Amateur Realizations

I just need to get a few things out there:

1. I started "pinning" last week and already have a love-hate relationship. While I realize the value of the site, I also realize the time-suck/waste factor. It is almost as confusing as that one time in high school where I was really good friends with a boy but we weren't boyfriend-girlfriend, but it kind of felt like it, but he had a girlfriend. Oy vey.

2. My child recently parroted me saying "shoot" and "heck." She also already loves TV. How do I know? She constantly brings us the iPad to pull up the PBS Kids app, cries if we turn off before she was done watching (she lets us know by ungluing her eyes and walking away), and knows when to clap and cheer for certain Sesame Street shorts. She also wreaks havoc in church every Sunday and I don't do anything to stop it. For example, she stands/plays peek-a-boo at the podium while someone teaches, helps play the piano during a hymn, and rummages through various purses. This last Sunday, she somehow got a dollar bill and wouldn't loosen her grip for anything - not for toys, or treats, or any other distraction. Basically, I'm failing at decent parenting. I have a disruptive, cursing, media-obsessed, kleptomaniac daughter. My over-achieving self now sits in a corner and cries while my lazy self continues to lounge on the couch and not care. It is like when I was in high school and in band and worked relatively hard and thought it was really cool, but I'm now realizing that it really wasn't. Should I care about that?

3. While I'm no Shakespeare, I never thought I was a terrible writer. However, after my last post, we were bombarded by questions of our safety and well-being. My husband just stared blankly at the kind soul asking if I was okay at the church trunk-or-treat. People, it was a METAPHOR. My life FELT like a car accident. Obviously, I'm really terrible at writing because even my wisest, most-respected friend asked me on our last phone about if I was in a car accident. It is like that one time while teaching Sunday School where I tried to make a joke and nobody laughed or understood and it was really quiet and I got really warm and it was super awkward and uncomfortable. But I've always thought I was kind of funny?

4. I feel awful for Holly Petraeus. This isn't necessarily a realization, but rather recognition and awareness. I just feel terrible for this woman.


And for your viewing pleasure, a few cute photos of C that aren't on Facebook or Instagram because they were sent to my by my awesome baby sitters:



Raking leaves with YaYa while mom works in a cubicle




Playing at the park with Auntie while mom works in a cubicle

 Don't worry, working in a cubicle is super fun, too.

Amateur Annie

Today was one of those days. Crazy and on-the-go from 7:30 AM to 7:30 PM.

But is that really any excuse?

Today was a day where I screwed up. I took a wrong turn at work and ended with a totaled car at home.

Today was one of those days where I wished I was Bill Murray on assignment in Pennsylvania to see if Punxsutawney Phil will see his shadow or not.

But I'm not Bill Murray, and as cool as it would be to have a career in weather forecasting, I don't do that either.

Today was October 22nd, not February 2nd.

I felt like I spent today day trying to weigh out the pros and cons of my decisions in order to determine the best course of action. But I really didn't. I didn't stand long enough at the scale. I didn't move the slider back and forth on the beam to find where a balance. I may have toyed with it for a bit, thought I was in the right area, but unfortunately I moved on before I could see if horizontal bar leveled out.

Today, I upset people and caused them strife with my poor choices. Today I felt regret as the scale tipped in the wrong direction.

Today, I crumbled while rocking my baby before bed in realization that I can't change anything. I did what I did and then I apologized; that's all I could do today.

But thankfully there is tomorrow. Tomorrow I will hope for forgiveness and learn from my mistakes. While I will continue to make choices that will affect others, I can change. Tomorrow, I will take time to be humble and thoughtful. Thankfully, I live a life where I always have a say in how my tomorrow goes.

And I say today that tomorrow will be a good day.

Amateur Part-timer

Signs I've started back at work (thankfully only half days):
- a lot of pony tails/messy buns and maybe a hair band if I'm feeling especially festive (let it be known that I'm still showering on a decently regular basis. No B.O. for this gal, I do have my limits).

- my watch is on upside down .

- overkill on the lipstick to detract from the bags and circles under my eyes.

- bad breath from forgetting to brush my teeth (and by forgetting I mean consciously spending the last two minutes before heading out with my sweet girl instead of at the sink. Priorities, people. Keep in mind I still brush at night and this does not happen daily; but it has happened at least once).

- pantry is sans bread, fridge sans eggs.

- a growing list of thank you cards to write.

- slight feelings of mom guilt - mostly because I actually enjoy my job. I like what I do and with whom I work. What makes this guilt bearable is the fact that our wonderful family watched Corinne. I sure do miss her those 5 hours I'm gone every day, but knowing that it is her Grammy and auntie who share her coos and smiles makes a world of difference for me.

- a lunch that consists mainly of easy-on-the-go snacks - granola bars, fruit leather, an apple, and maybe a yogurt. All things that I can grab in a second while rushing out the door.

