sapiosexual:
what the Pastor is NOT
(google it)
7.19.2007
yes, and no
No - the YMCA's response to my demands that they make me "Camper of the Week."
Yes - the step-children's response to my inquiring if they had peed in the pool. (Gross!)
No - my response to Loretta (step-daughter #2) asking me if I had "ordered her dad off the internet."
Yes - my response to the guy at Starbucks today who asked me if I was married, in front of the Pastor.
Yes - the Pastor's response to my persistent questioning via text message "do you want to kiss me?"
Yes - the step-children's response to my inquiring if they had peed in the pool. (Gross!)
No - my response to Loretta (step-daughter #2) asking me if I had "ordered her dad off the internet."
Yes - my response to the guy at Starbucks today who asked me if I was married, in front of the Pastor.
Yes - the Pastor's response to my persistent questioning via text message "do you want to kiss me?"
bikini mission
After reading Nora Ephron's book "I Feel Bad About My Neck" earlier this year, I vowed that this summer I would wear a bikini every chance I get.
My plans have only been foiled by the fact that it rained every day continuously for way too long. And the whole point was to wear them at the pool/White Water/beach, etc., and not just around the house! But the sun is finally shining and I can start working on my lofty goal. Below are a few of my suits. And I must say, this is a nice change from the suits I used to have to wear in July - skirts, jackets and pantyhose - back in the day when I had to dress "corporate." Ick.
And if any of my friends need a swimsuit, let me know. I have quite few! Maybe this could be a new mission field for me.
My plans have only been foiled by the fact that it rained every day continuously for way too long. And the whole point was to wear them at the pool/White Water/beach, etc., and not just around the house! But the sun is finally shining and I can start working on my lofty goal. Below are a few of my suits. And I must say, this is a nice change from the suits I used to have to wear in July - skirts, jackets and pantyhose - back in the day when I had to dress "corporate." Ick.
And if any of my friends need a swimsuit, let me know. I have quite few! Maybe this could be a new mission field for me.
7.18.2007
soap dish
dirty little secrets
Passivist Pastor: What happened to the soap in our shower?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhhh, it broke???
Passivist Pastor: Did YOU break it?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhmmm, yesssssss.
Passivist Pastor: Did you break it in the shower when you were mad at me?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhh, yes. Sometimes I like to take things and throw them and turn them into smaller things when I'm mad.
Passivist Pastor: You break things?
Renegade Robyn: Yes.
Passivist Pastor: What else have you broken?
Renegade Robyn: Well, have you ever noticed how often I need hairbrushes?
Passivist Pastor: Hairbrushes? Wow.
*****
At this point, I'd like to blog in my defense about the fact that I've had a spider on my bathroom windowsill for two weeks, which I have not killed, and I peek in on it every time I go to the bathroom (when I'm not breaking brushes) to see what it's doing. But then I realized having taken on a pet spider doesn't make me appear less crazy. And also in my defense, the Passivist Pastor was asleep this morning when this occurred:
SC: Robyn! Someone's gum is on the dining room table!
The dining room table! I personally spent more time and effort getting that table than I did birthing my bio child. I nearly spent as much of my life looking for that table as the entire gestational period for Nate (who is at camp, btw, so it's not his gum). It is my only new, nice, purchased piece of furniture.
I have to brush my hair now.
Passivist Pastor: What happened to the soap in our shower?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhhh, it broke???
Passivist Pastor: Did YOU break it?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhmmm, yesssssss.
Passivist Pastor: Did you break it in the shower when you were mad at me?
Renegade Robyn: Uhhhhhh, yes. Sometimes I like to take things and throw them and turn them into smaller things when I'm mad.
Passivist Pastor: You break things?
Renegade Robyn: Yes.
Passivist Pastor: What else have you broken?
Renegade Robyn: Well, have you ever noticed how often I need hairbrushes?
Passivist Pastor: Hairbrushes? Wow.
*****
At this point, I'd like to blog in my defense about the fact that I've had a spider on my bathroom windowsill for two weeks, which I have not killed, and I peek in on it every time I go to the bathroom (when I'm not breaking brushes) to see what it's doing. But then I realized having taken on a pet spider doesn't make me appear less crazy. And also in my defense, the Passivist Pastor was asleep this morning when this occurred:
SC: Robyn! Someone's gum is on the dining room table!
The dining room table! I personally spent more time and effort getting that table than I did birthing my bio child. I nearly spent as much of my life looking for that table as the entire gestational period for Nate (who is at camp, btw, so it's not his gum). It is my only new, nice, purchased piece of furniture.
I have to brush my hair now.
7.14.2007
out of the mouth of the Pastor
"You don't LOOK maternal."
What a nice compliment. I can only assume that is because I don't wear ball caps and mom jeans.
Good. Then I don't have to take credit for kids. Maybe people will think they don't belong to me. My plan is working, and I look fabulous.
And I'm quite certain, if you ask the children, I don't act maternal either.
What a nice compliment. I can only assume that is because I don't wear ball caps and mom jeans.
Good. Then I don't have to take credit for kids. Maybe people will think they don't belong to me. My plan is working, and I look fabulous.
And I'm quite certain, if you ask the children, I don't act maternal either.
7.11.2007
munchausen by proximity
These stories would be hilarious.
If they were happening to someone else.*
*someone who is not me
Overslept, because I stayed up too late watching movie from the redbox (greatest invention EVER). Movie, Breach, was excellent, however was forced to watch preview for scary movie. I don't do scary movies. Before I could fast forward through the stupid preview, I found out there is this thing named Mary who has no children, only very scary dolls, and she'll rip your tongue out. Also, I am reading a book about this woman who was raised by crazy Munchausen-by-proxy mommy. The book is not scary, but it makes me THINK about "The Sixth Sense" movie, because THAT movie had a Munchausen-by-proxy mommy in it. "The Sixth Sense" is the scariest movie ever. Scary movies freak me out.
Anyway, I overslept. Kids are up, but have they taken their Miramax or had their fiber or had their breakfast? The cereal and yogurt I explained to them last night last thing before they went to bed they could have for breakfast? No, they have been up and haven't done any of these things even though just last night we had discussion that THESE ARE THE THINGS YOU DO WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING.
Try to take kids to Harry Potter today. Trying to be fun step mommy who has good relationship with kids. But because kids weren't dressed and hadn't had their fiber and pooped, I'm stressed out before I even get out of the door.
I had a decision to make. Be late and stop for Starbucks, or don't stop for Starbucks and still have the potential to be late depending on line at movies. In the end, I was not late and I got my coffee, therefore the bright shiny spot in my day.
After movie, take children to noodle restaurant. All I want, please God, all I want is to take children to restaurant and not think that I have brought wild wolves with me.
