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 Ultrasound

On a Sunday afternoon in March, we* (*this is the collective we, meaning not just Scott and myself, rather the F A M I L Y - MIL, FIL, BIL, SIL - as a whole) discussed the logistics of the next day's big show.

"So, if it's a boy, we'll go to Five Guys... and if it is a girl, we'll go to... hmm... Q'doba." Burgers for a boy or chips and salsa for a girl? I can't say no to either, so I was good to go. This mode of information via surprise also ensured that no one had to make dinner on Monday, so we* were all for it.

Both Scott and I planned our work days to leave early and make it to the imaging center for their latest appointment. I'm pretty sure I drank 438290 ounces of water just to make sure my body was ready for picture day (oh, the vanity of wanting to constantly over achieve).

And then we waited.

And we waited some more.

For the love, this is getting a little anti-climatic already.

We finally met sweet Bonnie, our ultrasound technician, and I attempted to lie down (hey, lady - I've drank the weight of a baby elephant today and used the bathroom once this morning) and she told me to use the restroom and let out a little. "Count to two and stop," she said.

COUNT TO TWO?!

I take her offer of little relief and miraculously stopped the waterfall after two counts. This may be TMI, but it is my blog, so whatever. Let's just say that I'm also over achieving on my Kegel exercises.

I got back down on the table and what does she first point out? Nope, not a baby, but the giant black blob of my bladder. Holy guacamole, that thing was taking up any millimeter of free space. I think it was the size of Rhode Island. She took the proper measurements and then told me I was free to go relieve myself fully and come back for the second act. Woohoo!

So I get all goo-ed back up again and we start. Bonnie likes her clients (I say clients and not patients, you'll see why) to feel relaxed and comfy - dimmed lights, a soft playlist, a pink flamingo theme, electric candles. I kid you not, I felt like I should have gotten a massage. However, the room did not lend to your typical Hollywood set-up of husband and wife holding hands, watching the undecipherable screen. Scott sat on the other side of Bonnie and I craned my neck sideways to see the images. It was either that or my feet for a view. Oh well.

She shows us the feet, the spine, takes measurements, and comments on how busy the fetus is - it was cramped up all day to make way for my super-sized bladder and was ready to stretch out. I get it. I'd do somersaults, too, if I was stuffed in an amniotic-fluid box for hours.

After busting out some sweet break dancing moves and hearing the heart beat, the kid also decided to wave to us - a wave that looked like a one-fingered salute, that is (yep, that's ours, no doubt about it). Finally, it settled into child's pose (that's my little yogini!):

Unfortunately, the umbilical cord went right down the middle of the body, blocking ANY view of the gender determining factor. At first the little one moved too much for a view (and not just for us to know the gender - we also couldn't get a decent profile shot with all the movement and hand-waving near the face) and now it wouldn't budge after its dance party.

Awesome.

And totally my spiteful (independent?) child. Of course. Let the payback begin, mom and dad.

Sensing the verge of a huge emotional let down (me, broken hearted by disappointment that my expectations were not met?), Bonnie said she would keep our study open until tomorrow afternoon and that we could just pop in at the same time and we try again.

Gotta love Bonnie.

So we go back again, sans full bladder (whew!) the next day. We get all ready to go for the much anticipated to-be-continued and guess what our yoga master zenned out to that Tuesday? The butterfly:

See where the heels are? Well, you guessed it again - strike two.

Ugh.

Bonnie came to the rescue again, and told me to just give her a call directly to her "office" and pop in when we both had a break. I found a good time to stop by two weeks later (Scott gave up at this point and I don't blame him), and Bonnie's sure she found a winning shot. I had her seal it up in an envelope and took it home on my way to an evening work function.

By this time, no one really knew when we would find out (if ever). It wasn't on anyone's radar anymore, and I was to the point where being surprised was much more appealing than defeat.

On my way back from the work thing, Scott and I decided the best thing to do was pick up some take out for the collective we* (plans were already in place for us to eat over there that night, anyway).

I arrived at the compound (my in-laws home), with everyone hustling and bustling around: on the phone, on the computer, in the kitchen, in their room, studying, doing homework, etc. I placed the take out on the table and we all sat down (finally!) to pray. FIL asks me to say it.

Not one to be shy, mince words, or be patient, I found a way to thank my Heavenly Father for a successful ultrasound that day during the dinner prayer. Scott kicked me under the table and I could feel my MIL's mouth drop a bit. After quickly wrapping up the prayer, emotions ensued after saying "amen."

"I had no idea it was today!" "I can't believe you did that in a prayer." "Ok, I can't remember, what does this food mean again? I'm so lost!"



And so I sat with a foolish grin on my face and dug into some nachos.

