We're snowed in. Well, not currently, but we were snowed in from Friday until Monday and will be again beginning later today until at least Thursday. I must admit, it's kind of nice. We packed up on Friday morning and made the trek to my parents'. They have a generator* (and a big house) so we figured we'd stay here during the Great Snow of 2010 -- just in case. Plus, it's nice to have other people to take care of Livi. And my parents have vehicles with four-wheel drive, too -- again, just in case.
So, I've relaxed, eaten too much, took some naps while Gramma watches the baby; this is the life! And now, I'm sitting in the office working while my mom plays The Man at Mahjong tiles -- if she wins, it's her way of sticking it to The Man. If she loses, she says The Man beat her down again. She suffered a bad beat-down today and is retreating to work on her Christmas letter. See how entertaining this is?
And you wonder why I don't stay at my own place...
*My mom just informed me they don't have a generator, they have a propane heater. Crap. Ignorance was bliss.
2.09.2010
2.01.2010
normal is just a setting on a dryer...
I remember reading that book title once. I didn't read the book -- just the title. Because at that time, my life was normal by all accounts. My daily activities were set, and I could be as gluttonous with my time as I wanted to be.
But now... Now is a whole different story. When I wake up in the morning, I have a list of things in my mind that I want to get done during the day. Work trumps them all, of course. Well, Livi trumps them all, actually. But work is a close second. I usually get 100% of the things Livi needs completed. Bath time, play time, nap time, diaper changes, feedings, etc. Work -- I get about 85% of those things done. Everything else -- cooking, cleaning, getting dressed, combing my hair, etc., etc., etc.... well, I'm lucky if I get 5% of that done. Thankfully I've got a pretty laid-back husband who doesn't care if I cook, clean or get out of my pajamas. I'm still waiting to get surprised by the What Not to Wear team from TLC when I make a quick run to the grocery store in my glasses, sweat pants, carhart coat and old tennis shoes.
I'm learning to not get stressed out by this. I'm sure there will be plenty of time later in life to 'have it all together'. In the meantime, I enjoy my time with my baby and am grateful that I get to work from home. I listen to music and pretend I'm the put-together gal I used to be, and I sometimes look at cookbooks and convince myself I'll try that recipe one of these days.
Maybe in 20 years.
But now... Now is a whole different story. When I wake up in the morning, I have a list of things in my mind that I want to get done during the day. Work trumps them all, of course. Well, Livi trumps them all, actually. But work is a close second. I usually get 100% of the things Livi needs completed. Bath time, play time, nap time, diaper changes, feedings, etc. Work -- I get about 85% of those things done. Everything else -- cooking, cleaning, getting dressed, combing my hair, etc., etc., etc.... well, I'm lucky if I get 5% of that done. Thankfully I've got a pretty laid-back husband who doesn't care if I cook, clean or get out of my pajamas. I'm still waiting to get surprised by the What Not to Wear team from TLC when I make a quick run to the grocery store in my glasses, sweat pants, carhart coat and old tennis shoes.
I'm learning to not get stressed out by this. I'm sure there will be plenty of time later in life to 'have it all together'. In the meantime, I enjoy my time with my baby and am grateful that I get to work from home. I listen to music and pretend I'm the put-together gal I used to be, and I sometimes look at cookbooks and convince myself I'll try that recipe one of these days.
Maybe in 20 years.
1.28.2010
word of the year...
Since it's nearly February, I figure I better get my New Year's Resolution up here. In 2010, I resolve to be austere -- Having no adornment or ornamentation. As I'm tweaking to make it my own definition, I'm going to try to spend as little $$$ as possible.
I don't expect it to be easy. My biggest downfalls are eating out and buying new clothes (frankly because my pre-pregnancy clothes don't fit). So, I figure by practicing some Callie-defined austerity, I'll save money, lose weight (eating out is apparently unhealthy) and fit into my old clothes (which will feel new), thus eliminating my need to buy new pieces of attire.
I think I could be on to something here.
I don't expect it to be easy. My biggest downfalls are eating out and buying new clothes (frankly because my pre-pregnancy clothes don't fit). So, I figure by practicing some Callie-defined austerity, I'll save money, lose weight (eating out is apparently unhealthy) and fit into my old clothes (which will feel new), thus eliminating my need to buy new pieces of attire.
I think I could be on to something here.
11.11.2009
11.09.2009
a comparison: this year to last
2008:
Location: Minneapolis
Home: Renting a fun 'city' condo on the lightrail
Average number of hours of sleep a night: 8 solid, glorious hours
Evenings: spent horseback riding, dining out with friends at nice restaurants, a quiet evening at home with a glass of wine and a good book.
Average pant size: Much smaller
Site checked most often: Facebook
Job: Communications specialist, corporate headquarters
Children: 0
2009:
Location: Virginia
Home: Owned townhome
Average number of hours of sleep a night: 6, broken into intervals
Evenings: first spent puking, now spent wondering where the day went after doing nothing but sitting around in sweatpants feeding a baby.