While I am paying, yes in the time it takes me to swipe my card at register and sign the ticket, less than the time it took me to just type this sentence, one child convinces another child they must, absolutely must SMELL THE BOTTLE OF LOUISIANA HOT SAUCE. You know, the hot sauce that comes in the convenient squeeze bottle.
Yes, you are correct if you guessed the ending of this story involved the child accidentally getting hot sauce squirted up their nose.
Now I can see why Mary only had scary dolls and no children. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad movie after all.
If they were happening to someone else.*
*someone who is not me
Overslept, because I stayed up too late watching movie from the redbox (greatest invention EVER). Movie, Breach, was excellent, however was forced to watch preview for scary movie. I don't do scary movies. Before I could fast forward through the stupid preview, I found out there is this thing named Mary who has no children, only very scary dolls, and she'll rip your tongue out. Also, I am reading a book about this woman who was raised by crazy Munchausen-by-proxy mommy. The book is not scary, but it makes me THINK about "The Sixth Sense" movie, because THAT movie had a Munchausen-by-proxy mommy in it. "The Sixth Sense" is the scariest movie ever. Scary movies freak me out.
Anyway, I overslept. Kids are up, but have they taken their Miramax or had their fiber or had their breakfast? The cereal and yogurt I explained to them last night last thing before they went to bed they could have for breakfast? No, they have been up and haven't done any of these things even though just last night we had discussion that THESE ARE THE THINGS YOU DO WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING.
Try to take kids to Harry Potter today. Trying to be fun step mommy who has good relationship with kids. But because kids weren't dressed and hadn't had their fiber and pooped, I'm stressed out before I even get out of the door.
I had a decision to make. Be late and stop for Starbucks, or don't stop for Starbucks and still have the potential to be late depending on line at movies. In the end, I was not late and I got my coffee, therefore the bright shiny spot in my day.
After movie, take children to noodle restaurant. All I want, please God, all I want is to take children to restaurant and not think that I have brought wild wolves with me.
While I am paying, yes in the time it takes me to swipe my card at register and sign the ticket, less than the time it took me to just type this sentence, one child convinces another child they must, absolutely must SMELL THE BOTTLE OF LOUISIANA HOT SAUCE. You know, the hot sauce that comes in the convenient squeeze bottle.
Yes, you are correct if you guessed the ending of this story involved the child accidentally getting hot sauce squirted up their nose.
Now I can see why Mary only had scary dolls and no children. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad movie after all.
7.10.2007
Parsonage, or circus tent?
Ahhhhh. Child sitting in chair at desk, working on computer.
That's not scary, is it?
Child sitting in chair, at desk, working on computer. Other child sitting on shoulders of child sitting in chair at desk, working on computer.
But don't worry about the Pastor. He was protected from this scene, peacefully asleep in our bed.
That's not scary, is it?
Child sitting in chair, at desk, working on computer. Other child sitting on shoulders of child sitting in chair at desk, working on computer.
But don't worry about the Pastor. He was protected from this scene, peacefully asleep in our bed.
7.09.2007
today sucked
It started with the Pastor waking me up from a dream involving cupcakes, cookies and kissing (no dream interp needed there!).
It went downhill from there.
Seriously downhill.
It went downhill from there.
Seriously downhill.
7.03.2007
my second evil plot of the week
Evil Robyn is busy this week.
You know how the Pastor LOVES loves loves to shop at Goodwill?
I've found a way to break his spirit.
Now instead of criticizing his Goodwill shopping, I am embracing it. Now I insist on going. And I am really quite skilled at the second-hand shopping. I put the "good" in Goodwill. I find the stuff new with tags, and designer labels.
So now instead of his happy, meager Goodwill visits, I managed to spend a whopping $72 the other day. Do you have any idea how much stuff you have to buy at Goodwill to have a $72 purchase? It's a whole basket full of stuff!
I am sensing a decrease in his desire to go to Goodwill. I figure soon he will either not want to go, since I insist on tagging along and tripling his purchase, or he'll have to start sneaking off to shop there . . .
You know how the Pastor LOVES loves loves to shop at Goodwill?
I've found a way to break his spirit.
Now instead of criticizing his Goodwill shopping, I am embracing it. Now I insist on going. And I am really quite skilled at the second-hand shopping. I put the "good" in Goodwill. I find the stuff new with tags, and designer labels.
So now instead of his happy, meager Goodwill visits, I managed to spend a whopping $72 the other day. Do you have any idea how much stuff you have to buy at Goodwill to have a $72 purchase? It's a whole basket full of stuff!
I am sensing a decrease in his desire to go to Goodwill. I figure soon he will either not want to go, since I insist on tagging along and tripling his purchase, or he'll have to start sneaking off to shop there . . .
7.02.2007
my middle finger
I slammed my finger in the closet door tonight. Why was I that eager to shut the closet door? What was I afraid would happen if I looked at my clothes for a few more seconds?
The Pastor and I will be alone on the 4th. It truly will be an independence day.
But by then, he will probably have seen the Discover card statement and know that Macy's had I.N.C. 25% off, then take 40% off the lowest marked price!!!!! How could I refuse?
Maybe that's why I hurt my finger tonight? Maybe the Pastor has somehow used his spiritual magic to put some kind of spell on my closet to reject new clothes?
The Pastor and I will be alone on the 4th. It truly will be an independence day.
But by then, he will probably have seen the Discover card statement and know that Macy's had I.N.C. 25% off, then take 40% off the lowest marked price!!!!! How could I refuse?
Maybe that's why I hurt my finger tonight? Maybe the Pastor has somehow used his spiritual magic to put some kind of spell on my closet to reject new clothes?
6.30.2007
me, the Pastor and our INTERNATIONAL KIDNAPPING PLOT!!! Dun dun dunnnnh!
The Pastor and I learned this week we are unable to secure passports for Step Daughter #1 and Step Daughter #2 because - are you ready for this? Because if we get them passports, we might kidnap them and flee the country!!!
Days later, I'm still laughing so hard I can barely type the words. Yes, that's right. The Pastor and I have gone to the trouble of asking to secure passports, even involving the parenting coordinator, as part of our evil plan! Bwah ha ha ha ha!
If we were going to kidnap kids, couldn't the Pastor and I have gone to apply for passports with me pretending to be there mother? If we were going to kidnap kids, wouldn't it be easier and more difficult for people to find us if we went to live in a shack in Montana?
Like I'm going to do anyone else any favors by fleeing with the children!
Oh, and by the way, I JUST went on a trip with the SD's a couple of weeks ago, where I spent considerable time and effort (1) pretending I was NOT traveling with them, and (2) pretending I had no idea whose children they were. Nope, I had no idea who those children were, across the subway car from me, LICKING THE HAND POLES. Nope, I had no idea who those children were rolling around on the floor of Union Station. Nope, I had no idea who those children were getting dangerously close to the Da Vinci painting, and even closer to getting a security escort out of the museum.
