Monthly Archive

First of all, thank you all for your advice yesterday. There’s nothing like free therapy and you all convinced me to give her awhile to change her attitude about things before I make any decisions.

 Moving on…a whole bunch of stuff in no particular order:

* My boss and I were talking about male bloggers. He said he hasn’t found one he can really relate to yet. “You know,” he said. “I haven’t found the one that makes me go squeeeeee!!!!”

I nearly shot the potato chip I was eating out of my nose. I think that would have hurt. A lot.

* Why was I eating a potato chip (or 20) at 10 a.m.? It’s all Peter’s fault. He told me it’s just like eating breakfast hashbrowns so it’s totally OK. Obviously I did not need much convincing.

* I’m taking a half day and heading home to NY today. My mom and dad are very excited and we all wanted to celebrate together. I can’t wait to show off the ring, do some wedding planning and bask in the family togetherness. The only downside is that my sister had to go be all educated and go to college so she won’t be there.

* Speaking of basking, I’m totally basking in the engagement glow. Actually, the other day Michael said I actually was glowing! We were curled up on the couch last night after looking at our first venue watching Cheaper by the Dozen. Don’t laugh, it’s cute. Suddenly, Michael decided he needed a treat so we hopped in the car for a late night drive to CVS. And you know how much I love evening car rides.

A bag of Skittles and five Gatorades later (they were on sale!), we were back on the couch in time for the end of the movie. It was somewhere between resting my head on him and fighting off his attempts to stick purple Skittles up my nose that I realized I get to be with him forever.

I think that’s worthy of a squeeeeee!

Happy Weekend!

The not-so-fun stuff about planning a wedding:

- Setting a budget

- Asking family for help for said budget

- Picking bridesmaids

Wait, what? You thought picking bridesmaids was supposed to be fun? Me too! And for the last year or so I thought I knew exactly who would be standing beside me as I said my vows. There were supposed to be six, plus my sister as Maid of Honor. But after recent events, we might be down to five.

On Monday you could say I was slightly excited. I made many, many, MANY phone calls, including one to one of my best friends since 1st grade. (She does not read this blog. She hates the Internet. In fact, she doesn’t even have email! So no worries about talking about this.)

I got her voicemail and tried to leave a nonchalant message so I wouldn’t give away the news. While I was on the phone with someone else I saw she was calling, but let it go to voicemail. Her message said she was in between appointments at work but would call me later.

She never called.

I tried her again Monday night and left a pleading message on her voicemail. “Please call me any time tomorrow, day or night. It’s important.”

She. Never. Called.

Tuesday afternoon I called her during lunch. She picked up the phone and said, “Just tell me.”

“What?”

“Just tell me!”

“Um…I’m engaged.”

“I knew it,” she said. “I was crying all night and was avoiding calling you back.”

Now I don’t know about you, but this is not the reaction I was expecting from one of my best friends when I announced that I was getting married. Her reason for being so upset? Apparently she can’t handle that we’re growing up and doesn’t like change. Yeah. It also took her most of the conversation to come up with a courtesy “Congratulations” that sounded forced.

I hung up the phone bewildered, but tried to push it out of my mind. Which worked until yesterday, when I began stewing over it and by the time I was driving home I was MAD. I called Michael to vent and burst into tears, not realizing how much it had upset me. He talked me through it, being the great fiance he is (OK, I just wanted to say fiance again) and made a good point. That just because we’ve been friends forever, does not mean our friendship is the same as it once was. And maybe if this friend is making me so miserable and can’t even congratulate me on the biggest even of my life so far, I don’t need to feel obligated to make her a bridesmaid.

He may be right. I don’t know what will happen yet, but I’m starting to realize that I don’t need to feel obligated to ask people just because I’ve known them for a long time. I’m going to want the girls that were overjoyed, the ones that email me all day about it, call me to discuss plans and offer to help. I want the girls that are going to make my day better.

I just hope I don’t lose a friend.

Ummmm hi. I’ve been sitting here staring at my blank post for a good five minutes trying to figure out what to write about. Because the brain? Is in wedding mode. Wedding. Mode. I’m getting married! Ahhhhh!!!!

