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Please hold... Your house will be with you shortly.

Today is originally the day we had planned to move.  We were going to close on the 12th and then take the long weekend to get the new house ready for us to move in.  We were going to paint and clean and shampoo the carpets.  It was going to be perfect!  Except for the fact that it didn't happen that way at all.

Our house is a very, very, very fine house.

I've mentioned a couple of times on here that Joel and I have recently started the process of buying a new house.  The reason I have never really said anything about starting the house hunt and the many weird and wonderful homes we've looked at is because, well, that didn't really happen.  We pretty much found the house we wanted right off the bat and it happened really quickly.  I'm sure this is news to my very good friend and realtor, Sarah, who has been guiding us through this process.  She's been working her tail off for us! 

A couple of years ago when I was out of a job, I thought that maybe I should become a realtor.  It always looked so easy on House Hunters, you know?  You take a couple to a few different houses and then BOOM!  They find something they love and buy it.  That, my friends, is not how it is in real life.  After watching all that Sarah has to do for her clients, I have decided that I am far too lazy to do what she does.  Far, far, far too lazy.  So lazy, my friends, that I asked my boss today if a pedometer would count the "steps" I take whilst rolling myself around my office in my chair.  (Answer: Nope, fat-ass, those don't count.) 

I'm not so much about the "keeping everyone informed about anything" lately...

Oh, Internets!  There is so much to tell you about what's been going on!  Where to start?  Oh!  Neil Diamond!

I think that my love for Neil has been documented on this site before, specifically here and here (which is not so much about Neil-love as it is husband-love, but... moving along).  So, the concert was on December 19, 2008, which was so long ago that it was LAST YEAR!  The concert was wonderful and amazing and everything I could have wanted it to be!  I'm very glad we went.  Although, there is a story there, as there usually is when I am involved in almost anything.  It goes a little something like this:

You know how you feel when you get out of bed in the morning?

And your knees and ankles and various other joints are popping and locking and it sounds like someone's started working away at a bunch of bubble wrap in your bedroom?  No?  That's just me?  Well, believe me, it's kind of amazing.

Now let's get down to brass tacks here, people: I'm busy at work.  Seriously.  Busy.  I have had probably the busiest month since I've been here and I'm not too fond of it, ok?  I don't have time to look at my favorite blogs.  I don't have time to check my e-mail every 30 minutes.  I don't have time to SHOP FOR UNNECESSARY SHOES!  Oh, the humanity, you guys.  What is UP with that?

The upside to this is that I am learning a ton about how to do my job better and the days go by fairly quickly.  The downside is that I am tired from thinking all day, so I all I want to do is drink wine and kill zombies.  Nazi Zombies.  (Joel got the new Call of Duty game a few weeks ago and we just unlocked the Nazi Zombies part of the game wherein you get to, you guessed it, kill Nazi Zombies.  It's pretty sweet.  And scary!  The first time I played it, whenever the zombies got near me I'd scream like an actualzombie was trying to eat my brains, which actually happened a lot because I suck at shooting zombies.  I'm surprised we didn't get any complaints from neighbors because it was after 10:00 PM, when any god fearing-person should be in bed (unless they are saving the world from Nazi Zombies).) 

So now you know my dirty little secret.  I am not a zombie killing machine.  Also, I have become one of those people whom I have historically looked upon with pity and disdain: a person who enjoys their job (for the most part) and wants to actually work instead of trying to find ways to look like they're working when, in actuality, they are reading erotic stories about Smurfs.  You know, Smurf Smut.  I'm sure there's some of that out there.  People are weird.  And gross.

Things are bound to settle down, though, because as I get better at my job, it won't take me a bajillion years to do something that should only take 5 minutes, right?  Also, I'm getting better at "delegating", which is really just fancy talk for pushing my shit off on other people so I have more time to stare at the wall-- I mean, think of interesting things to blog about.  Once I get that down, I'm sure I will be back to posting more than once a week.  I swear!  Honest!

