If You Live On The East Coast You Can Probably Guess What This Post Is About

We survived the 5.8 earthquake of 2011, Washington D.C.

Trust me when I say I’m being facetious in writing that.

Yesterday began just like any other day. I got to work late (though if you ask my officemate I’m the most punctual person he knows since I arrive every day right at 8:30. Too bad my start time is 8:00), I took a quick trip to the new Wal-Mart across the street (it’s all the rage right now in this little town), ate lunch, and oh, yeah, did some stuff for which I’m paid. Then, at around 1:50 pm, the earth began to shake. There is a hotel being built next door so my first instincts were that a piece of construction equipment had fired up. When it didn’t stop I immediately knew we were experiencing an earthquake. Thankfully, my officemate was gone for the day because if he had turned around he would have seen a rather panicked Lauren half out of her chair, half under her desk wildly looking around at the ceiling, the desk, the lamp posts outside, and the skeleton of a three story hotel waiting for any one of them to come crashing down. Luckily, none of that happened and the quake was over in a matter of seconds though my nerves were shot for the rest of the day.

When I was a little girl my family lived in Monterrey, Ca and some of my earliest memories are from that time. One that sticks out in my head is how my three year old mind processed earthquakes. In my mind earthquakes were actually a giant ant shaking our house. Clearly, nobody thought to inform the three year old what was going on at the time. With that being said there are many differences between being 3 and experiencing an earthquake and being 30 and experiencing an earthquake one of which is the adult knowledge that earthquakes cause death and destruction. On the other hand there are similarities between being 3 and experiencing an earthquake and being 30 and experiencing an earthquake one of which is pooping in your pants.

Speaking of pooping pants there was one family member who seriously needed a 50s-housewife-style tonic to calm her nerves down hours after the quake struck. Poor, Lasagna. She was so unnerved by the earthquake we found her collar in the baby’s room and eventually found her in the farthest room of the house, cowering in a corner. It took a lot of treats and coaxing to get her to come out and even as of this morning she was on edge when anything sounded out of the ordinary (which apparently includes her food being poured into her bowl…which might make one wonder if I feed her often enough and I promise, I do). I can just picture her as a person, small and nervous and constantly wringing her hands with anxious eyes shifting around, waiting for the next thing to set her off as she reaches into her purse to get one of her special remedies for her “headache.”

Finally, and hopefully the only person in the family who really poops her pants, there’s Alex. According to Marcus, who was home with her at the time, she was completely oblivious to the 5.8 magnitude earthquake. I know she’s aware of her surroundings more and more each day but she is apparently not so in tune with the earth beneath her feet…or in this case the earth beneath her toy. Marcus sent me the picture below not long after the quake shook and I like to think she’s laughing in the face of danger. It’s either that or she went all Dr. Evil on our asses and plotted the whole thing herself because she certainly has a devilish look on that pretty face of hers.

 I demand the sum... OF 1 MILLION DOLLARS.

Life Keeps Going Whether I Blog Or Not

I apologize for not writing in over a week two weeks. As it is I was finishing up a statistics course (this was only accomplished with a lot of whining and complaining so thanks to all who had to listen to my constant bitching over the last 8 weeks), Alexandra was continuing to grow and do amazing baby things and I felt like taking part in life rather than watching it from the sidelines, and there’s the added stress of trying to convince Marcus not to purchase something because it’s a “good deal.”

So, let’s see what has been going on? Well, first I suppose I should talk a little about Alex as this blog was started because of her impending arrival. She was baptized a few weekends ago into the Episcopal church and we couldn’t be happier. She wore my old christening gown from 30 years ago which was huge on her but perfect nonetheless. Marcus’s family came into town as did my family and we had everyone for lunch and cake after church. That wasn’t as stressful as I was anticipating aside from the fact that our stove has one, I repeat, one working burner and the oven is a consistent 125 degrees cooler. So, I’m just going to go ahead and put it out there that Thanksgiving will not be held at our house this year. Anyway. While family was here Alex was trying her damndest to roll over from her back to tummy (one of the more trying feats a baby must accomplish in their lives) to no avail. A week later though she did it! I had put her on the floor and turned around to get a toy and when I turned back around she was on her tummy. “She rolled over!” I cried out to Marcus to which he replied, “Yeah, she did it twice earlier,” to which I then replied, with arms thrown in the air for emphasis, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” This wouldn’t have been such a big deal except for the time she rolled over from her tummy to her back I didn’t find out about it for days. DAYS.