Sorry. See? I told you. I can’t think of anything but getting married right now. So I apologize in advance. Because I know you didn’t start reading These Little Moments as a wedding blog and I’m going to try really, really hard not to talk about it ALL the time. But I haven’t even been engaged for 48 hours yet so bear with me a little longer, OK? Thanks!

Last night I stopped at Staples on my way home and purchased a binder, sheet protectors and dividers. My wedding binder, known from this point on as The Book, has been created. For someone who is a tad disorganized at home, I’m determined to be SUPER organized about this wedding. Otherwise I might go insane.

I spent a good hour looking through my new wedding magazines (including the two that I pulled out from hiding) and pulling out ideas for everything from dresses to centerpieces. The only thing I didn’t look at was a cake. Because I’m not having a cake. Well, maybe a small one for me and Michael to cut, but not a gigantic cake that costs thousands of dollars. We’re cookie people so a cookie bar it is. Including one very special cookie that reminds me of my childhood. Mmmm.

I have my first appointment to see a venue tomorrow. And then another on Saturday and another the Saturday after that. I think the first one is too small and the next one is too expensive. I’m hoping the third one is juuussst right because I’m in love with it on the website.

The ring? The ring is gooood. I can’t stop staring at it and still cannot believe that it’s mine and I get to wear it forever. Michael likes to look at it on my hand too, saying it’s beautiful and perfect. Les sigh.

Last week when I found out I was working Saturday and would have Monday off, I suggested to Michael that we go visit the place we had our first date (and later, our first kiss.) It’s a beautiful state park with giant rocks right on the ocean. The location has always been special to me, but since it gets very crowded in the summer, we hardly ever go. Knowing that the weather was supposed to be beautiful on Monday, I thought it would be a perfect time to visit.

I woke up on Monday cranky. Not for any reason, just because. I think I even told Michael to stop being annoying.

Later, over my morning crankiness, we drove out to the rocks and sat out in the sun. It was lovely. Michael sat behind me and I reclined on his legs. We snuggled and kissed, reminisced about the early days and enjoyed the ocean.

We were silent for about five minutes when he asked me what I was thinking. I said it was two-fold. One, I was really happy. And two, I really had to pee.

I guess taking that last statement as a “it’s now or never” type of thing, Michael asked if I was ready to go to lunch. As we stood up, he pulled me into a hug. With my head pressed against his chest I remarked that his heart was beating a mile a minute. “I need to work out more,” he said. “Climbing the rocks made me tired.”

I found that answer perfectly normal, and we continued hugging for a few minutes. When he pulled away, I thought he was going to say let’s go to lunch. Instead, he took the sunglasses and camera I was holding in my left hand and placed them on a rock.

I looked at the rock, then back at him confused. Just as he was getting down on one knee.

He said some wonderful things about loving me and wanting to spend the rest of his life with me. I was shaking like a leaf and saying “Oh my God, oh my God, are you serious?”

I was vaguely aware of him slipping a ring on my finger, but I was too wrapped up in hugging and kissing him to really notice. When I finally regained enough composure, I pulled my hand out from around his back and looked.

And began squeeing all over again!

(Also, I completely forgot I had to pee!)

My ring. My beautiful, gorgeous, amazing ring. I cannot believe I get to wear this for the rest of my life.

Or the fact that I have a fiancé. I have a fiancé!

After we were able to walk again, we headed to Newport for lunch, where I proceeded to eat exactly three bites of my meal because I was so excited. I also only slept from midnight to 3 a.m. because my mind was racing with engaged/wedding thoughts.

I’m engaged to the man of my dreams, the love of my life, my Michael. I have never been more happy.

So, for your viewing pleasure, some close ups of my bling.

I never blog on Saturdays. Not because I don’t like blogging, but because I generally avoid the computer completely on weekends since I sit in front of one all day at work.

But this Saturday, here I am, blogging. Why? Because I’m at work. Ordinarily I would complain (OK, I may have complained a little to a few select people. But not THAT much. I swear.) about working on a weekend, but the truth is I think this is only the third Saturday I’ve worked since started this job a year and a half ago. Not only that, but I get to take Monday as a comp day. So yeah, it’s not that big a deal.

The first half of the day was spent with a writer and her friend. I gave them a tour and talked and talked and talked about my place of business. It went great and she said it was a quote “fabulous” tour. This makes me very happy, since it was just a few months ago that I was panicked about giving my first official tour. (So much to remember! The facts! The dates! The walking backwards!)

