Monday, November 29, 2010

Almost nothing but thanks...

The Thanksgiving 2010 weekend went off without a hitch!  Other than a severely sore throat on my part and a lot of money leaving my bank account on Black Friday (a Dyson for $269? How could I pass that up?), the weekend went swimmingly well with all three families.  And I managed to only eat a very small amount of turkey in my new vegetarian endeavor.

(Of course, this means that I ate a cornucopia of potatoes, stuffing and pie...but that's neither here nor there.)

Oh, and there is one more thing.

An incredibly brave and forthright person anonymously posted two comments on my blog over the weekend claiming that I:

a) have cheated on Hubs multiple times

b) am a cruel, evil bitch, and the world will someday discover
   this fact

c) I got married because I wanted a wedding, not a husband

d) have written letters to Hubs apologizing for "cheating on him 
and looking at other men".  Apparently this anonymous person has this letter in their possession.

e) I married Hubs for his money

(This one cracks me up. Because, really if Hubs has money
somewhere, he needn't hide it any longer. I will gladly accept it into our joint bank account.)

(I do sometimes secretly think Hubs will walk in one day and 
say, "Remember how we both got laid off this last year and we had a rough time?  It was all a JOKE! I'm actually a MILLIONAIRE!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Hop into our private jet, and let's go to Paris!")

(Am I the only one that does this??)

After reading these comments, I laughed.  Then I showed Hubs and we read them together.

And then we laughed.

Then, admittedly, I got kind of mad. And I may or may not have dwelled on the whole thing for about 3 hours too long, until Hubs got sick of it and told me to pull my head out of my backside and get over it.  So I did.

And eventually I came to this conclusion. Hubs and I both know who wrote this. It doesn't take rocket science to figure it out.  

(And for the record, anonymity is for...well, let's just say it rhymes with Shicken Chit.)

Therefore, to this very determined person who is investing so much of their plentiful free time trying to break up my marriage, I will say...nothing.  Because it isn't worth it.  If I felt the need to defend and validate my commitment to Hubs, it would be giving this person fuel for their fire. Instead, I just feel really sorry for them.

In other news, Hubs starts his new job today!  Yahoo!  His hours are much earlier than I'm accustomed to, so the typical roll-over-and-cuddle-for-thirty-extra-minutes-in-the-morning ritual can sadly no longer continue.

However, Hubs can finally go somewhere each morning where he is appreciated and celebrated for the hard worker and amazing designer that he is.  I couldn't be prouder.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend.  Here's a little pic from the weekend, from our fam to yours.  Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Let's do some heavy petting....

I generally use this blog to recount stories of my somewhat checkered past, and that's all well and good. But every now and again, something comes up that takes precedence over everything...and today is one of those days.

The Pet Connection, one of the wonderful no-kill animal shelters in Kansas City announced they will be closing due to a lack of funding.  I have personally worked with this shelter over the last few years through my volunteer work with the International Interior Design Association (IIDA).  The architecture and design community in KC has donated much of their time and talents to this shelter, and I am saddened to hear that it will soon be gone.

But let's forget about what the humans have contributed.  130 animals need homes NOW.  Pet Connection is waiving all adoption fees and sending pets home with food, crates, etc as they prepare for the closing.

If you live in Kansas City, or know someone in the surrounding areas who lives nearby, please direct them to Pet Connection's website at:

I don't want to be pushy but - yeah, I want to be pushy.  Adopting a pet from a shelter is one of the greatest gifts you can ever give to yourself and your family. You are saving an animal's life, and trust me, making your own better. There are so many amazing animals all over this country that don't need a piece of paper from a breeder to declare them special.  Each and every one of them is special in their own way, and they deserve a chance to live with a family who will give them the care they deserve.

Below I've posted a little story that I received in my inbox the other day.  When I read it, I naturally cried, and wished more people could realize the amazing benefits of adopting a pet from a shelter.  Now with the news of Pet Connection closing, I realize I have to reach out to help, even if it only saves one of the animals.

I've also posted pictures of my animal shelter kitties, Oreo and Cupcake.  A self-proclaimed dog lover, I was very leery of adopting a cat two years ago. Naturally, Hubs knows me better than anyone and assured me that now only would I love our cat, I would soon love every cat I came in contact with. Three months after we brought Cupcake home, we went right back to the shelter and picked up Oreo.  Now I can't imagine my life without these two amazing creatures.

Read the story below and please pass this blog entry on to anyone you know who might be thinking of adding a pet to their home.  Encourage them to check out local shelters before they go to a breeder.  

Thanks for tolerating my break in funny stories for a cause I truly believe in. Remember that when you adopt a pet, you save two lives.  The pet you adopt, and the pet who fills the spot of the animal you adopted.




 Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels.  I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her.  I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn't be afraid.
As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage.  I didn't want her to know that I hadn't been walked today.  Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn't want her to think poorly of them.
As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past.  I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life.
She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me.  I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her.  Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship.
A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well.  Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms.  I would promise to keep her safe.  I would promise to always be by her side.  I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes.  I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor.  So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors.  So many more to be saved.  At least I could save one.
I rescued a human today.

Monday, November 15, 2010

caught green and red handed

I have a confession. Some of you might find this pathetic and sad,'s who I am.

I love Christmas music.

No really.  I love it.  Even the weird jazzy Charlie Brown music.

You know those people who say, "Oh, I love Christmas, but I prefer to wait until after Thanksgiving before I start listening to the holiday music."

Well I'm one of them.  Except I'm lying. I listen to Christmas music whenever I get the chance.  June, August, January, it doesn't matter. And I allegedly have a station on my Pandora radio called "Christmas Lovelies."

(I also have this problem with Christmas movies, but that's another post.)

I generally try to keep this secret under wraps because frankly, I've already given people enough reasons to think I'm crazy.  I don't need to fuel that fire. But after today, my cover has been officially blown.

This morning I had to drop off a large piece of furniture to a client for a project she's working on.  And when I say large, I mean over 100 pounds. 

Upon my arrival at the client's office, I realized that the piece of furniture I had (which, just in case you're wondering, is this) would not fit through the front door.  I asked the receptionist if there was a warehouse person or facility guy who could help me unload the albatross chair from my car.  

So the receptionist calls in Phillip.  

And Phillip is cute.  Not *swoon* cute, but cute enough that I become acutely aware that I might need a breath mint.

Phillip tells me to drive around to the back to the loading dock, where he will be happy to assist me with the unloading of my furniture.

So I do.  And whilst I drive, I realize Josh Groban is singing "O Holy Night."

O Holy Crap.

The holy grail of Christmas songs. It's my fave. I turn it up super loudly and sing at the top of my lungs until I see Phillip in sight. 

(After which I continue to sing, except through my teeth so he can't tell what I'm doing.)

I pull up to the loading dock and realize I have to back in.  This is not good.  I would proudly award myself the Worst Backer-Inner in the World Award if there were such a thing.

(Immediately followed by the Worst Puller Into the Garage-er Award.)

I cut the engine and jump out of the car, smiling at Phillip.
And then this happened:

Me: (awkwardly) Um, Phillip, I am really awful at backing in. And since there are railings on both sides of this loading dock, would you mind backing my car in for me?  I'm sure your building will appreciate it.

Phillip: (nodding) Sure, no problem.  I understand. It can be tough with those railings there.

Me:  Well, be careful.  That chair blocks the entire back windshield so you'll just have to use the side mirrors.

Phillip:  (possibly rolling his eyes) Uh huh.

Me: (standing outside my car, and MAYBE trying to look really sophisticated and business-y.) You'll have to start the engine, I just turned it off.

Phillip: (Nods, hops in my car and starts engine)


Me: (looking for a hole to crawl in and die.)

Phillip:  (Turns music down)  Good song.

Me: Uh...yeah.  It is. It's almost the holidays, so, ya know, I listen every now and again and usually I don't listen a lot but kind of felt in the mood today since it was chilly and...(trails off)

Phillip:  This will just take a second. (backs my car into the correct spot and retrieves my heavy chair out of it.)

Me: (cheeks blazing) Well, thanks a lot.  I appreciate it.

Phillip:  Sure thing.


I quickly get back in my car and drive away like a bat out of hell, mortified that my Christmas secret has been uncovered.

But then "Merry Christmas Darling" by the Carpenter's came on and I forgot what I was upset about. 

Monday, November 8, 2010

phoning it in...


Okay, look. I'm not a patient person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I don't think it would be going too far to say that if patience were one of the attributes to get into heaven, the Devil and I are going to be real good friends.

That being said, I would say I have manners.  In spades.  I'm genreally pleasant, I say my please and thank you's, and I would never scream profanties at a stranger for having fat fingers.

Did I just do a fly by?

Let me explain.

About fifteen minutes ago, I looked up the phone number for my step-daughter's dentist.  She has an appointment this week that we're not going to be able to make, so a reschedule needed to happen.

I found the dentist's website and quickly dialed the number.

Now, maybe I ate too much salt this weekend.  Maybe I drank too much sangria at my friend's wedding shower yesterday. But for whatever reason, my fingers were clearly larger than usual and unable to handle the small Nerd candy's that Blackberry calls keys on my cell phone. Because this happened.

Me: (dialing number)

Phone: (ringing, ringing, ringing)

Me:  (tapping fingers,irritated that it takes more than two rings for a dental office to answer a telephone.)