Amateur Announcements

By now, I'm sure you've given up on me. First there's my sporadic posting, then you probably think I'm losing my ability to read, seeing as how I haven't reviewed a single book since October.

Well, I've been reading. To be sure, a lot of e-mails (does that count?), and I dutifully scour every month of Real Simple from cover-to-cover (thanks, Aunt Christy!). But I've slowly been making my way through this little gem since January:

No need to adjust your screen, folks. What you see is true - if all goes well, we plan on becoming a set of amateur parents come August.

Sometimes, I still can't believe it myself. Then I try to put on a pair of jeans and I'm quickly reminded of my dear, sweet, growing fetus.

We discovered the news the morning of Christmas Eve - could you really ask for a better gift? If you can, don't answer that; because I'm positive there's nothing more exciting, heart-warming, and fulfilling than those two lines (or plus sign or digital "pregnant," whichever the case may be). Of course, I had to buy two (or three) of each test and take one every other day to reconfirm. Me, worrisome? Never.

Needless to say, we are pretty excited and definitely nervous. Is anyone ever really ready for this step? Here goes nothing, I suppose.

So with all of the baby-prep reading and recent wearing of hand-me-down maternity clothes (thanks, Amanda!), we needed something more to complete our transition from a family of two to a family of three:

Thanks to Realtor Paul, the most awesome guy around, for the pic after our final walk-through, just before closing.

We now live the American dream (paying a mortgage) and are VERY amateur home owners. So, for what it is worth, I totally read a lot in February (we closed on the 28th), considering how much I signed my life away to Wells Fargo and made sure to insure our most recent pricey acquisition.

Another very exciting, however very nerve-wracking event for the books, my friends.

And just in case we want to paint one of our three bedrooms (come on over, visitors!) for our new arrival, I got in some decent practice last weekend with our basement and dining room (sneak peek of more to come, I promise):

Basement before and after:

Dining room before and after:

What says home ownership more than a few self-painted rooms? Maybe a little water from a recent rain storm in the basement, right? Got that covered, too. Thankfully, it wasn't a lot and all we need to do is fix the gutter. Insert a light (but not heavy, mind you - not there, yet) sigh of relief here.

As you can see, it has been a pretty crazy new year thus far for us - Scott started a new job on Jan 31st, We bought a house on February 28th, and we hope to find out the gender of our wee one March 28th. Add to that a couple of new church callings for us both and you've got yourself some fairly decent reasons for me not updating you all.

I know... excuses, excuses, right? But aren't they pretty decent ones?

Anyway, thanks for bearing with me if you're still checking up on us every once in a while. We sure do love you guys.

Amateur Insight

Today I realized that I am my own woman. I am me... the me now. Sure, I'm made of the me's of my past, but I can be whomever I want right now.

This oddly came from a random bout of wasting time on Facebook (I know, you never do that, right?). I had been thinking about reviewing my friends list to trim down to those who I actually consider a friend and would want to know about their life and realized that a fair number of my "friends" had (gasp!) de-friended me. What the what?! I mean, seriously, what did I do to them? Weren't we so close back in the day? Didn't they come to my high school graduation? Vacation together? Wedding? So what, we hadn't actually spoken in a few years. Big deal! I still want to hear that you're happy with your new girlfriend/fiancée/dog/job/house/child. Wouldn't you be happy to hear about mine?

Obviously not.

So, like anybody else with insecurity issues, I felt a tad down... as if I wasn't worthy to show up in a measly news feed. I guess you felt so compelled by our lack of friendship to keep your good news from me? Awesome.

Then I got a grip (a few hours later).

Who cares? Who cares about stinking Facebook? We have bigger fish to fry - like world hunger, the national budget, and an energy crisis.

Well, maybe you care, if you're still reading this, that is.

Anyway.

Looking at my "friends" list (yes, I use quotations there for a reason), I realized that I have great friends now. I look at the pictures on my desk and see my husband's cousins from Christmas. I remembered that I have many, MANY family members with whom I need to build a relationship. I have a job with great co-workers, a church family, and a handful of die-hards from grade school and college. There are friends from the places I've lived: Chesapeake, Seattle, Yorktown, Provo, and now Maryland. And these people are now all over the place! I love these dear friends. I also love my family. Who needs a list of over 300 "friends" to tell me that I have people in my life that I love and they love me too? Who needs a list to tell them that yes, they grew up - they had pals, they did stuff, and it was fun for the most part. Who needs a list to define them?

And then I decided. Not me. I do NOT need a list! And suddenly, just like that, the bad feelings of lowliness lifted. I can be whomever I want. I don't have to be who I was 5, 10, or 15 years ago (although 15 years ago I was the ripe old age of 11). I don't have to have a label (although, as unfortunate it as it is, I do believe we are still generally labeled in our life... the artsy one, the family man, the liberal, the religious one, etc.), and even better, I do not have to have a label from my past.