The second half of the day will be spent with a film crew (led by a guy with Bulgari sunglasses and monogrammed french cuffs) who sent me a nice itemized shot list which says they’ll be gone by 4 o’clock. I’m not too sure about that. It’s been my experience that film crews aren’t always as on time as they say they will be…

But in the meantime, I’ve got an hour and change to kill and since I’ve already written a post, I suppose I will do some work.

I don’t know if I’ll be posting Monday, as I took a comp day and Michael and I are having a date day! (Followed by the torture that is Turbo Kick and tennis.) But hey, you never know!

I’ve written in the past about how music triggers certain memories for me. While I was driving home yesterday I had the XM tuned to Channel 9: The 90s. I love this station because it’s all music from my middle school and high school days. Talk about memories!

As Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” finished (hey, BB, I thought of you!) the first lines of an all too familiar song began…

“So open up your morning light/and say a little prayer for I/You know that if we are to stay alive/and see the peace in every I”

Suddenly, I’m a sophomore in high school and we’re all wondering why Dawson won’t just open his eyes and see that Joey is right in front of him! And Pacey! You were always so cute, but Andie? Really? With her whiny voice and stick-out ears? Dawson’s Creek was a defining television show for me. The characters were supposed to be our age and they went through the same stuff we did.

So it got me thinking, what were my other defining TV shows?

Today’s Special:I must have been two or three but I remember this show so well. Today’s Special took place in a department store after-hours. There was a mannequin that came to life when you put a hat on his head and a talking mouse named Muffy. I think it was a Canadian show. (Peter, you remember it?) I could also probably still sing you the theme song…

My So-Called Life: First of all, I wanted to be Claire Danes. (I cut my hair to look like hers did in the Mod Squad movie back in 9th grade. Let’s just say it didn’t look the same.) What girl couldn’t related to her teenage angst, her struggles with her mother and her crush on the bad boy? Ooooh the bad boy. My one and only true television crush was on Jared Leto as Jordan Catalano. As a matter of fact, he’s still on my list of celebrities I’m allowed to sleep with. But the Jared Leto from MSCL days, not the Jared Leto of today.

Clarissa Explains It All: OK, so I wanted to be Melissa Joan Hart too. Clarissa was funky and cool and there was a boy who climbed in her window every day and if that wasn’t the coolest thing ever, I didn’t know what was. There was one episode where she dressed up as a punk rock girl and said her name was Jade. I wanted my name to be Jade forever after seeing that.

Gilmore Girls: I think I’m seeing a trend here. I STILL want to be Lauren Graham. How hot is she? (Actually, I think she’s on Michael’s list.) But seriously, the witty banter, the small town charm, the fabulous clothes? What’s not to love. I’ve slowly started to buy the DVDs and own the first four seasons. Anyone want to fork over the $40 and buy me season five?

Friends: This one shouldn’t need too much explanation, because it’s just a great show. And since I can basically quote every episode, it’s fair to say that this will always be my favorite. I’ve mentioned before that no one will play the Friends Trivia Game with me (yes, I own it) because I always win. I challenge you!

So there you have it. What televisions shows define you?

I tried on an engagement ring.

Now before you start squeeing and jumping around, let me just clarify that it was not with Michael and it was at work.

Huh?

My coworker (and fellow blogger) Anna, has hopped on the Let’s Get Molly Engaged train. Yesterday she sat down in my office and asked me if I had showed Michael what kinds of rings I like (yes) and whether or not I’ve tried on all the rings of my married and engaged friends.

I had to think about it for a second but then realized, no, I hadn’t. Maybe one but I feel weird asking women to take off their rock so I can put it on my finger and daydream about being Mrs. Michael.

As soon as I said that, good old young Anna pulled her gorgeous three-stone engagement ring off and handed it to me.

It fit perfectly. (”Five and a half!” she said.) And I was shocked by the what the weight of a real ring feels like. The heaviness of diamonds and platinum translated instantly into the overwhelming desire to have that commitment on my finger forever.

