Because I wouldn’t want you to worry.

It’s finally here. My family vaca to Florida. If you want to get all technical about it, the rest of the fam is already there. Some of us don’t have unlimited PTO, so we had to cut our portion of the trip down a bit. But still! Hooray for five days in sunny Siesta Key!

I hear the internet hasn’t made it to Florida yet, so don’t look for any updates. But I promise that as soon as we’re back (within a week, for sure) I’ll tell you all about it.

While we’re there, Andrew, my sister, and my brother-in-law are planning to go parasailing. Why am I not going? Let me tell you a little story. Let’s call it Oversharing: the Parasailing Edition.

A few years ago, my family and I were vacationing at a beachy-type place, and my sister and I decided to go parasailing. It sounded so awesome, floating in the air with nothing holding you up except a colorful parachute. So we got reservations and whatnot. Now, you should know that the boat with the parachute has to stay in motion so as not to tangle up the cords. That means that to get to that boat, you have to take another smaller boat out to it, then climb aboard WHILE BOTH BOATS ARE IN MOTION. I am not even kidding. I felt like such a stunt-girl badass. That is, when I wasn’t freaking out about falling into the sea and being squished between two moving boats.

Anyway, that small boat we had to board initially was tiny. And tiny boats moving quickly across wavy oceans means lots of up and down and rocking back and forth. And that makes Megan very nauseous. By the time we were on the larger, parasailing boat, I was feeling pretty terrible. When it was my turn to take to the skies, I told them that I didn’t want to go up because I was feeling sick. They said, aww, no! You’re fine! It’s so smooth up there! Go ahead, go on up! And don’t forget, if you need to come back down, just swing your legs, and we’ll pull you back down!

And since I didn’t want to regret not trying it, I went on up. Reluctantly. And I have to admit, it was pretty cool. Very quiet, and I could see for miles around.

But then the queasiness. Oh, the seasicky feeling. It was not good. I began swinging my legs like a crazy person. But. They. Would. Not. Bring. Me. Back. Down.

And then I vomited. The End.

A mix, a grab bag, a mélange—a smorgasbord, if you will.

I checked my blog today to see if it had been updated. It hadn’t. So I thought I ought to do something about that. Clearly it is too hot today to do much actual thinking, so I’ll just give you updates on sundry things I’ve been discussing lately.

Such as . . .

The House. We took Saturday off and I got to sleep in. LATE. It was glorious. But today we worked a bit. Mark and Stan mudded the walls while Andrew and I sanded the ceiling. Did I mention how much I hate sanding? Sanding the ceiling is at least seven times worse than sanding the walls, because you have to hold your arms over your head and the dust falls directly in your face. Fortunately, I have a wonderful Andrew, and he did at least 80 percent of the work. Because I am Whiny.

My Hair. I found a new stylist, and she is fab. She was recommended to me by my mother-in-law, and though I was warned to not go to her because I might end up with “mom hair,” I gave it the ol’ college try. And I’m glad I did, because my hair is super cute (if I do say so myself). If any of you are looking for a stylist, go see Carly at International Hair & Day Spa (913.341.1717). I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Umm . . . I can’t think of anything else you ought to be updated on. Sad. No, wait! I’ve got one: Facebook. I think I like it. I’ve grown accustomed to its face (me: ha! its face! because it’s facebook! you: *head explodes*) (also, did you catch that My Fair Lady reference? We totally saw that movie on Friday at the Free Friday Night movie at Crown Center). Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, I think I like being on Facebook. For instance, I’m learning all sorts of things about people I went to high school with, and I didn’t even have to speak to them. Like one guy is working for Google, and another guy has a blog that uses all kinds of computery words I don’t even know. I enjoy it. Even if I lost my first game of Scrabulous.

That’s all the updates you get. I’m off to the gym. I’m trying to get in three more workouts before we leave for Florida. Did I tell you we’re going to Florida? And that Austin will be there? I’m just so stinking excited. I heart aunthood.