But now knowing that I appear to be the type of person who might flee the country without notice, purchase a last minute airfare on the Discover card, this has inspired me to put a plan in place. If I am going to do this, allow me to assemble a list of the people I WOULD kidnap and flee with:
1. The Pastor. He is like a human GPS and knows where he is and how to get to where he wants to go. It is freakish. Who wouldn't want to travel with someone so sexy and directional? Oh, and he pays the Discover bill and carries my bags.
2. Nate, of course, who's Dad is freely allowing me to get a passport, even going to the Post Office with me to apply! Won't he be surprised?!?
3. My niece, Kitty Kat, WHO LIVES CONVENIENTLY CLOSE TO AN INTERNATIONAL BORDER!
4. My friends - one is the same size as me, who wouldn't want to automatically double their wardrobe on the run? Plus she knows the calories in everything. And Dr. Friend. You know, in case I get one of those blood clot things on the international flight.
5. My cousin's baby - Lantern. He is one of the cutest kids in the world, and he's smart and scheduled. I love a cute kid on a time-table. Plus he said my bracelet was "Sparkly."
6. Michael R. - He's kind of like the Pastor, so it would probably be good to have an extra one around in case I need a spare.
7. Whoever bakes the chocolate thumbprint cookies at Ingrid's German Restaurant. Once I get settled, I'd want some cookies. Oh and one of the Baristas from Starbucks would be nice too.
That's it. That's the whole list of people I'd kidnap and flee the country with, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't even have to kidnap some of them - some might even come along willingly. I'd also gladly accept applications for other interested parties, just let me know if you'd like to apply.
6.27.2007
Do you want to join my club? Check the box for yes or no!
I just got this book. It is, as the cover states, a merit badge book for grown-up girls. I saw the book before my va-ca at a bargain bin at the evil Wal-Mart store, and I went back to get it (always buy something when you see it so you don't have to go back) and it was gone. So I ordered it off Amazon.com and I think it ended up being cheaper.
The book has merit badges for things like painting, throwing a party, dancing . . . and some I will never earn as I am knitting impaired and probably not going to jump out of a plane unless it is absolutely necessary because a giant rat is chasing me. You can also make up your own merit badges. I should get one for my trip packing skills.
I think this concept could be fun and I wanted to invite others to join me. Obviously, a bunch of other people bought the book - if I only knew who they were! So, I'm starting a club. I'm thinking of calling it the GUGS - Grown-up Girl Scouts. I thought if anyone wants to get together either in person or via the internet, we can work on merit badges together, encourage each other, maybe help each other out with our special skills. For instance, if there were a badge for eating thumbprint cookies, I would be earning that right now. I would gladly help others with this as well; it's much more fun to not eat them alone. (I've apparently gotten the Pastor hooked on these devilishly good cookies too, and after a stressful appointment, HE JUST TOOK ME BY THE BAKERY to replenish my stock. I thought Pastor's weren't supposed to be evil.)
Anyway, let me know if you are interested. You can send me an e-mail. And if you don't want to earn merit badges, well you can still join. I'm sure we can find books to talk about or we can always discuss weight/make-up/fashion. There's room for everyone in my club. And if you don't want to join, oh well, I'll have more merit badges than you.
P.S. I'm not promising some sort of stylish uniform won't be involved.
I'm off to work out. I already did 45 minutes on the treadmill today, but if I go to the gym, I can watch Paris Hilton on Larry King Live. Besides, I have some cookies to burn. That right there defines MY CLUB - burning cookies off, not selling them!
-Robyn
robynriley@gmail.com
6.26.2007
SOMEBODY PAGE DR. ROBYN!!!
tidbits from my va-ca
-You CAN get through airport security with thumbprint cookies.
-Snakes on a plane? Nope. How about Rats. In all of my travel delays, until this trip I've never had one caused by a rat, which involved sitting on the plane for over an hour before take off, and concluding with the PILOT having to come out of the cockpit to take out the rat trash. Terrorist? TerRATist? Maybe this was some kind of promotional campaign by the makers of Ratatouille?
-Sex with a bra on may prevent pregnancy. *
-If you rub on the side of a building for good luck, it wears down the stone, and eventually the building may collapse. How lucky is that?
-The snakehead fish is alive and well.
-I am the best packer in the world. Seriously. My trip spanned six days, no outfit repeats and only one purse + a very stylish and small silver duffle bag held it all. If you go on a trip, you should have me pack for you. That could be like a job for me. The problem is before you came home, you wouldn't know how to shove everything back into your bag, so I would need to actually accompany you on your trip. But the good news is I am fun to travel with, and I bring thumbprint cookies.
-For some reason, every time you walk by Union Station, you will see Ernest Istook. Perhaps he panhandles there?
-The burning unanswered question- where do vets get the blood for transfusions for animals? Do dogs have to be typed like humans? If you know, please let me know.
*Has not been scientifically proven.
I would highly recommend when you travel, you have a Dr. as your traveling companion as I did. You learn all sorts of things. I now possess a vast knowledge of secret medical lingo, which I will not post on this blog, as I want to retain the knowledge for myself for when I try to impress others by pretending to be Dr. Robyn. Now, everything I learned about medicine is not solely from Grey's Anatomy.
After days of walking around in "Street Robyn" mode, it was hard to come back to the Bible Belt, where associates of the Pastor might see me, therefore making it unwise for me to shove people, drive aggressively or shout "HUMAN HERE" when someone gets in my way. I went 5 whole days without having to go anywhere near a Wal-Mart, only to come home and be subjected to the worlds worst and dumbest Wal-Mart Associate:
Me, in a hurry. Tired of being in stupid store with Jabberwocky chatting my head off and the Pastor texting me every few moments all while I'm trying to do budgetary math in my head and make sure I'm getting all the ingredients to make Giada De Laurentiis recipes. (BTW, Baked Caprese Salad - excellent!)
Checker, chatting to person in front of me about someone on some reality show about to be kicked off.
Me, completely exasperated.
Checker, finally done with other customer, scanning my items at a snail-like pace.
(The basket was too full for self-check out.)
Checker: "Which one of these kinds of bread is better?"
Me: "I don't know. I don't eat it." (Seriously, I don't.)
Checker: "Oh, I love that Lean Cuisine. They make a really good chicken blah blah blah. Have you had it?"
Me: "No, I don't eat meat."
From complete urban sophistication back to this. Clean-up on aisle five please.
-You CAN get through airport security with thumbprint cookies.
-Snakes on a plane? Nope. How about Rats. In all of my travel delays, until this trip I've never had one caused by a rat, which involved sitting on the plane for over an hour before take off, and concluding with the PILOT having to come out of the cockpit to take out the rat trash. Terrorist? TerRATist? Maybe this was some kind of promotional campaign by the makers of Ratatouille?