I moved my hand back and forth, letting the diamonds catch the light as I pictured what it will be like to have my own. Then I gave it back, because just a few minutes longer and Anna would have been chasing me down the street as I manically ran away screaming, “I got one! I got one!”

Last night over the all-American meal of steak and potatoes (I mean really, I should have been wearing an apron and heels), I told Michael about the ring. How I loved the way it felt. How I wanted one of my own.

This time I couldn’t read his smile. Did it mean, “oh you silly girl, it’s right around the corner and you don’t even know it”?

I really, really hope so.

PS- While the cat’s away, the mouse will write on his blog. Check out my guest post over at I Got Nothin’

* He goes grocery shopping with me. Which is on my I Hate To Do This list right up there with laundry. Also, he paid for the groceries, so my checking account is happy.

* He cleans my car. A lot. Mostly because I never do and I think it irritates him to see dirt and tree sap on it. Although, ever since he bought the new car, mine has seen less and less attention…

* He’s cozy. Oh so cozy. So cozy, in fact, that I miss spinning classes because being wrapped up in his arms is like a drug.

* I’m completely comfortable around him. Last night I was lying on the couch while he was in the bathroom shaving. I felt a little rumbling, so I let one go. It was lots of air and really loud. All of the sudden he stuck his head out of the bathroom and said, “I heard that fart from here. With the water running!” Hehehe.

* I want to have like, 10,000 of his babies. Well, more like two or three. But the fact that he’s so awesome with kids makes me so excited to be the mother of his children.

* He tells me he loves me every day and every night before we fall asleep. Nothing better than that in the world.

They call it Turbo Kick for a reason.

I showed up at the gym with enough time to change and relax a little before the class started. Through the glass doors of the studio I watched the end of the Core class. Women struggled to get in that last crunch before collapsing on their mat. Yikes, I thought. That looks hard.

Little did I know…

The instructor for my class walked in ahead of me. A petite blonde with two braided pigtails, she looked harmless. Looked normal.

Aside from me and Jen, there were about six girls that had all taken the class before. They all varied in height and weight and I just hoped that they wouldn’t all be super good. The instructor insured us that we’d get the hang of it and to modify steps if they were too challenging for our first time.

Well.

Thanks to my dance background, I picked up the choreographed steps easily. BUT an hour straight of squatting, lunging, punching, kicking and jumping left me wanting to take my sweaty, tomato-faced self and collapse. I was actually excited when she told us to grab a mat for cool down.

Until I realized that “cool down” was 15 minutes of ab workouts. Apparently fitness instructors are INSANE.

My ass? Officially kicked. And I can’t wait to do it again next week.

Oh yeah…then I went and played tennis because I am smart.

Today my thighs are burning, making the stairs to my office look more like a mountain. But hey, I earned that burn (that sounds gross) and I’m proud of it.

When I finally collapsed on the couch at 8:45 after my shower, eating was the last thing on my mind. But my dear, sweet boyfriend said that it wasn’t healthy to workout that hard and not eat, so he heated me up some leftovers. We then proceeded to watch the last three episodes of the Hills and I fell into a deep, exercised induced sleep.

One pound down, seven to go.

I missed my spinning class.

I woke up a half hour before I set the alarm and was all proud of myself for starting the day early. I got up, fed the dog and went back to bed to hang out with Michael until it was time to go.

An hour later I woke up to Michael shaking me. “Babe, your class!” Uh…yeah. I missed it. It’s totally Michael’s fault because he’s just so damn cozy.

I punished myself by going to the gym anyway and killing myself on the elliptical. And when I kill myself at the gym it is not a pretty picture. We’re talking tomato-red face, lots of sweat and frizzy hair. HOT. I also signed up for another spinning class that I swear I won’t sleep through.

Tonight I have my first kickboxing class, followed by a tennis lesson. Me thinks I might be crazy. I wouldn’t ordinarily follow an hour of kickboxing with an hour of tennis, but the lessons happen to fall on the same night as the class so for a month, I have no choice. When I finally get home at 8 p.m. I’m going to be a frizzy, sweaty tomato who can barely lift her arms.

But! Being a sweaty tomato is slowly starting to pay off. Because this tomato weighs one pound less that she did last week. Yeah, it’s only one pound. But if you count the weight I lost before Vegas we’re at six pounds and that’s like an entire basket of tomatoes less than I started with.