Speaking of Marcus and his shenanigans he recently purchased another non-family vehicle. The first was purchased shortly after Alex was born and it is a 1988 Jeep Wrangler. When I was asked my thoughts on the matter I gave a long, deep sigh and gave my opinion which was it isn’t an appropriate vehicle to have the baby in and what we really need is a reliable family car. This opinion was noted and filed away under “I hear you but I’m not really listening.” The most recent purchase, to which I was also asked my opinion and to which I gave and which was also filed away under the aforementioned file, is a 2004 Jeep Grand Cherokee (I’m sensing a theme here) with over 120,000 miles on it, a nice big scratch on the passenger side, and the smell of a thousand cigarettes which makes me nauseous in no time flat. So, we now have 4 vehicles one of which the baby cannot ride in and three of which are all more than 7 years old with over 115,000 miles each. Good times.

Anyway, I just wanted to get a quick update out there to get some of what has been going on down on “paper” before I forget.

Daddy bought what?!

I'm No Saint But Neither Are You

I have a rather lovely commute both to and from work. It’s a beautiful stretch of road through the Virginia countryside that I share with fellow employees of Dahlgren and locals making their way out of or into “town.” In short, my commute doesn’t even come close to the miserable commute others in my area deal with on a daily basis which could be the reason why I take such offense to obnoxious drivers. The route I take is a 2 lane highway with a large, grassy median dividing the east and west bound traffic. It’s mostly farmland with a few neighborhoods scattered here and there. It’s an idyllic drive and the worst “traffic” I run into might be a slow driver in the left lane holding up everyone else’s progress*.

Now, I’ll be the first to tell you, I’m no saint when it comes to driving. I learned how to drive in the Northern Virginia/DC area which recently was given the distinction as having the worst drivers in the country (http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/impatient-self-absorbed-dc-drivers-are-worst-in-the-nation-again/2011/05/28/AG5vbZDH_story.html). Thus, it should come as no surprise that I tend to be a fast, and at times, aggressive driver. I like to think of it more as survival of the fittest and it’s only necessary to be an aggressive driver when dealing with all of the other aggressive drivers out there. I would also like to mention that in all of my years driving I’ve had one speeding ticket and never (knock on wood) been in an accident.

Nonetheless I tend to get annoyed rather quickly with what I perceive to be another person behaving stupidly and a large part of me always wants justice. Since it’s rare that a cop is ever around to witness such behavior (why is that?!) I believe it’s my duty to let those people know they are being jerks. In a nutshell, if I see you driving like a maniac and I have the chance to fuck with you, I will.

Case in point: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been cruising down the road and a car pulls out directly in front of me. Instead of speeding up with the traffic they putt along, slowly building momentum. Since I’m cruising along at a brisk 65 MPH it’s not long before I’m practically on top of them and having to navigate around them assuming that’s even possible and no other traffic is around. What bothers me the most about this scenario are two things: 1. There is rarely so much traffic on the road that it necessitates the need for pulling out in front of someone, and 2. I drive a bright, red sedan which is a car that doesn’t exactly blend in with its surroundings. So, I can only surmise a few things here. The other driver is so engrossed in themselves that they don’t care about anyone or anything else on the road or, they’re blind, in which case they really ought to reconsider driving altogether. I’ve been cut-off or had cars pull out in front of me so many times it’s become a source of bemusement rather than anger and because of this I’ve resorted to a new way of letting the person know that they aren’t the only drivers on the road:  I wave at them. As I cruise on by I smile brightly and wave wondering if sarcasm can be conveyed through non-verbal communication. Some people notice and others don’t they’re so oblivious to their surroundings. If they do notice I like to think I at least gave them pause to consider what they might have done to receive such a response and it’s a bit classier than giving them the bird.

