I'm Hattie and I'm not a PC

One rule I have given myself for internet posting whether that be blogging or facebooking is to not be negative. I feel a tangent brewing... The internet can be a mean place. It is really easy to say negative things on the internet when not having to answer for your comments. You can say whatever you want by posting anonymously. More often people will say really harsh things that they wouldn't normally say to a person's face. Recently I have been really irritated by people's political statements on facebook. If I want to read political commentary I'll visit sites that provide it. But when I'm on facebook wanting to leisurely peruse my homepage I hate when someone's status includes them spouting off on the latest controversy assuming they have all the facts (and that I agree with them). But this open forum is what attracts many to the whole idea of social networking, so I guess it's not up to me. KU was just upset during the tournament today and now it's all anyone is talking about on facebook whether that's MU fans "rubbing it in" or KU fans being defensive and rude in their own right. Can't we all just get along?

So anyway I try to not be negative if I can. I'm not saying I've never been rude or sarcastic, but I try not to be. With blogging I find a lot of people who write and joke at the expense of someone else. I'm turned off by sites that are based simply on critiquing from afar. (The Soup is obviously my TV exception to this though.)

Well I really need an exception tonight...

You see I had planned to post pictures tonight of our two visits this past week to Chuck E. Cheese (you heard me, two!). My young nieces were so excited to see themselves on the blog. And I was excited to show the faces of children joyful and jubilant at the site of lights, games, and an endearing robotic mouse. Imagine your delight at viewing said pictures. Well, not gonna happen. (Don't continue reading if you want to avoid my inarticulate rant of what went wrong.) Since I'm at my parents' house and don't have my USB cord to download pictures, I entrusted my little netbook's card reader slot to do the downloading. No iphoto on my PC obviously and my unfamiliarity with the Windows picture viewer meant I lost my downloaded pics. I couldn't try to download them a second time because when putting the plastic guard back into the card reader slot I put it in upside down and now it is jammed inside the slot. We have been a Mac household since I can remember. The only time I work on a PC is when I go to the computer lab at the library once every few months to update the financial software for my job. I recently purchased an inexpensive netbook for use when I travel. It took me a few days to relearn how to use Windows. Macs are so intuitive and if you haven't used a PC in a few years, you realize how unintuitive they are. I don't want to launch into a big Mac vs. PC debate here, or offend any loyal PC users, or claim that I am better or cooler because I'm a Mac person. I just want to vent that this post tonight sucks because I didn't have access to a Mac. So post failure, not my fault, but failure nonetheless. I'm sorry for wasting the time of anyone who actually read this far. Don't blame me, blame the PC.

Memory Lane

Sometimes over holidays and when family is in town, Daniel and I stay at our parents' houses. (Our parents live only a few doors down from each other...yes, I married the boy next door.) So tonight I will fall asleep in my husband's old bedroom where there are trophies still on the bookcase, pictures from high school filling all the frames, and a nightstand full of notes written from old middle school girlfriends. (We wondered if kids still write each other notes during class or if they just text instead. Also, rereading these notes is pretty hilarious, "Hey sexay, just writin u this note. I'm in art just being bored." Gotta love 7th grade admirers.)

I forget sometimes how well and for how long I've known Daniel. I forget about our friendship that began back in high school. I take for granted that we had all the same friends, went to the same games and parties. He just has always been present in my life since the time the important stuff started happening. I've been in his parents' house and in his bedroom so many times before as his friend, his girlfriend, and now his wife, that it's not weird or something I even think about. Until now I guess. Penny is asleep at the end of the bed and started dreaming. I could hear her high pitched little half asleep yip yip. And that made me look around the room and notice Toby as well. Here we are, our little family.

Back when I was sixteen I never would have pictured myself here in this house like this, but now I can't picture it any other way.

A Very French St. Patrick's Day

I had an unintentionally french St.Patrick's Day celebration. We went downtown for Kansas City's famous parade to enjoy all the festivities. The tax preparation company that always has people dressed up like Uncle Sam or the Statue of Liberty had a representative at the parade handing out Lady Liberty hats to go with the Paddy's theme. I of course exercised my patriotism by partaking in the American past time of the 'freebie'. Daniel quickly pointed out the irony that Lady Liberty was a gift from the french and though green, didn't quite fit into the Irish aesthetic of the day. Quite right, but any excuse to wear a foam headpiece is always an opportunity not to be missed. We waited for the start of the parade longer than we watched the actual parade. Though while scoping out a good stretch of sidewalk to spectate from, we literally brushed shoulders with everyone's favorite 6'8" KC mayor, the Funk. It was cold and dreery and we were all underdressed, so I promised evryone that after we saw something cool we could leave. The giant balloon of St. Patrick himself sufficed and after he floated by we hit the road. We headed over to the westside to enjoy crepes of all things. My friend Kristen made us aware of the new creperie right here in town; it's been a dream come true. So in keeping with the french theme on our Irish holiday, we thawed out inside the cafe while savoring our parisian delights. Not your traditional corned beef and hash and green beer, but we certainly enjoyed ourselves.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

My sister and nieces from Minnesota are in town for spring break. They are quite the hilarious trio...and my brother-in-law may not be here with them but he's quite the crack up as well. We've been entertaining ourselves with the little hand-held game 20 questions. Have you played this? The computer is about 95% accurate (in my experience) in coming up with what we were thinking of. The first time I played with my mom and the computer produced what she had been thinking of ("ice skate" if you were curious), I thought my mom was going to have a heart attack. She began devising conspiracy theories about how there must be some sort of hidden camera or microphone in the device spying on us in order to produce such answers.

This reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from my niece Katie (and there are many).While playing the original/all-human game of 20 questions on a roadtrip:
"Mom, what does baby start with?"
"B.""Okay I'm thinking of something that starts with the letter b and it's not baby."
"Is it baby?"
"Yeah."

Because I'm feeling generous I'll share this gem with you as well.
Katie while sitting on Daniel's lap over Christmas a few years ago:
"Do you smell toot (fart)?"
"Why did you toot?"
"Yeah."

It's stupid stuff like this that lightens me up. I can get stuck in my own head too often, take everything too seriously, over analyze, and worry myself sick. I need more silliness in my life to keep me grounded. Maybe I should have kids of my own or a better idea is to just track down old episodes of Bill Cosby hosting Kids Say the Darndest Things and borrow other peoples' kids for my amusement. It's certainly a more affordable and time saving option.

Is It Bad?

Is it bad when you realize your dog has peed on the clothes you're wearing?

Daniel took me out to dinner last night so I put on my little tuxedo jacket. On my way to meet him I thought I smelled something fishy in the car. I guess fishy isn't the right word, more urine-y. Toby has a terrible habit of peeing on anything we leave on the floor, frequently dirty laundry. Apparently this is his attempt at training us to pick up after ourselves. He has trained us well in picking up clutter. We are very tidy when it comes to most rooms of the house except for our bedroom. I think he wants us to do better about keeping up with the dirty laundry and punishes us when it overflows beyond the confines of the laundry basket. (This theory has been debunked however seeing as how he will also pee on a basket full of folded clean clothes if the basket is left on the floor. The truth is he just likes to mark anything and everything within the reach of his urine stream.)

So back to my story. While driving I carefully smelled the various articles of clothing I was wearing. Let me emphasize cautiously. I have crafted my technique after many times of shoving the arm pits of tee shirts to my nose to see if Daniel had worn them yet only to find that yes, yes indeed said shirt had made a visit to the gym. And there have been many occasions when pulling an article of clothing from the floor and smelling it to make sure it had not received the "Toby Touch" that I have been overzealous in my sniffing. Back to the story (again)...I reached for my coat on the seat: clean. Tank top: clean. Can't reach my jeans to smell up close which probably means they're clean as well. I don't smell anything on my jacket at first and so I wonder if he has "made his mark" somewhere inside of the car. And then reaching for the mirror to check my lip gloss it hits me, BAM urine! I'd been hit! My sleeve had been Toby-fied so I discarded my jacket and banished it to the backseat for the remainder of my drive. I had to put it back on when entering the restaurant because I was only wearing a tank underneath and the weather is still in the low 50's. Luckily the restaurant was warm enough to go sleeveless during the meal, but still you feel my pain right?

This is not the first time I have left the house before realizing my shirt had been peed on. Last summer before meeting our friends Brad and Sam, I met Daniel at Standard. After becoming aware of my problem I was able to score a shirt from Daniel's store as a replacement for our night out. Apparently getting peed on can have its perks.

I like to think that maybe Toby recognizes my clothing as a way to mark me as his territory without peeing on my actual person. Maybe he just wants the world to know that "I am his and he is mine". It's sweet really. I remember my old boss showing up to work one day not realizing he was sporting a spit-up stain on his shoulder. He had left the house not even noticing where his son had "marked" him that very morning. Maybe this is all just preparation for parenthood down the road. Toby is so thoughtful.

Is it Bad?

Is it bad when you take down your Christmas lights in March?

Want to know what I did yesterday, March 14th? That's right I took down our Christmas lights. So what it's almost St. Patrick's Day. I guess I'm just really spirited. My neighbors can't be too mad about it. It's not like I've been plugging them in and lighting them up still. I followed typical protocol and stopped using them January 1st. Below is a picture of me posing with them alongside our Christmas tree that is still waiting to be disposed of. So I may not win the Housewife of the Year award. There's always next year...or the year after if I get around to it.

Grab Life by the Lazer

I had an awesome night tonight with Daniel and some YL kids. It may sound stupid to a lot of people, but I did two things tonight that I would've never done a few years ago for fear of looking dumb or inadequate. The first: Lazer Tag. The second: Dancing.

I've never played Lazer Tag in my 28 years and though it doesn't seem like something that would strike fear in the hearts of many, it is something unknown. And for Hattie The Perfectionist, unknown is something we don't do. No, I must be prepared and practiced. I mean what if I suck at it? I can't let a bunch of high school kids see me look dumb. But for Hattie The Imperfect, Lazer Tag is awesome! I loved running around in black lights, strapped into my glowing vest, and toting a plastic gun. At 3 bucks a game we opted for 2 rounds of fun. By the second game I was really getting into it, falling down and acting out my wounds went "hit". We left sweaty and giggling, comparing stats from the specialized print outs they hand you before leaving. According to my stat sheet my performance was perfectly average. My enjoyment was off the charts.

Everyone came over to our house after Lazer Tag and we bought and played the Wii game "Just Dance". I love to dance when I'm feeling uninhibited enough to really enjoy myself. I've sat on the sidelines during many a wedding reception wishing I were brave enough to throw caution to the wind and bust a move. This video game could trigger anxiety for two reasons: first the whole room is watching during your turn and second you receive a score evaluating your dance ability. I was able to throw said caution to said wind and dance to Bust a Move and Fame. This too was awesome.

I'm proud of myself. It's nights like tonight where I'm glad I'm not missing out on opportunities for fun anymore because of fear. So here's to Lazer Tag and dancing. Small victories and a whole lotta fun.