Not A Real Post.

Good Day Blogstalkers,

I really wanted to post today but I just can't seem to do it, I'm sorry.  No excuses, I'm just a little bit down lately.  A bit UP and DOWN actually but I'm FINE (completely and totally fine) so don't worry or anything.  And I'm working on a big overhaul of the site and have an even bigger project in the works that I'm almost ready to share (no I'm not pregnant again) so I will be more active soon.

In the meantime, here are a couple of posts I wrote elsewhere.  The second one is about bras and is one of my most favorite things I've written in a while, so check it out.

Ready Or Not - Here Comes Baby

Oh Nursing Bra - How I Despise Thee (Let Me Count The Ways)

Now I must go, have to cuddle with this little girl:

Charmed, I'm Sure.

Hello Blogstalkers.

Pulling inspiration from the fact that schools are starting all over the place right now, I thought we could play a little game today.

You know how sometimes in a new class a teacher or professor would make you go around the room and say your name, something interesting about yourself and like...something you were excited to learn this year?  And how that was the worst because you had severe social anxiety issues and also this was goddamned calculus and you were not excited to learn any of it?

And then it was your turn and you were all, "Umm my name is Lauren and I guess I'm excited to learn how to graph parabolas." And the teacher was all, "You should have learned that in Algebra a couple of years ago."  And then you were all, "Yes, well..."

And the teacher was thankfully about to move on to the next student but then remembered you had not said anything interesting about yourself so because they were rotten they came back to you to complete your introduction and you got flustered and were like, "I don't know! I get strep throat a lot?!"

At which point the teacher moved on and in your head you were all "Oh good job LAUREN.  Looks like yet another year with no boyfriends."

No? That was just me then?

Well anyway.  We're totally going to do that today.

Because of how fun it is.

A sort of reintroduction if you will, since I've been blogging so irregularly with the pregnancy and the baby and the everything else.

I'll start.

Hi, I'm Lauren Rae.  I'm 30 years old and have a 7 month old daughter named Fiona Violet.  Here is a picture of her:

I no longer get strep throat a lot because I had my tonsils removed when I was 21.  I still do not have any boyfriends.  I do have one husband.  His name is Ryan.  Here is a picture of him:

Here is a picture of the two of them together.  

He's not one for shirts.

Ryan and I got into a small verbal skirmish yesterday after he was in the shower and his friend texted him asking if they were still on for dinner and I burst into the bathroom and relayed the message to Ryan and asked him if he wanted me to respond.  "Just say something I would say," he told me. So I texted "Hump gump turkey sandwich."  Which apparently, was unhelpful and "didn't sound like him at all."  So then I texted like five more people "Who am I being? Hump Gump Turkey Sandwich" and all five of them responded with "Ryan, obviously."  So I think we all know who won that argument.

I am a voracious reader and through reading have acquired a pretty good vocabulary.  Ryan is always trying to find words in the books that he reads that I can not define.  Earlier this year he called me and was like, "I think I've finally found one...jodhpur."  And I was like, "Seriously RYAN, that's pants.  I mean, I have always expected that due to lack of exposure to them, you wouldn't know much about shirts.  But I was hopeful you'd know things about pants."  At which point, all frustrated that he had failed to foil me yet again he shouted, "I'm sorry I don't know more about pants!" and then more quietly, "I have to go, I'm at work."

He used to just text me these words but then if I ever took too long to respond he would think I was googling the definition.  Then he would rush home from work and check the search history on the computer to make sure I wasn't cheating.  So then I started googling things like "What does the name Ryan mean? Does it mean dumb?," and "How do I tell my husband that basically the entire back of his hair is turning gray?"  And sure enough one day, after he'd texted me the word 'scrim' (which is like a group of trees) and I'd taken too long to reply, I heard him clicking away on the computer.

"Oh HAHA Lauren, you're just hilarious," he called when he found the search history.  But then later I found him trying to look at the back of his head in the mirror.  

When we were looking for a house this year, we saw one where the backyard simply would not work for us.  "Hmmm I don't know about this yard," I said to Ryan, "I feel like it would be nice to have a good scrim of trees in the back so that if you wanted to traipse around in like, jodhpurs and nothing else, the neighbors wouldn't complain."

Sometimes I feel bad for my husband.

