Yesterday I was eating my bag of frozen green grapes. They were delicious. Delectable. So good, so sweet.
Until the very last one which was so horribly disgusting, bitter and nasty that I had to spit it out.
I HATE when the last grape/carrot/berry/etc. is gross after the rest are delicious.
Love,
Deep and spiritual Granny
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Well happy Thursday to you as well
Humpday started out like any other day--pretty dece, got all my work done, the sun was shining, Caroline the Corolla was back, etc.
But then I went to the gym.
And fell down an entire flight of stairs.
Follow that by coming home to discover not one, but two pimples for no reason.
And then our beloved Red Sox lost last night. An epic loss after a small lead all night. Their last chance. It was disappointing, but if my newest obsession, Friday Night Lights, has taught me anything it is that it is just a game and we can come back again next year.
I couldn't fall asleep due to some hip pain from my earlier run at the gym.
I finally fell out at about 11...
Only to be woken by the fire alarm blaring at 11:45.
My heart pounding and scared out of my skin, I shouted to Mr. G, who in his regular fashion just shouted "what? what do you want!?" in the middle of the blaring noise. We ran downstairs to the alarm that was going off. And this was no "change your battery" alarm that tends to only go off at night. This was an all out fire alarm. We ran downstairs expecting to see our little living room engulfed in flames.
But there was no smoke, no fire.
Mr. G spent a good 4 minutes trying to get the alarm to stop. Wires were pulled, batteries removed. Hearts were pounding. We managed to get back up stairs and safe in our beds after getting the noise to stop and our blood pressures to return somewhat back to normal.
BUT THEN, I though, "what the hell caused the alarm to go off?!"
It must not have been the fire alarm, but instead the carbon monoxide alarm!
I ran downstairs to see if our fire alarm even tested for CM. It did. Oh god. We were going to die. I just knew it. I ran and opened all the doors and windows in the house and turned on the fans. And then went and took a closer look at the alarm. "For a carbon monoxide alarm, you will hear 4 short beeps. For a fire alarm, you will hear 3 long beeps." Oh phew, we had heard a fire alarm. Well, no harm in sleeping with all the doors and windows open just in case...
So I headed back to bed for the 3rd time, still pondering what had made the alarm go off.
And then I remembered what I had done all afternoon: I read ghost stories. And of course at that point, I couldn't stop thinking about ghosts.
But then I went to the gym.
And fell down an entire flight of stairs.
Follow that by coming home to discover not one, but two pimples for no reason.
And then our beloved Red Sox lost last night. An epic loss after a small lead all night. Their last chance. It was disappointing, but if my newest obsession, Friday Night Lights, has taught me anything it is that it is just a game and we can come back again next year.
I couldn't fall asleep due to some hip pain from my earlier run at the gym.
I finally fell out at about 11...
Only to be woken by the fire alarm blaring at 11:45.
My heart pounding and scared out of my skin, I shouted to Mr. G, who in his regular fashion just shouted "what? what do you want!?" in the middle of the blaring noise. We ran downstairs to the alarm that was going off. And this was no "change your battery" alarm that tends to only go off at night. This was an all out fire alarm. We ran downstairs expecting to see our little living room engulfed in flames.
But there was no smoke, no fire.
Mr. G spent a good 4 minutes trying to get the alarm to stop. Wires were pulled, batteries removed. Hearts were pounding. We managed to get back up stairs and safe in our beds after getting the noise to stop and our blood pressures to return somewhat back to normal.
BUT THEN, I though, "what the hell caused the alarm to go off?!"
It must not have been the fire alarm, but instead the carbon monoxide alarm!
I ran downstairs to see if our fire alarm even tested for CM. It did. Oh god. We were going to die. I just knew it. I ran and opened all the doors and windows in the house and turned on the fans. And then went and took a closer look at the alarm. "For a carbon monoxide alarm, you will hear 4 short beeps. For a fire alarm, you will hear 3 long beeps." Oh phew, we had heard a fire alarm. Well, no harm in sleeping with all the doors and windows open just in case...
