The other morning I had to spend some time in the garage digging out my platters and serving bowls for Thanksgiving. Yes, the garage. Rob and I decided that our lives weren’t chaotic enough with our insane work loads during the month of November, so we started our kitchen remodel. I know. Smart, right? So, all of my dishes are being stored in the garage. And it’s been cold as shit this past week! I’m talking single digit temps! It is so retarded.

You might be wondering why I was digging out my Thanksgiving dishes if I have no kitchen. Ok, maybe you weren’t wondering, but I’m going to tell you anyway. You see, I still cooked. I just did it at my sister’s. Thankfully she has multiple ovens, which is what I’ve always dreamed of for the turkey day meal. Plus, her microwave is also a convection oven! We totally cooked stuffing and rolls in it. It’s super impressive. You’re impressed, aren’t you?

Anyway, the kitchen remodel is really exciting for us. It’s SO much work though! No, not work that I’m doing… Well, unless you can count a little bit of sanding and painting. Work that my poor husband and brother-in-law are doing. I thought that you demolished the kitchen and then you just put all the new stuff in, but it turns out it’s way more complicated than that. It’s more like you demo the kitchen and then you spend weeks patching, leveling, mudding, sanding and eventually crying. I know for a fact that Rob has been near tears on more than one occasion. As would be expected, giving up all your free time after going 100 mph at work all day makes a person ornery. You have to keep the end result in mind though. I’m pretty sure this is the only way to survive home improvement projects. It’s that or you go postal and end up with a prescription of Xanax. Which might not be a bad stocking stuffer.

I mean Rob is in there right now and here’s what I’ve heard him say out loud so far:

“Jesus Christ.”

Blowing out breath noises

“Holy shit.”

I think I may need to get him a beer. I mean it’s noon somewhere, right?

I’m watching Oprah’s Favorite Things show right now. Have you ever seen this? If not, you are missing out. This is a show that Oprah does once a year before Christmas where she gives the audience an insane amount of presents; her favorite things. It’s so unfair. I mean apparently these people are deserving, like they’ve done a lot of giving, but I’m still really jealous.

Let me just tell you that the looks on the audience members’ faces is really a sight. Of course, we all would be freaking out if Oprah was all, “I’m going to give you diamond earrings, a Nikon camera, cashmere sweater, vacation, blah blah blah. It’s really hysterical though. I guarantee when they see themselves they’re going to be like, “Oh no, is that what I looked like?” Ugly stuff. The guys in the audience are even funnier than the women. Instead of crying and fanning themselves with their hands to stop a possible fainting incident, the dudes do a lot of fist pumping. One guy had the fist pump going while he yelled, “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT, THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!” Good stuff.

The really big bummer is that this is Oprah’s last season. Right, which means it’s her last Favorite Things show. Which means I will never be on it. Or be able to nominate someone for the show that could share their presents with me. Oh well. I’ll just go back to cleaning up the cat litter. Which, side note, I have a question about. Why do cats have to throw the litter EVERYWHERE? Can’t they just bury it without creating a god awful mess all over the floor?

This show makes me think about what I would give away if I could have my own Favorite Things show. Of course I haven’t tried out as many products as Oprah, but I definitely have some stuff I like. Like my boots from Sundance Catalog. Or my Macbook Pro laptop. And, I would never dare leave off some of my favorite cleaning devices. My ultimate favorite thing though is this bag filled with corn that you heat up in the microwave and snuggle with during the winter months. Is that sad that a microwave heat bag is my favorite thing? Well, tell me your favorite things so I can broaden my horizons!

Do you know what I could really use right now? No, besides alcohol, I mean. Yes, a good laugh. I mean another good laugh, because I had an amazing laugh yesterday at work. The word sphincter is just funny, but when someone says it on accident, in a leadership meeting, it’s WAY funnier. There’s this internal internet site – – are those called intranet- – Anyway, it’s called spinternet, but instead of saying spinternet, this guy said sphincternet. It took me a second and then I was all, “Did you just say sphincter?” That was all it took and we were all like a bunch of kids in church who are being given the death stare by their parents and know they need to stop laughing, but that just makes it that much funnier. Pretty soon you’re doing that laugh where your whole body shakes and little drops of pee squirt out. Oh come on, don’t act like you’ve never had a little bit of pee come out during a laugh session.

