Blueberry scones

Seven lies I have been told

The following are lies I have been told over the years, sometimes to devestating effects.

1.  "Short hair is sooo easy to style and maintain!  LOLZ!"

Background:  In my senior year of high school, I got inspired by Posh Spice (don't laugh; this was the 90s, after all) and got my hair cut super, super short on the advice of my stylist.  She told me it would be so easy to style in the morning, and it would be much easier than my shoulder-length hair.  I agreed, and soon my hair was just above my ears.

The truth:  OMG, NO, it is NOT.  I had to slather my hair in gels every morning to get it to look right, and if it didn't style properly, I had to redo the whole thing.  It would take me 30 minutes, sometimes, to get it to look proper. (Although, I have to admit that this was an insanely cute cut for me.  I had a teacher who stopped class to tell me how good it looked, people!)

2.  "You'll totally love the Twilight books!!!111"

Background:  When I was on maternity leave with Maureen, I decided to check out the first Twilight book so I could have a trashy novel to read while pumping.  The recommendation came from a friend I had reconnected with on Facebook, so there you go.

The truth:  People do realize that Edward is a total prick, right?  And that he's a creep, and that no sane person should actually date him, right?  I mean, RIGHT?  Although I can't really criticize it too much: If these books had been around when I was 15, I would have read the hell out of the series.

3.  "You'll be holding your baby by dinner time, I promise!"

Background:  I was induced so I could finally have Maureen, and at first, labor was going along ok.  My contractions were getting closer and closer, and I was dialated, and the nurse, like, totally SWORE that I'd be done and over by about 5 in time for dinner (this after being induced around 7:30 a.m.).

The truth:  Ha. Ha. And hahahaha.  Maureen was not delivered until 11.  I can't fault the nurse, as labor is dicey, but yeah, maybe skip the promises the next time around.

4.  "Biscotti is so easy to make."

Background:  About 10 years ago, I decided to make biscotti because really, how hard can it be?  Just follow the directions, stupid - right?

The truth:  It ended in TEARS and I will NEVER be able to live this one down.  My sister still asks me if I'm making the "chocolate rocks" again this year.

5.  "Getting a five-year car loan is the smart way to buy a car."

Background:  When I was young and stupid and just out of college, I desperately wanted a PT Cruiser.  I didn't have a whole lot of cash for a down payment, so to make it "affordable," I got roped into a five-year car loan because the nice salesman told me that that would be the only "smart" way to buy a car.  (Knowing what I know now, I would have left the dealership, and for a lot of different reasons, too.)

The truth:  Oh, this was duuuumb.  D-U-M-B.  And, it's mostly my fault, as I didn't really research financing options and all of that jazz.

6.  "You can totally trust me."

Background:  This was said to me by my first college roommate. 

The truth:  After letting her sleazy boyfriend spend the night in our dorm room (where, by the way, we were only a pretzel's throw away from each other), "accidentally" eating my food, "accidentally" lending out my movies, "forgetting" that the TV was mine, etc., etc....yeah, not so much.  Looking back, I wish that I had cut off her boyfriend's ponytail while they slept, then hung it from our door.  THAT would have sent a message (although it probably would have been more "call the cops, because this beesh is cuh-RAY-zee!" and less "dont' mess with me").

7.  "I don't smell anything."

Background:  This was said by Josh when Maureen had a FOUL-smelling diaper a few weeks ago. 

The truth:  In his defense, this might not truly count as a lie, as Josh's sense of smell has truly diminished over the years.  Which is a pain in the ass when I think I smell gas.

Clean dryers FTW

Remember when I said that I'm a professional worry wart?  Well, guess what.  I added "dryers catching on fire" to my list of things to worry about, and I just spent the last 45 minutes cleaning out said dryer.  (This despite the fact hat I was almost ankle-deep in LINT, which, as you might recall, makes me heave.)  Clearly, I meant business tonight. 

First, the dryer had to be unplugged.  Then, Josh and I scratched our heads and thought about the last time this thing was cleaned, and I think we decided it was before we even bought our house (over two years ago, no less).  Aaaaand the previous owners had cats, so God knows when THEY cleaned it last, especially if they were throwing cat hair-covered blankets and rugs in the dryer. And when you consider that the thing has probably been installed since the first time Clinton was sworn into office, well, then you've got a project on your hands. 

(I'll pause, now, while you think about the last time you cleaned your dryer.)   

