Golden Gargoyles

I know, I know. I've been in a blogging frenzy lately. Just love me.

Now...

A major time-suck while getting an MBA is team-building and social networking. At the start of the year, the incoming students were separated into groups called cohorts and sent off into the wilderness for a few days of ropes courses, trust falls, ego stroking, and chest bumping. Each cohort was given the task of making a short film, and Saturday night, we all got together to celebrate and watch at the GOLDEN GARGOYLES... which pretty much means the Oscars for homemade cohort movies.

I don't have much to say about the night aside from that it was RIDICULOUSLY EXHILARATING. Can I just say there's no feeling like dancing in a club-like setting with your hot hub, great friends, and 200 drunken (yet respectable) foolios, after 4 years of marriage and 1.5 years of motherhood?! I mean seriously, there was so much love and unabashed congratulating in that room I thought I might fly away. Not to mention the theme was the 90s, so the music alone was enough to make me high as a kite.

We all flooded the nearest thrift store for our duds and I must say, I think we pulled it off quite nicely. Sam rocked this hard-to-explain-yet-painfully-90s ensemble:

I went for a 90s grunge look:

Our "Crew" (minus Matt and Mimi): Mark and Amber, Carina and Lincoln, Diane and Dan, and of course, Sam and moi.

Please don't ask why I thought it was a good idea to bust out that same pose every time the camera flashed. Because I don't have an answer. But I will say that I apologize.

Mark (far left) wins the award for most convincing 90s attire with his tribal tats and clooney cut. I dubbed him "backstreet boy" 90s. His wifey, Amber was "Jesse Spano" 90s, rocking her sweet red blazer.

Dan and Diane went with an "argyle preppy" 90s look, and Linc and Carina rocked "clueless" 90s.

I wish I had more pictures... In fact, I had to steal all these from Carina because I was a lame-o photog that night. I blame Sam. And the dancing.

Sam's cohort was up for "best video" but ended up losing to Mark's cohort. Pshhhhhht. Whatever, Mark. Anyway, this is part of Sam's cohort's movie that was really funny. If you don't recognize it, it's a spoof of the SNL skit with T-Payne, "I'm on a boat." Bare in mind the older gentleman featured is the dean of the business school. So sweet.

Small warning: this video contains several bleeped out curse words. Don't watch if you find this offensive.

Oh yeah... SO SO thankful to Matt and Mimi who tenderized the Turkey Sub while we spent this magical night on the dance floor! We love you. And we owe you five million.

Sky Rockets in Flight! Afternoon Delight!

I've been feeling rather uninspired lately. I blame Leah. She's been sapping away all of my zest for life by taking a flying leap into the terrible twos at the ripe age of 18 months. And I can tell by her mocking expression that she's doing it completely on purpose. Twice this week Sam has shouted at me that she's possessed... I think she very well could be.

I was feeling especially bored with my existence yesterday when we went to LPF (Liquidity Preference Function--- a little finance humor, apparently) which is an hors d' oeuvres/drinks schmorgesborg (try spelling hors d' oeuvres and schmorgesborg on your own. good grief) they put on every Friday night for the B-school students and their families. Glad to see our 50k/year put to good use.

Most of the students use this opportunity to get a little tipsy and try to impress each other, but those of us with kids gather up our food and hide out in one of the side rooms, alternating who's turn it is to go back for another plate. I thought this was hefferish until one of the student financial aid reps confessed to Sam that she secretly brings a doggy bag and makes off with as much free food as she can. She encouraged Sam to do the same because, well, times are tough. Now whenever I'm packing my compact-disk sized plate with finger foods, I imagine doing a fore-arm sweep across the table into my purse and making a dash for the door... and sitting right outside in the v-sit and reach position with my little bag o' loot between my legs, stuffing my face with meatballs and cheese squares. At least that's the way I always picture it going down for that fatty financial aid rep.

Anyway, we settled in to eat when one of our most favorite, fabulous families, the Clives (hopefully they read this so I get friend points) announced their plans to attend the circus. Of course, all families within ear shot jumped on board and in no time a processional of minivans started the trek to a little Barnum and Bailey extravaganza.

Who knew a little acrobatics and animal cruelty was all I needed to get my mojo back?

I was pleasantly surprised by the "Greatest Show on Earth." Because it was such an impromptu trip, we were unprepared so this was the single shot taken with Sam's cell phone:

I remember distinctly wanting to be a circus performer when I was little. Especially after seeing Toby Tyler. I've never seen a circus in my adult life so I was a little disillusioned with the vagabond mange that, indeed, makes up the circus troupe. And the clowns. Don't even get me started on the clowns. No doubt, each one of them vying for a promotion to "elephant crap sweeper." Otherwise, the acrobatics and ELEPHANTS OH MY GOODNESS THE ELEPHANTS! were rather spectacular.

