went purely on memory and was hoping it didn't suck (it didn't).  It was comical.

The shower was lovely and Dawn was happy to see me there (and not at all offended that I came without an invitation).  And she loved the dessert I made, which was probably the most important reason she wasn't offended. 

So now I've crashed a wedding and a baby shower of two of Cindy's coworkers.  Her other coworkers better consider what life events they have coming up because I'll probably be there too.

What Would He Do Without Me?

Actual conversation Dave and I had before falling asleep last night:

Dave: I have to stop at the grocery store tomorrow after I drop you off at the train station.

Me: Why?

Dave: We don't have any milk.

Me: Yes we do.

Dave: No, I used the last of it this morning.

Me: No, I bought another half gallon last night. I put it in the fridge behind the mostly used bottle.

Dave: Really?


Me: Yes.  You were in the grocery store with me.  You watched me scan it. You put it in the bag.  And I'm pretty sure you watched me put it in the fridge when we got home.

Dave: Really?

Me: Do you want to take a field trip to the fridge and look for it?

Dave: No, I believe you.  It's just that I didn't know we had any more so I didn't have any for my smoothie today.

Me: So what did you make your smoothie with then?  Light cream or almond milk?


Dave: We have those in the fridge?

Me: Oh my God.  How do you not notice these things?

Dave: I don't know!

I'm not exactly sure how we got on the subject, but a few minutes later Dave was talking about the spatulas we have (I have like 20 spatulas of different size, shape and material) and said he wished the back of them were flexible, but they're all stiff.

Me: I have ones that are flexible on the back/top side.

Dave: Really?

Me: Yes.  Why do you think I have so many?

Dave: I don't know.  I never saw one like that.

Me: Yup, there's a blue one with a metal handle in the second little pocket in the drawer.

Dave: Huh.

Me: It never occurred to you to actually look for what you wanted when you know I have spatulas in nearly every flavor.

Dave: No.

Me: Are you sure you don't want to take a field trip to the kitchen?

Dave: No, I believe you.

And then, mere minutes later after discussing the spices Dave used to make our dinner last night, he was commenting about the adjustable measuring spoon he used to measure out all the spices.

Dave: Yeah, I love that thing.   I only have to use one tool instead of a bunch.  I had a hard time with the 1/2 teaspoons and 1/4 teaspoons though. I wish that thing did partial teaspoons.

Me: You know we have two of those right? One that does partial tablespoons and one that does partial teaspoons.

Dave: No.

Me: Yup.  It lives in the drawer directly underneath the one you used.

Dave: Really?

Me: Seriously, how do you not see these things?

Dave: I don't know they're there!

Me: What the hell is wrong with you?

Dave: I don't know!

Me: Do you want to take a field trip to the kitchen now?

Dave: Yes.

So that's how I ended up out of my bed and in the kitchen about an hour after bedtime to show my husband the contents of our fridge and drawers.    Something's wrong with that guy.  And before we finally fell asleep, I told him, "I'm totally blogging this."

It's Funny Cause It's True

Last week GQ announced that of 38 ranked US cities, Boston came out on top as the Worst-Dressed Place in America.  Which of course got a lot of cranky Bostonians mad.  My favorite part about the article is calling out the women of the area, reminding them that leggings aren't pants.  I think I've heard that before.  Is someone at GQ reading my blog?  Probably not.  It's just the prominence of leggings that's the problem.

