Sunday, December 24, 2006

It Gets Worse

Yesterday I thought I'd do a real nice thing and wash Joey's and my outfits. (Those of you who have been keeping up on this may remember that we only have one outfit apiece. Because we pretty much forgot to bring the suitcase that we packed.)

When transferring my laundry from the washer to the dryer, I noticed something Really Bad in the washing machine.

"AAAUGH!" (If a girl screams in the laundry room and nobody is around to hear her, does she make a noise?)

There was my cell phone, glistening from the bottom of the washing machine. In my trauma and delusion, I thought to myself...Perhaps my cell phone didn't really wash with the clothes...maybe it just fell in there when I opened up the lid?

I knew that this was, in fact, false.

My phone is currently in pieces on the bureau in our room here in Indiana. Joey is trying to dry it out for me. The consensus is that the screen is probably shot. In this case, the phone is probably worthless.

Can I do ANYTHING without messing it up?!


---UPDATE---
MY PHONE WORKS! Joey and Pops fixed it for me! I pretty much screamed and jumped up and down for a real long time. Even the screen still works! This is kick awesome.

One more super cool thing--I got a fancy new toothbrush out of the deal. It's hot pink with little squishy holders AND a tongue brush.

Beat that.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Accidents Make the Heart Grow Fonder

We're in Indianapolis until Monday. We got here last night. After leaving our car in Iowa City in a friend's driveway, we met up with my parents and drove to Rushville, Illinois ("on the way", according to my Pops) and got to Indianapolis about 10 hours later.

After loafing around for several hours, we decided we were tired and it was time to go to bed.

"Joey, did you carry the suitcase in?" I asked.

"Isn't it in the car?"

I knew the answer to this question was "No"; The Kid and I had just spend an hour in the back of the van (there were no seats) while we watched a Christmas light show.

"No, it's not in the car." As I said this, my heart sank. I began to feel a lump grow in my throat. My eyes began to burn. I thought
Don't cry! Don't cry!, So I wilted instead.

Our suitcase was still in the trunk of our car. Parked in Iowa City. Seven hours away. Our toiletries and colognes were freezing, right along with Henry's extra food that I had (intentionally) left in the car.

Those of the family who were still up decided that it we deserved everything we got. (Namely Grandpa was the chief proponent of this opinion.)

To make matters worse, I had eaten some "decorative fruit" about three hours earlier (We assume it was decorative, it's from Germany so we can't ready the label. It tastes like wax. Willi? Help?). After I admitted that I ate one of them, and that it pretty much tasted like mulch, I was met by several wide-eyed and astonished looks. The fruit candy had looked pretty real to me, but Grandpa told me in in No Uncertain Terms that it was decorative. An interior designer had given him the fruit basket, after all.

That, and I'd worn my socks two days in a row so I could save my clean ones for the days here in Indiana. (Seriously, who wears their socks twice anyway?! I'm never doing that again. One never knows when one might be without one's suitcase.)

We were all fairly certain that there was little to no hope for the Woestmans, and Joey and I put on Grandpa and Grandma's pajamas and went to bed. I have never hoped for clothes at Christmas as I have this Christmas.

Oh. One more thing. This morning, my trusty 2nd piercing earring (of three years!) fell out of my ear and went down the drain. I am distraught.

Merry Christmas, everybody! I'm going to go back to eating my Brie and crackers. (They were right next to the "decorative fruit" in that basket...)

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

I Broke the Toilet

Last night I decided to pack up the bathroom cupboards.  Since I'm vertically challenged, I had to stand on the toilet to get in the top shelf of the cupboards (and even then I have to stand on my tiptoes...)

Even on my toes I wasn't able to reach into the far corners of that top shelf.  I stretched as far as I could and kinda did this little bunny hop thing while I swept my arm around the shelf.  Good, I hadn't missed anything.