So I headed back to bed for the 3rd time, still pondering what had made the alarm go off.
And then I remembered what I had done all afternoon: I read ghost stories. And of course at that point, I couldn't stop thinking about ghosts.
Of which I don't believe in. Except that Paranormal Activity was so scary and so real.
So I stayed up for the majority of the night keeping an eye out and an ear out for any more ghost activity.
My alarm went off bright and early this morning (as fucking usual) and I rolled out of bed, surprised to see that at some point in the night I must have been brave enough to have turned off the flashlight that I was keeping next to my bed to see for myself the next Blair Witch in action. (Either that or the witchy ghost bitch turned it off herself!)
I am exhausted.
Granny
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Freedom
If you recall for the last 10 days Mr. G and I had our hands full watching my mom's little yippy lap dogs. We finally got to return them on Saturday and have had our house back to ourselves. It has been glorious.
No crazy barking starting at 6:30 am every time a squirrel walked by the window, a neighbor shut their door, or a leaf fell from a tree.
No more forced energy to walk the two little yippers every few hours starting at 6 am and ending at 11 pm.
I can go to the bathroom by myself again without two little pups staring me in the eyes whilst peeing or standing outside the door whining to come in.
I can get dressed without the demon dogs running in circles around my feet yipping at me.
I do not have 100 slimy grungy dog toys all over the house.
I am not being licked to death as an alarm clock at 5:30 am.
On the other hand, my bed has not been as cozy without the two little snuggle bugs in it every night.
...of course that could be due to the fact that one of them threw up on my white comforter set and I have been sleeping with summer blankets while the comforter is at the dry cleaning...
Enjoying my freedom,
Bubbie
No crazy barking starting at 6:30 am every time a squirrel walked by the window, a neighbor shut their door, or a leaf fell from a tree.
No more forced energy to walk the two little yippers every few hours starting at 6 am and ending at 11 pm.
I can go to the bathroom by myself again without two little pups staring me in the eyes whilst peeing or standing outside the door whining to come in.
I can get dressed without the demon dogs running in circles around my feet yipping at me.
I do not have 100 slimy grungy dog toys all over the house.
I am not being licked to death as an alarm clock at 5:30 am.
On the other hand, my bed has not been as cozy without the two little snuggle bugs in it every night.
...of course that could be due to the fact that one of them threw up on my white comforter set and I have been sleeping with summer blankets while the comforter is at the dry cleaning...
Enjoying my freedom,
Bubbie
Friday, September 23, 2011
Everybody's working for the weekend
Weeklong conference
+
Head Cold
+
House sitting mom's dogs
=
Shauni hasn't showered, ran, kissed Gerren, cooked, worn sweats, looked at facebook, read my blogs or relaxed a single iota since last Sunday.
This is a true story.
Steer clear.
<3,
Bubbie
Monday, September 19, 2011
New Birth Control
Mr. G and I are smack dab in the middle of a ten day stint of watching my mom's dogs. (Note, these dogs live with both of my parents, as they are happily married, but these dogs are 100% my mom's dogs. They are crazy obsessed with her.)
Being the wonderful daughter I am, I told my mom that we would watch her two pups (Hobo and Olio) for the 10 days they went on vacation. "How hard can it be?" Thought I. "Just two little lap dogs who don't really require much."
Fucking A.
Guess again.
These two, sweet, innocent, adorable, perfect dogs at my parents house are hellions at the Goodwin house I tell you.
And when I called my mom to complain all she said was "take care of them and just enjoy being with them! They are angels and I miss them."
To which I replied "I am never watching your terror-dogs again. They fucking suck."
Let's go back a little...
My mom has raised these two little boys to be completely dependent and obsessed with my mom. The follow her to the bathroom, to the bedroom, they have their own couch, they eat her food, they won't go anywhere without her, they sleep with her, they sit by her side everywhere she is. Please keep in mind that growing up my dogs were not allowed on furniture, up stairs what so ever, could not eat food at the table, etc. Yet these two pups have been spoiled rotten.