We calmed down eventually. That is, after our boss told us a number of times that we needed to “focus.” It’s still funny as shit though when I think about it, and I just pray that more people drop the word sphincter now and again.

The other night Rob and I were sitting in our car in a parking lot. No, we were not making out. We were actually jamming food down our throats. Anyway, all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see something fly by my side of the car. At first I thought it was a dog, but then there was a loud BANG! Yeah, as in something just hit our car. And then… I look out my window and I can see some dude’s legs just sprawled out next to the rig. I was totally freaking out, because I have no idea why this guy is laying on the ground. Did he pass out? Is he dead? So I’m screaming, “Rob, there is some guy laying on the ground next to our car! Do something!” And Rob takes another bite of his taco. Hello, there is a guy that might be dead right out the car door!
Anyway, the guy finally jumped up. Apparently he crashed on his skateboard and smacked right into our car. He looked really embarrassed, so I didn’t bother rolling down my window and being like, “Dude, are you alright? You hit our car pretty hard and scared the holy shit out of me.” So weird!

And speaking of witnessing random acts… While driving somewhere yesterday I look at the lady in the car next to me and she’s wearing a plastic glove (like the ones you wear if you work in the restaurant business) on one hand; the hand that is holding her cigarette. The hand that’s on the steering wheel is glove free, so I can only assume that she either 1) doesn’t want to yellow her fingers for vanity purposes or 2) is a secret smoker and doesn’t want people to find out from her nasty ass yellow fingers. People freak me out.

I was in Holladay, a city on the east side of Salt Lake, today and there were swarms of junior high kids everywhere I looked.  And oh my god, junior high kids really are pretty annoying. It’s fine; you’re supposed to be annoying in junior high.  I’m sure I was totally annoying.  In fact, I know I was.  It’s not like I was trying to be annoying, but it just happens so easily at that age.  So, anyway, don’t judge me when I say these kids were annoying as shit.  I know my mother was probably thinking the very same thing.  She works in Holladay and there were masses of them at the snow shack place in front of her work.  I could just hear the sighs she was producing.  She’s a sigher just like everyone else is a breather, but I’m sure the sighs tripled with the flood of so many kids that were forcing her to look at them.

Anyway, that was kind of a tangent.  What the swarms of kids really made me think about was how grateful I am to not be in school anymore.  Learning is cool and all, but thank God I no longer have to receive a grade for my learning.  For some reason that just sounds torturous at this point in my life.  I was a really good student, always on the honor roll, blah blah blah, but I so don’t want to go back.  Especially since it may or may not have taken me like 9 years to finish college.

Now that school is back in session, I’m also reminded that summer is pretty much over.  This is lame because I pretty much haven’t had a summer this year.  Why can’t the summer last longer?  Doesn’t mother nature know that smelling suntan lotion and chlorine makes me happy?  I guess I should remind myself that Halloween decorations also bring great joy to my life.  Oh, and that fall walks are the best because the air is so fresh and brisk.  Ok awesome, I’m totally on board with this back to school, seasonal change stuff.  Hmmm… what should I be for Halloween this year?!

Have you ever felt like you could go postal at any moment?  No?  Oh. Well, I am on the verge of losing it any day now.  I mean, of course, I’m going to try not to lose it, but I’m just saying it could happen.  There are people that are far more exhausted and overburdened than I am, but I still need a serious break.  You know when you just get to the point where you can’t fully function anymore and you know that anyone in your vicinity is in danger of your wrath?  And if anyone asks you a question, your response is always something like, “I do not have time to even begin to think about figuring that out right now.”

