Motivation

I received a thank you today from a middle school student who toured our offices and interviewed us about our jobs. She writes, "...I think I would hate your job..."

a challenge

I dare you to find something more annoying than two people sitting in an office, using 12" voices, competing to perform the best Foghorn Leghorn impression. Boy, I say boy - it can't be done.

Happy Birthday, Mom

We had a shoot yesterday, a product for Mother's Day. Went to an elementary school and shot kids coloring pictures, finishing the sentence, "I love my mom because..."

It's my mom's birthday today, so I'm thinking about her more than usual. What would I say if I were featured in yesterday's shoot?

I love my mom because...

• she's an amazing cook.
• she always has mentos at church.
• she loves my husband almost as much as I do.
• she always tells me to relax.
• she never says I'm not doing enough.
• I can make her laugh.
• she always wins at shower games, and usually lets me cheat off her.
• she buys me things like jars of sundried tomatoes, just because she thought of me when she saw them.
• she always clips newspaper articles that might interest me.
• she's modeled what it means to be a good wife.
• she's the best back scratcher ever.
• she's always trying to be a better person.
• she irons clothes.
• she worries about me constantly.
• when people say I'm just like her, they mean it as a compliment.

Sara N. likes words

She even knows when they aren't necessary.
I wish I did more stuff like this.

I take it back

I was lonely last night - like a normal, well-adjusted married person.

Irony

I had a great night last night. It wasn't spectacular or out of the ordinary - it was just balanced. It was leaving work on time, a home cooked meal, a glass of wine on the porch, downtime with devotions, good talks with my husband, SVU, and into bed on time. It was just nice. When I mentioned that to Keith, he pointed out that it's the first night in months that he had to pack again. See, he left this morning for LA (I'll meet him on Friday). Unbelievable. He's right - my comfort zone is definitely him leaving, regardless of how much I love him staying home. Definitely made me feel like I deserved the crappiest wife of the century award. The transition will get easier. We just have to figure out how to celebrate the staying as much as we did the coming home. Now that would be an awesome marriage.

Dave's a bully

What's geekier - always having a calculator handy? Or "finding" someone's most valuable possession and trapping it in an elaborate jello rig? One thing's for sure - Dave must sure hate this calculator. I'm just relieved I don't work with Dave. Hate to think about what of mine might end up in jello.

Spring

Last night, regardless of slushy snow and freezing rain, I was renewed with the promise of spring. First off, I had my 2007 inaugural Zoomer. It tastes like summer. One sip and the floor beneath your feet is a deck and the paste on your face starts to glow bronze. I may be overstating this, but when there's a two day blizzard in April, sometimes a tall glass of liquid wheat topped off with a lemon is the only hope you have of blue skies.

We left the brewery to join in the annual Hogan Family Easter Egg Hunt. It's nothing like a Johnson Easter shin dig. Dad opens the door, sweating, and shoo's us upstairs before we "see" all the candy. We all pile on the bed in the guest room - mom, Aunt Hallie, Keith, Sara, Troy, Faith, and Kristen my coworker (because everybody's a Hogan on a Holiday). Dad finishes the placement and comes upstairs to remind us of the rules. "No biting, hitting, fighting, tearing of bags - and don't break anything!" Then we're scientifically lined up for the count down, in order by how close our guess came to dad's pick between 1 & 10. Ready... set... go!

Phase 1: All hell breaks loose. There's screaming, tripping - fur flies everywhere as all five pets scatter from the herd. I always head for the kitchen - the littlest room with the most hiding spots, and away from the others. There's chocolate in the toaster, dog dish, sugar bowl, above the door frame, wedged into the cupboard handles, and sometimes just peacefully resting on a chair. After the entire house is completely combed, we gather around the table to compare the loot. The kitchen strategy worked and I won! The glory is short-lived, however, as everyone dumps their bags and starts to sort.

Phase 2: All varieties of candy are sorted into piles and distributed evenly amongst the crowd. Everything's fair, organized, even kind of quiet as everyone concentrates on the fairest distribution possible. Everyone places their equal sized loot back into their original bags.