Average pant size: Much larger
Site checked most often: Olive's diaper
Job: Mommy; regional marketing manager, home office
Children: 1
Wow, life has changed!
Location: Minneapolis
Home: Renting a fun 'city' condo on the lightrail
Average number of hours of sleep a night: 8 solid, glorious hours
Evenings: spent horseback riding, dining out with friends at nice restaurants, a quiet evening at home with a glass of wine and a good book.
Average pant size: Much smaller
Site checked most often: Facebook
Job: Communications specialist, corporate headquarters
Children: 0
2009:
Location: Virginia
Home: Owned townhome
Average number of hours of sleep a night: 6, broken into intervals
Evenings: first spent puking, now spent wondering where the day went after doing nothing but sitting around in sweatpants feeding a baby.
Average pant size: Much larger
Site checked most often: Olive's diaper
Job: Mommy; regional marketing manager, home office
Children: 1
Wow, life has changed!
11.04.2009
what's in a name?
In June of 2008, my Nana (Olive) had an unexpected stroke and after nine days in the hospital, she passed away. During the days in the hospital with her, it became so blatantly real to me that the only thing that matters in life are those that love you. With that truth in mind, Ryan and I decided to start trying to have a baby – instead of waiting for the ‘perfect’ time when we were where we wanted to be in our careers, when we had the right ‘family’ house, and when we were just more settled.
We tried for several months with no results. In December of 2008, I accepted a job out in DC, so we decided to put having a baby on hold. Then, low-and-behold on New Years Eve, we found out we were going to have a baby. It somehow seemed symbolic to find out about this new addition to our family in the same year we lost such an important member – Nana. When we did the math and learned our expected due date was September 11, I eagerly hoped that this little one would arrive on September 15 – Nana’s birthday, and the first possible birthday that we could have a child on since she left.
From the beginning, I felt like this baby would be a little girl. I don’t know why, but when I saw the two pink lines, the baby just seemed like a girl (and I was a minority!).
Baby Girl Briese was born at 8:45 p.m. on September 15. Ryan and I had talked about the name Olive Jaymes. (My grandpa’s – Nana’s husband’s – name was James.) It was a surreal experience to name my daughter after my grandma on her birthday.
Back in June of 2008, when Nana was in the hospital and not able to speak anymore, Ryan and I were able to share with her that we were going to try to have a baby and that if it was a little girl, we were going to name her Olive after her. I never would have imagined that God would bless us by also allowing my Olive to share her great-grandmother’s name and birthday.
We tried for several months with no results. In December of 2008, I accepted a job out in DC, so we decided to put having a baby on hold. Then, low-and-behold on New Years Eve, we found out we were going to have a baby. It somehow seemed symbolic to find out about this new addition to our family in the same year we lost such an important member – Nana. When we did the math and learned our expected due date was September 11, I eagerly hoped that this little one would arrive on September 15 – Nana’s birthday, and the first possible birthday that we could have a child on since she left.
From the beginning, I felt like this baby would be a little girl. I don’t know why, but when I saw the two pink lines, the baby just seemed like a girl (and I was a minority!).
Baby Girl Briese was born at 8:45 p.m. on September 15. Ryan and I had talked about the name Olive Jaymes. (My grandpa’s – Nana’s husband’s – name was James.) It was a surreal experience to name my daughter after my grandma on her birthday.
Back in June of 2008, when Nana was in the hospital and not able to speak anymore, Ryan and I were able to share with her that we were going to try to have a baby and that if it was a little girl, we were going to name her Olive after her. I never would have imagined that God would bless us by also allowing my Olive to share her great-grandmother’s name and birthday.
10.02.2009
bob wehadababy itsaboy...
Remember that funny commercial about calling collect? And the guy calls his parents from the hospital to tell them, but he calls collect and states that his name is "Bob Wehadababy Itsaboy"? A very funny and memorable commercial, in my opinion.
Anyway, my announcement is much, much more exciting and important. Wehadababy Itsagirl. :) That's right; Olive Jaymes entered the world at 8:45 p.m. on September 15, weighing 9 lbs, 4 oz and measuring 21 inches long. We are so blessed to have her in our lives. We're still struggling through the sleep-deprived days and nights, but I think they're getting easier, and I can actually keep my eyes open for a few hours now without toothpicks.
There are many miraculous things about new life, and I will share them in another post, hopefully later today. Right now, I must go change and feed my little Livi...
Anyway, my announcement is much, much more exciting and important. Wehadababy Itsagirl. :) That's right; Olive Jaymes entered the world at 8:45 p.m. on September 15, weighing 9 lbs, 4 oz and measuring 21 inches long. We are so blessed to have her in our lives. We're still struggling through the sleep-deprived days and nights, but I think they're getting easier, and I can actually keep my eyes open for a few hours now without toothpicks.
There are many miraculous things about new life, and I will share them in another post, hopefully later today. Right now, I must go change and feed my little Livi...