The thing is I hate people like this.  These are the people better known as martyrs.  And I so don’t want to be a martyr.  So, instead of going full on Sonie-on-the-cross, I’m just going to start throwing back shots.  What?  It could work.  I mean alcohol can totally have a numbing affect and I am all about that right now.  Wait, have I talked about drinking more in a past entry?  Why don’t I listen to myself?!  Listen, if you see me in the next couple of weeks, PLEASE offer me a drink.  FORCE a drink on me.  It’s for my own good.

I am by no means a nerd.  Ok, I’m a little bit of a nerd.  I am asleep by 10:00pm most nights, can’t remember the last time I did something wild and crazy (what would this even be?) and am always the designated driver.  I can’t really help it though.  I’m just so damn responsible.  I always have been.

Responsibility is not necessarily a bad thing.  It’s just sometimes a boring thing.  Which, by the way, I am totally blaming my parents for.  Don’t misunderstand.  They never told me to be responsible.  Instead, they were so loosey goosey (yes, I said loosey goosey) and busy being less than exemplary examples that I had no other choice (still love you Mom and Dad).  Someone had to be in charge!

Back in the day my responsibility was complimented.  Adults were like, “You are wise and mature beyond your years.”  Now, I’m an adult, and other adults are like, “You need to relax.”  I totally agree… with both statements.  So, I’m going to continue to be responsible, but I’m also going to let loose.  Do relaxed, cool people say “let loose?”  Whatever.  The point is life really is too important to take seriously (I totally read this on a greeting card).  Here’s to the new, more fun, less serious me!

Rob and I bought the house we live in over five years ago.  In those five years we have managed to learn four names of our neighbors. I’m not really sure why we’re so anti-social.  We even kind of want to be those people that are buddies with all the people on the street.  I went as far as to  volunteer Rob to be a neighborhood watch captain (I’m such a good wife, I know).  Turns out this isn’t the best way to get to know your neighbors.  Well, it could be because you’re basically a glorified flyer hander-outer, but we stick the flyers on their door and run, rather than taking the time to introduce ourselves and have a little neighborly chat.  And when our doorbell rings we’re like, “Who the hell is that?”

The neighbors across the street, we’ll call them Jane and Dick for anonymity reasons, are the ones we talk to the most and our interaction usually sounds like this:

Neighbors:  “Wow, your yard looks so beautiful!  I just love the lilies.  You guys must really have green thumbs.”

Us:  “Oh, thanks.  We actually have no idea what we’re doing.  We’re just trying to keep up with you guys.”

Neighbors:  “Well, it looks great.”

That’s it.  Or, sometimes we’ll meet in the street and complain about the bad neighbors to the west of us whose yard looks like shit and who have built a skate ramp in the garage (which is next to our bedroom) that they use, you guessed it, when we’re trying to go to sleep.  Jane and Dick are strange folks though.  A couple of years ago the neighbor to the east of us was in poor health so we made a pact with Jane and Dick that we would take care of her backyard and they would take care of her front yard.  Rob just so happens to be a nice guy, so he thought he’d do them a favor by mowing the front lawn one week.  Two seconds into the mow, Dick came sprinting across the street yelling, “Rob, stop!”  Turns out Dick didn’t like how short Rob was cutting the lawn in addition to the fact that he wasn’t mowing on an angle.  Dick nearly had a heart attack.

And then this morning I was at the gym working out and Jane came in and settled on the machine right next to me.  She was like, “Hi Sondra.  So this is how you keep your beautiful figure.”  And then she proceeded to break out her scriptures (really, on the elliptical?).  I think it was just for religious show though, because she then immediately called someone on her phone and proceeded to talk the entire rest of my workout.  She was out of breath the entire time, which I’m sure was causing an enormous amount of annoyance for the person on the other end who had to listen to panting for a solid 30 minutes.

The other two people we know seem super normal and super cool.  And every time we talk to them (which is like three times a year), we’re like, “We should totally hang out with them.  They seem cool like us.”  Then a year passes and we realize we suck at being friends with our neighbors.  Any advice?