Go. Me.

On a side note, you know you’ve got a good man when you’re walking around the house in a schlumpy sweatshirt and slippers and he stops what he’s doing to say you look hot.

- Playing tennis. We’re getting better, I swear. Last night we didn’t interrupt anyone’s game with a stray ball. And I only hit two out of the court. OK, three.

- Taking an intro to spinning class. I was totally pumped when I peeked into the dark room, illuminated only by a black light with the music pumping. Now, I’m slightly intimidated, but I think it will be fun.

- Spending the afternoon with Michael. Weeee! Stupid work has him on at night, but at least we get the whole day.

- Reverting back to my childhood and having a good old-fashioned sleepover at Ashley’s new apartment. Of course, this childhood favorite will have a little update: booze. Probably in the form of pint glass mojitios.

- Making the What I Learned at College book for my sister. She better appreciate it!

What’s in store for your weekend?

* I saw a commercial on TV last night where a bunch of celebrities were supporting the Save Ellis Island campaign.  Who was one of those “celebrities”? Kristen Cavallari. I’m sorry, but has little Miss Laguna Beach ever been to Ellis Island? She says “I honor my family’s legacy, which was built on the courage and commitment of my ancestors to chase their dreams.” How? By posing for scantily clad pictures and doing reality TV?

* Jen and I played tennis last night for an hour or so. The team next to us was made up of a girl and a guy and they were whacking the ball back and forth pretty hard. All of the sudden, the girl stopped and yelled, “Ow! I pulled my boob!” I cracked up and told her I didn’t know that was possible. They left soon after, which was probably a good thing since I couldn’t keep a straight face.

* If anyone can tell me the correct lyrics to the Spin Doctor’s “Two Princes” (without cheating!) I’ll be really impressed. I’ve been singing along to the song for years, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t go “I’m the one that loves you baby, can’t you see/I ain’t got no future or symmetry.”

* Some of you might have noticed a comment by my boss yesterday regarding Twizzlers. Here’s the story: I went to CVS and asked him if he wanted anything. He wanted Twizzlers. When I got there, the big bags were buy one, get one free with your Xtra card. Two thoughts went through my mind: one, I don’t have my Xtra card with me and two, the last thing our somewhat weight conscious office needs is more candy. So I only bought one.

When I got back I was chastised for my poor decision making. My intelligence was questioned. My work loyalty was questioned. If I asked a question the response would be “I don’t know…you did only buy one bag of Twizzlers.” This has gone on for almost a week now.

So I ask you, was I wrong? My intentions were pure when I put down the second bag. I was thinking only of the health of my boss.

Majority rules here. If you think I was wrong I will buy him another bag. Hear that, Mike?

One: My plan for the evening was simple. Come home, make dinner, go the gym. Simple.  I was standing at the counter that faces our driveway, chopping vegetables for homemade pot pie. Michael had been standing in the yard talking on his phone when he popped his head in.

“That van that just drove by,” he said. “Was that the van from the other night?”

Since I was chopping, I hadn’t noticed. I brushed it off and got back to work.

Minutes later I looked up to see the van in our driveway and a man getting out.

“MICHAEL!” I yelled as I grabbed my phone, ready to call the police in case crazy van man had a loaded .45 on his hip.

Uh…yeah. So crazy van man? Turns out he was not stalking me. He was looking at the boat. And had a thousand and one questions about it for Michael. Somebody should really tell him it’s weird to just pull into someone’s driveway and if he is going to check out our boat, maybe he could do it in less creepy way. OK? Thanks.

Two: After van man left and Kodiak stopped whining at the window (good watch dog!), I was eagerly anticipating the pot pie, practically drooling at the yummy smell coming out of the oven. Just as the timer buzzed and I opened the oven door, Michael’s phone rang.

It was his grandmother, hysterically rambling how one of the children his mother is fostering had hit her repeatedly in the eye and the mother was taken by ambulance to the hospital.

I looked longingly at the steaming pot pie, knowing that dinner would have to be postponed. Luckily, the mother had to have some tests and since we live so close to the hospital, we were able to shove some food down our throats before heading out.

We were met in the ER by a now-calm grandmother, who immediately launched into the story of what happened. Minutes later, his mother returned from her CAT Scan, only to burst into tears in Michael’s arms.