Full story here, but this is the bit about Boston, from MSN Lifestyle/GQ, complete with photo of Boston frat boys who won't know why them being exciting about being #1 is funny:

1. Boston

Boston is like America's Bad-Taste Storm Sewer: all the worst fashion ideas from across the country flow there, stagnate, and putrefy. To be fair, it's hard to be a fashion capital when half of your population is made up of undergraduate hoodie monsters, including those unfortunate coeds who don't realize that leggings-as-pants were supposed to be paired with tops large enough to conceal their cameltoes. Yet when they graduate, they can wear their Uggs and still fit in at the country's largest frat party on Lansdowne behind Fenway, where they can take breaks between body shots to admire just how long boot-cut jeans can stay in style in one place. And any classy lady from Beantown is bound to be impressed by formal sportswear. "But Boston is the epicenter of prep style!," you say? That's true, but it's with a little extra that ends up ruining everything: Khakis!—with pleats. Boat shoes!—with socks. Knit ties!—actually, no one in Boston seems to have ever seen one of these. For the more proletarian-minded, there are the modest little burgs of Cambridge and Somerville, where everyone dresses like the proprietor of his or her very own meth lab. If you wonder how a people can live like this, well, it's Jurassic Park for fashion troglodytes: life finds a way.—John B. Thompson

"She's Late"

When I flew to Raleigh-Durham to interview at School #2, the Dean I was interviewing with drove me to and from the airport.  I'd received my flight information and schedule for the interviews and noticed that my last interview ended at 5:00 pm and my flight was scheduled to leave at 6:50 pm.  It's approximately a 20 minute ride from School #2 to the airport, but since I'm a paranoid traveler and like to not be that chick that gets on the plane just as the doors are about to close I was a little concerned with this time table.

The Dean and I ended our interview at 5:05 pm and walked back to his office so he could gather his things before we headed to the airport.  Upon entering the office suite, the assistant commented that we'd better get on the road ASAP because news reports were that the highway was backed up, but not sure in which direction.  Moments later another assistant alerted us that the back ups were in the opposite direction, but not wanting to hit any additional delays, we headed out immediately.

There is about a 3 mile stretch between the school and the highway with the traffic that normally wouldn't be too backed up, even with rush hour traffic.

Unfortunately this wasn't a normal day.

We crawled slowly for nearly the entire 3 miles, taking approximately 45 minutes to go that far.  I'm desperately trying to stay calm, cool and collected because the Dean is freaking out enough for the both of us.  I figured this was an extension of the interview and I would show calm under pressure.  While inching through traffic, the Dean called the assistant, the other Dean and his wife to a) try to find out what the traffic problem was; and b) see if he could get someone to start looking at later flights to Boston.

Eventually we spotted some emergency lights, although we couldn't tell what the issue was.  We finally arrived at the last intersection before the on-ramp to the highway only to find the two lanes of traffic were being funneled into basically half a lane and the soft shoulder dividing the road.  Had I not been in the car with a potential employer, I totally would have taken pictures of what I saw next: an SUV facing the wrong direction, a bumper and a boat.

None of these things were attached to each other anymore.

From what I could tell no one was injured, which is good. Because the spectacle of seeing all of that detached from itself was pretty crazy.  Although I couldn't enjoy it for too long (interviewing and all) and the next thing I know the Dean has the pedal to the metal and we're doing like 80+ on the highway.  And my flight is scheduled to leave in 45 minutes.  He's frantically apologizing and giving me a game plan of how I need to run to the kiosk to check in, but the kiosk won't let you check in if you're within 30 minutes of your flight, and then I should push myself through security and he'll drop me off and then park and come in and I should call him as soon as I get through security to see if I will make the flight because if not then he'll stay and help me find another flight.

All the while I'm just exuding calm on the outside, even though in my head I'm freaking out thinking, "I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO GO HOME TONIGHT.  And I really want to take these heels off."

He pulls up to the terminal and I get out, grab my bag, say a terrible good bye for an interview, but given the circumstances I have 34 minutes to make my flight!

I run inside and luckily am able to check in on the kiosk.  In line for the first part of security (the check your ID against your boarding pass stage), I kick off my heels, open my bag and frantically search for my flats, which I find and begin feel better.  Once through security stage one, I head to the screening line (security stage 2) where I finally get a chance to turn on my phone and call Dave.  Since I had all of my jewelry off and forgot to look at the time before I dialed Dave, I now had know idea what time it was.

Me: Hi, I'm in line for security because I just got to the airport because I was in traffic hell.  I hope I'll be able to get on the plane.

