Handy Men Run in the Family

Just when I thought our outlet troubles were coming to an end, a new outlet discovery happened. One of my wonderful Father-In-Laws came to my rescue last night, driving over to take out and replace our fire hazards, aka freaking burnt outlets.

Lucky for us - we have a super handy man who knew a thing or two about wiring and how to replace something in the dark. I mean, I did give him a flash light. But you're probably wondering how this outlet switch-a-roo happened. Well, obviously with wire cutters and the power off, duh, but more importantly after Tony looked into the outlets before he left.
 

And due to the buzzing, spark, and time constraints, he left this:

Yes, that would in fact be a floral screwdriver. Tony received a whole new toolkit for the wedding, but his heart belongs to Flora the Screwdriver.

Oh the lovely surprises I get at home sometimes. But in his wake of a mess, he did call his Dad to come and help out his scary-di cat wife. Needless to say I married into a pretty great family.

So what exactly did my FIL find with our outlets? Just a little bit of this….

Hmm...smells a little burnt.

Yep. Those would be some sweet crossed burnt wires that were milliseconds ready to make our house become Waldo’s largest bonfire. Awesome. And of course that little outlet brought out the following fears:

*Oh geez…what other outlets are about to explode like a G6?

*Something stinks….what is that? Fuel? Fire? What’s burning?

*Maybe I should pack up some stuff, just in case…

*Why do I have so many possessions that I don’t want to go up in flames?

*Why does Tyson have so much crap to pack?

*Would it really be considered silly for me to stay at my Mom & Dads?

*I wonder what would happen to all those recorded shows I have?

(In other notes, I’m watching America’s Next Top Model – and they are making the girls do a cat walk while in a bubble. Really? Do designers really make real models walk in bubbles? These producers are ridiculous-for shame Tyra, for shame)

And after some tears, reassurance to stay at my Mom’s (from my concerned mother) and more reassurance to stay home since it was already late from my out-of-town husband, we survived. Tyson and I woke up without any signs of ashes, smoke or burnt plugs. Success!

However there were several texts to reassure other people that we were still alive.

Of course Tyson showed his concern and care by doing this:

Fire dog to the rescue...

 Really? Apparently I have no authority in this house.

On other notes of my domestic diva-ness: Tyson kept licking a Clorox wipe while I was “cleaning.” Would this be cause for calling poison control? 

I also felt compelled to bake tonight since we were let out early from work. However I grew tired of the whole thing so I stopped baking after 6 cookies. I won’t mention how much cookie dough I ate…..

Double Trouble Outlet

It's amazing how Murphy's Law (Def: Murphy's law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong".) comes into affect whenever there is a trip involved with Tony. First big trip he had to San Fransisco for work: Slick Rick the Rat, 

Today Tony leaves for Chicago (side note, please do not come an rob me, that would just add to the devastation of this week. Okay, devastation is a bit much, but I have more to add to this little outlet tale) and wouldn't you know, something goes wrong.

Last night I tried to charge my phone - yes, my iPhone to be exact - the one that I was so excited to get and could hardly wait until after the wedding to purchase.  See how that works, Tony gets wheels, I get an iPhone. But seeing that my phone wasn't charging, I jiggled the connection tot he phone, then jiggled the connection to the wall - because isn't that what people do, jiggle things rather than being more scientific about it. And then after realizing the jiggling doesn't really work, I found this:

l

This my friends is one burnt outlet. And it's right next to our bed, as well as Tyson's. Awesome.

I also might have made a shrieking noise when I saw the other outlet where my Kindle and lamp plugged into - oh right, well now I sound like a electronic junkie - again, please don't come and rob me - which scared the heck out of Tyson.

So what's a girl to do at 10:30 at night (yes, I was actually still up at 10:30, that's a major shock in itself, pun intended), well this girl calls her Firefighter Brother.  Because apparently having the skills of being a fireman also means you know about electricity and outlets.

I mean, they are fire hazards right?

Of course panic sets in and all I can think of  is how the house is going to burn down while I'm sleeping and that I'm a heavy sleeper and I won't hear the crackling of the flames, Tyson will bark and jump on me and Tony will lose all of his new suits. So I took pictures of our entire upstairs so I could tell insurance what was in our room. I also snapped quite a few pictures of my iPhone adapter charger thing for your viewing pleasure. I think you will be able to feel my panic with me. 