-Sex with a bra on may prevent pregnancy. *
-If you rub on the side of a building for good luck, it wears down the stone, and eventually the building may collapse. How lucky is that?
-The snakehead fish is alive and well.
-I am the best packer in the world. Seriously. My trip spanned six days, no outfit repeats and only one purse + a very stylish and small silver duffle bag held it all. If you go on a trip, you should have me pack for you. That could be like a job for me. The problem is before you came home, you wouldn't know how to shove everything back into your bag, so I would need to actually accompany you on your trip. But the good news is I am fun to travel with, and I bring thumbprint cookies.
-For some reason, every time you walk by Union Station, you will see Ernest Istook. Perhaps he panhandles there?
-The burning unanswered question- where do vets get the blood for transfusions for animals? Do dogs have to be typed like humans? If you know, please let me know.
*Has not been scientifically proven.
I would highly recommend when you travel, you have a Dr. as your traveling companion as I did. You learn all sorts of things. I now possess a vast knowledge of secret medical lingo, which I will not post on this blog, as I want to retain the knowledge for myself for when I try to impress others by pretending to be Dr. Robyn. Now, everything I learned about medicine is not solely from Grey's Anatomy.
After days of walking around in "Street Robyn" mode, it was hard to come back to the Bible Belt, where associates of the Pastor might see me, therefore making it unwise for me to shove people, drive aggressively or shout "HUMAN HERE" when someone gets in my way. I went 5 whole days without having to go anywhere near a Wal-Mart, only to come home and be subjected to the worlds worst and dumbest Wal-Mart Associate:
Me, in a hurry. Tired of being in stupid store with Jabberwocky chatting my head off and the Pastor texting me every few moments all while I'm trying to do budgetary math in my head and make sure I'm getting all the ingredients to make Giada De Laurentiis recipes. (BTW, Baked Caprese Salad - excellent!)
Checker, chatting to person in front of me about someone on some reality show about to be kicked off.
Me, completely exasperated.
Checker, finally done with other customer, scanning my items at a snail-like pace.
(The basket was too full for self-check out.)
Checker: "Which one of these kinds of bread is better?"
Me: "I don't know. I don't eat it." (Seriously, I don't.)
Checker: "Oh, I love that Lean Cuisine. They make a really good chicken blah blah blah. Have you had it?"
Me: "No, I don't eat meat."
From complete urban sophistication back to this. Clean-up on aisle five please.
6.25.2007
astroglide and videotapes
Those are the things that greeted me when I arrived back home today from my long weekend in DC with friends. Left to his own devices, these are the remnants of the Pastor's time home alone.
The lubricant? The Pastor spent the better part of the weekend (better is probably not the right word) having to administer enemas to a plugged up child.
The timing of my trip could not have been better planned.
Moving on, I was deeply troubled by the stack of videos next to the teeny, tiny television we use when we want to watch a movie or something on the three television stations we are able to get at the Parsonage (like the Pastor's current fixation - the pirate reality show).
But back to my story. On the top of the video stack?
"On the Life and Ministry of the Messiah"
I pretended for a few minutes that must not be the actual video in the case. But, indeed, it was. I hit "play" and saw it with my own two eyes. The Bible Scholar de jour was describing heaven as a wedding reception.
Wedding reception?
There better be cake.
The lubricant? The Pastor spent the better part of the weekend (better is probably not the right word) having to administer enemas to a plugged up child.
The timing of my trip could not have been better planned.
Moving on, I was deeply troubled by the stack of videos next to the teeny, tiny television we use when we want to watch a movie or something on the three television stations we are able to get at the Parsonage (like the Pastor's current fixation - the pirate reality show).
But back to my story. On the top of the video stack?
"On the Life and Ministry of the Messiah"
I pretended for a few minutes that must not be the actual video in the case. But, indeed, it was. I hit "play" and saw it with my own two eyes. The Bible Scholar de jour was describing heaven as a wedding reception.
Wedding reception?
There better be cake.
6.19.2007
no wonder Jesus walked on water
I have diligently been exercising every day.
Numerous things have kicked my butt. The treadmill. The elliptical machine. Aerobics. Bike. Yoga Booty Ballet. Carmen Electra. I backpacked across Europe! And as unbelievable as it may sound, I’ve even jogged. In fact, up until now, I was of the firm belief (well firm is probably the wrong word) that running is about the worst thing you can do.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever kicked my butt quite like what I tried this week.
Swimming.
We recently joined the Y and they have a very nice indoor heated swimming pool. In an effort to mix up my exercise regimen and make it exciting (as exciting as you can make exercise), I swam laps the other day.
I felt like I was going to die.
The old man and the old lady (older than me) also swimming laps, and not looking like it was any big deal, certainly didn’t help me to feel good about myself. And isn’t that the whole point of working out in a “public” place? You know, working out next to the old people to make yourself feel superior?
How many laps did I swim, you might ask? Dozens?
I managed to make it around the pool four times.
Jesus was smart.
Numerous things have kicked my butt. The treadmill. The elliptical machine. Aerobics. Bike. Yoga Booty Ballet. Carmen Electra. I backpacked across Europe! And as unbelievable as it may sound, I’ve even jogged. In fact, up until now, I was of the firm belief (well firm is probably the wrong word) that running is about the worst thing you can do.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever kicked my butt quite like what I tried this week.
Swimming.
We recently joined the Y and they have a very nice indoor heated swimming pool. In an effort to mix up my exercise regimen and make it exciting (as exciting as you can make exercise), I swam laps the other day.
I felt like I was going to die.
The old man and the old lady (older than me) also swimming laps, and not looking like it was any big deal, certainly didn’t help me to feel good about myself. And isn’t that the whole point of working out in a “public” place? You know, working out next to the old people to make yourself feel superior?
How many laps did I swim, you might ask? Dozens?
I managed to make it around the pool four times.
Jesus was smart.
6.18.2007
possible side effects
Walter Brueggemann: Total hottie.
Oddly enough, I have a picture of the Pastor that looks very similar.
I was going to do a blog entry about a conversation the Pastor and I had where he was wondering if his work is meaningless to which I responded I KNOW what I do is meaningless.
But then when I sat down to work on the post I was going to include a quote from Walter Brueggemann, and that's when I discovered something truly shocking:
1. I know who Walter Brueggemann is.
2. I know a quote from Walter Brueggemann.
3. I know how to spell Walter Brueggemann's name.
It's probably a good thing I'm going for a long girl's weekend to DC this Wednesday through Saturday. I've obviously been hanging around Theologians too long. If you know where we live, stop by the Parsonage and visit the Pastor. He might be lonely. And you can talk Brueggemann.
it worked
I did something right.
