In Cold Water

I know you guys are anxiously awaiting an appliance and car update. Because those are the sorts of fascinating news bits you turn here to read. But this sort of lame topic really does warrant a post because it's all just so funny? Annoying? Bizarre? All of the above?

First of all, washing machine has worked fine since fluke no-spin incident. Great!

Then, Alan and I go out to jump the car after it wouldn't start. Guess what? It started without a jump. Then today? Wouldn't.

Then? Alan takes a shower in the morning. No hot water. I take a shower later? Toasty and near scalding, just like I like it.

I guess it's good that things aren't just falling apart. I guess I'd rather have a breakdown preview than an all-out fail. But still. Very, very annoying.

Sunny side? At least it's raining!

You Spin Me Right Round

Last weekend I went downstairs to move a blanket from the washer to the dryer. And although the cycle had finished, the blanket was still soaking wet. I tried to run a spin cycle, to no avail. And of course it was also raining cats and dogs, so hanging the blanket out to dry was out of the question. I called Alan to the rescue, and he helped me ring out what is apparently the most absorbent blanket on the planet, so that the dryer would have a prayer of getting it dry in less than five hours.

The blanket was really heavy, so I thought maybe it was just a fluke, the washing machine hated the blanket and wanted to throw a hissy fit. So I tried another load, this one with just two hand towels. Same problem. Fills up, agitates, no spinning action to drain properly. I call the GE repair man and out he comes to check out the washing machine, which we bought from the homeowners—out of pocket—just over two months ago.

The very nice GE guy shows up and cannot replicate the problem. Spinning action like crazy! Hands me nearly dried hand towels as proof. So I pay the man his fee. Sucky, but less than it would have cost had we run out to buy a new washer and dryer. (Which I so wanted to do! But, no job! Baby on the way! No unnecessary washer and dryer purchases!) And lo and behold, I've done laundry all day since he left and it's been FINE. Figures. Now I'm the girl who cried, "Washer won't spin!"

So after that aggravation, I go on about my day and prepare to go to the grocery store. Side note: One of the things I love about unemployment is going to the grocery store during the weekday. Out here, this is a major deal. On the weekends, grocery store parking lots fill up to capacity, there is no room to maneuver in the store, SO MANY PEOPLE...it basically makes an already miserable chore miserabler. But during the week? Peace. Space. Personal attention from the produce manager when you can't find the tofu. Awesomeness. So I go to leave and the car won't start. Gah! The world is against me!

But, as is the name of the blog, I have to look on the sunny side for the day. Bright spot: I went to the dentist after a three-year dental strike (I know I'm a terrible human) and I'm basically told my teeth rock, thankyouverymuch. He told me to floss more, sure, but I'm convinced that no amount of flossing would get them to refrain from giving that sage advice.

Other bright spot: I went to make cupcakes and noticed I appeared to be short on baking cups. Gah! World against me! Again! Because, you see, Alan only eats cupcakes. So, even though it's the same cake mix? It must be in cupcake form.* But I decide to count out the baking cups, just in case there are enough. And guess how many there were? A perfect 24, the exact amount needed. The cupcake stars aligned. A minor victory, but today, I'll take it.**


*I don't even notice the weird things I do for my dear lovable husband anymore...it's all just my normal routine now. I could have just made a cake. But then I'd have to eat it all myself, so it's worth it to myself and my waistline to make the cupcakes.

**It's not lost on me that the dentist tells me my teeth rock, and I make cupcakes. Sugar! Good for teeth!

If They Mated

"If They Mated" used to be one of my favorite segments on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. I thought it would be funny to take that same concept and do a similar Erin/Alan combination to see what our future child will look like, but unfortunately I'm not sufficiently talented in Photoshop to pull it off. But have no fear! Amazing technology is now at your fingertips at www.makemebabies.com! All I had to do was upload a picture of each of us and a few seconds later, I got a sneak peek at what our baby will look like.

If we have a boy...



Yes, it appears that our possible male "baby" will be approximately 3 years old and have a receding hairline. He obviously gets the receding hairline from me, as Alan's hair is covering his forehead in his picture, whereas mine is pulled back from my face. Male Baby will also have a full set of adult-sized teeth.