Just as I thought that, I heard a PING!, something small and plastic went flying, and the toilet seat started to slide, rather violently, to the left.  Because falling in the toilet is not high on my list of "Things To Do Before I Die", I did a sort of swan dive/crash into the wall.  I stood there, confused, and stared at the toilet seat that was now hanging kind of crooked.

Henry just looked up at me with his furry little face like he was thinking, "Mom, seriously!  What did you do now?!"  I picked him up since I wasn't sure I wanted him to be sniffing around whatever it was that had come flying off the toilet.

Joey, naturally, was not home.

Henry and I determined that some post that held the toilet seat on the toilet had popped off.  I nudged the seat back into place and proceeded to forget that I'd broken it.

This morning, I was putting on my makeup when I heard, "HEY!  What happened to the toilet?"

Oops.

"Um, I broke it last night?"  (When I am not breaking stuff around the house...)  "I forgot to tell you.  I was sort of standing on it when I was packing the cupboards."

"You were standing on it?" Joey said as he bent over to pick up the post.  " Yeah, you sure did break it. I won't tell Dave you were standing on the toilet when it broke, I'll just tell him it broke."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," I said, sheepishly.



Nerd

I look like a nerd today.  Last night I got a little hog wild on packing and packed all my good shoes for work.  To make matters worse, most of my socks are in the washing machine.  (Actually ALL of my socks are in the washing machine, except for the pair I'm wearing today, which is the pair I wore yesterday.)

I realize this is disgusting.

To make matters worse, the only pants I have are brown, the shoes I have are brown and pink suede and my socks are....white.  I look like a complete and total nerd.  And it's only going to get worse for the next week.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Holy Cow

I am responsible for the district's Christmas open house.  Last week, Hy Vee lost my cookie order.

I placed the order again on Thursday.  I was fairly confident that this one would not get lost, despite the holes that were the size of pennies in the guy's earlobes.  My confidence waned as the days progressed.  I throughly expected to show up at Hy Vee and have them say "What?  Cookies?"

An ambulence sat in the parking lot when I drove in.  Already this did not bode well.

The bakery was in a tizzy.  There were four people running around behind the counter frantically, and three people who were waiting to be helped.  I made a fourth.

The frazzled lady behind the counter looked at me and said, "May I help you?"  I told her my name and what I needed.  She looked a little worried, but started trying to find my cookies nonetheless.

Then she called me closer.

"The lady who was frosting your cookies passed out, so they're not ready yet."  She gestured to the EMTs in the corner who were surrounding a pale lady who was seated facing the wall.  "Can you come back in half an hour?"

"Sure," I said.  I had some touch-up painting to do at home anyway, since we're moving and all.  I came back in half an hour and my cookies were frosted and ready to go.

Now, you must admit that in a backwards sort of way, that's hilarious.  Come on.  How many times do stores lose your order and then not have it ready to be picked up because the person working on it passed out?

Why I May Need Therapy

Two months ago when Joey and I decided to move, we laid out a Plan.  (Our adventures are never complete without at least a four step Plan.)  As we were filling in dates on the calendar, I remember thinking, Are we insane to be trying to squeeze all this into so many days?  Am I going to have a nervous breakdown and need therapy? 

The answers to those questions would be, "Yes" and "YES!!", respectively.

Our Plan has gotten tigher on time and more complicated as the days go by.  Drama, drama, drama.  (But hey, there's nothing wrong with losing, like 10 libs from all the stress, right?  I seriously think I lost about two this weekend.) 

Yesterday's version of the Plan was: Tuesday--Joey's last day; Wednesday--Jenna's last day; Thursday--go to Cedar Rapids; Friday--drive to Indianapolis; Saturday-Sunday--stay in Indianapolis and try not to stress out (hopefully the spa's not closed for the winter); Monday--drive back to Ankeny; Tuesday--load the van and drive all night; Wednesday--paint the new apartment. Thursday--unload the truck and move in.