He brought me breakfast in bed.
And he sure was impressed by those people at Starbucks.
Barista: "Is this for Robyn, OUR Robyn?"
Pastor: "Yes."
Barista: "is she all right?"
Pastor: "Yes, she is just at home in bed."
*****
I have more of a connection with the people at Starbucks than I do at my church.
He brought me breakfast in bed.
And he sure was impressed by those people at Starbucks.
Barista: "Is this for Robyn, OUR Robyn?"
Pastor: "Yes."
Barista: "is she all right?"
Pastor: "Yes, she is just at home in bed."
*****
I have more of a connection with the people at Starbucks than I do at my church.
6.17.2007
happy father's day, Pastor
Since this is cheaper than a card, things I love about the Pastor:
-All the bargains he finds at Goodwill.
-The way he pretends to not know where anything is, so he can make me feel needed when I have to find stuff for him.
-When he acts all mad when I use the charge card at some store at the mall. I know deep down inside how much he loves it when I look cute, wear all that makeup and smell good.
-The way he is so helpful - like on vacation, when he decided to wash a whole bunch of clothes even though we didn't need any clean clothes, and then the way he offered to help carry around the big, wet pile of clothes in his backpack.
-How he doesn't tell me my bottom is really big and fat, even though I secretly know it is.
-The loving way he works me into his sermons, disguising my identity as a clueless student or some otherwise stupid Christian.
-When he gets up, goes to Starbucks for me and brings me my coffee in bed.
-The way he gets up in the morning and creeps through the house so quietly AND NEVER TURNS ON LIGHTS because he doesn't want to wake his Sleeping Beauty. He is also so quiet and courteous when he has stayed up til 2, 3 or 4 in the morning working. He always waits til I wake up the next day to be chatty.
-How he shrugs off my library fines with an "Oh well, at least she doesn't buy books anymore!"
-The way he finds all the garbage I leave in the cars as endearing reminders of my presence.
-The way he snuggles up next to my 110 degree body, saying "I don't care how hot you are, I just want to be close to you!"
-How when we go to "On the Border" he joyfully exclaims "On the Border! I love On the Border! You just can't eat there enough!" And "since we're here, allow me to buy you a diet coke for $1.50!"
-The way he still loves me, even when I blog stuff about him which is completely fabricated.
But this one is not made up. When in doubt, stop agonizing. Just buy BOTH dresses. Everything is returnable.
Everything IS returnable. But me. And the kids. Thanks for putting up with us and only being a martyr about it 50% of the time.
xoxoxo
Robyn
6.16.2007
while I was sleeping
In the past few weeks, I've had two dreams that Jon Krazinski from "The Office" is my boyfriend. I had no idea I liked him that much. I couldn't help it, I was just sleeping. Sorry, Pastor. If it helps, in one of the dreams we just held hands. And I'm also sorry to any "Office" fans because I really do want for him and Pam to get together.
That is better than the other dream I keep having. The one where I don't remember my locker combination. It's the only recurrent dream I've had consistently for years. And it's not even a dream, more like a nightmare. I wonder what it means.
6.15.2007
the first taste is with the eyes
Of course, they loved the Hamburger Helper.
Went on and on about it.
I thought it looked like vomit on a plate.
Wait a minute, this post sounds dangerously like a haiku. Let me get it right:
they loved the helper
went on and on about it
vomit on a plate
There. See, when I don't spend all that time in the kitchen, I have much more time to write/blog.
Went on and on about it.
I thought it looked like vomit on a plate.
Wait a minute, this post sounds dangerously like a haiku. Let me get it right:
they loved the helper
went on and on about it
vomit on a plate
There. See, when I don't spend all that time in the kitchen, I have much more time to write/blog.
the Empire strikes back
I'm on strike.
From cooking.
I reached the point where I was tired of the complaining. No matter what I made, somebody said it was "spicy" or "I like the sandwiches DAD makes better." Or, I don't like that kind of butter. Or, what do you mean there's no gravy. Or, that bread tastes like soap. I'm tired of busting my asparagus in the kitchen and not feeling appreciated.
Therefore, for dinner tonight, I have done something truly shocking. For anyone who really knows me, this one will floor you.
I made Hamburger Helper.
I figure people still might complain, but at least I will have spent less time cooking. Or, perhaps, I just try too hard, and people will be delighted with cheap, processed, unhealthy food.
We'll see what happens.
From cooking.
I reached the point where I was tired of the complaining. No matter what I made, somebody said it was "spicy" or "I like the sandwiches DAD makes better." Or, I don't like that kind of butter. Or, what do you mean there's no gravy. Or, that bread tastes like soap. I'm tired of busting my asparagus in the kitchen and not feeling appreciated.
Therefore, for dinner tonight, I have done something truly shocking. For anyone who really knows me, this one will floor you.
I made Hamburger Helper.
I figure people still might complain, but at least I will have spent less time cooking. Or, perhaps, I just try too hard, and people will be delighted with cheap, processed, unhealthy food.
We'll see what happens.
6.13.2007
bun in the oven
I'm stress baking.
Yesterday, I made peanut butter cup bars. Tonight, I made biscuits and brownies.
I bake when I get stressed out - that is, stressed out about things in general, or when I get stressed out about dieting. When I am on the diet bandwagon, it is somehow comforting for me to bake and be around food without actually eating it. I won't eat any of the items I bake, because I just bake them and then look up the Weight Watchers point value and determine I won't eat them. (The peanut butter cup bars had 4 points for a teeny tiny bar!)
There should be nothing in particular for me to be stressed out over. I think it's delayed reaction baking. Vacation was stressful, yet there was no oven around. Maybe that's why I bake when I am stressed. Maybe it keeps me from putting my head in the oven.
The biscuits are for the Pastor's birthday tomorrow morning. I'm making him biscuits and gravy, even though several weeks ago I was told I was "too nice" and I should "stop bringing him breakfast in bed." Yes, I was actually chastized (again) for being too nice of a wife. Apparently, it is confusing.
Speaking of ovens, the Pastor and I went to see "Knocked Up" this afternoon. It's amazing. You sit in the theatre for two hours, but it really does feel like nine months.
exactly how much I'm worth
I have never seen anyone go through money quite like the way younger daughter Loretta went through souvenir money while on vacation. We had multiple cities to visit, and had explained to the kids you will want to have money to spend in all of the places. By the time we reached the end of the first city, Loretta had gone through nearly all of her money. She asked me "what will happen if we ACCIDENTALLY spent all of our money in the first city?"
Well, as one of my friends found out, what happens is you go up to Robyn's friend that you see for one hour of your vacation and you ask her for a dollar. That's what happens.
Nice.