If we have a girl...
...she will look like a boy with a turban. Do turbans come standard with girls? Or will I need to hit Baby Turbans R Us?

The Stork Is on Its Way

As most of my loyal readers now know, Alan and I are expecting our first child in September. I supervised some of Alan's email announcements, so I apologize to any of you who thought we were having twins, triplets or octuplets, only to be informed that we've got a single bun in the oven. We are super excited about impending parenthood, although certain aspects of it are frightening, such as the sleepless nights, constant worry, and one little 10-cm measurement that I'm just ignoring for the moment and pushing far, far out of my mind.

I was bitten by the baby bug a whopping five years ago when this little guy came wriggling into the world. But babies weren't quite on the agenda at that point, as Alan and I hadn't even gotten married yet. Then we had to check a lot of pre-kids items off the to-do list, such as get a dog, travel, enjoy married life, and live somewhere that has more than 500 square feet. But then one day, we were ready. I think it might have been a day when we were talking about being really excited about going home and playing Scrabble on a Friday night and we were like, "We are so lame, we need to have kids to spice up our nights and weekends."

I found out I was pregnant just after Christmas. And although I must have peed on 20 pregnancy tests, it was really hard to believe that anything was really happening in there. Until I saw this, a little blob measuring 1.33 cm:
After that appointment at 8 weeks, Alan became a little more sympathetic to my complaints of gagging, constant hunger, and fatigue. The nausea really wasn't terrible, more of an acquaintance who would flit in and out of my life than a BFF that was by my side day in and day out. I'm not sure how I didn't gain 50 pounds in the first 10 weeks though, because I ate like a horse. Constant munching was the only thing that made me feel better, so that's what I did. "They" say you need only 100 extra calories or so in the first trimester. I must have had about 500 extra a day. Pumpkin muffins (at least five batches), Arby's roast beef sandwiches and Oreos were my friends. Also, Chipotle. So as long as I wasn't running on an empty stomach, I could stave away the gagging episodes. But empty stomach + water? Guaranteed gag city. Water is still bothering me, so I mostly stay hydrated on juice. (Pregnancy does weird things that I never would have believed before.)

So we had our 8-week blob picture, but things became much more real when this little human popped up on our ultrasound at almost 13 weeks.
And because we have a stubborn little baby who wouldn't cooperate during the ultrasound, we got to watch the best show on earth for about 20 minutes.
Even at just 7 cm or so, this little one is in there waving, stretching and reacting to pressure on my belly. It was the coolest thing I've ever experienced. At one point, he/she turned to face us straight on, and it was literally like a mini skeleton in there, dancing on Halloween. Alan and I couldn't pick our jaws up from off the ground. And although our doctor praised the accuracy of the high-tech ultrasound machines used at the hospital that gave us a September 10 due date, he, of course, refuses to budge from his original September 11 prediction. At least it's memorable.

Tune in next time for "If They Mated" style pictures of what our wee baby will look like. It's good stuff.

P.S. Yes, I did find out I was pregnant, lose my job and close on a house within 10 days. I like to do it up right.

Disaster Area

You know the adage "Things always get worse before they get better"? Alan and I are currently living that adage. To quite the grand effect. We've painted the entire upstairs of our house, including but not limited to three bedrooms, three ceilings, three closets, windows, door frames, trim, a hallway, and Marti. We've been in our house approximately six weeks, and have spent every weekend slaving away in some form. So the house? Parts are improving by leaps and bounds.

We've been slaving away hurriedly so that we could pull out old carpet and get glorious new carpet installed. And because the hardwoods are in disrepair and the carpet was nasty, we wanted to do it as quickly as possible and be done with it. Carpet was supposed to get installed today, except that I heard "22nd" when the installers scheduled the "27th." I rescheduled for tomorrow, but this delay allows us a critical bonus day wherein we will do some touch-ups without worrying about marring the carpet. We've also moved everything downstairs, so it also means one more night of camping in our den and a couple more days living with THIS:

And this:

You'll recall that while we were living in a state of disarray before, it was nothing compared to the squalor of today. I can't wait to have my shoes in the closet where they belong, paint cans in the basement, and carpet I can squish my toes in.

