Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Who thinks of these things?

Last night, we had tuna melts and salad for dinner (omg yes, on seedless rye with cheddar, and pickled peppers instead of relish), so I spent a little time dicing an onion. I washed my hands and carried on with life.

Fast-forward several hours to me lying serenely in my bed, hands tucked under my cheek. Then, watch my nose wrinkle. At that point, it was far too late to do anything about the horrible smell - onions mixed with cocoa butter body lotion - emanating from my hands. In the morning, I washed my hands with every different kind of soap I could find, both at home and at work. I tried the stainless-steel-spoon trick. I tried covering it up with more lotion. My hands, they still stunk.

At that point, I turned to my preferred method of self-soothing: complaining. It helped, a little.

And then, it helped a lot.

Because of my complaining, my co-worker passed on a tip she'd just read on Yahoo: coffee grounds as an odor neutralizer. And apparently, a lot of other things, as well!

I am thrilled to report that rubbing coffee - in this case, Master Roaster Maxwell House - on hands until the skin is a little tender really does get rid of the smell.

I love DC in the fall.

My five days in DC passed in a whirlwind. I had an early(ish) flight Wednesday morning, which started the whole trip off on the right foot. Why's that, you ask?
Because on Southwest, pregnant women can pre-board. Yes, that's my second-row seat! I don't like the bulkhead. I'd rather have my carry-on at my feet. I took this picture explicitly to send to my brother in a boastful moment.  I have no idea what I did for the rest of the day. Lunch with my bestie? Shopping? Seems likely.

Thursday my dad and I went for a walk on the C + O Canal, and came across this totally prehistoric looking heron. Dad is far braver than I, and got to within 10 feet of the pterodactyl. I hung back and flirted with hyperventilating. My bird phobia continues.

I conscripted my bro into helping me with some individual apple galettes for Thanksgiving dinner. How cute is he in his vest and apron? He is about the most precise person I know, and the apples he sliced were just about perfect. Mine, though done in a fraction of the time, were not perfect. Those two phrases could be applied to our lives in general. It's probably why I love him.

Thanksgiving dinner was outstanding. We went to our family friends' house (ancestral manse of my bestie) and feasted, then played board games, then feasted some more. It was like being in a sit-com.

Friday my mom's friend threw me a baby shower, which was so kind of her. I had a fantastic time. Please to excuse the poor lighting. I hope to scrounge up more photos to share from others who were in attendance. My mom and I have incredibly generous friends, and I feel lucky to know them!

Since I'm not running anymore, I tried to walk at least a little every day I was there. The weather was gorgeous (hello 70 degrees in late November!) and it's so easy to walk in my parents' neighborhood. Mom and I took Max for a walk one morning. I knew Max was old, but I didn't realize this is how most of their walks conclude:
Is he not the cutest? I love how he crosses his hind legs and just chillaxes. I told Mom she needs to get him a stroller. I'm pretty sure he'd dig it.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Bed head

Spending 5 days in DC was supposed to leave me rested. I figured on coming back to work on Monday full of vim and vigor, with a Thanksgiving-inspired bounce in my step. 

In reality, this is what I feel like.
And if we're really going to be honest, I suspect it's bordering on what I look like, too.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Widowed, deer style.

Don't worry, I'm still happily married to a very much alive-and-kicking M.

It IS Thanksgiving week, though, and in our household, that means one thing - shotgun season for deer. Hunting season, in these parts, always seems to start the Saturday before Thanksgiving. For the past few years, M. has traveled to his parents' house in central New York for a 10 day hunting escapade. Each year, he packs his truck full of hunting stuff, all carefully sprayed with "Fresh Earth" scent to cover any lingering human odors..

And then I'm pretty sure he spends the next 48 hours praying that this will be the year of The Big One. True story: he and his friends have a very ritualistic party the night before opening day that may or may not involve actual idol worship and rubbing of antlers. I'm not sure, because I've never been invited. It's totally legit to mock rituals you don't understand, right?

It's been a whopping TWO WHOLE YEARS since he shot a deer (large or small), and the freezer is looking a little bare. And so, with visions of Hank's venison steak Diane dancing in my head, I gave him a kiss and sent him on his way on Friday.

How happy I was to hear that he got one! Not a big one, by any means, but at least he broke his losing streak. And I can have my steak Diane.

While M. spends the holiday week with the deer and his family, I'll be spending it with my family in DC. I can't wait to see them all - and to shock them with the size of my belly.