Archive for September, 2011

VA-VA-VOOM

September 28th, 2011

One might use VA-VA-VOOM Voluptuous to describe other things, but I’m using it to describe my tomato plants this year.  As my mother said, its a bumper year.  BAM!  Take that mother nature.   You see, almost 3 years ago I bought my house.  The following spring I planted a humungous garden with a bunch […]



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One might use VA-VA-VOOM Voluptuous to describe other things, but I’m using it to describe my tomato plants this year.  As my mother said, its a bumper year.  BAM!  Take that mother nature.

 

You see, almost 3 years ago I bought my house.  The following spring I planted a humungous garden with a bunch of produce.  I got NOTHING, except more squash than anyone would know what to do with.  Total bust.

 

The following year, last year, I made a new garden – Brown Dog Lucy B Williams needed a taller fence, which caused my old garden area to no longer see much sun.  A 4′ foot fence was no match for her high jumping skills…girl has mad skills.  I’ll be entering her into the Dog Olympics Track & Field Category.  Anyways…I made a new garden, much smaller, & more manageable (although there was NOTHING to manage the year before).  Again, NOTHING…and by nothing, I mean nothing, not even squash.  Whatever.

 

This year, I reduced my garden to only 2 tomato plants.  No need in spending a lot of money on plants when I can’t get anything to grow.  I was determined to make these things grow.  I planted them on time, watered them, & told them how amazing they were – daily.  They were off to a slow start & I got nervous.  So I asked Kent, the green thumb @ The Home.  He said I needed to talk to them more & stroke them.  So by mid summer I was not only watering, telling them how amazing they were, but I was also stroking their leaves telling them they were gorgeous.  I sort of mocked Kent when he told me that…but the guy has great tomatoes every year, so how can he be wrong?  He can’t – AND HE WASN’T.  My tomatoes were on track again, growing big & plump.  I started to get a bit cocky, how could I not, I was proud, and my ‘matoes were looking AWESOME (Kent said so himself).

 

All was going fantastic, until mid July came, and it came with hail.  I really thought Mother Nature hated me.  The hail cleaned out over half of my plants…they went from full & luscious to thin & pathetic.  My dad & the internet said they are hearty & they’d come back…I had my doubts.    I implemented more watering, stroking & patience.

 

Low & behold, my plants came back awesomer (totally a word) than ever.  They are HUGE, and taking up a lot of space…I even had to tie them to the fence to hold them up.

 

Last week, I ran into Kent when I was home over lunch, and he said “what is going on w/ your tomatoes”

C: They are crazy out of control huh?  Help yourself…I can’t eat them all

K: I help myself everyday.  Look at these monsters.  What did you do?

C: I talked to them  & stroked them.

K: *chuckles*  I can’t get over how HUMUNGOUS they are.

C: I know…thanks!

 

My farming ancestors would be SO proud of me.

Mother Nature – 2

Catie – 1

Take THAT Mother Nature, I’m back on the board!

 

Matt doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already been looking for a farm & combine to buy.  I’m moving onto bigger & better things next year.


 

Oh – P.S. I have more tomatoes than can possibly be consumed by my household, my neighbors, my office, & my friends.  Please come to my house, say hi, & pick a basket.  And if you don’t like tomatoes, please don’t come to my house, because you WILL be leaving with a baggy full.


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I’m Coming Un-Glued.

September 19th, 2011

I used to be put together.  Well, sort of.  I guess I’m a lot like my dad, we go along our merry way in life, kind of oblivious, but we’re organized in our own little way.  We get things done on time & we show up where we need to be when we need to…our […]



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I used to be put together.  Well, sort of.  I guess I’m a lot like my dad, we go along our merry way in life, kind of oblivious, but we’re organized in our own little way.  We get things done on time & we show up where we need to be when we need to…our route just may not be the quickest or most logical.

I don’t know what happened.  No joke – I’m a complete & udder flakey mess.   They say pregnancy  makes you not as smart, but this baby is making me dumber BY.THE.HOUR.  They also say it gets worse – BUT IT CAN’T otherwise Matt will be checking me into The Home next door.

Friday, I flew to Des Moines for my besties bridal shower & bachelorette party.  Don’t worry folks, I didn’t let Susan become the drunk bride-to-be that was dancing on the stage at the piano bar very slutty creatively.  Anyways, my flight was at 3:56pm on Friday.  I was dropped off, through security, & at my gate eating a snack by 2:40pm.  I didn’t think I was sitting there very long before I decided I should use the ladies room & get some water.   On the way back from that excursion, I noticed I was sitting at gate B28 not B26.  That shouldn’t’ have been a problem, since they were the same area.  Whatever, I go & sit at gate B26, where there was no one there, except an old man.  We joked about how “full” the flight was.  The lady taking tickets scolded us & said it was a full flight & they were waiting on a connecting flight.  Eh…whatever.  I sat down & busted out my iPad (which she saw me do) & the old man is just standing around.  After about 5 min, she finally says “are you two going to board the flight?”.  ahhh…WHA???