By the time we reached the end of the trip, the two daughters pooled their money and divided it up. They each had 65 cents. At the last airport we were at, for our final flight home, Loretta made a pass through all the shops. She came to the gate where the Pastor and I were waiting and proclaimed there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to be purchased in the airport shops for 65 cents.
Then she said "here Robyn, I guess you can just have it."
You mean since you can't find ANYTHING to buy, you would rather give me your money???
So I took it.
And for those of you who think I'm worth less than 65 cents, you can go here:
http://designing-minds.blogspot.com/2007/05/another-fun-blog.html
Apparently, some people don't like me. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go bake cookies.
Yesterday, I made peanut butter cup bars. Tonight, I made biscuits and brownies.
I bake when I get stressed out - that is, stressed out about things in general, or when I get stressed out about dieting. When I am on the diet bandwagon, it is somehow comforting for me to bake and be around food without actually eating it. I won't eat any of the items I bake, because I just bake them and then look up the Weight Watchers point value and determine I won't eat them. (The peanut butter cup bars had 4 points for a teeny tiny bar!)
There should be nothing in particular for me to be stressed out over. I think it's delayed reaction baking. Vacation was stressful, yet there was no oven around. Maybe that's why I bake when I am stressed. Maybe it keeps me from putting my head in the oven.
The biscuits are for the Pastor's birthday tomorrow morning. I'm making him biscuits and gravy, even though several weeks ago I was told I was "too nice" and I should "stop bringing him breakfast in bed." Yes, I was actually chastized (again) for being too nice of a wife. Apparently, it is confusing.
Speaking of ovens, the Pastor and I went to see "Knocked Up" this afternoon. It's amazing. You sit in the theatre for two hours, but it really does feel like nine months.
exactly how much I'm worth
I have never seen anyone go through money quite like the way younger daughter Loretta went through souvenir money while on vacation. We had multiple cities to visit, and had explained to the kids you will want to have money to spend in all of the places. By the time we reached the end of the first city, Loretta had gone through nearly all of her money. She asked me "what will happen if we ACCIDENTALLY spent all of our money in the first city?"
Well, as one of my friends found out, what happens is you go up to Robyn's friend that you see for one hour of your vacation and you ask her for a dollar. That's what happens.
Nice.
By the time we reached the end of the trip, the two daughters pooled their money and divided it up. They each had 65 cents. At the last airport we were at, for our final flight home, Loretta made a pass through all the shops. She came to the gate where the Pastor and I were waiting and proclaimed there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to be purchased in the airport shops for 65 cents.
Then she said "here Robyn, I guess you can just have it."
You mean since you can't find ANYTHING to buy, you would rather give me your money???
So I took it.
And for those of you who think I'm worth less than 65 cents, you can go here:
http://designing-minds.blogspot.com/2007/05/another-fun-blog.html
Apparently, some people don't like me. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go bake cookies.
6.12.2007
6.11.2007
6.09.2007
hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door . . . I am HOT
Nothing that exciting.
One of the kids decided to hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, so our last day in Washington/Maryland we had no maid service.
And I have a really bad sun burn. I'm not sure if that is one word or two, but it's such a bad sun burn I'm going to use two words for it.
One of the kids decided to hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, so our last day in Washington/Maryland we had no maid service.
And I have a really bad sun burn. I'm not sure if that is one word or two, but it's such a bad sun burn I'm going to use two words for it.
6.03.2007
my new Coach shoes
No, I didn't bring these to the urine-filled streets of Philly. Blogging pre-va-ca pics.
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Lip Gloss
Hello from Philly. We managed to make it through airport security without one single item or person being searched. No one felt it necessary to confiscate my lip gloss or Luna Bar in the name of national security.
I'm pretty sure I saw someone try to buy drugs within the first two hours I was here. On my subway ride from the airport to the hotel, I passed the time by thinking about when, a year and a half ago, I had been robbed by two black men and I couldn't describe them to the police. So I sat on the subway staring at black men thinking about how I would describe them if necessary. "He had corn-rows." Or, "he was wearing a football jersey and a big square diamond earring and Adidas." "His pants were in danger of falling off." Don't you like the thought process of the inner-city church Pastor's wife?
The Pastor is working, but the kids and I saw the sites. Today, we rode on the double decker tour bus and saw an overview of the city. We also toured the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. We did all of this in spite of the fact that one of the children just wanted to stay at the hotel and swim.
Later, when the Pastor caught up with us, I tried to be a good wife. Really, I tried. But, what, I ask you, about me says "she looks like the type of girl who wold like to walk around in the rain." ????? In a city that clearly embraces public urination, I certainly don't mind splashing around in the water that washes it away! I was trying to make the Pastor happy by walking to the AIDS thrift store so he could buy two shirts for $3.50.
Then, for maximum embarrassment, even though I safely ran for hours in my rubber flip flops, I waited until I was in the hotel lobby to fall on my bottom and my wrist and say a word my son had never heard me say. I blame the cinnamon rolls.
We are staying at a Holiday Inn Express. Even though I am embarrassed by the whole slip and fall thing and not happy about the people in the room next to us who made sure we didn't sleep last night, the hotel redeems itself with the delicious cinammon rolls. I only ate one, and part of a second one this morning. That is an improvement over my pre-Weight Watcher cinnamon roll escapades. I spent time this evening trying to find the nutritional information, but I couldn't find it. It's just as well. I'd rather be in denial. And if you know, don't tell me.
Now I am watching a show on cable about morbidly obese people who have to go to special clinics. I wonder if that will be a deterrent to the cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning. The Pastor wouldn't let me watch edited-for-tv "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" because it's not appropriate for the children. Well this show is not helpful to me and the fact that I want to eat a cinnamon roll tomorrow morning.
I'm pretty sure I saw someone try to buy drugs within the first two hours I was here. On my subway ride from the airport to the hotel, I passed the time by thinking about when, a year and a half ago, I had been robbed by two black men and I couldn't describe them to the police. So I sat on the subway staring at black men thinking about how I would describe them if necessary. "He had corn-rows." Or, "he was wearing a football jersey and a big square diamond earring and Adidas." "His pants were in danger of falling off." Don't you like the thought process of the inner-city church Pastor's wife?
The Pastor is working, but the kids and I saw the sites. Today, we rode on the double decker tour bus and saw an overview of the city. We also toured the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. We did all of this in spite of the fact that one of the children just wanted to stay at the hotel and swim.
Later, when the Pastor caught up with us, I tried to be a good wife. Really, I tried. But, what, I ask you, about me says "she looks like the type of girl who wold like to walk around in the rain." ????? In a city that clearly embraces public urination, I certainly don't mind splashing around in the water that washes it away! I was trying to make the Pastor happy by walking to the AIDS thrift store so he could buy two shirts for $3.50.