OH

MMMM

 

 

 

 

GEEE

Pure panic. But Firefight Brother and Tony decided no threat was there while we slept since nothing was plugged in. And trust me, I resisted the urge to go down and grab the fire extinguisher and sleep with it like a favorite blankie. I also resisted the urge to sleep in full clothing with all of my prized possessions in a bag next to me.

Also, Tony told me he was going to take off the outlet covers and see what the deali-o was this morning before he left. And then I get the reassuring news that there was a spark and buzzing sound coming from the outlets. 

Fab-u-lous.  My day keeps getting better and better.

So while Tony jets off to sunny cold Chicago - I will be Google-ing burnt iphone chargers and waiting for his Dad to come and fix our outlets. And just in case, I'm going to run home pack up Tyson, my jewelry, and all my Crate & Barrel gifts and staying with my parents.

FYI - Mom & Dad, this is your warning. Tony comes back on Saturday. Surprise.

You Can Call Me 4 Eyes

So I had an unfortunate incident the other day with my contact lens. The one for my left eye went missing. For a while I thought I was just going crazy since I could see half fuzzy things and have not-so-fuzzy things. Then it dawned on me, my left contact is missing. Ugh.

For some reason I thought it was stuck in my eye ball.  Yes, IN my eye ball. I'm not really sure why I thought that - maybe because I didn't see it on the counter - or rather probably couldn't see it. So I was left to wear my glasses. Normally I wouldn't mind - however I knew it was going to get sunny later in the day and I would be left without the option to wear sunglasses, which is highly annoying.  Unless I wanted to do it Grannie style and wear something like this:

And while, that's a great option for eye glass wearing fools, this fool was not going to use that option. So I squinted. Safe? Probably not, but maybe better than not being able to see while using sun protection. The Maj always promotes "Safety First" - so I'm pretty sure he probably would buy me those clip on sunglasses for my ultimate protection. He's had more than one pair....no joke.

However, the sunglasses was not the big factor in my annoyance of wearing glasses. It was the comment that came from wearing the glasses.

"You kind of look like Sarah Palin today."

Ugh. Thanks co-worker - we were friends once and now it might be debatable.

Apparently the combination of my glasses and my poofed up hair (so much for that poof resolution) made me look like the former Governor of Alaska. Don't worry - I took a picture to let you vote.

Don't mind the bushy eye brows - I have yet to make my appointment with Shoku, eye brow genius (but kind of a judger).

So I know you're probably wondering why I put up with my glass, Palin comments, and lack of sunglasses wearing opportunities. Well, I lost my last pair of contacts. And of course because my luck is like a pot of gold minus the gold, maybe with a few random shirt buttons in it, my prescription on my contacts ran out. Le sigh. Now I have to make an appointment with my eye doctor to get some new ones.

It's on my long to-do list. Along with hunting bears and seeing if I can spot China from my house. Oh wait, that's the actual Sarah Palin who can do that....my bad.


PS. Side note: My contact lens is not actually in my eye...it's been 24 hours and nothings come out of there, except eye boogers.  Don't say ew, you know you have them too.

How to Celebrate a 31 Year Old's Birthday

Tony turned the big 3-1 this year. And as much as he was excited to have another birthday launching him further and further away from his twenty's, I'm sure he is much more excited for me to blog about it - as he is with most things.

Even better - capturing every moment of it with digital pictures. Bonus for him, I choose not to post the pictures on Facebook - you're welcome babe. But instead of recapping Tony's birthday weekend in what he loves to call, Spring-vegas or Springfield for those who lived in Manhappiness for four.....errr, five years, I'd like to show you how to celebrate a 31 year old's birthday.

You try and take a semi decent couple picture

Your friends give you baked ravioli with a match stick candle

And we sing to you

You hit up a bar to watch TV....

When those things called videos turn out to be fun, you dance....with your thumbs

You have your friends start dancing along

They serenade you

You try another picture attempt, realizing that your wife forgot make up

You make sure the girls are smiling...

And not enjoying this extra large drinks...

Especially when they fake drinking them.

Your wife is spasming in the corner....

You attack your friends because it's wrestlin' time

But make sure they aren't touching the ground

Your wife and friends start their own photo shoot

C: That corner up there is really dirty K: I can't breathe through my nose right now, so I'll just open my mouth.

K: I'm a model, I'm used to this C: Not only did I get punched in the gut, but they also took off all my makeup

C: This hangnail is really bugging me. K: My arm is stuck in my teased hair

C: You just slammed me against the wall K: I'm a mother of two now, I have that kind of strength

C: Are these shoulder pads over here? K: Let me whisper to you about them

C: You need a little work on this shoulder back here. K: Yes, but I feel as though my pooch is really good.