8.14.2009
top reasons not to attend your dream concert when 8 months pregnant...
- Most of the evening is spent running to the bathroom -- and those bathrooms are pretty nasty.
- It's very difficult to achieve the level of cuteness you've come to expect of yourself when attending concerts.
- A cold beer looks even more delicious in the heat and humidity -- but is very off-limits.
- Swollen ankles make it impossible to stand up for the entire concert, but everyone else will.
- It's a long hike from the parking lot to the concert venue.
- You'll be exhausted before the main act even hits the stage.
- You will wonder with some concern if your baby's hearing is being impacted by the volume of the music, even though the doctor assured you it's not.
8.12.2009
are you ready for this?
- We bought a townhome in the end of June. Ryan went back to Minnesota and picked up all of our stuff in the end of July. We’re slowly getting moved into our place. It’s new construction, which is nice – and we spend a couple of weekends painting and hanging curtains before Ryan brought out stuff out. (Thanks for the help, Mom and Dad.) So far, no real buyer’s remorse. I’m hoping we never experience that.
- Yesterday was officially one month until my due date: September 11. (I’m aiming for September 15, which was Nana’s birthday.) I’m ready to not be pregnant anymore, especially since the nausea/puking has returned and the heartburn is now at almost an unbearable level – BUT there is still so much to do at home and at work that I am probably one of the few women out there hoping that Little Poopsie (our affectionate name for her) stays put for the next month.
- Work is going well. It’s very busy, but I think making the decision to move out here was a good one. I enjoy the people I work with and find the work fulfilling. You can’t ask for much more than that.
- Ryan found a job very quickly. He was only out here for about two weeks until he had a position as an attorney. This reassures us in our decision to head east, and let’s us know that God really does have a plan for our lives.
- Rory the cat is adjusting. She was probably more excited than anyone else to leave the confines of my parents garage and enter her new domain (complete with stairs – a new anomaly for her). She practically jumped for joy – in fact, she literally did jump on everything – when all of our stuff finally arrived and got unpacked. Oh, quick note on the stairs: for the first several days, Rory would sprint as fast as she possible could up and down the stairs. It was as though she thought they’d attack her if she didn’t move fast enough. It was quite humorous to observe.
- I don’t think I’ve gone this long without a vacation in the history of my work career. I’m saving all of my PTO for maternity leave, but can hardly wait to have a break from work. Soon.
7.31.2009
i'm finding and assembling my wireless router this weekend...
... and it will be the start of my blogs once again. I will probably only have to go through about 25 boxes to find it. I can pretty much guarantee it will be in the last one.
6.15.2009
4.20.2009
4.13.2009
guest columnist: rory the cat
*Editor’s note: Rory has been a cat on the move since her family, Ryan and Callie, moved out of their condo on March 14. Ryan has noted that she has been exceptionally loving and well behaved, which bodes well for this little cat.
Good afternoon. I’m not quite sure what’s going on here. The woman named Callie left approximately two and a half months ago. She came back for a week (during which all she did was lay on the couch, throw up and cry) and then left again. I have not seen her. A couple of weeks later, the man named Ryan hauled all of my stuff out of our condo. He put me in a car and drove me to a place he called “Ric and Pat’s”. I had not been to this place before.
I stayed in a room with two big white machines for about two weeks. At one point I found a rafter I could jump up to and look out into the living room, but the man named Ryan made it impossible for me to leap up there. The woman named Callie called all the time and the man named Ryan would hold the phone up to my face while she said hi. I pretended to enjoy this. I wonder where she is?
About a week and a half ago, the man moved me out to a contraption called a car. While it was smaller than the other room, this so-called car provided much more sunlight for me to stretch out in. Apparently this thing called a car can travel at high speeds – and every day the man named Ryan would drive to a place he called Mankato to do something known to humans as ‘work’. I enjoyed these trips tremendously. The man named Ryan gave me a lot of attention, and I would sit on his lap and sleep. When I wasn’t sleeping, I would either sit on the passenger seat or lay in the back window. For some reason, people would laugh when then passed us. I don’t know what’s so funny about a cat in the car.
Last weekend was some sort of celebration, and a very small human named Truman discovered me in the car. He and his compatriots (Ellie, Cameron and Santiago) came over to pet me. I enjoyed these small humans tremendously. They were sweet.
I should note that the man called Ryan would take me out of the car occasionally. I didn’t mind walking on the hard, gray surface outside, but there is the spiky, green stuff covering vast amounts of space – and it scares the living daylights out of me. I refuse to touch it.
This morning we left very early for a long “car trip” – at least that’s what the man named Ryan called it. We haven’t quit driving for about six hours. I’ve been sleeping and wandering. He says we’re going to see the woman called Callie and that she’s going to have a baby (whatever that is) so I have to be good.
“I’m always good,” I told him. And we drove on.
I stayed in a room with two big white machines for about two weeks. At one point I found a rafter I could jump up to and look out into the living room, but the man named Ryan made it impossible for me to leap up there. The woman named Callie called all the time and the man named Ryan would hold the phone up to my face while she said hi. I pretended to enjoy this. I wonder where she is?