When my mom dropped off the boys at our house last week she looked near tears. She said it was harder to leave them with me for 10 days than it was to drop me off at college. Thanks, mom. The dogs sat at the front door and cried for over an hour after she left. It was heart breaking. I felt so bad for the little buggers.
But it ended there.
These dogs are so needy. Like little children. "Pet me, touch me, never leave my side, feed me, walk me." If we are sitting watching tv, the dogs MUST be up on the couch, sitting in our laps, actively being pet. Otherwise it is just whining.
If we are cooking dinner, cleaning the house, making the bed, putting makeup on, showering, doing ANYTHING, the dogs are right next to us, staring at us with pathetic faces like "why don't you come down here and rub my tummy?" And that is not it--they jump up on you, they whine, they scratch at you to stop what you are doing so you can play with them instead. And their definition of playing? Rolling over and having you rub their stomachs.
If we try to leave the house without the dogs, you know, for work and what not, they jump at the door assuming they are coming with you. If you are trying to do anything that resembles going outside, the dogs run and bark and whine in circles around you until you agree to take them with you.
At bedtime, the damn dogs are up in bed waiting for you to join them. No private time, no personal time. And when we try to lock them out they just head-butt the door and bark until we let them in.
Starting at 6 am the dogs start licking your face to have you take them on their first of 7 daily walks.
Starting at 6:15 when our neighbors first start leaving for work the dogs start barking like crazy because they hear them outside.
All in all, Mr. G and I cannot wait to give the dogs back on Saturday. To be fair, I think they would be better behaved if we were staying at their house and not ours. But either way, Mr. G and I have decided not only do we not want lap dogs, pom-poos, or two dogs at once, but we have decided that we also really should wait to have kids.
If we can't handle two adult, house broken dogs, how are we going to handle one infant?
Lord give me strength for the rest of this week...
Granny
Being the wonderful daughter I am, I told my mom that we would watch her two pups (Hobo and Olio) for the 10 days they went on vacation. "How hard can it be?" Thought I. "Just two little lap dogs who don't really require much."
Fucking A.
Guess again.
These two, sweet, innocent, adorable, perfect dogs at my parents house are hellions at the Goodwin house I tell you.
And when I called my mom to complain all she said was "take care of them and just enjoy being with them! They are angels and I miss them."
To which I replied "I am never watching your terror-dogs again. They fucking suck."
Let's go back a little...
My mom has raised these two little boys to be completely dependent and obsessed with my mom. The follow her to the bathroom, to the bedroom, they have their own couch, they eat her food, they won't go anywhere without her, they sleep with her, they sit by her side everywhere she is. Please keep in mind that growing up my dogs were not allowed on furniture, up stairs what so ever, could not eat food at the table, etc. Yet these two pups have been spoiled rotten.
When my mom dropped off the boys at our house last week she looked near tears. She said it was harder to leave them with me for 10 days than it was to drop me off at college. Thanks, mom. The dogs sat at the front door and cried for over an hour after she left. It was heart breaking. I felt so bad for the little buggers.
But it ended there.
These dogs are so needy. Like little children. "Pet me, touch me, never leave my side, feed me, walk me." If we are sitting watching tv, the dogs MUST be up on the couch, sitting in our laps, actively being pet. Otherwise it is just whining.
If we are cooking dinner, cleaning the house, making the bed, putting makeup on, showering, doing ANYTHING, the dogs are right next to us, staring at us with pathetic faces like "why don't you come down here and rub my tummy?" And that is not it--they jump up on you, they whine, they scratch at you to stop what you are doing so you can play with them instead. And their definition of playing? Rolling over and having you rub their stomachs.
If we try to leave the house without the dogs, you know, for work and what not, they jump at the door assuming they are coming with you. If you are trying to do anything that resembles going outside, the dogs run and bark and whine in circles around you until you agree to take them with you.