Second, we gave the lint trap a good, thorough scrubbing.  And you know that pocket where you put the lint trap thingy?  Yeah, that got scrubbed and GOOD with the shop vac. (Aside:  My brother-in-law gave us this shop vac for our first Christmas in our house.  At the time, I thought it was a lame-o gift.  But let me tell you, if you have a house and you don't have a shop vac?  Go buy one.  It's one of those things you don't even know you need until you have it.)  Oh!  And I was using a toothbrush to loosen up the lint, and guess what? I totally dropped it down that lint pocket.  That thing is deep, y'all.  Which meant that we had to spend the next 15 minutes figuring out how to fish it out, finally realizing that gee, our vacuum cleaner has a really long, really thin attachment that can scoop that toothbrush right up.

Next, Josh unscrewed the exhaust pipe from the dryer that connects it to the pipe leading it outside.  It's aluminum, so we need to replace it.  Anyway, that got cleaned out, too.

In all, I think it took about 45 minutes, and would have taken a lot less time if my fat pregnancy fingers hadn't dropped the toothbrush down the pocket.  Also, learning curve, and spending some time thinking about what, exactly, should be cleaned, etc.

If you'd like to clean your own dryer, if for no other reason than it will make your dryer run much more efficiently, check out this website.  See?  I can be very servicey.

Stars - they're just like us!

You know, I really wish that Katie Holmes would stop running around town, mimicing me at every turn.  Because I make this face - intentionally! - at least three times a day. It's usually accompanied with me saying in my most sarcastic voice "Yeah, that really does sound like a great idea."  Or I use my best "doofus" voice and say something mean.  It usually gets a lot of laughs.

Professional worrywart

"You worry about a lot of stuff," Josh recently told me when I asked if it was possible for our furnace to explode (don't ask).  "Is there anything that you don't worry about?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, there are things I don't worry about." 

"Name one thing."

"..."

"Exactly."

~~~~~~~

So, I have thought some more on the topic, and I will now make a list:

A list of things that I don't worry about, EVER

By:  Me, Megan, the owner of this blog

1.  Cheese

THE END.

~~~~~~~

But seriously?  I have a blackbelt in worrying.  I worry if I don't have anything to worry about.  Because I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and to think "what if?"

When I was pregnant with Maureen, and now with my second pregnancy, I pretty much wore out my copy of What to Expect when You're Expecting.  I Googled my various symptoms and ailments, and at one point was convinced I would give birth to a multi-headed vampire child (luckily, that hasn't happened yet).  If everything was fine, I'd still find something to worry about.  Like, I'd find a mole on my arm that I swore wasn't there that morning.  

And then Maureen was born, and it was a whole 'nother can of worms.  Was she eating enough?  Was she sleeping too much, or not enough?  Was she too hot or too cold?  And on and on.

It also doesn't help that I read the news articles that remind me of what a sick, sad world we live in.  I've been following the story on Shaniya Davis, and seriously, people - what the hell?  Who would do that to their kid?  My head just implodes, and I try to keep it together so I don't start crying at work. So, now, I try to impose a moratorium on reading any real tragic news - nothing about missing/dead children, nothing about the economy, and nothing about the Gosselins' divorce (joke).  I have to step outside my own head sometimes, for my own sanity.

What does all of this worrying mean for Josh?  It means I occasionally wake him up in the middle of the night to ask him if we should test the house for mold.  Or if we should get the furnace checked (and we are!), and when we should get a new microwave.  I feel sorry for him, because it really wasn't until we bought our house, got the dogs, and had Maureen that my worry went into over-drive.

I'm trying to change, and to not sweat the small stuff, but it's so darn easy to think of the bad things, too.  This really is something I want to change about myself, but I'm not sure how to do it.

Cinnamon!

1.  I am craving cinnamon in the worst way these days.  Especially cinnamon-sugar goodness!  To that end, I'm planning on making homemade cinnamon rolls, and if they work out, I'll probably never step in a Cinnabon again.

2.  I just got the first disc of the first season of Mad Men.  I'm looking forward to it, but I also feel like I HAVE to like it, because everyone else does, too.  Don't you hate that?

3.  OMG, guys.  Maria Shriver is following me on Twitter!!!!1111  (I think she might have me confused with someone else.)

4.  I'm thinking of things I'm grateful for, and my list gets longer and longer every time.  And for that, I am grateful.

5.  Speaking of Thanksgiving, I'm craving cranberries, too!  Anything tart and kind of sour, really, is all right in my book. 

6.  Maureen finally, finally said "Mee-mah," which I guess will be her name for my mom.  The kid calls herself "Mo-Mo" and calls me "Mama," so it really isn't too much of a stretch, but I'm glad she can do it.

7.  You can list "Master Bejeweled Player" on your resume, right?  Because my high score is just out-of-the-ballpark fabulous.