Other times I think he probably brought this on himself.

I love pasta and new notebooks and Calvin & Hobbes and magic.  I dislike tea and visible electronic cords and the summer and pedicures.

I spend a lot of my free time rescuing the tiny frogs that jump into my storm drain every time it rains.  Once my next door neighbor saw me doing this and let me also rescue the frogs in his storm drain.  Then he was like, "You must be an animal lover huh?" and then we had a really good conversation about animals.

Later that week Ryan was all, "Did you try to convince the neighbor that "Wildebeest" is pronounced "Wild Beast" with a silent E and that a group of them is called a "Ye Olde"?"  And I was like, "Maybe I did that, I can't be certain.  Why?  Did you check his internet search history?  Was he googling about it?"  And then Ryan left me alone.

And now I'll leave you all alone. 

Because it's your turn to tell me about you.  What's your name?  What's something interesting about you?  Spill Blogstalkers, I'm listening.  

P.S.  Sometimes I write places other than this blog.  This is one of those sometimes-es.  Two of those sometimes-es actually.

I Would NEVER Walk 500 Miles. And I Would Certainly Not Then Walk 500 More.

Hello Blogstalkers,

So you know how when you experience something that seems really odd or out of place you turn to your companion and say, "Am I crazy or is this pie crust taking forever to bake?  Is this ear slightly higher than my other ear?  Does this guy on the Food Network look exactly like Jake Gyllenhaal with a beard?"  (The oven wasn't on.  It is - I have to special order my glasses now.  And he totally does, right?)

Cuban Jake.  Or "Cake".  I might like him better than Normal Jake.  Or "Nake".  Unless Normal Jake got Nake.  But then again that could also be trumped by Cuban Jake bringing Cake.  So, back to where we started then.    
But anyway, I used to say that a lot.  Until Ryan was all like, "I don't know why it's always one or the other with you.  It would make a lot more sense if you said, "Am I crazy AND did the guy in the grocery store just lick that cantaloupe?" then I could just say yes.

And of course I was severely affronted and all like, "I'll show you crazy RYAN!"and then did things I'm not proud of in public.

But these days, I'm inclined to agree with my husband.

For one, I met my new neighbor yesterday when I was outside vacuuming her porch.  (One of my plants sheds and I was politely cleaning up the detriment.  My vacuum has a very long cord.)

For another, after the check-in guy at the gym said, "I didn't see you two yesterday!" to Fiona and me this morning and I panicked that he was like tracking my gym time, I was all, "Oh haha yeah someone had a long nap yesterday.  Also if you don't see us for a while it's because we go on a lot of vacations which would also explain the increased plumpness that will probably exist upon my return."

Also I get in a fight with my scale every single morning because when I step on it the first thing it does is flash LRG LRG LRG in big red letters.  And I am all like, "NO WAY SCALE! I'VE BEEN GOING TO THE GYM AND EATING COTTAGE CHEESE!  YOU'RE FULL OF NONSENSE!"  Until Ryan reminds me, every single morning that LRG is actually just my initials these days.

And then there's this:

Ryan: Hello? This is Ryan.

Lauren: So you know how I do that time travel thing?

Ryan: What?

Lauren: You know that thing where I pretend to be myself from five or ten years ago and then travel through the future until now and then make judgements on my current self?

Ryan: Noooo I can't say I did know that you did such a thing.

Lauren: Ok well it's a thing I do.  Mostly when I'm feeling really really happy with my life and I want the often sad and anxious former-me to know that everything is going to turn out just grand.

Ryan: Lauren, that doesn't even make any sense.

Lauren: It does get a bit confusing.  Especially since I've done this forever and so there are like a hundred versions of me hurtling through time and space exclaiming things like, "Look at all the bras you've got now!" and "That one's yellow!"

Ryan: This is the most ridiculous thing you've told me in a long time.  First of all, if you could time travel, why would you choose, of all the times and places in the universe, to just spend normal everyday time with yourself five years into the future?

Lauren: I don't know RYAN, why don't you tell me?  Seeing as you're the one that has chosen to spend all of his futures with me.

Ryan: Ok fine.

Lauren: Also I don't exactly travel forward in time, I like, first go back in time in my head and become my old self and then just travel to today and glance around a bit and think, "This seems nice." And maybe walk around on any new soft rugs and say, "Ooooh soft rug."  Mainly.