At bedtime, the damn dogs are up in bed waiting for you to join them. No private time, no personal time. And when we try to lock them out they just head-butt the door and bark until we let them in.
Starting at 6 am the dogs start licking your face to have you take them on their first of 7 daily walks.
Starting at 6:15 when our neighbors first start leaving for work the dogs start barking like crazy because they hear them outside.
All in all, Mr. G and I cannot wait to give the dogs back on Saturday. To be fair, I think they would be better behaved if we were staying at their house and not ours. But either way, Mr. G and I have decided not only do we not want lap dogs, pom-poos, or two dogs at once, but we have decided that we also really should wait to have kids.
If we can't handle two adult, house broken dogs, how are we going to handle one infant?
Lord give me strength for the rest of this week...
Granny
Friday, September 16, 2011
Stop it already
 |
| Note: I did not take ANY of the pictures in this post. They are all from google searches. End note. |
I have (barely) come to terms with the fact that fall is arriving a little early this year.
If the crisp temps, the fading greens, and blustery winds were not enough to queue you into the change in seasons, everyone seems to be talking about it. You cannot go onto the old FB without seeing comments about "YAY! Fall is here!" or "Mmmm, smells like fall!"
And I will tell you what; I have had enough of it.
Didn't summer just start? Weren't we all just complaining that it was so cold and rainy and we needed some hot summer sun? Didn't I just get my first tan of the season? I feel like we just got our grill. We didn't get enough beach days. We didn't watch any baseball what so ever. I never even got new swim trunks.
How is it already autumn?
Don't get me wrong. I used to love fall. The baking, the pumpkin flavored foods and spices, the heartier dinners like stew and chili. The warm fire place with a book and a glass (bottle?) of wine. The decorative gourds. The sweaters and the boots. The football. The trick or treaters. The colors of the trees, the smells of leaves on the ground. The drives through the countryside. The excitement (or dread) of the upcoming holidays.
When we first moved back to Vermont, I craved fall hard core. In lovely Truckee Town California there was no real fall. It tried HARD. Street festivals, sweaters, scarfs. But it was not real. There were no leaves changing color. There was no smell of fall. There was no football (like I care). There were, however, skiers and boarders saying "WHEN THE FUCK IS IT GOING TO SNOW?!"
So when we returned to Vermont last year, for our first proper fall in three years, I LOVED it. I baked the shit out of everything (hence the weight predicament I am now in). I made warm hearty dishes all season. I bought those scented Yankee candles that smell like apple pie. I put pumpkins out front with mums to look legit. I even tried apple picking (but failed miserably).
I want to embrace fall. I do. I want to sit next to a fire and drink some red and read some books and listen to Joni Mitchell sing to me about painted ponies going up and down; or go for a drive in the rich colors of fall until I am lost; or bake my heart out; or pick some apples; or decorate; or dress like the stylish 26 year old I am at heart with floppy hats, scarves, big sweaters, leggings, and boots; or invite friends over for an amazing 4 course dinner that is 100% fall inspired, INCLUDING spiced spiked local apple cider.
But with fall comes my reality: I am married to a man who leaves from November until April. I have not one friend in the area to do fun fall stuff with. We are broke.
Fall is not as enjoyable when I have no one to enjoy it with.
I am not complaining. I do enjoy fall. One month of which I get to spend with my husband. I like the scents, the sights, the excitement of fall. I understand why everyone is happy about this yearly change. It is just challenging for me to bid farewell to my husband, not only my rock, my partner, my best friend, but my only friend where we live.
I am torn: I love fall, but hate the solitude (and debt. and weight gain.) I find myself in.
From now until November 1st, we have a lot of baking and casseroles to make and eat. A lot of spiked cider to drink, a lot of hikes to go on, roads to explore, apples to pick, pumpkins to carve, candles and sweaters to buy (on the credit card, of course).
And then I will bid him adieu.
Until spring.
Ah, spring.
Respectfully,
Granny
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Defeated
I am feeling blue and under the weather. Not physically, but emotionally. Please bear with me whilst I complain. Should be feeling back to my old chipper self shortly.
