Chocolate-Chip Would be Wonderful, Thanks!

We’ve (finally) started packing.  We’re doing this whole,  picking things up, putting them into boxes and taping those suckers up thing – rather than the sitting on couches, staring at things and staring at each other method we’ve been perfecting up until this point.

All this putting our lives into boxes has had me thinking we should probably let our family and friends know where those boxes are going.  …which has me thinking we’ll probably send out some kind of moving announcement.  You know, in the mail.  In actual envelopes with actual stamps carried by an actual mailman (or woman, as the case may be). 

People like getting mail, right?  It’s nice to open your mailbox and see something other than your cable bill (thieves!) or another offer from MasterCard (Honey!  Are you seeing this?? We’re pre-approved!).  Getting a personal piece of correspondence just feels good.  The kind of good that makes you want to do things like bake cookies.  And if we don’t send out adorable little cards with our new address on them, how will you know where to bring those delicious cookies?

And with that in mind, I’m thinking the moving announcements above may not be the surest route to cookie-ville.

The search continues…

Upfront Moving Announcements” from GOATcards

Sounds Delicious

Last week, in an effort to combat the miserable weather we were facing, Ross and I decided to dive into a few bowls of Eddington’s soup.

One of my sampler selections was Split Pea soup – which I have loved since childhood.  I can understand why some people think that’s weird.  To be fair, it’s basically a bowl of green mush.  But on a cold and rainy day (or any day, really) I find it to be quite delicious.  My fondness for Split Pea soup might also have something to do with the response rhyme my dad never failed to bring up whenever his squirmy daughters sat down for a green mush meal:

What’d you have for breakfast?

Pea green soup!

What’d you have for lunch?

Pea green soup!

What’d you have for dinner?

Pea green soup!

What’d you do in bed?

PEE GREEN SOUP!

My sister and I answered each question with gusto and squeeeealed with delight when we were fully authorized to shout  about PEEING at the dinner table.  Bathroom humor!  At dinner!  What fun!

The first time I told that one to Ross he laughed (although not nearly as hard as my sister and I do did, but whatever) and proceeded to tell me about the PEE humor in his family.  Apparently whenever it was little round green vegetable time at his house, Ross’ dad would drop one off the table and say:

Oops!  I pea-ed on the floor.

Can you imagine the kind of pea-flying chaos that ensued after that one?  Two little boys, people.  BOYS.

Anyway, just a little peek into our past and the kind of childhood tales that totally mean we were Made For Each Other.  Because nothing says cosmic connection like pee jokes!

Staying in the Know

At 24 years, 8 months and 13 days of age, I officially feel old.  I know I spent an entire post a few weeks ago talking about just how determined Ross and I are to not become “Old and Boring”, but this is different.  This is that, I’m finally old enough to have no freaking clue what “kids” are into these days, kind of old. 

I didn’t think I was that out of touch until I read an Ad Age article on the newest “kid craze,” SillyBandz.  (See what they did there?  See how they took the word, “Bands”, replaced the S with a Z and made it a sensation?  Bravo.  It’s just like those Bratz dolls or Webkinz things.  It seems that kidz really go for these produtz with wordz that end in Z.  Perhaps we should consider doing that with vegetables.  It’s brussel sproutz for dinner, tonight!)

So SillyBandz are apparently a pretty big deal.  These silicon bands come in different shapes and colors and kiddos wear them in multiples on their wrists and arms.  And I’m sure they trade them, much like we did with the equally genius crazes of our time such as Pogs and Pokemon.  It’s actually quite possible I still have my Pog case full of colorful cardboard discs, and of course, a slammer.

Kids wear these things like sleeves–and there is a photos page on the SillyBandz website to prove it.  What’s that you say?  Fun for all ages?  Even babies have jumped on the bandwagon! (hey-o).  

I can only imagine these bands are pretty much elementary school currency.  Can’t you see it in the lunch room?  Hey!  Hey you!  I gave you my last pudding pack last week. You owe me a unicorn SillyBand.  Better pay up kid ‘cuz I know which bus you ride.

I may not be hip to what’s cool with kids these days, but for now I’m OK with that.  I talked to my mom about these silly SillyBandz and told her how happy I was that I didn’t have to spend my money on this kind of thing.  She laughed and emphasized that my day will come…muahaha.

And I said, You know what?  Come to think of it, I’m not going to spend my money on it (and you can bet “practical is fun” Ross won’t either).  They can do their chores and buy their own damn SillyBandz. 

Chores = $$ = SillyBandz.

Let’s be real.  How else is the garbage going to get taken out?

 

(Image from Mommy Message)

 

 

 

I Can *Du* This…I think.

This morning I’m running/biking/doing? a duathlon with my good friend, (and fellow blogger) Kate.

Last year, Kate peer-pressured convinced me to sign up for a triathlon.  And when all was said and done, I’m really glad she did.  It was the first time I’d ever really pushed myself physically. (See proof that I actually did it here.)  And for a few hard-earned months, I was in the best shape of my life.  Key word being, was, of course.

Because of that unfortunate key word above, I needed something to give me a swift kick in the oversized butt.  And when you’ve signed up for a race that has terms like “transition area” and “electrolyte replacement station” in the description, you get that special Say What?! feeling that kinda forces you to get your act together.  Because, so help me GOD, I’m not coming in last.

Until yesterday, I had a fair amount of confidence that I wouldn’t win the last place trophy.  But when I picked up my race packet and discovered that only 100 other crazies were signed up for the race, that whole, Say What?! feeling crept right back up again.

I called Ross on my way out of the store to warn him that his wife could very well be the final person to cross the finish line.

Will you claim me at the finish line if I come in last?

You’re not going to come in last.

Dude, there are only 100 people doing this tomorrow.

Oh. {…} Well then. If you come in last, I’ll buy you breakfast.

…but you won’t come in last.

Here’s hoping Ross doesn’t have to buy me breakfast.

The above photos were snapped on my Blackberry while browsing the merch at the store where I picked up my packet.  One More Mile makes these amazing tshirts that so perfectly sum up how I feel about today.  You can check out their full line here.  Some of my favorites not pictured above:
I’m only doing this so I can post a picture on Facebook
Race day strategy: start off slow then back off
Running won’t kill you. You’ll pass out first