About a week and a half ago, the man moved me out to a contraption called a car. While it was smaller than the other room, this so-called car provided much more sunlight for me to stretch out in. Apparently this thing called a car can travel at high speeds – and every day the man named Ryan would drive to a place he called Mankato to do something known to humans as ‘work’. I enjoyed these trips tremendously. The man named Ryan gave me a lot of attention, and I would sit on his lap and sleep. When I wasn’t sleeping, I would either sit on the passenger seat or lay in the back window. For some reason, people would laugh when then passed us. I don’t know what’s so funny about a cat in the car.
Last weekend was some sort of celebration, and a very small human named Truman discovered me in the car. He and his compatriots (Ellie, Cameron and Santiago) came over to pet me. I enjoyed these small humans tremendously. They were sweet.
I should note that the man called Ryan would take me out of the car occasionally. I didn’t mind walking on the hard, gray surface outside, but there is the spiky, green stuff covering vast amounts of space – and it scares the living daylights out of me. I refuse to touch it.
This morning we left very early for a long “car trip” – at least that’s what the man named Ryan called it. We haven’t quit driving for about six hours. I’ve been sleeping and wandering. He says we’re going to see the woman called Callie and that she’s going to have a baby (whatever that is) so I have to be good.
“I’m always good,” I told him. And we drove on.
4.02.2009
random thursday thoughts...
1. Did you know you can buy pills that will give you a good day? Apparently they're called 'Good Days' or something like that. I heard it advertised on the radio, shook my head and chuckled, and then forgot the website. But it does strike me as odd -- there's a lot more that goes into a good day for me.
2. I have not thrown up for eight days in a row. (Knock on wood.)
3. I felt good this morning, and my boss mentioned that I finally looked like I was starting to feel better. I believe her exact words were, "I almost didn't recognize you!" which gives credence to my thoughts of looking like hell warmed over (what does that really look like?) the past three months. Sweet.
4. I've found about seven more gray hairs. Lame. I'd best make an appointment with a new salon out here in the DC area.
5. Most of all -- I miss Ryan. I can't wait for him to get out here to DC so we can begin our new adventure together.
2. I have not thrown up for eight days in a row. (Knock on wood.)
3. I felt good this morning, and my boss mentioned that I finally looked like I was starting to feel better. I believe her exact words were, "I almost didn't recognize you!" which gives credence to my thoughts of looking like hell warmed over (what does that really look like?) the past three months. Sweet.
4. I've found about seven more gray hairs. Lame. I'd best make an appointment with a new salon out here in the DC area.
5. Most of all -- I miss Ryan. I can't wait for him to get out here to DC so we can begin our new adventure together.
3.27.2009
reflecting...
Have you ever just sat back and wondered how you got to where you are today? For some reason today has been a day of reflection for me, and it's pretty mind-boggling to think of the changes the past 12 months have held -- changes I would have never dreamed of.
A year ago, the biggest change on the horizon was my little sister's upcoming May wedding. And now, the loss of a grandparent-new apartment-new job-sick pregnancy-move across the country-husband looking for a job year later, I wonder how I've changed as a person. I think the past 12 months have been the most defining of my life so far, though I'm sure there will be many more defining months to come. Have I used these changes to define me as a better person, or have I become a little sadder and a little more skeptical?
All deep questions for a Friday afternoon, but all things I'm wondering. Change is always imminent I suppose, and the changes that impact us the most, for good are bad, are the ones we never see coming. And I guess that's the blessing and the curse.
A year ago, the biggest change on the horizon was my little sister's upcoming May wedding. And now, the loss of a grandparent-new apartment-new job-sick pregnancy-move across the country-husband looking for a job year later, I wonder how I've changed as a person. I think the past 12 months have been the most defining of my life so far, though I'm sure there will be many more defining months to come. Have I used these changes to define me as a better person, or have I become a little sadder and a little more skeptical?
All deep questions for a Friday afternoon, but all things I'm wondering. Change is always imminent I suppose, and the changes that impact us the most, for good are bad, are the ones we never see coming. And I guess that's the blessing and the curse.
3.13.2009
yay. boo. yay. friday edition.
Yay! I think there's a barista at my new Starbucks that shares my quirk for having perfect alignment with lid, logo, and sleeve. This means I can now drink my coffee as soon as it's inhand from the drive-thru window! This is a big win for me.
Boo! It's cold (relatively speaking) here today, and I think it's supposed to be cold this weekend. Plus, it was snowing this morning. Blah.
Yay! My Aunt Cheryl is here visiting from Helena, and tomorrow aunts, cousins, siblings and parents are heading into the District to go to the Capitol, to lunch at a great bakery, and to Filene's Basement (some of THE best shopping ever). I'm hoping to get a pedicure this weekend, too.
Boo! It's cold (relatively speaking) here today, and I think it's supposed to be cold this weekend. Plus, it was snowing this morning. Blah.