I can't believe they used my bread pan.

Ahhh, another fun-filled weekend. And of course, by fun-filled, I mean we worked more on the house. Seriously, we actually had some fun. And I have the pictures to prove it.

Friday night we went to a T-Bones game. The T-Bones are Kansas City's very own baseball team. The one that's not the Royals. It was baseball, so obviously I paid very close attention to the game, following every pitch and, um, hit, and whatnot. Except it was difficult to really watch the game because of all the construction-orange T-shirts in front of us and the tiny people who were wearing them. There was an entire kids' team that had come down to the wall to watch the game and try to get the players to toss them baseballs.

For awhile, there was no one sitting in the front row, so the kids had free reign of the area. Then some very patient (and rather large) gentlemen came to sit in those seats, presumably having bought the tickets for those particular seats. The kids did not really see the point in moving. I’m not sure the gentlemen appreciated the kids, because after a couple of innings, they moved to different, much worse seats. Or better, depending how you look at it.

Also this weekend, we got to hang out with Emily and Kenny. And, Emily and Kenny—would you move here please? kthx.

And then the not-as-fun-but-more-productive part of the weekend: The House.

Mark and Stan took a break from the work to make their favorite letters out of two-by-fours. I think they both picked T because it is the easiest.


As per usual, Zadie could not be persuaded to come out from under the bed, even when enticed with her favorite feather toy.



See title of this post. All I have to say about this is grrrrr . . .

PS - Did you know that kids are hilarious?

In case you can’t make it out, this kid is singing that bad day song that they used to play on American Idol when someone got kicked off. He was singing “Bleeding Love” earlier, but I didn’t get that on video. Too bad.

Also, no, I don't know why my fonts aren't working right. Can anyone help me fix this?

Like sands through the shop vac, so are the days of our lives.

It’s Thursday, and you know what that means: We just had a weekend. Like, four days ago. And that means we spent more time working on the house. A lot of time. On Saturday, we worked from 8:00 in the morning (after going to breakfast at 7) until 5:30, and then Andrew and I spent another 30 minutes cleaning up all the dust and wood shavings. On Sunday, we were much more laid back, working from 8:00 until only 3:30 or so.

What did we accomplish after all those hours of work? We finished adding the new overhead lights and completed all the electrical for them, we installed insulation, and we sanded down the textured walls. And that is it. But my god, the sanding! I hope I never have to do that ever again. (At least until we redo the cat room. And by cat room, I don’t mean a room we have specifically for our cats, I mean the bedroom upstairs that the previous owners painted red with this black and white spatter paint thing, and then put a creepy cat wallpaper border over. I love my kitties and everything, but I’m not so crazy as to want them on my wallpaper.) (yet)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the sanding. What an unpleasant process that is. The sander is hooked up to a shop vac, so at least a lot of the dust gets sucked up, but there are still little paint chips and dust flying around. I wore a mask for breathing purposes, but some of the dust definitely went in my eyes. And the sanders are heavy! And loud! We had two sanders and two shop vacs, so we got it done faster, but the process was much louder. We had ear plugs, which I suppose helped with the noise, but I hate wearing ear plugs. All in all, I don’t recommend it. At least not for recreational use.

For all you HGTV/DIY fans out there, I give you pictures. And a video, so you can hear all the noisy noise. You’re welcome.

This will have to do.

I’ve been wanting to post more pictures of the renovations, but Time Warner decided we shouldn’t get the internet anymore. So until they decide our money is good enough for them, we can’t get online at home, which means I can’t post my pictures. So. To appease your hunger for my wit (ahem), here is a little gem I found on my company’s cafeteria menu.


I’m not sure that this particular float is one I’d like to try, but at least they’re selling it for a reasonable price. Usually beef costs more. I guess this isn’t made with Kobe rootbeef. Oh well, any beef float could be good with a little whipped A1 on top, right?