The next hour was spent waiting to see if her face had been fractured (thankfully, it hadn’t), icing her ever growing black eye and discussing what will happen next. This was followed by a somber ride to pick up the younger child, who kept asking repeatedly where her sister was and when she was coming back. It was heartbreaking.

Needless to say, when we arrived back home after nine all thoughts of the gym and vacated my mind.

Three: There is no three. At least not yet. But stuff like this always happens in three’s, right? What could possibly be on its way?

Some of the best memories about my relationship with Michael take place in a car. When we first started dating, we would end each date with a long drive, usually parking by the ocean to talk, kiss and marvel at the beauty before us.

As the relationship continued, there were rides to NY to visit my family, a trip out to Kansas to meet his dad and countless other drives here and there. The drives were always so relaxed. We’d laugh, we’d talk, we (well, I) would sing along to every song that came on the radio. Or sometimes we’d sit in a comfortable silence, watching the scenery fly by. It was times like these I’d think how there was no better place to be than beside him in the passenger seat.

The biggest challenge a couple can experience in a car was our cross country trip. We were warned before we left, you’ll hate each other by the end. Michael and I just laughed. We knew better. The trip was wonderful. We had the best time and didn’t fight once. Not even when we had car trouble and had to drive halfway home at 60 miles an hour.

Now, five and a half years into our relationship, being in the car with Michael is still one of my favorite things. And since getting the dog we’ve started a new tradition. Most nights that we’re both home, the whole family–mom, dad and baby Kodiak–will pile in the car for an evening drive. Usually we take the same route, driving down by the ocean or through our alma mater. And we always stop for a little treat.

Since getting the new car, we haven’t been able to do this for a few weeks. The new car was not puppy proof. But as of last night, it is. Complete with a floor liner, seat cover, gate and doggie stairs. That dog is riding in style.

Last night the family piled in the car once again for our drive and treats. (Side note: the Snicker’s Bar I picked out? (yes, thighs, shut up. I just finished being sick and wanted one.) I wasn’t allowed to eat it in the new car because of potential chocolate crumbs. He’s lucky I love him…)

But the drive was still wonderful. Even without chocolate. Because I love him. And I’m lucky. Especially on a day like today, six years after an awful tragedy that changed our world forever, I can look at my life and my wonderful relationship and be thankful.

I love you, baby.

Saturday: I go out for drinks with Jen. A couple of hours and three martinis later, I head home to bed feeling nothing more than a little buzzed.

Sunday morning: I wake up to let the dog out. As I’m opening the door I realize I need to run to the bathroom. Immediately. Seconds later, I’m dry heaving over the toilet, alternately thinking “I’m going to die” and “I’m really glad I clean my toilet”. Just before I pass out on the couch covered in sweat and slightly dizzy, I wonder how three martinis could make me so sick, especially when I didn’t even get sick in Vegas.

Sunday afternoon: I wake up to my phone vibrating from a text. It’s Jen telling me to come over. We have plans to play tennis. I sit up and realize I feel fine. I spend the day shopping, getting something to eat and hanging out and spend an hour working up a good sweat playing tennis. On the way home from the courts I start to feel dizzy.

Sunday evening: I make it home just in time to run back to the bathroom. Instantly regret drinking that strawberry smoothie.

Monday morning: I’m dreaming I am trick-or-treating with a group of friends. (What?) In the dream I tell someone to wait for me, I’ll be right back. I start to run. I wake up suddenly and realize my dream was trying to tell me something. I run to the bathroom. I come back to bed and wake up Michael for sympathy. He rubs my back and I think it’s worth it to be sick if I can stay right here with him.

Late Monday morning: Have come to conclusion that I have a bug. Am lying in bed trying to figure out what I can eat. Am praying I won’t get sick again because there’s nothing left in my stomach to come out. Could really use a back massage. Am debating cleaning toilet again. Just in case.

I have a very wonderful aunt who reads my blog (Hi, Su-Su!). Recently, she mentioned to my mom that she was concerned I was divulging too much information in my posts. I understand she’s worried. She’s afraid some psycho is going to find me, tear me into little pieces and feed me to his pet iguana. (Actually, aren’t iguanas omnivores? I could totally be making this up.)