Mom "The Packing Machine" Laird came on Friday and Saturday.  We began our packing at 9:00 a.m.  Seven hours later there was a stack of boxes that is taller than me (granted, not that hard to do) in the place where the Christmas tree used to be, the microwave was sitting on the floor, the toaster was on the bookshelf in the living room next to the coffee maker, and I was no longer certain I had a kitchen table.  (If seeing is believing and whatnot.)

My house is messier than it has ever been, even before I stopped ironing Joey's shirts last week.

Sunday was a total packing loss since we left at 8 a.m. and didn't return home until 9:30 p.m.  My kitchen is not fully packed, our clothes are not packed, we are not packed for our trip to Indi, the bathroom's not packed, and we have a bunch of stuff on the coffee table that I'm not sure what to do with.  I just keep walking past it, stopping and staring, then shaking my head and moving on.  Out of sight, out of mind?

I was unable to sleep last night.  All I could think about was "how am I going to get this house all packed up in the eight evening hours I have between now and Thursday!

Unfortunately, I didn't feel miserable enough to call in sick. 

Joey agreed with me to alter the Plan so that I can take Wednesday as a vacation day. We'll have a whole day together to run last minute errands, like buying paint!.  (Someone informed me of a store that sells used microwave trays for $1, so we're pretty much going to go see if we can find one for our microwave so that I can get out of the doghouse.)

Hopefully I don't need therapy, because our insurance won't be active for three months once we move.

Friday, December 15, 2006

I Am 31

Randomly, while I was walking across the parking lot, I remembered a dream I had last night or the night before.  It was pretty awesome. 

Unfortunately, I can't remember much about it except for something about Joey and I lived in Texas and I was trying to get a job.  One of the questions in the interview was "How old are you?" (Naturally nobody can ask that in an interview, but play along.)

I kind of wiggled around in my chair and said, "24."

The two suits interviewing me looked down their noses and said to each other, "Gosh, I just don't believe that.  She totally looks 31.  At least."

I couldn't decide whether that was a compliment or an insult.  (The more I think about it, the more I decide it was probably an insult.  There's nothing worse than getting insulted in your own dream.)  In real life, I probably won't be mistaken for 31 until I'm at least 40.  So until then I'll have to settle for being asked if I'm over 18 or not.

In other news, I was walking in one of our schools the other day and there were four junior highers laying on the floor in the hallway talking about something, assumedly, naughty.  They scuffled around and whispered (not very quietly) "Shhh!  Shh!  A teacher!"

I considered looking down my glasses at them but, opted not to.

I did think to myself, "Ching!  They actually thought I was a teacher and not a high schooler they've never seen before like usual!"

Ahh, the joys of having a baby face.

Revenge

Henry exacted his revenge upon me last night.

He pooped on the seat in my car. 

I guess I deserve it?

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Arg

I hate to be wrong, but it looks like Joey might have been right about the cost of microwave trays. The only ones I can find that are made specifically for our brand of microwave are about $60.  GE ones, however, are about $30.  And they look like they'd fit...

Dangit.  I totally should have taken the tray out before I stuffed the dog inside.


I Am In Trouble

Last night about 10:00, I got a really good idea. (I thought it was a good idea anyway.) Henry was sitting there with us while we watched White Christmas, and he was soooo cute.

"Hey, let's stick him in the washing machine and take a picture of him," I said to Joey.

"Oh, OK." he said, and we got the camera ready.


Henry did not like being in the washing machine. I suppose I can't blame him. After we got several pictures of him looking sufficiently peeved, we took him out. He was EXTREMELY cuddly and clingy. I suppose he thought we were going to turn the washing machine on with him in it or something.

"That was really fun. Let's take the shelves out of the oven and take a picture of him in there." I was totally on a roll now.

Joey looked at me as though I'd taken leave of my senses. (Perhaps I had.) "No way. That's a bad idea."

"Come ON. I haven't used the oven in, like, 2 days so it's not hot or anything." I began taking shelves out. (In hindsight, I see that I may have some submission issues to work on.)

"Look, see, he'll fit right inside!" I picked up Henry and set him inside. He didn't like the oven very much, but he didn't mind it quite as bad as he'd minded the washing machine.