Phase 3: Cut throat bartering begins. "What'll you give me for my turds?" ("turds" being the chocolate malt eggs - unwrapped candy is always the least desirable) In this family, everyone's after the Doves or the Special Darks. One might think that after 36 years of this tradition, they might start buying extra of the coveted dark chocolate... but then again, where would we be without phase 3? In the end, everyone goes home happy - unless you got duped into an unfair trade. If so, there's always next year.

All in all, pretending it's spring, even when it's not, worked. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky, and I think our heat wave might actually bring us up to the mid-40's today. It must be the Zoomer.

self control

We decided we aren't the parents for the cute little puppy below. It's selfish, really. The owners couldn't be more flexible - they're willing to keep her and feed her until we move to our house. But... she's been taught to play too rough already and I can't imagine what kind of habits we'll have to break if she stays in the house another 5 weeks. Besides, she has fleas. I only signed on for one new pet.

Needless to say, we need to STOP shopping for dogs until we're ready to take one home. Easier said than done.

We can't help ourselves

We're leaving work early today to go meet her...


Can you blame us?

I wish I was a Baller

I don't mean to brag, but I (with my husband) are privileged enough to be considered VIP members of our local credit union. Not that we have so much money saved there - rather, it may have something to do with our negative net worth that they like so much, but VIP it is. Between the two of us, we technically have 7 accounts there. I like to think they know who we are. I'd be wrong.

We went to said credit union two weeks ago for mortgage pre-appoval. We worked with Dave, our friendly loan officer, filling out ALL the appropriate personal information. Dave kindly sent our file back to us, so we had a copy. Dave made the mistake of mailing the file with our credit reports, SSN, income, etc., to our new address. Right. To the house we don't own yet. To the people who still live there. Could you possibly make a worse mistake as a bank employee? Is there a better way to beg for identity theft? I think not.

Luckily, the sellers are good people and forwarded the package to our realtor. When I picked it up today and saw everything in the file, I got so mad I started to shake, and my blood pressure rose. Literally. Keith joined me as we left the realtor's office and headed straight for the credit union.

On the way over, we imagined the scene --
Keith holding me back as I swing around him, screaming "What's my address, B*#@!?? Say it - say it!"

And then I remember Pastor Dave's sermon about showing people Jesus while you're at work and in your every day activities. Dang. Just when I had a good gangsta reaction and everything.

So we politely told the branch manager, who gave us the number of the morgage supervisor - I called him. Everybody was very apologetic and I managed not to swear at anyone. But man... do I ever have some gangsta rage right now...

It's official... sorta

Inspection reports came back today. The house is clean. No radon. No bugs. Some sub-par electical, but no more negotiations. We've accepted the house and the offer both as-is for real now. Next conversation is with the bank to finalize our loan and we'll close in 42 days.

I think I might throw up soon.

I own a house and I've been listening to the FOOTLOOSE soundtrack all afternoon. Does it get any better than this? I think not.

Enough already

I didn't take this picture, but I've seen this sad state many times in the last few days and I've had enough.

Final Four HOURS

My friends Heidi and Nat hosted a Final Four Party at their house in Indiana this weekend. I went because it was a great excuse to visit with some of my favorite people. It meant being in a room for over four hours with two consecutive basketball games, often facing the television, and not watching a single play. I looked at a lot of basketball, but didn't really watch a second of it. I've often thought to myself that I would follow sports better if I were just around them more. I found out this weekend that's just not true. In fact, I noticed on the logo I just brought in that it says Indianapolis. Was the final four in Indy? Who knew...

The next step

Now that we "have" a house, our want of a dog now feels much more like a need. We even named our dog the whole way home from Chicago this weekend. We might be losers.

Of course, Keith and I would be drawn most to a "designer breed" - who knew there even was such a thing?

The picture on the left is of a Goldendoodle. Really. Sounds like pretty poop, eh?

Part Golden Retriever, part Standard Poodle.

There are Labradoodles, too.

I need a dog this cute - anyone know where I can rescue one rather than paying a designer breeder?