My first ever half marathon is less than 4 weeks away. I am scared out of my mind. I know I can run 12 miles here in the Vermont countryside. But I also know that at mile 10 of those 12, my feet are killing me, my toe nails feel like they will explode off my body, blisters cover my feet, and my toes are all cramped. I know I can make it through for the race, but I am still nervous. What if I want to give up? I am also nervous because though I know I can do 12 miles, I have so far only done 11. And I have only done it once. Last weekend when I went to do 11 miles, I had to call Mr. G at mile 10 to pick me up. My feet were begging me to stop. So really, I feel like if it were race week I could do 12 slow miles, but my feet would hurt, and I would not want to do another long run after. But I still have 2 weeks of good runs to get in, and I am nervous. I am also still not thrilled about my speed and had hoped to do this half in 2 hours and 20 minutes (pathetic, I know) but I am nervous that it will take longer and that I will be the last one done or that I will get caught up in the sweeper. Lastly, I love my long run route. I am a creature of habit. I dread doing a different route for 13 miles, especially a route I have never seen before. Here is hoping that 3 more weeks of runs, adrenaline, and crowd support get me through this race. Because, dear lord, I am terrified.
My GERD has been acting up again and everything I eat tastes bitter. It is awful to cook a meal and have it taste like shit in your mouth. ("I will not eat cat poop!" Name that movie.) I get so hungry and then forget that everything tastes horrible. I go to gobble up the beautiful salad I made for lunch and...ugh. Disgusting. Horrid. Bitter. Make it stop.
It is fruit fly season?? They swarm my office. I have killed one million, but it seems there are infinite amounts of them. They keep swarming around.
Lastly, Caroline the Corolla, my faithful sidekick of four years, has just decided that it was time to give me a hard time. This is our first fight. And of course it is right now, when we have returned from vacation where we blew all of our cash. And of course Mr. G did not get any paid time off while we were gone, so his paycheck on Friday is going to be a real kick in the shitter. Caroline, why oh why do you have to break down to the tune of $1000+ dollars? I thought we were BFFs?!
Ok, off to wallow in self pity.
Bubbie
My first ever half marathon is less than 4 weeks away. I am scared out of my mind. I know I can run 12 miles here in the Vermont countryside. But I also know that at mile 10 of those 12, my feet are killing me, my toe nails feel like they will explode off my body, blisters cover my feet, and my toes are all cramped. I know I can make it through for the race, but I am still nervous. What if I want to give up? I am also nervous because though I know I can do 12 miles, I have so far only done 11. And I have only done it once. Last weekend when I went to do 11 miles, I had to call Mr. G at mile 10 to pick me up. My feet were begging me to stop. So really, I feel like if it were race week I could do 12 slow miles, but my feet would hurt, and I would not want to do another long run after. But I still have 2 weeks of good runs to get in, and I am nervous. I am also still not thrilled about my speed and had hoped to do this half in 2 hours and 20 minutes (pathetic, I know) but I am nervous that it will take longer and that I will be the last one done or that I will get caught up in the sweeper. Lastly, I love my long run route. I am a creature of habit. I dread doing a different route for 13 miles, especially a route I have never seen before. Here is hoping that 3 more weeks of runs, adrenaline, and crowd support get me through this race. Because, dear lord, I am terrified.
My GERD has been acting up again and everything I eat tastes bitter. It is awful to cook a meal and have it taste like shit in your mouth. ("I will not eat cat poop!" Name that movie.) I get so hungry and then forget that everything tastes horrible. I go to gobble up the beautiful salad I made for lunch and...ugh. Disgusting. Horrid. Bitter. Make it stop.
It is fruit fly season?? They swarm my office. I have killed one million, but it seems there are infinite amounts of them. They keep swarming around.
