Thursday, January 31

Hi Emo

This morning I got a request from my-best-friend-since-kindergarten Emily to update this so that she would have something to read. So here you go. I’m not convinced that this will be the most enlightening thing to read, but it might help pass the time.

Since I’m writing for her, I’m also going to write about her (aren’t you glad you requested an update now?). I’m going to use my preshus blog space to pimp her loft. Emily and her husband bought a hip urban loft in the crossroads district of KC. They need a renter. Do any of you know anyone in the metro area who is looking to rent a hip urban loft? Could it be you? Or one of your coworkers is looking to move, perhaps?

Emily, if you send me some pictures I will post them. And trust me, people, you’re gonna want to see it. It’s very fun. Reasonable rate. Nice balcony and fantastic landlords included.

Leave a little comment if you’re interested. Or just because.

Tuesday, January 29

Like he showered in Windex

Andrew just got back from a five-day bachelor party. (Yes, that’s right... No, really, it was five days... I know, that’s what I said... Uh huh... Uh huh... I completely agree.) He was in Salt Lake City, which is not where we live. It is not even the same time zone. So (keep up with me here) he was out of town. Standard operating procedure for out-of-town spouses says that the out-of-town spouse should give the stuck-at-home-feeding-the-cats spouse a phone call at least every other day. These don’t have to be long, rambling phone calls, just a simple “Hey, I haven’t broken any major bones while snowboarding. How are the cats?” kind of thing.

Let me tell you what I got. Thursday afternoon, I got a voicemail on my cell phone, which is sort of problematic in itself because Andrew knows (believe me, we’ve been over it) that if he wants to reach Megan during work hours, he must call Megan’s work phone. But I digress. Saturday morning, I called Andrew and left a nice little message and asked him to call me when he got a chance. To his credit, he returned my call promptly Saturday afternoon. We talked for ten minutes (TEN MINUTES!) and he says he’d better go because he needs to grab lunch before meeting back up with the guys. He says, see you tomorrow night! And I said, well, seeing as how your plane doesn’t land until almost midnight and it is a work night, I will probably be asleep.

And then when I woke up on Monday morning, there he was! Like magic!

But I hadn’t forgotten that over the course of FIVE DAYS we’d only talked for TEN MINUTES. Which, clearly, is not adequate. So of course I brought it up. I said that I didn’t feel like ten minutes was long enough, that I wished when he was out of town he would call a bit more, or talk for a bit longer. Fifteen minutes, maybe, or even twenty!

He looked me in the eye, paused just a second longer than necessary, and said, “I missed you too.”

Wednesday, January 23

A Little Trip to Tucson . . . the Photos

Look! We're in the desert! With cactuses!
(or is it "cacti"?)

Whoa! Look how big that thing is!
(that's what she said)

It's my adorable husband in the desert!

This one looks like asparagus!


This one's called the Three Amigos saguaro.
(Wherever there is injustice, you will find us.)

Water! In the desert!

Thank you, Jessie and Alex, for showing us around Tucson!

Thursday, January 17

Project Uninspired

Normally I hesitate to write at work. Write for this, I mean. Obviously I have to write at work; it is a large part of my job. But today I am just not doing much, so the blog-writing has commenced. I’ve only been in my new position for a week and a half, and I’m still learning the ropes. (They’re not big on training here.) And today, my manager is out because his daughter is at the hospital getting some kind of tests done, and my co-editor is also out because her car is being fixed. Which leaves me to my lonesome and my lack of things to do.

So I’m writing about something I’ve been thinking about writing about (whoa, too many “abouts” in this sentence and I’m only halfway done) for awhile, but I haven’t yet written about it because I’m afraid it will be dull (because it has no story arc) or that you will think I am lame. That really makes you excited for this, doesn’t it? I can tell you are on the edge of your seat. No, wait! Don’t click away to another page! My Google Analytics page loves it when I get visitors!

Where was I? Oh yes, my potentially lame subject matter: The Project Runway fantasy game. It’s like fantasy football, sort of. Except no sports involved. Only Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn and their fabulous team of fashion designers. It works like this: I pick three designers to be on my team. I can change up my team each week. I earn points if any of my three designers does something noteworthy, like cry, get bleeped, win the challenge, get in a fight with another designer, have sewing machine troubles, etc. I lose points if anyone on my team loses the challenge and gets eliminated. It is different than fantasy football in that anyone in the country can have the same designers on her team.

I have a Project Runway team (I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?) and after several weeks of episodes, I am realizing that I suck at this game. This is the first season I’ve ever really watched Project Runway. I’ve seen it before, but only the reruns Bravo shows constantly. After last night’s episode, I am in 2,723rd place. Sweet, huh? My team includes Ricky, Jillian, and Christian. I got 12 points in last night’s episode: -1 because they told Ricky his piece was poorly constructed, 2 points for Jillian having trouble with her sewing machine, 2 for Tim telling Jillian to “carry on,” 6 points for Christian winning the challenge, and 3 points for Christian getting bleeped three times (you can always count on Christian for this). The leaderboards show that the winning team this week included Christian, Chris, and Sweet P for a potential 25 points.