Ryan:  Mainly?

Lauren: Yes, until today.  Because I was at lunch with my dad and I wasn't even trying to play the time travel game and there I was just absentmindedly sucking the last of my cottage cheese off of the piece of lettuce it had been served on when suddenly I accidentally started playing the time traveling game or whatever and then Lauren-of-times-gone-by was there laughing at me and thinking I was ridiculous.  And so I was like, "Get out of here!" Not very loudly but it did happen to be just as the waitress was coming back over and I didn't know if she heard but if she did she clearly was going to think I was talking to her so I just continued with, "I love your blouse! Get out of town!"  And it was obviously a uniform top.  It was terrible.

Ryan: What is your point with all of this, because, let me remind you, I'm at my very first day of a new job right now.

Lauren: Oh nothing, I just wanted to let you know that I think I might actually be going crazy.

Ryan: Huh.  I always thought it would be a doctor of some sort that called me to tell me you were actually crazy now.

Lauren: Rude.  This is what I get when I am being a concerned wife who I just remember now really just called to see how it went with the wart doctor?

Ryan: Podiatrist.

Lauren: Right, that dude.

Ryan: He just lasered the little spot and that was it.

Lauren: Did he have any guesses on where you could have acquired such a disgusting malady?  Are you slowly turning into a warthog?  Are you going to start clearing the Savannah after every meal?

Ryan: He said, "You probably got it from your wife, she sounds like she's got a lot of warts."

Lauren: Dammit RYAN.  Just for that I'm staying on the phone with you longer.

Ryan: I'm eating lunch so whatever.

Lauren: I don't really have anything else to talk about…I had a completely normal run-in with the gym guy this morning but that's not interesting.  Oh! I met the new neighbor.  She seems nice.

Lauren: Oh I know! Something else weird I do, whenever I'm using the GPS in the car to get anywhere I decide in my head how close I have to get before, if the car, like…disappeared or something, I would be willing to walk to my destination instead of just giving up.

Ryan: Huh?

Lauren: Well, like if I'm driving to the bookstore, as soon as the GPS hits 2.9 miles to destination I shout "Walking Distance Fiona!" but if I'm going to buy you new white t-shirts, like I was yesterday it takes until I'm about .5 miles away before I'll even consider schlepping the rest of the way on foot.  And don't even get me started on if I'm going to the gym.

Ryan: You wouldn't walk half a mile to get to the gym?

Lauren: Well it's exactly like eating candy before dinner.  It would spoil it.  Oh ugh, bad metaphor, comparing the gym to things I love.  That's sort of maligning candy and dinner...It's only like that if candy tasted like wormchops and dinner was stewed yarn.

Ryan:  You hate the gym that much?

Lauren: The power has gone out 50% of the times I've been there and then I have to leave without working out!

Ryan: The power went out one time.

Lauren: Yes.  Well.  Exactly.

Ryan: And you could have stayed, I'm pretty sure it went back on 7 minutes later.

Lauren: I wouldn't know.  I was already driving home at that point.  With GPS.  It said 4.3 miles til home.  "Walking Distance, Fiona!"

Ryan: You are crazy.

Lauren: I told you.

And later:

Ryan: Hello? This is Ryan.

Lauren: Remember yesterday when I made way too many butterscotch bars and I didn't want to eat them and so I was trying to figure out how to get rid of them?

Ryan:  Hi Lauren.

Lauren: I just realized that I should have given them to the new neighbors.  Fiona and I could have set up a little FREE BUTTERSCOTCH BARS! stand.  But it's too late now.  I've already given them to my sister.

Ryan: What do you want exactly?

Lauren: Do you think it would be crazy if I put a sign on the front door that said, "Free Butterscotch Bars Yesterday"?  Because of how it's the thought that counts?

Ryan:  Yes.

Lauren: Yes I thought so too.  Just wanted to check.  Well, I've got to go, work to be done.

P.S. Please leave a comment? Comments are my bread and butter.  Except I can't eat bread and butter any longer because I'm on a diet, if you had not noticed…pfft.

P.P.S. Sometimes I write places that are not this blog.  This is one of those sometimes-es.  Life With Shorty - A Humorous Take on Raising my Daughter.  Check it out if you're not totally sick of me yet today.