- a shelf of liquid gold in the fridge and a dishwasher full of pump accessories.

- a mug/thermos of mother's milk lactation herbal tea on the counter.

Needless to say, it's been just two and a half weeks, but I think we are falling into some kind of rhythm. This thanksgiving, I'm grateful for a super flexible job and top-notch baby-sitters. Without the two, I'm positive my life would be a living hell.

Amateur Black Tie Event

Why don't I update? Because I get home from work and sit around eating bonbons while my husband makes dinner. I've only got nine months to milk the whole "I don't feel so good and I'm carrying your child" routine, people.

About a month ago, Scott and I were fortunately invited by my company to attend a  sweet gala at the Ritz downtown (doesn't that sound so fancy!?). It was a night to remember for many reasons:

First, we were NOT invited to the special pre-party VIP event at the art gallery next door. But did we get in? Heck yes, we did! We ran into the honoree of the night, the most humble guy on the block, and he walked us onto the red carpet and right in the door. We explained our situation to the sweet check-in ladies (after our escort left us), and they let us continue on inside. Once we meandered further inside, a random guy stopped us for some chit-chat. Little did three of the four us know, but he is the second-longest held POW (now the longest held still living) POW. I'm still kicking myself that we didn't take a picture with this guy.

We hung around for a bit with half of us sipping club soda, the other half some wine, and enjoyed the art and surrounding uniformed heroes. Once we decided to head into the silent auction, Scott stopped me and asked, "Don't you recognize that guy?"

"He does look familiar..."

"Journeyman!" (of course, we know him by a random one-season tv series, not by a hugely popular and  golden globe-winning series).

Yep, and we chickened out on getting our photograph with him (strike two!). Need I remind you this blog is about how we are amateurs? Anyway, for the record, I imagined him taller.

So we went to our real check-in point, where we picked up a locked iPod Touch for the silent auction (major cool factor points). We perused the various donated items: vintage baseball cards, weekend get-aways, wine, jewelry, art, cigars, etc. This will get more attention later.

Let's get to the good stuff: the food. Flat bread topped with veggies and cheese, sweet potatoes au gratin, and a steak filet where they didn't even give you a steak knife. That puppy melted like butter once your fork hit the meat. As for dessert, I know this may sound silly, but the vanilla ice cream that accompanied our chocolate souffle was to die for. It had the consistency of the perfect home-made ice cream and just the right amount of real vanilla bean specks and cream. Excuse me while I dab the drool just recalling it.

As the evening wore on, the end of the silent auction closed in. At the last minute, Scott put a bid in for some cheap Orioles tickets (let's just say most items there had a starting bid waaaay out of our young family's budget), because in his words, "someone needs to at least put in a bid for the home team." Of course, someone immediately outbid him, and then his competitive drive kicked in. Thankfully that only happened once and we won! Pretty exciting stuff. Also, unbeknownst to me, he bid on a Morton's gift certificate and also won that. All for a good cause, too. Does it get much better than that?

Here comes strike three for the night: when I go to pay for our items, the poor volunteer couldn't work the credit card machine. Unfortunately for him, he had a very rude donator putting on the pressure (which I don't understand... if you're going to give thousands of dollars to a charity, wouldn't you be nice about it?). The poor guy was so flustered that he stapled my list of items to Mr. Grouchy Pants' receipts. I tired lightening the mood when he asked me when I was due by responding that I REEEEALLY enjoyed dinner. That was fun.

Once I finally made it back to our table, Scott asked a little while later if I had the tickets. Doh! A swing and a miss. So when I found where I could pick our goodies, only one envelope remained of O's tickets - an envelope for  four club seats (instead of two), food, parking, the works! Needless to say, those were NOT our tickets. I felt terrible, but the volunteers just said to take them - they offered to find the real owners, but made it sound very difficult and inconvenient. Who cares that the game is 10 days before my due date, anyway?

Most importantly, I must emphasize that we spent a majority of the evening honoring some pretty amazing people in our military: the medical staff. Those men and women do some amazing things for wounded service people. We saw unbelievable documentary clips, heard great speeches, and found great appreciation for what these people do.

While we left that night sans photo-ops with super stars, we did leave with sweet baseball tickets, full tummies, and warm hearts. 

*All photos were taken by the event photographers

Amateur Professional II

Early December found me in San Francisco for a work conference. This is what we first saw once we got off of the BART from the airport and to the hotel:

 Yep, that is a random old white lady with a middle-aged black guy getting down to some Motown blasting from a portable stereo. Awesome? Yes. Did the cops have to bust it up? Unfortunately. But seriously, we walk up from the BART station, hear some funky jams, and see this. Love it.

Day view from the hotel

 Once we checked in, we headed over to the conference expo, aka try win a free iPad at every booth. To be sure, there was a money grab booth, where I won a $10 gift card to Starbucks. Good times.