Lastly, Caroline the Corolla, my faithful sidekick of four years, has just decided that it was time to give me a hard time. This is our first fight. And of course it is right now, when we have returned from vacation where we blew all of our cash. And of course Mr. G did not get any paid time off while we were gone, so his paycheck on Friday is going to be a real kick in the shitter. Caroline, why oh why do you have to break down to the tune of $1000+ dollars? I thought we were BFFs?!
Ok, off to wallow in self pity.
Bubbie
Monday, September 12, 2011
Hiatus
Whew, it has been quite a while since I popped in here to blog, but such as life when the writer of said blog is away on a glorious vacation for ten days :)
To sum up in 5 sentences: glorious weather. nails all broke. tan is fading ALREADY. perfect 10 days off. now broke.
But if you would like the full update on what I did during my blogging hiatus please continue on. (If you have a life and wish not to be bored to tears please do not tell me, I like to pretend people care about my antacid poppin' tales.)
Key West was blissful. We had so much fun with the Dangelicos. Our week looked exactly like this: wake up at 8, run for 20 miserable minutes (I am a wuss, sue me), eat egg whites, shower. Slather with sunscreen and hit the playa. Roast on the beach for a good three hours. Eat a sammie. Come home and cool down in the AC for 20 minutes. Lay out by the pool for 4 hours, reading, swimming, and eating carrots. At 5, throw in a cocktail. At 7, shower and head to dinner. Repeat daily. I read 4 books in 7 days. I have never been more relaxed. It was a glorious, much needed, perfect vacation and I am beyond depressed that it is over.
There were plenty of cocktails
And loads of sun and relaxing!
Also while away on our trip-y-poo, Mr. G and I celebrated our one year wedding anniversary. We got all dolled up (ha!) and headed out to a delicious (though in no way fancy) dinner. The year went incredibly quick and though we had some rough patches, and we know there are more rough patches to come, for the most part we had a great, fun, challenging, wonderful, interesting, perfect year. And I cannot imagine facing those challenging and rough patches without Mr. G by my side. Here is to 50 (plus some!) more years, my darling!
We returned to Vermont only to have less than 24 hours to unpack, get shit done, and repack for our dear friends' wedding. We got home at 9:30 pm on Thursday night. We had to hit the road for the wedding (though it was only an hour away) by 2:30 pm on Friday. I managed to squeeze in a ten mile run (note: running 10 hilly, mountainous, long miles in Vermont is so much easier than running two flat but extremely hot and humid boring miles in Florida) and then we were on our way again.
We drove through our neighboring towns and were finally able to see the magnitude of the damage that was really caused by Irene. Though Quechee got hit pretty bad, it was mostly businesses that got hurt. As we drove through Vermont, we could see the individual homes that were ruined. At least 15 homes were just gone, washed away. We passed probably 25 cars that were flipped, tangled in trees, down in the river, stuck in the feet and feet of mud. We passed bridges that were no longer where they were supposed to be and had to take roads that were built overnight to re-route traffic from roads that no longer existed. It was amazing to see and Mr. G and I are ready to help where we can this coming weekend and give support where it is needed.
Small maple sugar house. Wiped out, no more lawn. Sign says "please do not knock down, this is all I have left."
Once we arrived to the lovely wedding location, the Gray Goose started flowing and fun was had by all. It was great seeing our friends from the south and Kali and Erik had the most wonderful wedding weekend. Rehearsal dinner for everyone at a local brewery? With roasts and toasts? Yes please! Beautiful weather, lovely location, gorgeous set up, and the most breathtaking bride all lead to the perfect wedding on Saturday afternoon. We had a great time and we wish Kali and Erik nothing but the best.
We clean up nice!
QC fo' life
GORGEOUS!
All in all the last ten days were spectacular. Amazing. Perfect.
I cannot believe I am back at work and have already been here for over two hours working on projects. I was meant to live the relaxing lifestyle of the rich and the famous. I want to do nothing but pretend our bank account is endless, sleep, eat, tan, read, and celebrate fun times with our friends. I do NOT want sit in my windowless office planning for a week long conference next week.
Daydreaming,
Granny
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