Top Ten . . .

Way back in December, I wrote a top ten list of 2007. At the time, I thought it was the beginning of a new blogging “thing.” You know, every now and then, when I don’t have much to write about, I’ll write a top ten list. After all, I must continue to entertain the masses (I know both of my readers are depending on me).

But now it’s seven months later, and I haven’t yet written another top ten list. Hadn’t even thought about it until today. And today I thought, I’ll write a top ten! That’ll be easy! Well, HA! It is not easy. I thought and thought about what the stupid list would be about. Top ten summer events? Top ten places I want to go? Top ten books I’ve read? Movies I’ve seen? I just wasn’t feeling inspired. And besides, something like the top ten books I’ve read? That would be freaking hard to come up with. I’ve read a lot of books.

So. I was stuck. And then I thought, I’m making this way too hard! Let’s just stick to some factual data here. No thinking involved. And so, without further ado, I give you:

The Top Ten Most Played Songs On My iPod

10. LoveStoned/I Think She Knows – Justin Timberlake
9. Perfect Situation – Weezer
8. Where is My Mind – Pixies
7. Oh – Ciara & Ludacris
6. Like a Boy – Ciara
5. Toxic – Britney Spears
4. Float On – Modest Mouse
3. Dark Blue – Jack’s Mannequin
2. Get Over It – OK Go
1. Don’t Ask Me – OK Go

Not surprisingly, all these songs are on my workout playlist, which I listen to when I am at the gym, which is pretty much the only time I listen to my iPod.

Somewhat interestingly, my No. 1 song was also on my list of “songs I could listen to over and over again.” Apparently I was not lying when I wrote that. Go figure.

Tag! I'm it!

I have been tagged by Emoly to write six random things about myself. And so I give you Six Random Things.

1. Even though I call tissues “Kleenexes,” I am brand loyal to Puffs.
2. I subscribe to Domino magazine, I watch a lot of HGTV, and I occasionally check out apartmenttherapy.com, yet I still know nothing about design. I could not pick out proper paint colors or coordinating accessories to save my life. I wish I could.
3. I don’t really text. This makes me feel old.
4. Last night we went to Chili’s for dinner, and we saw they had domestic drafts for $3.25 and premium drafts for $3.75 “all day every day.” So I ordered a Boulevard Wheat. Andrew ordered a Miller Lite, or some such domestic beer. When we got the bill, we saw that Andrew’s beer did indeed cost $3.25, but mine cost $4.49. What? Shouldn’t it be $3.75? It was a draft, and it was premium, and I checked my watch and it was in the frame of “all day every day.” So I asked the server, who asked her manager, who told her that Happy Hour was indeed all day every day, but that Boulevard was not part of Happy Hour. (the sign mentioned no exclusions or any indication that this was a happy-hour special.) We checked the beer taps on the way out, and the only other “premium” beer they had was Sam Adams. And I bet that was somehow not part of the Happy Hour either. Lame.
5. Nectarines are my favorite fruit. But only if they are really sweet, juicy nectarines.
6. The first book I wrote for my company will be published and available for purchase in January, 2009. And I expect you all to go out and buy it.

Here are the rules:

• link to the person who tagged you
• post the rules on your blog
• write six random things about yourself
• tag six people at the end of your post
• let each person know he or she’s been tagged by leaving a comment on his or her blog
• let the tagger know when your entry is up

I am tagging Stephanie, Erika, Katy, Stacy, Ben, and Christy.

Top Secret Porno Stash!

Today it started. Today we began turning our house Awesome. It involved some tools, and some banging, and some dust. And then some more dust. And then a little more. And maybe just a twee bit more dust. We (and by we, I mean my father-in-law, Mark, and his buddy Stan—they are the house-awesomizing guys) took the baseboards off and made the mantel disappear and took the ceiling down.