Of course, we all have things we would change... but I'm grateful for my experiences. I'm grateful for the friendships I developed over the years, for the times and seasons in which I REALLY needed them. They truly were my friends. And at this time in my life, I'm grateful for where I'm headed now - a strange feeling of being a little child in adult's world, doing adult things (like wasting time of Facebook worrying about a friend list).

Looking at my life now, I have a wide array of amazing things to focus on... an incredible husband, a large family on both sides, great jobs for the both of us, membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (and the responsibilities that come with it), and many others that would make for an incredibly long post.

These are the things that define me (for now, at least). I am a wife, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, granddaughter, visiting teacher, analyst, and friend to many (both on and offline, for that matter). And I can try really hard to be the best I can in those roles... which is time consuming enough without crazy internet distractions. Most importantly, I know that I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me, and I love Him. And I can always be better at showing that love.

Amateur Diagnosis

The weather yesterday and today meant driving with the windows down: Sunny, calm, and warm. The kind of warm that starts on your skin and seeps into your blood, bones, and heart. The kind where you sit in the car when you first get it in without turning it on, just to feel it. Thankfully, I had a pressing errand requiring me to make a quick trip to the post office, so I was fortunate enough to realize just how gorgeous it was. I immediately thought, "I love how I feel, and I want to share it! I should blog about how beautiful it is right now." Which, to be honest, has been somewhat of a novel thought for me over the past couple of months (if you couldn't tell, I wasn't really up for the task this winter). Then I realized it - just like my pal, Heather, wrote in this post, I must have seasonal affective disorder, aka the winter blues. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas and will sing carols with the best of them from Thanksgiving on in, but the cold weather and short days really drag me down. I bundle up, don't go outside, don't exercise, and eat lots of carbs (sounds like fun until your pants become snug, get a tummy ache, and you are on the verge of scurvy).

So with that, once I returned to the office ten minutes later, I immediately nixed plans to take a lunch break indoors with a pal. Instead, I switched to grabbing a quick bite at my desk in order to head out for a little run in the sunshine. Fate definitely had this in store for me: I had appropriate workout clothes in the trunk (not leggings, but shorts! And socks! Which I normally forget), and a towel left in the locker room at work. Hooray! The stars aligned in my favor.

I pumped up my almost-forgotten running mix and hit the road. Needless to say, it was a euphoric 3 miles. Each song on shuffle was just right, and my muscles squealed with joy at such a foreign feeling (no elliptical or walking, no indoor workout DVD; just pure, unadulterated movement soaking in the Vitamin D). I returned with rosy cheeks, crazy hair, and a glow. Perfect.

Then I checked the weather for today - just the same, but warmer! I couldn't be more happy. To be sure, I made plans to bring back my gear for round two, and did just that. This time I had no head phones, but a co-worker. We had the birds chirping, and the sky was so bright and clear that we noticed buildings from afar through the still bare trees.

It felt good to get back the runner's high (and while I know it isn't the runner's high you get when you run a marathon or something, it was adrenaline and blood pumping enough for me). I don't dare to look at next week's weather report, because I know this is a small February miracle and I want to enjoy it as much as I can.

So with that, I knew. I knew I was not a winter girl, but a diagnosable spring one. One ready for sun, blossoming plants, and new adventures.

Amateur Valentine

blahblahblah it's been 3 weeks blahblahblah

Here are some of the most fitting valentines for my most fit valentine:

And I probably will. With a side of chips and salsa, please.

And I promise not to watch the Bachelor when you're around and I will not insist we play The Office first when we pull up Hulu on Friday night. Yep, I love you that much.

Except I'm pretty sure there are times where the MacBook Pro ranks higher than I do...

For Valentine's Day Eve, my sweetheart ended up watching Sleepless in Seattle with me last night (great gift, dear). Let me tell you, this is hands-down the best movie for those in the valentine mood, folks ("We should go.... Shall we?" Be still, my melting heart!). For what it is worth, we also watched Last of the Mohicans yesterday - not too valentine-y, unless you relate it to the St. Valentine's Day massacre. But who doesn't love a great romantic subplot involving Daniel Day Lewis? Works for me.

On another high note, the weather is behaving beautifully, reminding me of valentine days of yore spent in San Diego and Savannah. Those were the days, and here's to many more!


How are you spending your V-day? Bonbons? Sparkling cider? Nonchalant feelings? I'm pretty sure we'll watch Chuck, House, and maybe eat some Mexican food. Yes... we go ALL out, people.

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!