Yay! My Aunt Cheryl is here visiting from Helena, and tomorrow aunts, cousins, siblings and parents are heading into the District to go to the Capitol, to lunch at a great bakery, and to Filene's Basement (some of THE best shopping ever). I'm hoping to get a pedicure this weekend, too.
3.11.2009
this child is giving me gray hair...
Only once before in my life have I found a gray hair on my head. And I think I blogged about it, but I'm not going to take the time to find that blog and link to it. If I didn't blog about it, I considered blogging about it.
Anyway, this morning I was getting ready for work and while fixing my hair, happened to catch an odd-colored hair in the mix. Bother. This isn't helpful. It's difficult to go through all the physical pregnancy changes -- the expanding waistline, the dim, sick look in my eyes, the tired look on my face -- let's face it, pregnancy is taking it's toll on me. BUT -- a gray hair? Is that really necessary?
I also blame the gray hair on the stress of moving to DC, being away from Ryan, starting a new job, etc., etc., etc. Now I'm adding another stressor to the list -- getting gray hair. Can stressing about gray hair give you more gray hair? I suppose I could always dye it -- and believe me, I should diet! :)
As a follow-up to the post about the GPS, I kept driving. Though I was scared spitless, there was this part of me that was strangely mesmerized by where this little black box of directions would take me. And it did get me home safely...
Anyway, this morning I was getting ready for work and while fixing my hair, happened to catch an odd-colored hair in the mix. Bother. This isn't helpful. It's difficult to go through all the physical pregnancy changes -- the expanding waistline, the dim, sick look in my eyes, the tired look on my face -- let's face it, pregnancy is taking it's toll on me. BUT -- a gray hair? Is that really necessary?
I also blame the gray hair on the stress of moving to DC, being away from Ryan, starting a new job, etc., etc., etc. Now I'm adding another stressor to the list -- getting gray hair. Can stressing about gray hair give you more gray hair? I suppose I could always dye it -- and believe me, I should diet! :)
As a follow-up to the post about the GPS, I kept driving. Though I was scared spitless, there was this part of me that was strangely mesmerized by where this little black box of directions would take me. And it did get me home safely...
3.06.2009
names that just won't do...
As we talk about baby names, we've run across several that don't work with a last name pronounced "breeze". Here are a few: (Note: It's not that we necessarily like or dislike names on the list, but they're names we've heard.)
Chase -- Chasing the breeze is like trying to rope the wind.
Autumn
Summer
Spring
Arie
Chase -- Chasing the breeze is like trying to rope the wind.
Autumn
Summer
Spring
Arie
3.04.2009
i'm back...
... and I nearly forgot my password to get into my blog! How lame is that?
I apologize for my absence. There's been a bit of change going on in the lives of Ryan and Callie. I don't think I've actually blogger this yet -- but we're going to have a baby. How scary/crazy/exciting/mind-blowing is that? That's not the only change we're in the midst of, but I'll blog more about that later.
Things to look forward to in future blogs:
- More changes for the Briese fam.
- Names we can't use because of a last name pronounced "Breeze".
- The joys of morning sickness.
- Other happenings/musings.
In the meantime, let me share this little story for your enjoyment. Imagine you're on a trip for work to the suburbs of Baltimore, MD. And imagine your mother has spent a small number of hours warning you about the "bad neighborhoods" of Baltimore and how they just seem to come out of nowhere. Then imagine that you're using a GPS to find your way back to the hotel. And you accidentally turn the wrong way. Instead of telling you to turn around, the GPS instructs you to turn down a little one-lane road. And you assume that it's going to tell you to quickly turn around again and send you on your merry way, but instead it sends you down this road for two miles... through what looks like something from Deliverance.
What would you do?
I apologize for my absence. There's been a bit of change going on in the lives of Ryan and Callie. I don't think I've actually blogger this yet -- but we're going to have a baby. How scary/crazy/exciting/mind-blowing is that? That's not the only change we're in the midst of, but I'll blog more about that later.
Things to look forward to in future blogs:
- More changes for the Briese fam.
- Names we can't use because of a last name pronounced "Breeze".
- The joys of morning sickness.
- Other happenings/musings.
In the meantime, let me share this little story for your enjoyment. Imagine you're on a trip for work to the suburbs of Baltimore, MD. And imagine your mother has spent a small number of hours warning you about the "bad neighborhoods" of Baltimore and how they just seem to come out of nowhere. Then imagine that you're using a GPS to find your way back to the hotel. And you accidentally turn the wrong way. Instead of telling you to turn around, the GPS instructs you to turn down a little one-lane road. And you assume that it's going to tell you to quickly turn around again and send you on your merry way, but instead it sends you down this road for two miles... through what looks like something from Deliverance.
What would you do?
1.27.2009
1.18.2009
view from my mom's office
Thought this was interesting. These porta-potties are set up for the inauguration ceremony and other celebrations that are planned.
It will be interesting to see how the next four years unfold for our country.