With that being said, I will give you the bird if you are being a complete ass-hat. For example if I see you charging up behind me, weaving in and out of traffic to finally come upon my little, red bumper and tailgate me to the point where I can see what color your eyes are I will flip you off, I will not speed up, and more than likely I will box you in with the car beside me**. Now, I realize playing games such as this is dangerous because the person behind the wheel could very well be a raving lunatic with a gun (we love our guns in Va.) and I sometimes look back at my own behavior with a degree of disgust because my behavior is no better than their's.  At the same time part of me gloats in the knowledge that I slowed down their progress.

This exact scenario happened to me yesterday as I made my way home from work. The only difference between what happened yesterday and any other time is that I had Alex with me. There is nothing as intense a feeling as the one you get when it comes to protecting your child and I now fully comprehend the term “fiercely protective.” This particular ass-hat was driving an SUV which was jacked-up and which easily afforded a view into my backseat where Alex was buckled in (it also easily afforded the view of my middle finger, I’m sure). He was so close there’s no way he didn’t see a baby buckled into her car seat. Hell, he could probably see her eye color. I digress. Now, please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t expect the presence of my child to stop anyone from behaving badly but, God Almighty, give me the strength not to slam on my brakes, tear him from his seat, rip his balls off, shove them down his throat, and spit in his face. In that order. I was hot. The evil, physically harmful things I wanted to do to this man raced through my mind as I inched forward to pass the car beside me and eventually get out of his way (though I didn’t acquiesce too quickly which I’m sure didn’t help the situation). Once he passed, being sure to swerve ever so slightly into my lane so as to show me who was boss, my heart stopped racing and I reflected on my behavior. It goes without saying I should probably tone it down a bit especially once Alex starts talking because I really don't need her first word to be of the f-bomb variety.

I don’t have a clue where people are going when they’re driving so fast. Part of me hopes that they have an injured friend in the back seat and they’re desperately trying to get to the hospital. The other part of me knows better and I know they’re simply on their way to McDonald’s. While I do speed I rarely go over 10 MPH and just because some guy behind me wants to push 90 MPH is not a good enough reason for me to drive any faster to get out of his way. This doesn’t always sit well with the tailgater behind me but at least it won’t be me getting the ticket and I take some comfort in that knowledge.

Finally, I just want to add how much enjoyment I get out of watching other vigilante drivers. The other morning on the way into work a Maryland driver (they are the WORST!) appeared out of nowhere like they usually do (seriously, they drive so damn fast before you know it what was once wide, open road behind you is now a scene from The Fast and the Furious). I watched as he blew by me and attempted to cut off a truck leading the way into a merge. The truck proceeded to prevent Maryland from merging in front of him, pretended to make a left turn twice only to change his mind twice, and finally drive at the exact speed limit posted before he decided to let the Maryland driver out of his clutches. It was like watching a cat play with its prey before eating it and I was gleeful for the rest of the morning just thinking about it.

I suppose I’ve vented enough about horrible drivers though this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. Not to mention I’m pretty sure I’ve made it on someone else’s list of horrible drivers they’ve encountered over the years and as they say it’s best not to throw rocks if you live in a glass house. Even if it is fun.

*I don’t know about where you live but where I live the left lane is reserved for people who want to chance getting a ticket. Therefore if you happen to glance in your rearview mirror and see a line of cars about a mile long you might want to consider moving over.

**Another fun thing to do is turn your windshield wiper fluid on for approximately 30 seconds and watch as they quickly fall behind. My coworker swears by it.

The End of an Era

All good things must come to an end, as they say. And so that is how on the 22nd of July in the year 2011 I said goodbye to my dear, dear friend the jet ski. I think back fondly to the day I first laid eyes upon the yellow, pink, and purple Seadoo. What an ugly piece of shit, I believe, are the words that first entered my mind. It was a majestic machine that evoked memories of days long past with its 80s-style graphics. As if it were a time machine I found myself back in my early childhood, wearing four pairs of socks in alternating (neon) colors and my hair so crimped it practically broke right off if you touched it.

