Holidays

Wrap Yourself in a July Scarf

Published on by Lisa

Last night I was listening to my iTunes collection and a Christmas song came on. It didn’t even feel odd because I was wrapped up in pants and a sweater and still slightly cool. The weather had dipped into the 50s and I could hear the BOOM from downtown from the fireworks.

Yes, that’s right. It was in the 50s and the fireworks were going off downtown.

The past 4 days I have woken up to chilly, rainy mornings which makes me think more and more of my due date. It’s as if I feel I’m 6 months along because it’s October and January is right around the corner. But, no, it’s July and this weather is just unbelievable.

I actually don’t mind it as much because the cooler weather feels nice and it’s a lovely break from the humidity beating down on the city last week.

Break out the brass band – Nick is coming home this afternoon!

(I yell) Hip! Hip!
(you yell)_______
(hint: Hooray!)

One text and postcard later, here I am, Nick’s pregnant partner eagerly eating raw vegetables and blueberries, waiting for his return. It’s so wonderful to have little reunions in life, don’t you think? These brief (although it sure didn’t feel so brief this week) separations just make us cherish our beloved ones all the more when they come home.

I seriously feel like baking something in celebration.

Ah-hem — I don’t bake.

That’s how joyous I feel.

And so, with this holiday weekend, I must bid you all a wonderful and happy 4th of July. Enjoy the empty calories of all the bbq food you will have and safe travels from place to place. I must send a grateful note to my wonderful sister, Carmen, who stayed with me nearly every night this week because I’m such a chicken to sleep in this huge echoing house by myself and am tortured by thoughts of a break-in.

I hope your summers bring you so much joy you feel like fireworks are going off inside you.

That’s kind of how our growing baby feels inside me these days.

Friday the 13th

Published on by Lisa

It’s Friday the 13th and I tend to get excited for this stupid day.

There’s really no reason for the excitement. It’s kind of like when New York City had a huge blackout back in 2003 (?). I am intrigued by how people react to random, rather large scale phenomenons.

It’s all the little stories of superstition, full moons, and random fears that attract me. It’s fun, funny, and somewhat entertaining to hear what people do or refuse to do on days like today. Personally, I have no superstitions because I’m too scared to believe in them (if that makes any sense), I just like the fun of talking about it. But if someone offers me a black cat, you can be sure I’m more than likely get in my car and drive away from it. Perhaps even consider running over the cat, but am too scared about what might unleash from that act as well.

So, it’s safe to say, I like the fun spookiness of it all, similar to Halloween. I just regret I don’t get to dress like a bee. (My new costume for Halloween 09.)

(And this is a personal shout out to Pat Ryan, aka Goatee, I hope you have a great and normal day with no complications whatsoever.)

Older, Maybe Wiser

Published on by Lisa

Here are two Christmas pictures taken in Russia. One was last year and the other was this year. Other than the fact I am in the 2008 pictures, do you see any differences other than the gifts we’re holding?

I guess we’re slowly aging. That’s good news.

I just hope we’re wiser.

The Cookie Monster

Published on by Lisa

My sister Carmen and I tried to do something creative to take my medicated mind off the pain. So we decided to make Christmas cookies.

This was actually more of her baking and my watching TV and then hobbling into the kitchen to help decorate.

They were the most hideous looking things I’ve ever created.

I had to hold onto my stitches because we were laughing so hard at how ugly they were.

Winner in picture.

The Christmas Problem

Published on by Lisa

Last month I joined Facebook (an online social networking thingy that’s oodles of fun and lets you keep in touch with your best friend from pre-school on the east coast) and have been putting weekly plugs in Nick’s ear to join as well. His worry: it might be too much work.

(It requires you to periodically check an online account and click a button that says, “Yes this person _______ is my friend.” CLICK. _______ is added to your friend list.
Nick still maintains this is work.)

I posted this picture on my Facebook account and entitled it, “The Christmas Problem,” and promised to name the tree after whomever gave the best advice on how to move forward. Here’s the background:

Nick and I were debating about fake vs. real trees. Of course we have completely different opinions. Nick grew up with the former. I grew up with the latter. I wanted the latter. Nick wanted the former. You can guess how this debate went. Finally, Nick said, “I just don’t want our house to burn down.” Apparently this happens more with real trees? I’m not sure of that, but it sounded pretty convincing so we decided artificial is the way to go.

So I’m out hunting for deals and spot the last 9ft. artificial tree in the window ON SALE! Of course, I can’t pass that down, so I put on my aggressive face and elbow my way to the counter. She tells me there are none left. Sold out.

I end up buying the display and am so proud of my timing and skills on the Super Tall tree that I speed home to show Nick our newest purchase. Not wanting to spoil my excited blabbering about my great deal, he smiles encouragingly and pats my shoulder. His eyes flicker a bit when I boast that it’s 9ft tall. “How’s that going to fit?”

I immediately think, “Well, you turn it sideways and walk through the door. Getting it in won’t be THAT hard.”

He sees my confused look and clarifies, “The ceiling. We probably don’t have 10ft. ceilings.”

We don’t?

No. (Take a look at the picture.) We don’t.

So, after a week of having a tilted tree, we ended up taking out the middle section so it now stands at a boring 7.5ft.

I never received so many messages via Facebook about The Christmas Problem. The suggestions ranged from cutting a hole in either the ceiling or floor to sawing the middle pole. Amazing how no one suggested taking out one section. That was my idea.

SOOOO, I guess I’ll name it after me: The Lisa Problem.