It's a different world from Montana.
1.15.2009
my favorite word that isn’t a word
Am not. Have you ever thought about how nice it would be to have an easier word to say instead of the words “am not”? You know, something along the lines of a “didn’t” instead of a “did not” or “couldn’t” instead of “could not”. Well, have I got a word for you: amn’t. [pronounced em’nt].
When to use:
Say a coworker is asking you if you’re staying around for the holidays. You can respond with, “No, I amn’t.” (Unfortunately -- and I know this to be true from experience-- the coworker will look at you like you’re a five year old child. “Amn’t” isn’t a widely-accepted word. Yet.)
Apparently our parents thought our made-up word was so cute growing up, they didn’t bother to tell us it wasn’t real. And because of that, we proceeded to use the word in everyday conversation.
E.g. “Callie, are you going to share your toys?” “No, I amn’t.”
Sometimes when the word slips out of my mouth during conversations with intelligent people, I feel silly. Other times, I feel a pang of nostalgia and remember the good ol’ days when my parents thought our made up words were so cute, they didn’t correct us.
That would not happen today.
When to use:
Say a coworker is asking you if you’re staying around for the holidays. You can respond with, “No, I amn’t.” (Unfortunately -- and I know this to be true from experience-- the coworker will look at you like you’re a five year old child. “Amn’t” isn’t a widely-accepted word. Yet.)
Apparently our parents thought our made-up word was so cute growing up, they didn’t bother to tell us it wasn’t real. And because of that, we proceeded to use the word in everyday conversation.
E.g. “Callie, are you going to share your toys?” “No, I amn’t.”
Sometimes when the word slips out of my mouth during conversations with intelligent people, I feel silly. Other times, I feel a pang of nostalgia and remember the good ol’ days when my parents thought our made up words were so cute, they didn’t correct us.
That would not happen today.
1.09.2009
the time my husband tried to convince the airlines I was a threat…
In honor of my brother and sister’s traveling woes (a missed flight, a cancelled flight, and visits to six different cities on their quests to get to their homes), I’m going to share my most recent airport experience with you. Because it was a doosey.
Date: Saturday, January 3, 2009.
Time: Saga begins at 4:00 a.m.
Location: Bristow, VA and Ronald Reagan National Aiport, DC
The alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. This was my first inclination that the day might not be a great one. We packed our things and headed out to the Suburban. Mom and Dad drove us to the airport.
We arrive at the airport around 5:15. And it's already busy. Lovely.
We make our way through the AirTran line. We get up to the agent. I try to hand him our drivers licenses, and he won’t take them. “You have to use the screen in front of you,” he says. I respond, “But I don’t know my A+ number and I don’t have the credit card I used to make the reservations.” “It doesn’t matter. Do you have any credit card? Use that,” says the rigid agent. So, I dig through my purse to try and find my debit card. Mind you, he could have pulled up our tickets quite easily in the amount of time this whole ordeal took. We find the card and pull up our tickets.
Next it’s time to check luggage. Ryan goes first. He thinks his bag might be a few pounds over the 50 pound limit. It’s four pounds over. So we put my bag up. It’s one pound underweight. We transfer a sweatshirt from Ryan’s bag to my bag, and then put his two pairs of shoes in my small carry-on bag. Meanwhile, the agent, who I’ve grown to dislike, says, “Ma’am, you’re bag is oversized.” “Huh?” I say. “Well, 62 inches is regular size. Your bag is 63 inches,” he says, with (I kid you not) tape measure in hand. I say, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “That will be $39.” I mutter some not-so-nice words under my breath and ask for a comment card. After paying $39. It really was ridiculous. Don’t fly AirTran.
So, once we’re checked in and our bags are gone, we head to security. Which was another mess. We finally get everything up on the belt and walk through the metal detectors. I clear with no problem. Then a TSA agent says, “Ma’am, is this your bag?” It was my bag, and he informs me they need to check it. I couldn’t think of anything that I would have packed that could be a weapon and am confused, but we move over to the screening area. He opens the bag and digs around a little bit. He then pulls out one of Ryan’s boots. (You know, the ones we had to put in my carry-on because his bag was four pounds overweight?) And out of Ryan’s boot he pulls a big old knife that my dad gave Ryan as a Christmas present.
Crap.
So, long story short, they didn’t arrest me and we FedEx’ed the knife to ourselves. (We still haven’t received it, now that I think about it.) We arrived to our home in Mpls a mere nine hours later, and I think I’ve nearly recovered from the emotional trauma. Nearly.
I still ask Ryan why he tried to frame me, though.
Date: Saturday, January 3, 2009.
Time: Saga begins at 4:00 a.m.
Location: Bristow, VA and Ronald Reagan National Aiport, DC
The alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. This was my first inclination that the day might not be a great one. We packed our things and headed out to the Suburban. Mom and Dad drove us to the airport.
We arrive at the airport around 5:15. And it's already busy. Lovely.