C: I didn’t know we were boarding

Lady: Yeah…it’s probaby a good idea to get on now w/ your overhead baggage before the connecting flight gets here.

I thought she was kind of letting me on a smidge early to get my luggage up there.  I walk to the end of the jet way thinger and the guy says “you’ll have to gate check that”

C: Oh…she just told me there was room

Guy: She was wrong

C: (really confused)…uhh…ok?

I then walk onto a COMPLETELY FULL PLANE.  Some guy was sitting in my seat – I politely told him that I was sitting in F (BUST AWAY FROM MY WINDOW SEAT…DUDE!) and he said “oh…I was just sitting here thinking you weren’t coming”.  He moved & I took my seat.  Then panic came over.

Panic (speaking really fast in my head): OH MY GOSH YOU ALMOST MISSED YOUR FLIGHT.  YOU DUMB BIMBO. HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT?  YOU ALMOST MISSED IT. WHAT IF THEY TOOK OFF WITHOUT YOU.

Calm (speaking really slowly in my head): Catie..relax, you’re on the plane, you didn’t miss it, you’re fine.

Panic: YOU ALMOST MISSED YOUR FLIGHT!!  WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU MISSED IT?  WHY WEREN’T YOU PAYING ATTENTION

Calm: you’re on the plane…stop worrying…nothing was harmed…susan can still pick you up…shut your eyes & relax.

I swear, on my beloved dog, I never ONCE heard them do a boarding call.  Nor, when I was sitting at gate B28, FACING gate B26, did I see anyone at B26.  Can someone PLEASE explain to me what happened?  And if it involves you telling me I’m a flake…please come up with a better answer.

Because Matt is awesome, he told me it was a connecting flight that they never deboarded.  I think he lied, but it made me feel better.  And that’s what I’m sticking to.

I was pretty much a total fail the rest of the weekend.  I forgot to give Susan her bridal shower gift until we were in the car on the way to the airport yesterday.  I SPACED the party favors I brought for everyone for her bachelorette party along with the awesome hugely fake light up engagement ring for her & flashy bride to be button.

Today, I spilled my protein shake all over the floor.  AFTER I told myself “catie, you better not spill it between the water cooler & counter”.  Its like my hand just let go about 12 inches to early.

This can’t get worse…seriously.  I won’t be a functional adult.  I hope all my smarts aren’t going to the baby – there is nothing worse than a kid who is WAY smarter than their mother by age 1.5.  I’ll be doing a lot of crossword puzzles over the next 5.5 months to keep me “sharp”.


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Shopping with Mr. Fancy Pants

September 13th, 2011

In case none of you have noticed, but my husband is fancy.   He uses a dry cleaner…ON.A.REGULAR.BASIS.  That in itself, my friends, is fancy.  I mean, I don’t own anything that requires the dry cleaners (actually…I have 1 shirt that is border line).  Sometimes, when he’s about to drop his clothes off for their regular […]



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In case none of you have noticed, but my husband is fancy.   He uses a dry cleaner…ON.A.REGULAR.BASIS.  That in itself, my friends, is fancy.  I mean, I don’t own anything that requires the dry cleaners (actually…I have 1 shirt that is border line).  Sometimes, when he’s about to drop his clothes off for their regular cleaning, he’ll say “babes…do you have anything that needs to go to the dry cleaners?” and mostly I say no.  I can’t be a total non-fancy-pants, so sometimes, I’m all “oh yeah…can you bring that one off white tank top/blouse?” and he’s all “babes…you haven’t worn it since last time” and I’m all “uh…it needs to be cleaned”.  He’s right….but I need to keep face.  Seriously.  It’s hard keeping up with Mr. Fancy Pants & his regular dry cleaning schedule.  I’m SO glad he didn’t ask me if I used a dry cleaner on our first date (or ever…for that matter), we might have never had a second date.  Dodged that bullet.

 

Even though Matt is fancy, he’s hard to shop with.  Mostly because he has a hard time spending any money on himself.  Needless to say, when he says “Babes…can we go buy some clothes” I’m like a dog who’s owner said “lets go for a walk Fido”.  I’m on his heels & giddy.  Last night was one of those nights.  Never mind I’m pregnant & exhausted – WE’RE GOING TO THE MALL!!!  I raced home & scarfed down a Lean Cusine (we are also fancy diners) and off to the mall we went.
First stop, Banana Republic Outlet.  We hit the jackpot with 1 pair of pants, 1 pair of jeans, & 1 pair of shorts (his favorite pair of shorts sprouted about 6 holes this weekend…what can I say?  He must be to sexy for his shorts….RIP fancy patchwork shorts).

 

My husband also has a fancy job.  He’s frequently going to fine dining establishments with super fancy people for “drinks” which turns into dinner too.  He needs to dress the part.  And in order to dress the part for his dinner tonight, we needed to find him some nicer khakis and potentially a sport coat/blazer.