P.P.P.S I mention that I'm like 5'8'-ish in the article which has already gotten some surprised reactions on The Facebook because everyone thought I was short apparently.  My brand new doctor's office (we moved) told me I was 5'7.5" just this month, which seemed taller than normal, but they are medical professionals, so that's why I wrote 5'8"ish.  But then I measured myself today after everyone was all incredulous and I personally got something more like 5'6.5".  And I can't exactly start out the new doctor-patient relationship by calling and saying, "I just have a medical question.  How tall am I?"  So I'm going with my measurement for now.  So I totally apologize for sort-of-exaggerating how tall I am in the article?  I'm also sorry for not really knowing how tall I am.  That seems like something a respectable person should know.

ALL THE Ps. S.  By request, a picture of my baby.  She doesn't usually wear headbands but she was feeling fancy.  She often wears fruit shorts.  We have watermelons too.

Happy Anni-Bloggy-Versary!!





If you want to check my counting remember to discount all duplicate comments and comment by yours truly.

Hello Darling Blogstalkers.

Today is the three year anniversary of the day I first started this blog.  And while I'm not always the best at updating in sensible intervals, I still think that's something to be celebrated.  A lot has changed in the years since I started writing this website after all.  New house, new car, new baby, newd-ness at the library*.

*I was trying to make mom friends by going to story-time and I walked in all smiles, scanning the room for likely chums as I took off my jacket and unwound my scarf.  And then took off my shirt.  Seriously.  Apparently my brain just switches into getting undressed mode if I remove two articles of clothing.  It was awkward.  I bloused back up and skedaddled pretty quick after that.

But anyway, this blog was an unexpected semi-success and it and you all have changed my life for the better.  So today I'm hoping to be able to change one of your lives for the better, just a tad**.

**When I was little, I thought the phrase "just a tad" was short for "just a tadpole" because tadpoles are very little and that phrase means just a little.  So like, my mom would take me to get ice cream and they would ask if I wanted any sprinkles and I would be like,  "Maybe just a tadpole."

So here's the deal.  Just comment to enter.  As always around here, no liking or sharing or tweeting of any sort is required.  Unless you are singing the song Rockin' Robin.  And then you had better be tweeting up a storm.

I'll pick a winner next Friday.

The actual prize is mostly a surprise but for sure there will be the following things:

For $100 (The Amazon)

A pair of Kendra Scott earrings of your choice.  I have these two and love them both.


Delicious cake.  Eat slowly for Prolonged Magic.
Please do not be like my high school BFF and send me a picture of yourself eating the cake with an extra plate of cake sitting by an empty chair with the caption "That piece is for you as I truly hope you are eating cake with me in spirit right now."  Because seriously?  I was all like, "Bitch, please.  I do not do any sort of cake-eating that does not involve putting frosting-y globs of actual cake in my mouth"  Eating cake in spirit.  Pfft.  Dumbest thing I've ever heard.

This bag:

And not just a tadpole more.  A whole crazy amount more.  Lots and lots more.  I promise it's a worthwhile pursuit.  Things I've included in the past: Coasters shaped like toast, a Tiffany necklace, personalized gym shoes from Nike, a hat that looks like a cupcake, Ugg slippers, A Kate Spade bracelet, band-aids that look like pickles, an actual pickle.  And so on and so forth.

Oh and I promise I'll include one of these little guys:

And now I must run because I have just heard a loud noise and then a bunch of "Ow Ow Owwws" coming from upstairs and I think Ryan may have hurt himself and this NEVER happens and I need to go run up and check on him so I can say "Yeah, Ow Ow, Talk Hurty To Me" because I have been waiting to do that forever.  And also I should probably make sure he's ok I guess.

Tweet, Tweet, Tweedle-Lee-Dee,

UPDATED Because it was requested, pictures of my baby.  Who is currently entering her third hour of napping.  She is not part of this giveaway.

UPDATED x 2 - I just want to say that it makes me insanely happy that you are all most excited about the cake.  You're seriously the best bunch of Blogstalkers ever.

UPDATED x 3 - If comments hit 200, you'll have to hit "Load More" or something like that, I don't remember, to see your comment after you post it.  

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