We make our way through the AirTran line. We get up to the agent. I try to hand him our drivers licenses, and he won’t take them. “You have to use the screen in front of you,” he says. I respond, “But I don’t know my A+ number and I don’t have the credit card I used to make the reservations.” “It doesn’t matter. Do you have any credit card? Use that,” says the rigid agent. So, I dig through my purse to try and find my debit card. Mind you, he could have pulled up our tickets quite easily in the amount of time this whole ordeal took. We find the card and pull up our tickets.
Next it’s time to check luggage. Ryan goes first. He thinks his bag might be a few pounds over the 50 pound limit. It’s four pounds over. So we put my bag up. It’s one pound underweight. We transfer a sweatshirt from Ryan’s bag to my bag, and then put his two pairs of shoes in my small carry-on bag. Meanwhile, the agent, who I’ve grown to dislike, says, “Ma’am, you’re bag is oversized.” “Huh?” I say. “Well, 62 inches is regular size. Your bag is 63 inches,” he says, with (I kid you not) tape measure in hand. I say, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “That will be $39.” I mutter some not-so-nice words under my breath and ask for a comment card. After paying $39. It really was ridiculous. Don’t fly AirTran.
So, once we’re checked in and our bags are gone, we head to security. Which was another mess. We finally get everything up on the belt and walk through the metal detectors. I clear with no problem. Then a TSA agent says, “Ma’am, is this your bag?” It was my bag, and he informs me they need to check it. I couldn’t think of anything that I would have packed that could be a weapon and am confused, but we move over to the screening area. He opens the bag and digs around a little bit. He then pulls out one of Ryan’s boots. (You know, the ones we had to put in my carry-on because his bag was four pounds overweight?) And out of Ryan’s boot he pulls a big old knife that my dad gave Ryan as a Christmas present.
Crap.
So, long story short, they didn’t arrest me and we FedEx’ed the knife to ourselves. (We still haven’t received it, now that I think about it.) We arrived to our home in Mpls a mere nine hours later, and I think I’ve nearly recovered from the emotional trauma. Nearly.
I still ask Ryan why he tried to frame me, though.
1.07.2009
it's happened before...
I love Brian Regan. The man is hilarious.
And who hasn't had this happen to them?
1.04.2009
when you just want to say what's on your mind...
I'm sassy. It's true. Ask anyone. Get me fired up about something, and I will give you retort after retort until the cows come home.
But when I'm at work, I bite my tongue. Actually, I bite my tongue most of the time. I try to keep my sass in the can -- most people don't react favorably to it. It tends to make them defensive. In the song "Portions of Foxes" by Rilo Kiley, she says, "There's blood on my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week..." and I can certainly identify.
While in the Atlanta airport, however, the sassy gate attendant said something I could never say (while on the job!).
Here's the scenario:
A plane arrives and it's late. The gate attendant is busy trying to get travelers where they need to go. A frantic young man gets off the plane, looks around bewilderedly, and then approaches the gate attendant. "Um, I'm just wondering if I'm going to be able to make it to concourse E to catch my flight in 15 minutes," he says.
And the gate attendant, who's always supposed to be the calming, directive, helpful sort, replies with, "I don't know, but you sure ain't gonna get there any quicker by standing here talkin' to me!"
The look on the young man's face was really quite indescribable, but I'll do my best. He sort of smiled, looked quickly again for help, realized she was serious, and then took off at a sprint to try and catch his plane.
I felt bad for him, but thanked the gate attendant for a good laugh.
** John, this wasn't nearly as funny as the finish I gave it yesterday. I just can't for the life of me remember what it was.
But when I'm at work, I bite my tongue. Actually, I bite my tongue most of the time. I try to keep my sass in the can -- most people don't react favorably to it. It tends to make them defensive. In the song "Portions of Foxes" by Rilo Kiley, she says, "There's blood on my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week..." and I can certainly identify.
While in the Atlanta airport, however, the sassy gate attendant said something I could never say (while on the job!).
Here's the scenario:
A plane arrives and it's late. The gate attendant is busy trying to get travelers where they need to go. A frantic young man gets off the plane, looks around bewilderedly, and then approaches the gate attendant. "Um, I'm just wondering if I'm going to be able to make it to concourse E to catch my flight in 15 minutes," he says.
And the gate attendant, who's always supposed to be the calming, directive, helpful sort, replies with, "I don't know, but you sure ain't gonna get there any quicker by standing here talkin' to me!"
The look on the young man's face was really quite indescribable, but I'll do my best. He sort of smiled, looked quickly again for help, realized she was serious, and then took off at a sprint to try and catch his plane.
I felt bad for him, but thanked the gate attendant for a good laugh.
** John, this wasn't nearly as funny as the finish I gave it yesterday. I just can't for the life of me remember what it was.
12.31.2008
oh, the places you'll go...
*This post was written on 12/23/08. Because of lack of wireless internet (until now, thanks to my parents unsuspecting neighbors and a few well-placed windows), I was unable to post it.