 

Next stop Brooks Brother’s.  Here enlies the problem…most dress stores just have one fit.  Well, that’s most stores in general.  Mr. Fancy Pants needs a “relaxed” fit.  See, from all of his years on the hockey circuit, he obtained a “plump” but firm bum & super thick & muscular quads.  Skinny jeans will NEVER be part of his wardrobe or True Religion – both things built for the weak w/o man muscles.  Poor fella.  After trying on a few pairs of khakis & going up a few sizes, in order to fit his bum & legs in, we found a few pairs…albeit he’ll need a belt to avoid the gaping waste, but whatever, its impossible to find any that even remotely work.

 

*sighs*  Here comes the part thats even harder than pants.  His shoulders…EXTRA-WIDE.   I feel for the man.  Its super hard to find awesome & trendy shirts for him…nothing fits his shoulders.  And with that said, he’s forced into old man stuff.  He tried on a sport coat that was all trendy & sexy AND a XXL.  I was SO excited.  But of course, he couldn’t move his arms & it was skin tight on his biceps.  I was totally disappointed.  The lady sales lady then pointed us to the “old man” section, as I like to call it.  Where there were these all grown up professional, I’m 85 & still in “the business” sport coats.  UGH.  Seriously, they had these navy blue blazers w/ gold buttons – they looked liked something a sailor would wear.  Matt said “those are so east coast”.

Seriously…this was awful, and he’s fancier than this.

 

We did find a pretty plain black one, which would have worked.  But Matt wasn’t sure.  So he gave the lady (keep in mind…she’s like 90 & super slow) his khakis & sport coat to put on “hold” & we’ll be back.  So we power walked to the other end of the mall to SAKS, but had no luck.  So we power walked to the other end of the mall to Neiman Marcus, again, no luck.  On our way back to Brooks Brothers I said

“so…do you NEED the sport coat for tomorrow, or can we wait until we find something you really love”

*insert mumble* “I don’t NEED it for tomorrow”.

 

Well ok then…  Now we’re back to brooks brothers, and there is hesitation about the black blazer because you can’t wear it with the navy blue khakis AND the khaki khaki’s, we’re going to get it.   I found a pair of “taupe” (as they called it) khaki pants, but Matt thought they  looked more green & I thought they looked more gray.  The store had them paired w/ a navy blue blazer.   When I held them up to something black, it looked like they went together, but Matt wasn’t so sure, but as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not fancy, I can barely match my own clothes, let alone compile something for my husband to look presentable in  Thankfully, other workers were at Brooks Brothers at this time to help us decide if these “taupe” colored pants were more green or gray & regardless, do they go w/ the black blazer?  They all agreed that the “taupe” pants would look good w/ the black blazer.

 

Awesome.  I’m tired, and we’re set.  We have a blazer and TWO pairs of Khakis.   Now the 90 year old lady is checking us out, she rings up the blazer, and then WHAM!  Matt’s brain light bulb went on…And he says:

“I’m really sorry to do this to you again, but do you mind holding these 3 things again?”

I give him a strange look & we walk out of the store

M: I think you’re right, if I don’t love it, we shouldn’t get it.

C: Ok…that’s fine, but what about the pants?  You need pants…you can’t NOT wear pants tomorrow.  I mean, I know its not the most important meeting ever, but you need pants.

M: I know…but I just put an outfit together in my head from my closet.

C: *sighs*  Ok….can we go home now?

M: I owe you a dairy queen…


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My Dog Is A Hussy

September 7th, 2011

**side note: In case I haven’t mentioned before, I live next door an adult group home.  They are great, mentally disabled folks (not drug addicted recovering alcoholics).  I call it The Home.**   I was laying on the couch yesterday afternoon when I heard this funky alarm.   This debate honestly went through my head, […]



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**side note: In case I haven’t mentioned before, I live next door an adult group home.  They are great, mentally disabled folks (not drug addicted recovering alcoholics).  I call it The Home.**

 

I was laying on the couch yesterday afternoon when I heard this funky alarm.

 

This debate honestly went through my head, for what seemed like 3 min:

 

Catie, you should sit up & see what’s going on…nah…its probably just The Home next door…maybe its not…it kind of sounds like our alarm…what if someone is breaking into a neighbor’s house, wouldn’t they want you to look & see the car for evidence?  Nah..its probably just The Home next door…repeat.  For about 3 min.  No joke.

 

My curiosity finally got the best of me.  I poked my head out the front door to see Paula (head of The Home) and all of the residents standing on the side walk.  I asked her if she started the house on fire w/ the crock pot.  Its kind of a joke.  Sometimes, their alarm just goes off.  Its fortunate/unfortunate.  Unfortunate because its linked directly to the fire department, which means they have to come & investigate & its a whole thing, instead of saving cats out of trees (what else do that use that big ladder for?).  That is also the fortunate part (for the neighbors).

That’s where my dog becomes a hussy.

 

Lucy B Williams could NOT take her eyes off those sexy wonderful & cat saving  fire fighters.  I told her it wasn’t polite to stare, and it was even more rude to drool.  But she did it all anyways.  The lady has no shame…

*side note: mom, please do not judge the cleanliness of my house based on all the dog nose marks on the window…I’ll buy windex someday soon…promise*