C: You mean, I'm supposed to wear make-up for longer than an hour? K: Yes, and until then I'll just sniff your neck.

C: I just smelled something nasty...where is your husband? K: Just ignore it, it happens a lot.

J: Did you smell that? K: Keep smiling, they still don't know it's  you.

Your friends gift you with the splits.

Some can't remember if they put on deodorant and others don't want to be in that situation

And you take one last attempt at a decent picture....still, no luck.

After all the celebrating....you realize birthday parties are overrated.

You Know It's Bad When

You look up from your workout mat and the pregnant woman across the way is doing better than you.

Seriously. Between wiping off the dripping amount of sweat, a la Biggest Loser style, and pretending like you're not going to faint, it's always a great reminder that the preggo lady is in better shape than you.

The only relief you have is that your tall skinny friend next to you is struggling just as much with those two pound weights.  Yeah, you hear me. 2 LBS.

Satisfaction is finally found when you remember that in a few months you will have a more tone tummy than cute little preggo. Ugh...fine. You'll probably have the same looking stomach, she'll just have a better excuse.

But I can have wine after my workout! BOOYAH!

Shamu in the House

I've been struggling with writing the blog lately.  Maybe because I've been tired, or I'm tired of looking at the computer screen, or maybe because I've been reading so many other blogs I feel as though mine is lost. But then I remember that I don't have a following of more than 8 people and so it's not super important for me to be a daily blogger - and my thoughts are more out of control than my laundry right now. (Let's just say major spillage)

The blogs I follow have been making me want to do some DIY projects (and yes I have one in the works, but I'm waiting for the weather warm up), run a marathon - or just a mile - let's start with a mile, cook, and become the worlds best photography.  So you can understand why sometimes my entries are a little nutty - but that could also just be me.

Today I bring you the exercise blog. It's amazing how a little light running blog reading can motivate you - which is especially hard when its Antarctica outside. But I sucked it up and stuffed it in, literally.

For some reason I had in my head that yes, I could be one of those girls who wear those cute little spandex leggings and look dewy rather than a full hot mess. Note to self: I'm not one of those girls. Enter Shamu in running leggings and a bright green sweatshirt. Um....not smart, not smart. I generally reserve these sucks for doing lunges around the house with Tyson. He doesn't judge - at least not out loud. However, today trying to beat the crow to the treadmill machines, I chose these spandex leggings - thank goodness they aren't shiny - and an old Tri Delta t-shirt. Yes - I still break out my Delta Delta Delta t-shirts - I may be reading for leggings, but I am not ready for an all tight out fit - I said Shamu, not a sausage.

And wouldn't you know it - the shirt is too short - at least in my legging mind. I've never moved so fast from the parking lot to the machine and back - all while slightly tugging at the shirt.

So here I am, wearing leggings, a short Delta t, and trying my best not to be one of those people who look like they are dying and ready to fall off the machine and I get the best distractions.

First one: the lady next to me starting to sing out loud while on the elliptical. Awesome. Good thing American Idol is on tonight.
Second: the man next to me on the treadmill (who jumped on it before I could...grrr) who couldn't let go of the machine and stopped his way to 3 miles. He also decided to grunt and cough his way into my heart.
Third: A lady who decided to some some yoga moves right in front of some cardio machines. Thank you ma'am for letting us see your whole dierie (sp? behind). Did you realize that there are four corners to this building? That would be a better place for your bendy-ness.
And finally - a shout out to my Homecoming Queen friend: I'm pretty sure I saw one of the many "boyfriends" you had freshman year in college. I'll give you a hint: it lasted no more than two weeks, he's tall a lanky (I see we may have a type here) and he's still as awkward as ever. I refrained from talking to him, you're welcome.

After my sight-seeing gym adventure tonight - What? Did you think I was going to concentrate on doing some bicep girls and squats? Heck no -the gym is the second best place to people watch (read: judge), I ran home excited to open my new package. A new pair of running leggings.

Yep - I'm apparently a sucker to be stuffed into leggings.

My adventure will continue with my running leggings, and maybe I'll even run in them one day. Not tomorrow, Tall Jen and I are going to force ourselves to another beating at this new place. We tired it on Monday, and I think that was the first time I had actually wished for an oxygen tank. Obviously I wasn't really concerned with the tank - I was staring at all the girls in running leggings. I think they'll be excited to see Shamu in class again tomorrow.

I should probably look into some longer shirts.