Dave: Uh, ok.

Me: I'll call you if I miss the flight.  If you don't hear from me, assume I got on the plane and come pick me up as scheduled.

Dave: What time are you supposed to land again?

(I'll stop here. Seriously?)

So I hang up with Dave and the sweet couple in front of me offer to let me go in front of them since I'm in a rush.  (People in the South are so nice.)  I thanked them profusely and dropped my belongings all into one of those grey bins for the scanners.  My carry-on bag, my purse, my suit jacket and my shoes.  There is a family in front of me with 4 kids and they are little so they are having trouble getting their attention to go through the metal detectors.  Then it's my turn.  But I can't go in the regular metal detector.  I have to use the body scanner.  (Probably because the TSA agent thought I was hot and just wanted to get a naked photo of me.  Did I mention I left my rights outside the airport? /vent)  So of course that takes longer. 

When they finally clear me through security, a fleeting thought goes through my mind to just take the whole bin and run to the gate.  But I don't.  Instead, I throw my carry-on over my shoulder, grab my purse, jacket and shoes and just start running.  No, the shoes never made it to my feet.  I barely had time to look and make sure I was headed toward the right gate and thank you RDU for putting the gates in order from smallest to largest, unlike other airports I've been through (since it turns out my gate was 7).

As I'm running through the airport, I pass a couple headed in the opposite direction.  The woman turns to the man and says, "She's late," in a real sarcastic tone, but also amused so it didn't make me want to stop and punch her and say, "No, I'm not late, I just like to run around airports without shoes on because I'm crazy."

I get to my gate and the gate attendant is just beginning to board the first batch of people.  I catch my breath, put on my shoes, and pant ask the attendant, "Excuse me, do I have time to run to the ladies room?"

I do (yay!) but because I'm paranoid, I don't stop to get a soda and am terribly parched from interviewing for 5 hours, sitting in a car in traffic in the sun for a hour and 15 minutes and running through the airport (barefoot).

But I got on the plane on time. 

Wanted: Phone Calls with Happy News

I've been holding out on you.

Sorry about that. 

As you know, Dave has been out of work for about 18 months.  By and large, that time has not been terribly stressful and we've been able to get by and be happy and live our lives.  But since April, life has been a little chaotic and stressful and we've been living for the phone to ring and give us good news.

In a little over two week time-span between April and May, Dave had interviews for 3 different company's.  One (his third choice position) turned him down, but he was one of the top three candidates.  Another he never heard from again.  And the other company, well, we're really hoping for some good news.  Today.  Seriously, Dave spoke with the HR director yesterday and was told they should have an answer today.  It's been a long process, but a good one because they are legitimately interested in Dave and his skills and are actually trying to create a position for him.

Oh, and the job is in North Carolina.

Are you understanding the stress yet? 

Trying to be proactive and helpful, I started applying to jobs in North Carolina as well.  And I got an interview.  It was quite fortuitous that when we traveled to North Carolina for my cousin's graduation party, Dave had a follow up interview with this company and I was asked to interview with a school down there.  We seriously could not get over how well things were falling into place.

As Dave tried to learn more about the status of his position and I waited to hear back from School #1, I was contacted for an interview with School #2.  So I scheduled the interview.  And we put our house on the market.  (It's quite the puzzle.)  Then School #1 offered me the job.  I told them I needed to see through my interview with School #2, and they were respectful of that.  I went on my interview to School #2, felt really confident about it and told them I have an offer on the table and would need to know soon.  They were positive in the reply and said I should learn more last Friday.

But I didn't hear from them.

So clearly, the weekend was stressful with the wondering and the waiting.

As was yesterday.

School #1 called and wants to know my final answer.  I'm afraid I have to turn them down, even without hearing from School #2 because the offer is quite low and there is no room to negotiate up.  And School #2 is a better opportunity and can offer me significantly more.  Assuming they offer it to me. 