PLUS, I'm going to get a Blackberry Storm from Christmas!  For reals!  I'm so excited!  Once I have that, I can blog from anywhere!  Imagine the possibilities!  You will get so sick of me that all 10 of you who read this blog will be like, "Shut UP already!  Jesus!  Nobody cares that you just saw a cloud that looked like a cotton ball!"  And then you will know how Joel feels EVERY DAY.  

Until then, I'm going to give you a couple of things to think about.  First: Why do they put UN-stretchy lining in clothes that are made to have a bit of stretch in them (like, say, a suit jacket, for example)?  Second: I'm getting a retractable phone cord today and this excites me greatly.  I repeat: I am excited to be receiving a retractable phone cord.  Is this normal?  Probably not, but I am excited nonetheless.

Can you do an intervention on yourself?

So, I'm in Boise for a hearing I have this afternoon.  The hearing office is across the street from a Wal*Mart and there is really nothing else around except fast food restaurants and other stores that I have no reason to go to when I have to leave in 3 hours.  As I'm walking around the store, I realize that I am not in Utah.  Guess what they have in Idaho Wal*Marts that they do not have in Utah ones.  Well, if you guessed WINE, you know how I think way too well.

Being as enamored as I am with a certain wine that I'm having trouble finding in Utah, I thought I'd go look to see if they had it.  They did!  So I start thinking, "Hmmm... I wonder if I could somehow manage to get a couple or 3 bottles home with me."  I decide that, since I'm in Wal*Mart anyway, I could find a small bag to smuggle some bottles back behind the Zion Curtain.  I found a pretty good bag, for the low, low price of $10 (and a small Chinese child's youth and vitality) and thought that I should try to find something to wrap the bottles in so they wouldn't break on the way back.  After looking through some towels and whatnot, I found some fleece blankets that would do the trick and they were only $3.  Imagine!  A whole blanket for THREE DOLLARS!  What's next?  Gas for under $2?  Oh!  They have that here in Idaho, too!

Now, picture me standing in a Wal*Mart in Boise with a shopping basket that has 3 bottles of wine, a small bag and a fleece blanket.  Then picture me totaling up all of my purchases and figuring out that I would be spending close to $50 so I could bring 3 bottles of wine back to Utah.  Finally, picture me heaving a great sigh and looking at the bottles longingly as I put them back on the shelf, hoping that the next time I go to the liquor store, my beautiful Menage a Trois will be there waiting for me. 

Yes, my better judgment intervened and I left my triplets there to be bought by some lucky bastard who lives in a state where you can buy wine at the supermarket.  Well, it wasn't really my own best judgment that stopped me... it was thinking of the look my husband would have on his face when he realized (well, realized again) that he had married a wino.  That and the fact that Joel just brought me a few bottles from the last time he was in California, so all is not lost and I haven't gone completely 'round the bend... yet.

To baby, or not to baby... That is the question.

Did you know that everyone I know is pregnant?  Well, almost everyone.  None of the men I know are pregnant (that I know of) and I'm pretty sure that my 91 year old grandmother isn't with child.  But everyone else of child-bearing age?  Knocked up.  At least it seems that way.  Just this weekend two people, including one of my sisters (who has 3 already) announced they were pregnant.  What up with that, yo?

I guess I am just at that stage of my life where my friends are all settling down.  Last year was the Year of Weddings.  (I got married in February last year and, since that time, I think that we've been to about a million other weddings, give or take.)  So this year must be the year of the baby because every time I turn around, someone else is having a baby.  Don't get me wrong: I'm very excited for all of the impending births; Very super excited for one in particular.  What is bothering me is the fact that I seem to have lost my ticket for the baby express and... I don't really know that I want to go where that train would take me.

This isn't to say that I don't like children.  Believe me, I totally love kids.  I can't get enough of my nieces and nephews.  Strike that.  I can get enough of them and it's about 2-3 hours at my parents' house on Sunday nights.  I so enjoy playing with them and cuddling with them and reading to them, but I also very much enjoy going home to a quiet house with just me, my husband, Lucy, and Peanut.

I know everyone says that it's different with your own kids; that you'll love them so much that all of the hard work and sleep deprivation and dirty diapers and whining and crying is worth it.  I don't know about that, though.  I mean, I love Joel more than I thought I could love anyone on earth and I can barely put up with that crap from him and I don't have to watch him every minute of the day to make sure he's not drinking Drain-o or smoking crack or something.