Joey resigned himself to taking a couple of pictures of the poor guy, then he said, "I think Henry is traumatized enough for one evening." But it was too late. I already had that evil glint in my eye.

"I wonder if he'd fit in the microwave..."

"NO!"

"Let's just try...." Since I hadn't totally thought this whole idea through, I picked up Henry and began stuffing him into the microwave. He was a really tight fit and he particularly did not enjoy the rotating glass tray. If I'd been smart I would have taken it out first. (Actually, if I had been smart I wouldn't have tried to see if he'd fit in the microwave...)

We got a couple pictures of poor Henry sticking his head out of the microwave and looking really, really miserable. I decided I'd probably put him into enough strange things for one day, and I tried to get him out.


He was sort of stuck.

"Um, Henry, work with me here..."

Joey was standing over the sink kind of hopping from one foot to the other trying really, really hard not to say "I told you so"! As it became more aparrent that we had an Issue on our hands, I glanced back at him. He looked quite concerned. I was beginning to get concerned myself.

Finally, things began to work. Then I noticed that, along with Henry, the glass tray was coming out too. Just as I got Henry out of the microwave, the glass tray slid to the floor and broke into about 6 large pieces, and dozens of small shards.

"AAAAUGH! YOU BROKE THE TRAY!!!" Joey wailed. I set Henry down and he ran over into the living room. (Poor guy.)

At a loss for what else to do, I began to laugh.

"I'm totally not cleaning that up." Joey said. "YOU broke it." He had a point. It was clear that Joey was Not Happy With Jenna. At all.

I got the big pieces and swept the floor twice. Then I went back to find Joey.

"It was kinda funny..." I started.

He glared at me. "Was not. Those things are expensive!"

I made another tactical error. I laughed. "Oh, how would you know. It's not like we've ever broken the microwave tray before."

He humphed at me and went back to his book.

I sufficiently apologized, wrote down the model number of our microwave, and told him of my lofty intentions to replace the glass tray. He was slightly mollified, but in no way placated.

On the upside, Henry has totally forgiven me. (Although he is sort of wary of the appliance side of our kitchen.)

The jury is still out on Joey, especially since he stepped on a glass shard this morning. It didn't cut him, but it definitely reminded him of what I'd hoped he'd forgotten.

You definitely have to admit that the pictures are hilarious.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Something really funny happened to me on Sunday, but I can't tell you what it was.  Sorry.

But believe me, it was really funny.

Candy

Today I have with me massive quantities of candy.  This is a good thing because morale seems low.

I brought:
1 bag of Sour Patch Kids.  (On second thought, I think that got left at home; I can't find it.  Drat!)
3 York Peppermint Patties.  (The bag spilled in my purse.)
6 pieces of chocolate fudge

I think I will be able to stuff sugar into whoever is grouchy today, and hopefully that will perk them up from the duldrums.  All that sugar gives me the jibblies just thinking about it!

Thursday, December 07, 2006

At about 1:00 this morning, Henry projectile vomited all over the study.  He'd been in his kennel at the time, and I am still stymied as to how he got it all over the carpet so far outside of his kennel.

He began barking immediately after said vomiting and it woke me up.  He very rarely barks at night so I figured something was amiss.  I stumbled out of bed and into the hallway and immediately I smelled a very foul smell.  My first thought was that Henry was suffering from the Big D again (horrors) but, when I turned on the light and saw the pile of puke, I knew I was mistaken.  (At least I hoped that I was mistaken and he hadn't blown out the inside of the kennel too.)

The poor little pukeface was sitting in his smelly kennel looking plaintive.  I held my breath and went into the room, let him out and surveyed the damage.  I threw Moo and his kennel pad in the washing machine (with the hottest water possible), got a trash can, half a roll of toilet paper, and the kennel cleaner, and headed back to try to clean up the mess.

Mind you, it was 1:00 a.m.