So this is my wish list:

• For Dave to get a call offering him the position he's been looking for. The company is a great match and this would really help him make the transition into the work he really wants to do.
• For me to get a call from School #2 offering me the position at a reasonable salary so we can relocate without too much heartache.
• For our realtor to call and tell us someone wants to buy our house, preferably for our asking price (or at least not that much lower).

It's not a lot, really.

Thank you to all of our family and friends who have been supportive of this process.  It was something we kept to ourselves and our families while we moved from exploration to uncertainty to this is exactly what we want and need to do to move on with our lives.  It hasn't been easy and the questions from people have been stressful and hard to answer, so we appreciate your patience.  And we promise that as soon as we have the good news, we'll share it with you all.

I honestly never thought that Dave would be interested in relocation, but this is absolutely the best move for us.  Dave's exhausted all of the options for his career in this area and in order for him to be able to do what he wants to do, we need to be in a growing area.  I'm lucky that I can do what I do anywhere there are colleges and am thrilled that I've been able to even interview so quickly.  As sad as we are about the idea of leaving our friends up here, we are very excited about being so close to my family (and other friends).  It's a big step we've been considering for a little over a year and now that it's so close to becoming reality, we know it's the best thing for us.

Thank you for your continued support.  It means a lot to us to know that people want us to be happy.

Fireworks, Bikes and Turtles

That's an awesome interesting combination.  But it's how Dave and I spent our holiday weekend.  Saturday morning we biked from our house to a nearby park and found a blueberry batch where we picked a bunch of sweet wild blueberries which I turned into pancakes.  They were delicious (the blueberries and the pancakes).

Saturday evening, we went with our friends Cindy and Keith, and Cindy's son Jake, to the fireworks display in Ayer, MA, not far from our town.  Fireworks were set up in the park and vendors lined the perimeter of the baseball field.  We set up our blanket and chairs just a few feet from the snow fence barricade between the field and the fireworks. 

Ever the prepared couple, Dave and I brought snacks, including S'mores paraphernalia, which we toasted over a small can of sterno Dave found in our camping equipment.  We received a lot of jealous looks from passers-by.  They totally wanted in on our S'mores action.

Being from Pittsburgh and growing up with spectacular Zambelli fireworks, I'm very critical of fireworks displays.  But I was very impressed with the show we saw Saturday night.  It was over 20 minutes long and our seats were great.  We were so close that I actually ended up getting out of my chair and lying on the blanket because I was craning my next so much. 

I took a little video and was pretty happy with my camera.  Apparently though, the rapid-fire grand finale caused a little glitch in the recording.

Sunday night we decided to take a drive one town over and check out their fireworks.  We got a great parking spot and laid out the blanket in the grass behind the Jeep, playing cards until it got dark.  Unfortunately although they advertised the show to begin at 9 pm, they didn't start until 10 pm.  Which was mildly annoying because for that hour, every random person who fired off something from their backyard had the whole crowd confused about whether that was the show or if they moved the location.

These fireworks were less exciting.  Shooting off one firework at a time was particularly painful, like they wanted to make the show last longer than it was supposed to by waiting for one firework to completely dissipate before firing the next.

Monday morning we met up with Cindy, Keith and Jake again, this time to ride our bikes on the Nashua River Rail Trail.  We've done this trail a few times, but never with our friends, so it was pretty fun.  The trail is about 14 miles long, and we did about 11 miles of it before turning around to come back.  At one point Dave was ahead of Cindy and I and he made an abrupt turnaround.  I looked down and there was a little turtle on the trail.  Cindy checked to see if he had gotten run over, but turns out he was ok. 

Cindy rescued him and put him back in the grass off the trail, trying to encourage him to get back in the nearby pond.  But before she put him down, he peed on her.  Maybe he was trying to get to the other side of the trail?  You know what's stinky?  Turtle pee.

Overall we had a great weekend spending time outside and enjoying the weather and time with our friends.  We usually do a big cookout at our house for the 4th, but with several friends being out of town, this was a fun alternative and a lot less work for me.