This is kind of strange for me, too, because I always wanted kids when I was growing up.  It wasn't something I would have questioned for a minute.  But now, at 33, I just don't know.  Part of me looks at my friends or family who have children or are preparing for them and, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous.  Mainly because they get to have the experience of being pregnant and seeing the little heartbeat on the monitor and anticipating the arrival of their little bundle of joy.  How awesome is the miracle of life, you guys?  Even now I'm getting a little tug on my womb-strings.

However, I just can't picture myself as a mother.  A beloved aunt?  Yes.  Please, sisters, send me your kids for a day and I will revel in taking them to do fun things that they never get to do with you.  I will get to spoil them and rejoice in the fact that they will never tell me they hate me because I said they couldn't go hang out with their friends on Saturday night because they have homework, and don't they want to get into a good college and make something of themselves?  I am fine with this and it's how I want things to be most of the time.

But here's the thing: I am 33.  I know that people are having babies well into their 40's these days, but that is not for me.  If we are going to have a kid, we need to do it before all the good eggs are gone.  And if we make the decision to not have children, will we regret it when it's too late and we don't have the choice?  If we don't have kids, will we still be able to hang out with our friends who have taken the plunge?  If we did have kids, what then?  How do people make this decision and not be terrified?  How do people do it?

So, I try not to think about it, but it seems like an impossible task at this point.  I'm just hoping that maybe someone will just walk up to me on the street and tell me one way or the other.  (And, Joel, don't even think about hiring some stranger to tell me we shouldn't do it, because you know I'll find out.)  Or, you know, maybe a stork will drop a baby off at our door and we won't have to actually make the decision.  That would be awesome!  Do you think storks give out tracking numbers?  Because I think we'll need a little lead time on something like that.

More Adventures in Cameraphoning

So, I have been a bad blogger.  BAD!  I have been just so busy at work that when I come home I just want to relax and spend some time with my true love...

 

That, my friends is my new most favorite wine ever in the history of me.  It's called Menage a Trois and it is a wonderful blend of Zinfandel, Merlot, and Cabernet and, seriously, it's my cryptonite.  I think it might be turning into a problem... because we can't get it here!  They've been out of stock for a couple of weeks and it's driving me crazy.  If you want to take pity on me and send me some, please just write "Olive Oil" on the outside of the package and we'll be good to go.  I hate Utah.

Anyhoo, I promise to try to be better about posting more regularly.  This means that I will have to make sure to actually start doing things to blog about, which, um... yeah.  Don't you guys just like to hear about how much I like TV and shit?  Awesome.

Now, without further adieu, please find below some beautiful photographs I have taken with my cell phone.  Some people like their pictures to be "sharp" and "clear" and "well composed."  I call those people "people with fancy cameras and too much time on their hands."

 

This here?  This is my nephew Quinn.  I totally made that shirt for him and did all the letters FREEHAND, bitches.  He is in Kindergarten and he is adorable, no?  So adorable that when we were leaving my parent's house one Sunday a few weeks ago and he stopped me and said, "Carrie!  I forgot something!  I need a kiss!" How can you turn that down?  I'll give you a hint: YOU CAN'T.  However, beware!  Because kissing a Kindergartener is like licking a handrail in a subway station.  I've had a cold for like 3 weeks.  They get me every time with their cuteness and cuddliness and all-around wonderfulness.  Stupid kids.

 

Now, I know what you're thinking.  "Do they even have an erotic bakery in Salt Lake?"  The answer to that is, amazingly, Yes.  However, these wonderful cookies were actually baked by my friend Jen for her election night party.  They are "O's" for "Oh, my God, I'm so glad Obama won!"  I thought they looked a little too much like boobs to let it slide, though.  Because I'm an 11-year-old boy.  Moving on!

 

This was a Halloween decoration at our local Carl's Jr. restaurant.  I know what they were going for: "Witch comically flies into wall."  What it looks like, though, is "Witch didn't watch her calendar close enough and got caught out flying around without an extra tampon." 