Thirty minutes and several rounds of toilet paper and paper towels later, Henry's kennel was suitably cleaned up, and the entire house smelled like vomit.  I emptied both trash cans and set the bag outside (you shoulda smelled it) and hoped it would freeze so I wouldn't have to smell it again in the morning.

I took Henry outside to go to the bathroom, trying to hide from the two drunk nerds that left the Yankee Clipper right as I came down the stairs (I am not taking Henry outside at night when we live in Dallas).  Now, granted, it was cold outside but the two drunk guys were yelling about how freezing it was and running/swerving all over the sidewalk.  Good thing they weren't driving.

I finally went back to bed.  Joey started mumbling things about a chemical spill on the highway.  Lucky guy, he slept through the whole ordeal. 


Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Nasty

It has now been a week since little Henry's surgery.  When Joey picked poor Boo up last Wednesday they said, "Bring him back in about a week and we'll take his stitches out, and make sure he wears his cone so he doesn't lick the area."

No problem there; for the last week that poor kid has worn his cone every time we haven't been able to directly supervise him.  There will be no infected doggies for Jenna Marie or Joseph Allen Woestman. (Especially not since we're moving in three weeks and we won't have any vet for a sickly puppy to go to!)

Joey packed Henry up and drove him down to the Low Cost Spay Clinic (where we got him "fixed" for a whopping total of $75, including pain meds and a cone) to get his stitches out.  Surprisingly, Henry wasn't afraid when he saw where he was going.  Joey said he was sniffing and licking everything (like normal) and didn't get scared at all.  He's so funny.

Poor Joey, though, when he deposited Henry for the removal of his stitches, the lady said "We don't use stitches on little boys, but let me check...Nope, he didn't have stitches."

"But you told me to come back in a week and get his stitches out!"  Joey said, kind of dismayed that he'd driven all the way down to the scary part of town when he didn't even have to.

"Yeah...sorry about that.  We used glue on him, so you didn't even need to come all the way down here."

GLUE?!

I am so grossed out.  They glued my little doggy back together!  What if the glue hadn't held and his intestines had started falling out all over my carpet?!  OK, that's gross.  But it's the first thing I thought of.  That and, I can't believe they'd use glue on a dog.

The good news is that poor Henry doesn't have to wear his cone anymore, not unless he's "excessively licking" his scar.  And, knowing they sealed him up with glue, I will certainly be monitoring that.  We certainly wouldn't want him coming open again, now, would we?

Monday, December 04, 2006

Of Stacking Cows and Piling Pandas

 Posted by Picasa

I Stacked My Cows (and the panda)

Things were a little slow and I told Andrew (my brother) that my brain was starting to ooze through my ears.  We both decided that this was disgusting.  So he told me to count sheep.

I don't have any sheep, so I decided to pretend my cows were sheep and count them (and the panda).  I have six, total.  

After I got them counted, I still needed something to do.  So I stacked them.  This was quite the feat, especially since Dang (the cow that's made out of bells) is so round.  I know you probably think this is dumb, but your brain probably wasn't oozing through your ears.

And of course there is no tape or anything holding these cows together.  Seriously, would I do something like that?!


Sunday, December 03, 2006

"Your lights are on..."

Last night Joey and I went to Festival of Carols. I wore jeans. We sat in the back with a bunch of people from church and tried not to play Pac-Man on my iPod (and were pretty successful).

Halfway through the concert, Dr. Van got up and made an announcement.

"If you drive a Toyota Corolla..."

My heart sank. It was one of those I hope it's not me but I totally know it is because I just have a bad feeling about this moments.

"your lights are on. The license plate is 949..."

I started digging in my purse for the keys. It was, most definitely, our car. I ran out in the freezing cold to turn the lights off with most of the people in the room looking at me, or at least trying to find the nerd whose car lights were on.

You know when you go to large events and they get up to announce whose car's lights are on? And you alwas think "gosh I hope it's not me, that'd be so embarassing". Yeah, that's exactly what I felt like when the house lights came up and Dr. Van started to make the announcement.

And there were, like, 500 people there too.