It was so much more than just a machine that had the potential for flying across the water at high(ish) rates of speed. And it was so much more than just a fond reminder of my youth. It was an intricate piece that kept the far right corner and upper left corner of the garage together. It was a constant source of inspiration for not only me but for my darling, Marcus, as well. For me, the jet ski was a metaphor for my life: slowly getting older but still yearning to feel young and vibrant. For Marcus, the jet ski was a battle he would not lose. He would not let this jet ski down and he would fix it. Once. And. For. All.

So, it came to pass that one day Marcus did just that. He fixed it. And it ran. For longer than 20 minutes.

I soon found myself standing in the driveway watching Marcus drive out of sight, towing the jet ski behind him. Tears formed in my eyes as I remembered all of our good times. Where would I go from here? What could possibly take the place of my beloved? As I turned to head back in I found my answer. The arcade game “Ivan Stewart’s Off Road” sat, beckoning me from the far reaches of the garage with its blue painters tape holding the mother board in place and truly inspired 80s computer graphics. Ah, yes! How could I forget? The very first thing that followed Marcus home after we were married and which, in turn, was the very first thing of his that I despised. I had put so much time and energy into my relationship with the jet ski that I had practically forgotten about “ISOR*.”  I feel as if I have come full circle. 

*Quick side note: After typing that acronym I can’t help but be amused by the fact that it can be pronounced as “eye sore”.

So long, sucker!

Alex's Second Embarrassing Blog Post

It turns out my precious baby has a penchant for pooping near the pulpit. The Spirit of the Lord moves her. Christ compels her!

That’s all I’ve got.

While this episode was different from Grandma’s it was entertaining in its own right. Sunday morning came and as per usual I found myself rushing around, trying to be ready in time for the 10:00 service. Marcus also wanted to walk so we needed to be out the door with enough time to walk the 15 minutes it takes to get there. Before we left I had the foresight to grab Alex’s diaper bag. To be honest, I almost didn’t bring it but remembered a recent church adventure that required Marcus to leave and change her. If it hadn’t been for that I would have left it at home because, I thought, what could happen in a hour?

At some point during the service Alex fell asleep in my arms which eventually turned into my arms falling asleep so I passed her off to Marcus. Ha! As luck would have it I did so just in the nick of time because shortly after all hell broke loose in her diaper and there was no way we could get by without changing her. As my motto goes “Whoever felt it deals with it” so Marcus soon left with a fully clothed baby and diaper. Quite some time later, which should have been my first clue something was amiss, he returned and I watched in shock as he walked up the aisle with a half-naked baby who was looking rather pleased with herself. Of course.

So, lessons learned here? 1. Always bring a diaper bag regardless of how long you plan on being gone. 2. Leave a spare onesie (or two) in the diaper bag so that you don’t find yourself holding a naked baby in church. In the end we arrived at church in our Sunday best and left wearing nothing but our birthday suit. And yes, we walked the whole way home with a naked baby basking in the morning glow of the sun.

Silence of the Lambies

Is it weird that while I'm putting lotion on Alex I say to her in my mommy voice "It puts the lotion on the skin?"

4th of July Weekend a.k.a. the Weekend the Jet Ski Moved From One Corner of the Garage to the Other

I know you all have been waiting with bated breath to hear about the latest adventures of the jet ski.  Marcus proved me wrong during Memorial Day weekend when he ended up taking the jet ski out to the water where it ran for roughly 20 minutes.  I asked my darling husband when he's just going to give up on this.  In my opinion, which doesn't really stand for much since I know jack about jet skis, out of all the pieces of crap he's collected over the years this one is probably the biggest piece of crap.  Anyway, the jet ski is back at the house and this time it's been put to good use as a magnet for other crap.  If you'll note it did move from one side of the garage to the other so that's promising; it's just a few more inches from being out the garage door.  In the meantime I'll continue taking pictures of it's movement throughout the garage and documenting it's running time.  So far, for the summer of 2011, it's been moved once and ran for 20 minutes.  I think we're off to a good start!

Nope, no water over here either