Then, for maximum embarrassment, even though I safely ran for hours in my rubber flip flops, I waited until I was in the hotel lobby to fall on my bottom and my wrist and say a word my son had never heard me say. I blame the cinnamon rolls.
We are staying at a Holiday Inn Express. Even though I am embarrassed by the whole slip and fall thing and not happy about the people in the room next to us who made sure we didn't sleep last night, the hotel redeems itself with the delicious cinammon rolls. I only ate one, and part of a second one this morning. That is an improvement over my pre-Weight Watcher cinnamon roll escapades. I spent time this evening trying to find the nutritional information, but I couldn't find it. It's just as well. I'd rather be in denial. And if you know, don't tell me.
Now I am watching a show on cable about morbidly obese people who have to go to special clinics. I wonder if that will be a deterrent to the cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning. The Pastor wouldn't let me watch edited-for-tv "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" because it's not appropriate for the children. Well this show is not helpful to me and the fact that I want to eat a cinnamon roll tomorrow morning.
5.28.2007
F+
This past week, I admitted to the Pastor I didn't know what "Pentecost" meant.
Is that really my fault? Isn't that some great failure of "the Church" - I've been going all my life!
So fast-forward to the Pastor's sermon this weekend. He was guest-preaching in Dallas. (Hello, Galleria! Hello Melting Pot! Hello Renaissance Hotel!)
The Pastor (who you will recall is also a Professor) starts off his sermon with a delightful anecdote about how he was "teaching" last week and one of his "students" didn't know the meaning of Pentecost. Yes, I was his stupid student.
As delighted as I was to actually find a place in his sermon as that has been such a rarity, this isn't what I had in mind.
He can make fun of me all he wants for not knowing about Pentecost, but then he went on during his sermon to include countless references to "Independence Day." What? It's no wonder I still don't learn anything at church. I spent the rest of the sermon not listening, willing the Pastor to look at me so I could mouth the words "MEMORIAL DAY" to him. Me, the stupid student, at least knows that it's MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND which means the swimming pools open and it's ok to wear white shoes again (but I also know from "What Not to Wear" that it's ok to wear white shoes as appropriate throughout the year, just never white jeans).
I did learn about Pentecost. Pentecost = Birthday, and if anyone knows what Birthday means, it's me.
Is that really my fault? Isn't that some great failure of "the Church" - I've been going all my life!
So fast-forward to the Pastor's sermon this weekend. He was guest-preaching in Dallas. (Hello, Galleria! Hello Melting Pot! Hello Renaissance Hotel!)
The Pastor (who you will recall is also a Professor) starts off his sermon with a delightful anecdote about how he was "teaching" last week and one of his "students" didn't know the meaning of Pentecost. Yes, I was his stupid student.
As delighted as I was to actually find a place in his sermon as that has been such a rarity, this isn't what I had in mind.
He can make fun of me all he wants for not knowing about Pentecost, but then he went on during his sermon to include countless references to "Independence Day." What? It's no wonder I still don't learn anything at church. I spent the rest of the sermon not listening, willing the Pastor to look at me so I could mouth the words "MEMORIAL DAY" to him. Me, the stupid student, at least knows that it's MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND which means the swimming pools open and it's ok to wear white shoes again (but I also know from "What Not to Wear" that it's ok to wear white shoes as appropriate throughout the year, just never white jeans).
I did learn about Pentecost. Pentecost = Birthday, and if anyone knows what Birthday means, it's me.
5.24.2007
he was right
Pastor: Reclining in the recliner, wearing his squishy travel neck pillow, resting.
Me: Right in front of him, attempting to perform routine I learned from my Carmen Electra video.
Pastor: "Stop it! I need to rest my eyes!"
Me: Confused, this wasn't in the video!
Me: "You mean that in ALL your 37 years (he's not 37, he just thinks he is) that you've had this happen to you SO MANY TIMES, you'll just take a pass on this one? Don't you want to be Electra-fied?"
Pastor: Laughing. "Guess I know what your next blog entry will be about."
Me: Right in front of him, attempting to perform routine I learned from my Carmen Electra video.
Pastor: "Stop it! I need to rest my eyes!"
Me: Confused, this wasn't in the video!
Me: "You mean that in ALL your 37 years (he's not 37, he just thinks he is) that you've had this happen to you SO MANY TIMES, you'll just take a pass on this one? Don't you want to be Electra-fied?"
Pastor: Laughing. "Guess I know what your next blog entry will be about."
5.23.2007
OK, I should probably finish posting my b-day pics
I'm smiling and being very nice to this woman because she knows exactly how old I am.
I've grown weary of fixing the red eyes in every single picture of me. I don't even bother anymore.
5.22.2007
feeling better about myself
Today, I ran into (well not literally) my Dad's aunt. She is in her 80's. Probably her upper 80's. Here's how it went:
Me: Hello!
various pleasantries exchanged
Me: Nate, this is Aunt X.
Insert here me giving Nate an explanation as to how he is related to Aunt X.
Aunt X: No, that's not right.
(yes it is, she was off by a few decades and relatives)
Aunt X: You got re-married. (I love it when people say re-married. Why not "Marriage: The Sequel!" or "Marriage: Part II!" ???)
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: You married that Pastor, didn't you?
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: You have to behave now.
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: Now how do I know you?
*****
Since she was wrong about how we were related, maybe she was wrong about me having to behave.
Me: Hello!
various pleasantries exchanged
Me: Nate, this is Aunt X.
Insert here me giving Nate an explanation as to how he is related to Aunt X.
Aunt X: No, that's not right.
(yes it is, she was off by a few decades and relatives)
Aunt X: You got re-married. (I love it when people say re-married. Why not "Marriage: The Sequel!" or "Marriage: Part II!" ???)
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: You married that Pastor, didn't you?
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: You have to behave now.
Me: Yes.
Aunt X: Now how do I know you?
*****
Since she was wrong about how we were related, maybe she was wrong about me having to behave.
13 going on 80
Yesterday, I went to the mall (shocker!) with Mom. Mom was looking for clothes to send to my niece, Kitty Kat, soon to be 13.
Mom utilized me as her high-fashion model. As you can imagine, I was just thrilled to be modeling clothes intended for a teenager. I, unfortunately, have no other need to be at American Eagle Outfitters.
I tried on one particular top. Mom was trying to gauge the size on me and exclaimed "Now, I just have to remember that SHE has boobs."
Ouch. Out-boobed by a pre-teen. AGAIN.
Later that day, I went to get some groceries at the Big-Box grocery store. I'll call it Big-Box because that's what the documentary the Pastor made me watch last night kept calling it. Oh, the crazy things the Pastor and I do at night. We get the kids to bed, and watch independent filmmaker documentaries on Mom and Pop businesses vs. the giant chain stores.