Ryan and I flew to D.C. today, via Atlanta. Whenever I'm in an airport flying somewhere, it's inevitable that I remember when I applied to be a stewardess.
I know what you're thinking. "Callie, you're much too [insert your own descriptor here] to be a stewardess." Or perhaps you're thinking, "Callie, you'd be a perfect stewardess!" Regardless, I for a fleeting moment thought it would be fun. (And I was working at Starbucks at the time -- I was a bit flighty. No pun intended.)
I had been searching for jobs in the PR world for about four months, and stumbled across an ad in the Star Tribune about a company looking for flight attendants. If you were interested, you had to go to this hotel for an interview. So I seized the bull by the horns and went. Wearing a business suite. I was dressed for success.
The first round was a big group listening to recruiters talk about the airline. Then they broke us into four or five groups, where we studied some things (I think for a test, but I can't remember). They'd slowly narrow the group down. The final step was a 1:3 (one of me, three of them) interview, which consisted of me standing in front of them and reading a script.
At the end they posted the list for those who were selected to go on in the process, which included a three-week training in Phoenix. I made the list.
I seriously considered going, but about four days after the interview, I met Ryan. He and my dear roommate Kasea tried their best to persuade me to stay. I decided to stay. A few months later I found and job in PR and Ryan and I started dating. I suppose the rest is history...
Sometimes, though, when I'm on a flight asking for a Diet Coke and see the man in front of me flirt with the flight attendant, I wonder where I'd be today if I'd taken a different career... but I'm glad I took the route I did.
I know what you're thinking. "Callie, you're much too [insert your own descriptor here] to be a stewardess." Or perhaps you're thinking, "Callie, you'd be a perfect stewardess!" Regardless, I for a fleeting moment thought it would be fun. (And I was working at Starbucks at the time -- I was a bit flighty. No pun intended.)
I had been searching for jobs in the PR world for about four months, and stumbled across an ad in the Star Tribune about a company looking for flight attendants. If you were interested, you had to go to this hotel for an interview. So I seized the bull by the horns and went. Wearing a business suite. I was dressed for success.
The first round was a big group listening to recruiters talk about the airline. Then they broke us into four or five groups, where we studied some things (I think for a test, but I can't remember). They'd slowly narrow the group down. The final step was a 1:3 (one of me, three of them) interview, which consisted of me standing in front of them and reading a script.
At the end they posted the list for those who were selected to go on in the process, which included a three-week training in Phoenix. I made the list.
I seriously considered going, but about four days after the interview, I met Ryan. He and my dear roommate Kasea tried their best to persuade me to stay. I decided to stay. A few months later I found and job in PR and Ryan and I started dating. I suppose the rest is history...
Sometimes, though, when I'm on a flight asking for a Diet Coke and see the man in front of me flirt with the flight attendant, I wonder where I'd be today if I'd taken a different career... but I'm glad I took the route I did.
12.22.2008
i heard the bells...
"I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" is not a carol I would have classified as one of my favorites in the past, but for some reason I can't get it out of my head this year. And it really is beautiful. It has an interesting history, too. So, enjoy the words from the poem that later became the carol we sing today.
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!
12.20.2008
an interesting observation...
I'm thinking it's about time for a new blog... it's been a busy week. And what better time to post a new blog than after returning from Christmas with the Briese fam and sitting down to watch the second half of the Cowboys vs. Ravens game in my new Marion (the Barbarian) Barber jersey (courtesy of my wonderful brother-in-law, Troy).
So, while sitting around this afternoon and reading the humorous, tongue-in-cheek book "Stuff White People Like", we discovered that all of my husband's siblings and their spouses work for nonprofit organizations. (Two of them are moms who are busy staying at home and taking care of the kids -- I'm not sure if that qualifies as nonprofit or not -- but it certainly is a full-time job.)
What's even odder to me is we're a bizarre mix of accountant, teacher, maintenance, development officer, attorney and marketing communications. Put us all together and we could pretty much start our own company. Wonder what it would be?
Does this percentage seem high to anyone else? Are we a bunch of idealists marrying other idealists? Should we start our own company?
As a sidenote, the Cowboys are really stinking it up. As a long-time fan, I can admit that. Bring back Troy Aikman, please.
12.12.2008
yay. boo. yay. friday edition.
I love this game.
Yay: It’s Friday and I fly out to D.C. tomorrow morning. I spend the weekend with my folks and sister, and then will spend Monday in meetings with my company’s local contingent.
Boo: It’s cold, and I’m concerned about the weather wreaking havoc on all of my travel plans.
Yay: for Baja Sol lunches with co-workers on Fridays. And for caffeine-free Diet Coke.
Yay: It’s Friday and I fly out to D.C. tomorrow morning. I spend the weekend with my folks and sister, and then will spend Monday in meetings with my company’s local contingent.
Boo: It’s cold, and I’m concerned about the weather wreaking havoc on all of my travel plans.
Yay: for Baja Sol lunches with co-workers on Fridays. And for caffeine-free Diet Coke.
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