Evening view from the room 

The next day was a lot of classes, etc., etc. But that night - we were front and center for a Stevie Wonder concert, follow-up with a dance party deejayed by Will.I.Am. I have some sweet Stevie pics on the point-and-shoot that I can't find right now. But here's some video of the DJ in action:

The next night was not a dance party, but a speech and interview from former President Bill Clinton. This guy's mind runs a mile a minute. It was pretty awesome.

The next morning I picked up the Flip video camera I won (woohoo!) and stayed through the weekend with my dear, old friend and former college roommate and her husband. That's coming next!

Amateur Pet Owner

Meet my two newest co-workers:

P-nut. He likes to chill.

M&M. He's swims around like there's no tomorrow.

P-nut and M&M.

How these two came about starts with a text I received while on my way to work Monday morning:

LD was our office's pet frog. A colleague brought him in from her home, where she didn't feel like keeping him around any more. We gladly accepted him. Daily, we fondly greeted, loved, conversed, and played with him. He was the first thing you saw on your in to work, and the last on your way out. He never had any thing mean to say, and would always meet your finger tapping on his tank. The perfect little buddy.

With only one little tiny hole for air, we would turn the top of his tank kitty corner (or catty corner, depending on your taste), to give him some more room to breathe. We usually closed it back up at night.

Usually.

Just this past Friday, I was one of the last ones out. In my excitement for the weekend, I totally let LD down. I ignored him, and didn't give him the proper goodbye. If only, then it wouldn't have been his last goodbye! Most importantly that fateful evening, I didn't close up the tank.

We found him between a plant and cubicle wall. Not able to look, a male peer took him to the nearby restroom in attempt to revive him under the faucet. To no avail, we heard the flush shortly thereafter.

We like to think happy thoughts of his demise, that he was trying to get to better places, perhaps to find a friend. We say to ourselves that he must have loved the taste of freedom. Unfortunately for him, that taste contained way more O then H2O. If only he knew, poor little guy.

I blame myself. I feel terrible. I'm a frog killer, people! I opened the door for LD; I was his Kevorkian, if you will. Oh, the shame!

So today, in remembrance of our dear friend, LD, we got a few juniors. This time we went for a pair, hoping they will be happier with a fellow frog around. We also got them a bigger tank (with more air holes - future crisis averted!) and some extra toys - some shells and a barrel with barnacles. I mean, who doesn't love colorful barnacles?

While we are excited for our new friends, they can never truly replace our LD.

You'll be missed, little guy.

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What was your favorite pet? Have you ever accidentally acquired the title of pet murderer? How did you deal with it? Along with my American Idol Anonymous group, I'm thinking a pet survivor support group might also be in order. Who's with me?

Amateur Barker Beauty

Not only do I have a special hat, I also now have a special skirt. Meet this 65% off beauty:

First, upon leaving the house this morning, Scott tells me that I "look really pretty today."

Then our VP said that I look really classy.

THEN one of our directors said I looked so graceful, I could be one of the models on The Price Is Right.

THE PRICE IS RIGHT, PEOPLE!

Can you imagine what kind of feedback I would get if I wore BOTH the hat AND the skirt?

Actually, it would probably not be good. They really don't match at all. Dang. But make no mistake about it, I am a force with which  to be reckoned!

IT Amateur

Today my computer got a virus at work. It wanted me to either buy Viagra or a sweet spy ware package at the low cost of $49.99. It wouldn't let me do any thing else. I had to call the IT elves of ARINC to whisk my work baby away to Santa's little computer workshop. My particular IT elf, Mike, wore the uniform (all black), but didn't have the typical IT elf physique: he had some sweet tats and the build of the jolly green giant. No scrawny little white guy in these parts, my friends. Mike was biker-turned-IT god. More power to him, I say.

Any way, I was without said computer for roughly five hours. For most of these five hours, all I could do was contemplate what the workplace of old entailed (and check my e-mail/facebook/reader/weather/news/word game on my phone; but that took all of 15 minutes. Dang.).

I know people worked in offices before computers; but what in the heck did these people do all day?!

Amateur Professional

Some days at work I keep busy with meetings, phone calls, and various e-mails. A little bit of everything, if you will. Other days, and thankfully not that often, almost half of my day is consumed with a PowerPoint slide (yes, just one). Yesterday, it was this:

Before:

After (blurred to protect super intense company secrets):

Did you know that a funnel chart template does not exist in Microsoft Office 2003? And that the one in Microsoft Office 2007 is useless? Somehow I managed to transform the above .jpeg into the beautiful slide you see before you. You know this is why they pay me the big bucks. By the way, if you ever find yourself in the same conundrum, let me know. For a small fee, I can hook you up with extreme funnel knowledge.

Go ahead, praise my awesome office skills.

So what were some of your small victories yesterday?