 

Hey!  That's me, everybody!  And that's Peanut!  He's got more friends than I do on Facebook, that bastard.  I don't think I've ever posted a picture of myself on here before.  Well, there's a first time for everything.  Don't get too excited, though, I'm not going to make a habit of it!  And, finally:

This is the first and only full rainbow that I've ever seen.  This was last year around this time.  At the time I worked on the 8th floor of a building about 20 miles south of Salt Lake and I had an amazing view.  I think I spent about 1/3 of every day just looking out the window and marvelling at how beautiful Utah can be, regardless of the ridiculous liquor laws.

I finally understand what all those Garfield comics were trying to say...

Or was it Cathy?  Ach!  I hate Mondays!  I won't go into details, but it has definitely been one of those days.  You know the ones I'm talking about.  The ones where your husband accidentally locks you out of your condo before you leave for work and you're stuck with your dog and no cell phone and no way to get into your car, which is parked on the street at a meter, so you end up walking with your dog to your office in uncomfortable (but cute!) shoes so you can call your husband and when you get to your office you start crying because you're super pissed and your boss sees you and kind of makes fun of you and the rest of your office starts to question your sanity and then you write a horrible e-mail to your usually wonderful husband and when he finally picks up his damn phone at work you're still kind of mad but you're calming down and by the time he gets to your office to pick you up, you feel really bad about sending a horrible email and you pretty much feel like a complete jerk because he totally didn't mean to do it, and even though it still kind of makes you mad, you have to just let it go because otherwise the next time you do something stupid, he'll have every right to totally write you a horrible e-mail.

Yeah.  That kind of day.  But now it's over!  And we're going shopping for our Halloween costumes where I will be trying to find a black and white shirt and beret to complete my "Disillusioned Mime" costume.  More details on that later and maybe a prize to anyone who can guess what that costume will entail (hint: there will be words regarding the suppresive nature of the "mime establishment.).

They Always Come in Threes

I know that people usually say that bad things always come in threes, but this week I've just had weird things happening to me.  Well, two weird things to be exact.

First, I got a call from the office manager at the job I had right before I came to work here.  I haven't talked to her since I left, almost 10 months ago, so I immediately thought that I had royally f'ed up somehow and they were calling me to try to figure out what the hell I had done.  Not exactly.  She had just called to ask if I wanted to come to the office party they were having up in one of the canyons today.  That's it.  I really liked working at that office and everyone was really nice, but... it just left me really confused. 

Second, I was unlocking the door to our condo a couple of days ago and, right as I opened the door, a moth fell from the door jamb and straight down the front of my v-neck sweater.  I freaked out a little bit because I haaaaaate moths to begin with, and I most especially hate them when they are trying to set up shop in my shirt.  Well, I did my best to get it out by hopping up and down and going "ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew" while flapping my shirt around.  I didn't see anything come out, but I thought it must have just flown away and I didn't see it.  But it kept bothering me.  Then, later, when I told Joel about it, I started feeling around inside my bra (which, I don't know how you wear a bra, but I wear mine right next to my skin) and I touched something that was most definitely not anything that I would usually find while rooting around in my bra.  Crumbs?  Sometimes.  Joel's hands?  Every time I goddamn turn around.  But this?  This was a dirty, dirty MOTH that had been kicking it in MY BRA next to MY LADY LUMPS.  AAAAAHHHHHH!  It sends shivers down my spine just talking about it!

And now I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.  What will it be?  Is one of the skinless bodies from the museum exhibit next door going to come over and ask to borrow a cup of sugar?  Will I meet Paris Hilton and find that she's actually not as horrible as she seems to be and we actually have a lot in common?  Oh, god, let it be the skinless corpse.

My First Time

No, not thatfirst time, you perv.  Although, I will tell you how that ended for everyone involved: in tears. 

Of course, I'm talking about the first time I've been tagged to do a "meme."  And here I thought my entire blog was all about me and there was no way to fit even more stuff about in myself it.  How wrong I was. 

So, the Turkey tagged me to write 6 things about me that make me "quirky."  As I've learned to gladly do whatever the hell JiveTurkey says, here follows a list of my quirks (abbreviated, of course, because there are so many more than 6).