Why do I never pick the right team? If I came in first, I could win a Tim Gunn bobblehead! And who wouldn’t love one of those? So this a cry for help—if any of you watch Project Runway and have insight on who you think will win/cry/cuss/fight etc., let me know. I might even share my bobblehead with you.

Thursday, January 10

Someone needs to ’fess up

So, faithful readers, which one of you was it? And why? We don’t get it. I guess it could be a joke? But why is it funny? Seriously. Megan and Andrew = Confused.

But I have gotten ahead of myself. Let me explain. About eight weeks ago (or maybe some other number of weeks; I actually have no concept whatsoever of how much time has passed), Andrew started getting Newsweek. Or rather, Adam Langhofer started getting Newsweek. At our address. And it just kept coming. And we just kept reading random Newsweek articles, even though we weren’t particularly interested in their subject matter.

But now, Adam Langhofer no longer gets Newsweek. And Andrew has read every article in our most recent issue five times. People, you can’t just dangle something in front of him and then snatch it away. That is just mean.

Who is dangling something? It is time to play, yes?

I have to assume that someone we know signed Andrew/Adam up because of the obvious hilarity of it all. Since pretty much everyone we know reads this blog (or knows about it at least, because come on, it’s not that interesting), or at least all of the funny people we know, I want a signed confession from whoever it was on my desk first thing in the morning. Oh, and would you mind explaining the joke?

Tuesday, January 8

Happy Car, Angry Megan

This morning I got the oil changed in my car. Early-bird special, you know. That damn "maintenance required" light still didn't go off. Good thing Google showed me how to reset it months ago, when I first realized that the kids at Jiffy Lube didn't know how (or didn't care, which seems more in character for them).

Speaking of Jiffy Lube, I kind of hate it, yet I continue to go there. I think it's time for that madness to end. This morning the guy calls me out to the garage area and shows me my air filter and speaks about this dire situation as if a life is on the line. Look how filthy it is, he says, it is drastically reducing your gas mileage, he says. I can change it myself, I say, no thanks, I say. He kind of shrugs and warns me that my gas mileage is going down the tubes but whatever I want to do. Then he goes on to try to talk me into the more expensive "premium" oil, because that is what my car's manufacturer recommends for this vehicle. No thanks, I say. He glares, starts to speak. No thanks, I say, regular oil is fine. He glares again and sends me back into the waiting area. Grrrr. I'm telling you, next time I'm taking my business someplace else.

Monday, January 7

First Official Day

I officially started my new job today. Sort of. I officially sat in my new office, anyway. Todd, the editorial director and the guy who will be training me, hurt his foot yesterday and was out this morning getting x-rays. Then, on his way into the office, he got a flat tire. Never quite made it in. So I never quite met with him.

It was actually a pretty great day, considering I didn’t see Todd. I worked with Theresa (another book editor) and kind of got started on a couple projects. She gave me some background info and helped me get started. I can tell I’ve got a lot to learn, but I think I’m going to love it. It just fits.

I guess I don’t have much else to say about it. I’d love to tell you more about the projects I’m going to be working on, but that whole confidentiality/proprietary information thing is kind of important. So…yeah. No details for you. You’ll just have to trust me when I say that at some point in the future some pretty fun stuff will hit the marketplace.

Thursday, January 3

Thanks for the info

I love my car. Love it. It's like a bundle of joy that gets excellent gas mileage and is pretty to look at. But (insert segue here).

Several weeks ago, the "maintenance required" light in my car came on. It only blinked a couple of times when I first turned the car on, so I knew it wasn't really a big deal. It always does that when it thinks I need an oil change. Which means the light starts blinking about every 3000 miles. But I don't change the oil until it's been 5000 miles. So the blinking gets a little old. But whatev. I deal with it.

Just a couple of days ago, however, the maintenance light came on and stayed on. (What? What does this mean, pretty car? Are you mad at me? I promise I'll get you washed soon.)

I started worrying that something was wrong. But what? I've never understood why the car can tell you it needs maintenance but it can't specify what kind. Especially in my car, that has an entire screen just to track the energy usage. Make yourself useful, energy monitor! Anyway, I decided that if this was just about the oil change, maybe I should take the car to the dealer for it so they could verify that nothing else was wrong. But of course, I forgot to call them and find out when I could get it in there. So what to do? Oh, I know. Google it!

And Google came through for me again. I found out from other Prius owners that the light does indeed come on and stay on at about 5000 miles until the oil is changed and the light is reset. So no worries. I suppose it is time for an oil change, though...