Back to my Big-Box story, I had an hour before I had to pick Nate up from school. I blitzed through the store, and when I checked out I realized I could not find my keys. I hope I left the van unlocked!
Boy did I ever. Not only did I leave it unlocked, not only did I leave the keys in the ignition, I left the van RUNNING the entire time I was in the Big-Box. You know, because gas is so cheap and all.
I am either (1) starting to experience serious "senior moments" after my high-numbered b-day, or (2) on some unconcious level, I secretly want someone to steal the van so I can get a Volkswagen Bug.
Mom utilized me as her high-fashion model. As you can imagine, I was just thrilled to be modeling clothes intended for a teenager. I, unfortunately, have no other need to be at American Eagle Outfitters.
I tried on one particular top. Mom was trying to gauge the size on me and exclaimed "Now, I just have to remember that SHE has boobs."
Ouch. Out-boobed by a pre-teen. AGAIN.
Later that day, I went to get some groceries at the Big-Box grocery store. I'll call it Big-Box because that's what the documentary the Pastor made me watch last night kept calling it. Oh, the crazy things the Pastor and I do at night. We get the kids to bed, and watch independent filmmaker documentaries on Mom and Pop businesses vs. the giant chain stores.
Back to my Big-Box story, I had an hour before I had to pick Nate up from school. I blitzed through the store, and when I checked out I realized I could not find my keys. I hope I left the van unlocked!
Boy did I ever. Not only did I leave it unlocked, not only did I leave the keys in the ignition, I left the van RUNNING the entire time I was in the Big-Box. You know, because gas is so cheap and all.
I am either (1) starting to experience serious "senior moments" after my high-numbered b-day, or (2) on some unconcious level, I secretly want someone to steal the van so I can get a Volkswagen Bug.
5.17.2007
I saw this list on another blog and I stole it. The answers are mine though.
1. Where is your cell phone? I don't know. It's usually lost.
2. Your Vehicle? In the driveway and in the garage. Who cares. We're talking a mini van and/or a Honda with damage on every single panel. It's not like anyone is going to steal either one.
3. Your hair? Flat-ironed, slighly curled under. Oh, and totally my natural color.
4. Your father?: Probably shooting something.
5. Your favorite thing?: Things. Cupcakes. Shopping. New clothes. Cake. Starbucks. Spring. Having the windows open and the fresh air blowing through the house. The smell of fabric softener. Strawberry bubble bath. Donuts. Mexican food. Traveling to Europe.
6. Your dream last night?: I know I had one, but I can't remember it. Oh, wait a minute, I was at work at my old job. Bossing people around.
7. The room you’re in?: Family room/exercise room. Sitting on giant bean bag chair with Pastor. He is watching "Blood Diamond" movie.
8. You are? Robyn!
9. What do you want to be in 10 years? A famous writer.
10. Who did you hang out with today? The Pastor. Mom. Dad. Nate. Becca from across the street. Grey's Anatomy.
11. What you’re not? Answering this question.
12. Muffins?: Weight Watchers chocolate.
13. One of your wish list items? I have everything I could ever wish for, and more.
14. Where is the ______ ?: "Oh where is my hairbrush" - the Pastor sings that song everyday.
15. The last thing you did? Made myself a grilled cheese (love that sandwich maker!) with fresh bread from the good bakery and a bowl of minestrone. Ate and watched part of The Office and Grey's Anatomy. Had to go to 6th Grade orientation tonight.
16. What are you wearing?: This is not that kind of blog! Blue and white striped sun dress from Ann Taylor.
17. Your pet(s)?: One son, the Pastor, two step-daughters. I also take in strays.
18. Your mood?: Don't ask!
19. Missing? Having a small child!
20. What are you thinking about right now? I have a headache. I don't like this movie. Why didn't the Pastor bring me a Pepsi Icy.
21. Your Shoes?: No shoes on the carpet! Right now barefoot, but before it was white wedges.
22. Your work?: Professional Blogger.
23. Your summer? Swimming. Amusement Park. Water Park. Philly. D.C.! New York City! Florida! The Bahamas! Tan! Bikini all summer long! I'm taking Nora Ephron's advice to wear one every second I can, and I have about two dozen really cute ones. Snow cones. Cotton dresses.
2. Your Vehicle? In the driveway and in the garage. Who cares. We're talking a mini van and/or a Honda with damage on every single panel. It's not like anyone is going to steal either one.
3. Your hair? Flat-ironed, slighly curled under. Oh, and totally my natural color.
4. Your father?: Probably shooting something.
5. Your favorite thing?: Things. Cupcakes. Shopping. New clothes. Cake. Starbucks. Spring. Having the windows open and the fresh air blowing through the house. The smell of fabric softener. Strawberry bubble bath. Donuts. Mexican food. Traveling to Europe.
6. Your dream last night?: I know I had one, but I can't remember it. Oh, wait a minute, I was at work at my old job. Bossing people around.
7. The room you’re in?: Family room/exercise room. Sitting on giant bean bag chair with Pastor. He is watching "Blood Diamond" movie.
8. You are? Robyn!
9. What do you want to be in 10 years? A famous writer.
10. Who did you hang out with today? The Pastor. Mom. Dad. Nate. Becca from across the street. Grey's Anatomy.
11. What you’re not? Answering this question.
12. Muffins?: Weight Watchers chocolate.
13. One of your wish list items? I have everything I could ever wish for, and more.
14. Where is the ______ ?: "Oh where is my hairbrush" - the Pastor sings that song everyday.
15. The last thing you did? Made myself a grilled cheese (love that sandwich maker!) with fresh bread from the good bakery and a bowl of minestrone. Ate and watched part of The Office and Grey's Anatomy. Had to go to 6th Grade orientation tonight.
16. What are you wearing?: This is not that kind of blog! Blue and white striped sun dress from Ann Taylor.
17. Your pet(s)?: One son, the Pastor, two step-daughters. I also take in strays.
18. Your mood?: Don't ask!
19. Missing? Having a small child!
20. What are you thinking about right now? I have a headache. I don't like this movie. Why didn't the Pastor bring me a Pepsi Icy.
21. Your Shoes?: No shoes on the carpet! Right now barefoot, but before it was white wedges.
22. Your work?: Professional Blogger.
23. Your summer? Swimming. Amusement Park. Water Park. Philly. D.C.! New York City! Florida! The Bahamas! Tan! Bikini all summer long! I'm taking Nora Ephron's advice to wear one every second I can, and I have about two dozen really cute ones. Snow cones. Cotton dresses.
5.16.2007
Leave it to Beaver
On this day, I was the PERFECT wife.
Perfect.
Just like June Cleaver.
Look at the delicious meal I made. There's even meat.
beauty shop
An image of me, trying very hard to be nice step-mom.
Putting make-up on before the Dansical.
And by the way, this is just ONE of my make-up bags.
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