Female Voice: (loudly) Some crazy WHITE B*TCH on this phone?

Me: (wondering if I accidentally dialed one of the Real Housewives of Atlanta) Um, hello?

Female Voice:  Mmm hmm!  What you want? He don't wanna talk to you, lady!  Bobby said STOP CALLING!

Me: Um, I'm sorry?  I thought I was calling XYZ Dentist Office.

Female:  WHAT? Does this sound like a DENTAL ASSISTANT?  What do you want?

Me: (hanging up quickly before my call can be traced and Billy's girlfriend shows up at my doorstep.)

I have no idea who I called or how in the world Bobby has managed to keep a girlfriend (or mother?) around that acts like that.  I either caught someone on the worst day of their life, or I have finally met someone with even less patience than me.  Because really, this woman was mad before I even SPOKE. How did she know I was even a woman?

Either way, today I am considering myself more patient than Ghandi for not having given that crazy lady a lesson in manners and kindness.

(This will hopefully overshadow the fact that I am a total wimp and too scared to stand up for myself over the phone to someone who can't even see me.)

But seriosuly people, this woman was MAD.

The great part is, I still have the number since it's the last one I dialed.  Maybe I'll call later and tell her Bobby's candlelit reservation for The Bristol at 9:00 with Candy Whitefield has been pushed up to 9:15...

Monday, November 1, 2010

on the way to the top

I spend a lot of time in different kinds of buildings for my job.  Shiny new office buildings, rehabilitated urban lofts, and even the occasional strip mall.

Most of these buildings require the use of an elevator for me to get to the correct office. 

For the record, I hate elevators.

(Except the one I met Hubs in.)

Elevators are like a portal of death to me.  They creak, squeak and are one of the most uncomfortable places on earth to be.

I dream at least four times a week that I am in an elevator when it comes crashing to the ground and I die in a fiery blaze.

Anyways...there is a silver lining to the elevator cloud.  Funny stories.

The other day a friend of mine texted me about a bizarre conversation she had in an elevator with a stranger.  This got me thinking about how many hilarious dialogues I've participated in/witnessed over the years. 

So in honor of Monday sucking, here are a few stories to bring a smile to your day.  I'll start off with my friend's story and move into my own. Feel free to comment and add some of your own!

Story 1: Courtesy of my friend J

J: (standing in elevator)

Women Stranger:  (sniff, sniff) Mmm, you smell good!

J: (smiles)

Women Stranger:  I'm not gay.

Story 2:

Me: (sigh)

Man Stranger: This is sure a long ride.

Me: (laughs) Yeah, it seems to be!

Man Stranger: At least Desperate Housewivesis on tonight.  I love that show!

Story 3:

(ridiculously crowded elevator)

Man Stranger #1: Wow, I can't believe how many people we just got in here!

Man Stranger #2:  Carl, if you fart, I will kill you.

Story 4:

Me: (waiting ten minutes for an elevator with 30 pounds of crap in my arms)

Man Stranger Waiting Next to Me:  You have a lot of stuff! Looks heavy!

Me:  Yeah, it is.

Man Stranger: (waits a moment) Well, I'm going to take the stairs! Have a good day!

Me: (silently flips him the bird)

Story 5:

Me:  (riding in an elevator silently)

Man Entering Elevator on Cell Phone:  I'll probably be home in twenty minutes. I'm on the elevator right now.  What?  On the 17th floor, from my office.

(Elevator begins to move)
Man on Phone:  Yes, it's moving right now! I don't know why it isn't cutting out, but I'm on it....Well,sometimes it doesn't cut me off....I don't know why not.(glances at me) Can I call you back? (sighs)  Yes, I love you. I LOVE YOU.

Story 6

Woman's Cell Phone Rings on Elevator:  Hello?  I'm in the elevator, on my way home. 

Elevator opens on 2nd floor, woman exits. Doors begin to close.  Woman looks around and realizes she didn't exit on the 1st floor.

Woman: Oh shit!  This isn't my floor! 

(doors close before I can hit button)


(Elevator drops out of earshot)

Story 7

Riding on elevator with about 4 alpha males all discussing stock portfolios or something I know nothing about. A large woman enters the elevator on floor 6 and gets off on floor 7.

Jack-ass Alpha Male: OH DAMN! She needed to use the stairs.

Jack-ass Alpha Male 2: (to me) Thank goodness you're riding more than five floors or we'd be giving you a hard time!

Jack-ass Alpha Male 3:  But she isn't fat, Paul.

Jack-ass Alpha Male 2:  If she got off after one floor, she would be eventually. Right?  RIGHT?

Me: (making mental note to hug Hubs' mother for giving him manners the next time I see her.)


I have loads more stories, but we'll save them for another day.  What about you bloggies...what's an uncomfortable moment you've had in an elevator?