And ooh! You. Will. Not. BELIEVE whatwefoundintheceiling!!!1!! Porn! Somebody’s secret hidden stash from 1997! Three little dirty magazines. Not sure why it was hidden above the drywall. It’s not as if you could actually get to it from there. I guess the previous owner really didn’t want anyone to discover his little pornographic secret. What makes this even better, though, is that the previous owner actually lives next door to us now (his wife used to be just the pretty girl next door until he, you know, married her and moved next door). I’ll have to refrain from asking him whether 1997 was an unusually "hot" year, or whether he really "felt the excitement" that year.

But enough words. I give you pictures!

The empty room, pre-awesome.
A nice room, yes, but just you wait until it's all done.

Let's see . . . two tables, nine chairs,
a sectional couch in two sections,
and an upside-down coffee table . . .
Do you think this is too much furniture for one room?

Gary wishes she was inside with all
the action, but nope, she was out of luck.
We're mean like that.

Fat kitteh is not sure she lieks what is going on here
but can she has fud now pls? kthxbai.

No more mantel! No more ceiling fan!

Faux beams! Almost gone!
(And the first specks of dust appear on my camera's lens.)

No, it wasn't snowing in there. That is just how much
dust there is when you take a ceiling down.
And at this point, we were just getting started.

For your pleasure: the ceiling porn. I can't make this stuff up.

Isn't my husband just the coolest?

In your dreams

So I do this weird thing. At least, I think it’s weird. But I’ve never been in anyone else’s brain, so I can’t say for sure (but wouldn’t it be cool if I had been in someone else’s brain?). But anyway. This weird thing. It’s in my dreams. I know, I know, it’s super boring to hear about other people’s dreams. So I won’t go into the details. But basically, nearly everything I see in my dreams is blurry.

Like I’ve said before, I have really bad eyesight. Like, the kind of eyesight where if I lost my glasses, I would pretty much have to just sit there until somebody came to rescue me, lest I trip over something I couldn’t see, which would be everything. And in my dreams, I have that bad vision. Except there are no glasses to put on, no contacts to help me see. I have to fumble my way through everything, and at times it feels a little panicky. Not every part of every dream is that way. It’s like I can see for awhile, maybe faraway things. But then when I try to focus on something close up, I just can’t see it. And my dreaming self gets a little freaked out.

The freaking out is rarely about anything important. Like last night, I was dreaming about spreading cream cheese on a bagel (seriously. why can’t I dream about something cool, like flying, or showing up naked to work or SOMETHING MORE INTERESTING THAN BREAKFAST PASTRIES?) except I couldn’t see the cream cheese. Uh oh! What if that isn’t cream cheese, what if it is mayonnaise? What if I am putting mayonnaise on my bagel? That would be so gross! Is anyone watching me? I hope no one sees me, if that is actually mayonnaise. Then I would look stupid. Maybe if I squint, I can figure it out. Nope, still can’t see. Etc. Etc.

Any psychology majors out there? Or anyone who took Psych 1 and then decided they hated psychology? Can you help me analyze this? Perhaps I just don’t want to look dumb and in my dreams, I am using bad vision as a crutch, to blame any stupidity on not being able to see properly? Or am I just so used to not being able to see well that now it is being reflected in my dreams?

And most importantly, is my life truly that boring that all I dream about are bagels and cream cheese?

I did it!

Remember how I wanted to break up with my hair stylist? Well, it's done! Okay, to be fair, all I did was cancel the appointment that I had scheduled for tomorrow. But still! That’s a step in the right direction. And I never said I’d reschedule, so technically, I don’t have to call her back. Ever.

Ahh, I love not being tied down.

If that wasn’t great enough, I’ve already gotten a recommendation for a new place. And the new place is close to home. I know what you’re thinking, this will just be my rebound stylist. But come on . . . you know I’m not that kind of girl. I like commitment and serious relationships. I know this will be The One. All I have to do now is make an appointment.