But as of tomorrow (and the days it takes us to settle in upstairs), we will be finished with our first set of updates and will be able to take a breath. The only day we have officially taken off from the house was when we went car shopping. Which reminds me. For those of you waiting for an update on the shady car dealer: Yes, I have gotten my $300 back. I earned every cent of it, too. After calling and calling, my friend John assured me that the money would be sent, and I quote: "Not this Friday but the next Friday."

So when the Wednesday after that Friday came around without a check, I left a message for my friend John. And wrote him an email. I gave him 24 hours to respond. When he didn't respond by Thursday (which also came and went with no check), I pulled the manager card when I called. A lovely gentleman assured me he would look into things and guaranteed I'd get a call the next day. Sure enough, my friend John called the next morning, a week after the check should have been mailed. He apologized for any "confusion." He "didn't remember" telling me that it would mail Friday. Apparently it was supposed to magically appear somehow, someway, in my possession without any effort on his part. It was sitting in front of him though, so I could come pick it up from the receptionist.

So I did. Date on the check? The very day I picked it up. Meaning that it was only after enormous hassling from me that the check even got written. It actually surprises me when obvious stereotypes like "shady car dealer" turn out to be so right.

The remote starter though? Awesome.

Winter Wonderland

I won't pretend that we're snowed in to the degree of Washington, D.C., but 16 inches is a lot of snow, no matter how you slice it.

Alan woke up yesterday to an office closure, so he got a snow day. And it was really a day filled with snow, as we shoveled the driveway and sidewalks three times just to try to keep up. Our backs are feeling every inch of that 16 inches today.*

This is my second pass on the porch, after initially clearing the whole thing of at least 6 inches.


And because the snow would swallow Marti otherwise, I cleared a path for her outside.


Marti says "WTF?"

She's so tempted to go into No Pug's Land, but she's restraining herself. She's gotten swallowed too many times when it was slightly shallower to brave it again quite yet.

Still loving home ownership? You bet!

*I measured 16 after shoveling Marti's path. It was still snowing, so it could very well be more than that.

Adjusting to Housewife-dom

I'm coming up on a month of being unemployed. Contrary to what you might imagine, I'm keeping myself quite busy as a stay-at-home wife and pug mom. I never eat bonbons nor do I turn on the TV. How do I pass my days? So glad you asked!

• I have FBG, of course, which takes up a good chunk of my time and keeps my professional skillz sharp.

• Applying for jobs so I can remain gainfully unemployed. I have to prove that I'm looking for work, so I have to keep track of where I send my resumes and the result. The results so far? No one is banging down my door, but I expect that soon.

• Calling the trash company when they decided to skip our house. Twice. It was attributed to laziness. At least they're honest.

• Painting, spackling, cleaning, cooking. It makes Alan and I feel like we've stepped back in time when he comes home and dinner is ready. Granted, I did most of the cooking before I was unemployed, but now that it's all I have to do, there is definitely a 50s-housewife dynamic that wasn't there before. Next thing you know I'll start using rollers in my hair.
  

• Dealing with conniving car dealers. Seeing as how the Saturn now has 155,000 miles on it (God bless her), we decided now was the time to go ahead and get a second vehicle. We've been a one-car family since we moved to California in 2007, so I feel very spoiled having the Saturn during the day (the Saturn, a luxury). Except that the Saturn has been in the shop since Saturday. But we've got to keep her purring; I'll be damned if she decides to keel over on me now, leaving us in the same one-car boat.

  But I digress. The point of this bullet is that car dealers are thieves! After a Shady McShade-a-lot experience at one dealership—in which Alan pulled out one-liners that made me both proud to have picked him and want to make out with him on the spot—we had a wonderful buying experience at the next dealership. Until we got home and the numbers weren't matching up. We'd opted for a remote starter for the car, a pricey little bonus, but one that would make morning commutes just a littler toastier a little more quickly. Except for the fact that Mr. Finance failed to tell us about a hefty little $300 install fee on top of the price. He'd even written down the cost of the equipment when he was trying to upsell us, NEVER mentioning this $300. So furious am I about the blatant deception that I am still "working it out" with him. I think he thinks I'll give up. LITTLE DOES HE KNOW I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH MY TIME.