At first I kind of laughed it off. Me? I don’t divulge too much. Only my name, profession, boyfriend’s name, daily activities and my bra size.

Oh…

So now I’m slightly concerned. The thing is, I like my blog. No, I LOVE my blog, and the last thing I want to do is censor myself. But am I putting myself at risk by not?

I’ve built such a strong community through my writing–through shared experiences and common ideas. I don’t want to hide from you the details of my someday wedding, the joys of getting pregnant and everything in between. I like what we have going here. But I’m slightly concerned.

I think if I changed the way I wrote and stopped telling you all these things it wouldn’t really be These Little Moments anymore, would it?

What do you think? Have I told too much?

Last week the Universe and I were not getting along. Basically, it was having a tantrum and I was getting hit with the rotton tomatoes it was chucking around. But the Universe redeemed itself over the weekend and this week was going pretty well. It started on Tuesday when almost all the ingredients I needed to make this yummy dinner were on sale:

I was so happy! It was hearty, tasty and made enough for two days worth of leftovers.

And then this morning arrived. I got out of the shower and realized that I was out of lotion. Well, I shouldn’t say I realized it today. I actually realized it over the weekend and have been trying to extract every last bit over the past few days, causing the bottle to make that lovely farting sound. But I didn’t buy any more.

So I get out of the shower and go to put lotion on my legs and it’s a no go. And any woman will tell you not putting lotion on just shaved legs is a bad idea. So I scrounge around the house until I find some lotion. But not just any lotion. Bath and Body Works Country Apple lotion.

I don’t know why I even have this lotion. I’m pretty sure it was a gift from one of the parents back when I worked at the daycare, which means it’s almost two years old and I have obviously never used it. Why? Because it reminds me of middle school–when holiday gifts from each and every friend were a gift bag of miniature lotions and body sprays in usually one of three scents: Country Apple, Freesia or Cucumber Melon. (I wore that Cucumber Melon Body Spray for years.) And I didn’t really want to smell like I was in middle school.

Unfortunately, I had no choice.

Afterwards, I got dressed and headed off to meet my carpool buddy. She commented on how she loved my black and white dress, which I had paired with a red tank and black flats. As I thanked her, I glanced down to admire it. Only then, in the bright morning sunlight, did I notice that the dress is actually white and navy blue. Smartly paired with a red tank and black shoes. Sigh.

So here I am, sitting at my desk, wearing a clashing outfit and smelling like a freaking orchard.

Thanks, Universe. You’re a peach. Or should I say, a Country Apple.

Updated: Because you guys want the recipe! It’s called Peasant Pasta and just ignore the fact that Rachel Ray made it. I halved the recipe and only used the spicy sausage and we had plenty.

Ah Monday Tuesday. How are you? Thanks to all your wonderful suggestions I have some great stuff to compile into a little book and send to my sister and for some reason I hit my all time high for blog visitors, making me think that either you all really like shoes (except Crystal) or you like me. You really like me!

My weekend was exactly what a long weekend should be. Fun, relaxing and filled with food and drink. A lot of food and drink. Actually, I haven’t eaten a meal at home since Friday and my thighs are paying the price. But I couldn’t help it, I swear. The nachos and guacamole at the restaurant? Well, they couldn’t go to waste. And the picnic food and homemade Rice Krispie treats? Better get to them before the ants do.

It’s not that I’m overweight. I’m just heavier than I want to be. I always have the best intentions of getting my butt to the gym on a regular basis and just saying no to the extra helping of ziti, but those intentions don’t usually last too long.

Way back in April I started a Total Body Makeover. Remember that? I was getting up early (oh so early) and dragging my butt to the gym 4-5 days a week. And I actually started to like it and was losing weight. But then I pulled a muscle and eventually just stopped going all together. This is what I do. I don’t binge eat, I binge exercise. Do they have a 12-step program for that?

So dear readers, I’m making a commitment to myself this time. I’m going to work out and eat healthy (without depriving myself of the good life every now and then). And I’m laying it all out here on the blog because I need to be held accountable for my actions. I’m going to put my actual weight out into the internet. Because I am insane.

Current weight (according to the scale this morning): 133
Goal weight: 125

Are you still there? I’m hiding under my desk so I can’t see you.