Low Point: The tigers. While it was awesome to see these majestic beasts jump and leap and roll over in unison, I was peeved the entire time with the trainer, an obnoxious latino with a whip, who was screaming the entire time in an attempt to maintain power. Tigers are clearly not as responsive to verbal abuse as elephants. They kept snarling and swiping at him and I was stressed out the whole time. Secretly I was hoping one of them would Siegfried and Roy his little gold-sequined arse. Don't you hate the word "arse?"

High Point: One of the chestery carnies working the door who, when I asked him where the restroom was, pulled me close around the waist and whispered, "what was that?" in my ear, while feverishly kneading my love handles with both hands. Mmmmm.

Leah was utterly hypnotized until spark plugs started going off in her little brain and she promptly fell asleep from overstimulation... but not before Carina lovingly graced her palm with a sucker, one of her first sucker encounters... she was so delighted she slept with it clutched in a sticky wad on her chest.

I rinsed it off and presented her with it again this morning... you can see for yourself what happened....

Don't think I won't be toting a stash of suckers around with me where ever I go from this point forward. Just in case she cops a 'tude.

And my Brain is like Bleh...

Prepare for some not sure why I wrote this, caught a whiff of Leah's stank diaper so I had to cut it short with no real point, lameness of a post. Feel free to skip.

This last Thursday I was lucky enough to contract some sort of awesomeness that made me puke every hour, on the hour, for 24 hours straight. It started in the middle of the night and I was devastated when, upon collapsing onto the couch at 2:00AM in a shaky, weakened mess, I heard lurching and sputtering from Leah's room and found her doing the AceVenturaJustFoundOutLoisEinhornIsReallyRayFinkle in her crib. Poor little lamb. She's never thrown up before. Traumatic.

On the bright side, the sickly version of me loves the Jonas Brothers. I watched 6 episodes of JONAS on the Disney channel in a row. That's right. Oh, and I paused and rewound several scenes over and over, laughing hysterically at the cutest, funniest, most talentedest guys I'd ever seen. I've never heard their music before, nor have I seen their TV show, but during those hours of puke-induced delirium, I was their numero uno. In fact, I was so out of touch that I recruited Sam to take a break from his studies to come watch with me. I sat there, thrilled with myself and all excited to reveal my new little treasure, He's gonna think this is so funny! when after seconds of watching, I looked over to find him glaring at me with the crustiest look ever. His face didn't leave mine, nor did its crustiness dissipate, as he slowly stood and returned to our bedroom, closing the door behind him.

It reminded me of one time in college when I was really sick and somehow got my mitts on a made for TV version of Peter Pan starring that little darling, Jeremy Sumpter. I watched it every day, happy as a clam, for three days straight.

Moral of the story: Vanessa gets all preteen and cheesy and creepy when sick.

Number one on my TO DO list this morning: cancel JONAS series recording on DVR.

On Saturday I was able to leave the chestery version of myself in the dust, along with any remnants of nausea. Mother Nature sensed my post-sickness endorphin rush coming on and sweetened the pot with a little dose of 70 degree weather. Which sent me running through the streets (for some reason, I originally typed streaking through the streets... which would have been a slight embellishment) ahem, anyway, running through the streets, fully anticipating those I passed to fall into step and join me in a choreographed version of "The Hills are Alive!"

Speaking of, have you seen this video? It's pretty much all my dreams coming true.

Now, if you're feeling annoyed and that your time spent here was in vain, read this post my really funny sissy just wrote.

What's A Girl to Do.... And the Turkey Sub Too.

I know many of you ladies reading will relate, but one thing that has caused some special irritation in my marriage has been, what I have perceived to be, Sam's oblivion. I don't know how many hours I've wasted throughout our relationship getting gussied up, all excited to see him, for him to come home and not even notice. These instances have almost always lead to the same conversation:

Me (sheepishly): So, do you think I look pretty?

Sam: Yeah, of course I do. You look beautiful.

Me (hopefully): Well I got all ready, did you notice?

Sam: Yeah, I did. You look great.

Me (annoyed): Well why didn't you say anything?

Sam: I just did. You always look beautiful.

Me (irate): Oh, I always look beautiful in my sweats when I've been cleaning and haven't showered in two days?! I had to drag it out of you! You didn't even notice!

Sam: I did notice! I was going to say something about it! I promise! You look HOT!

Me (sheepishly again): ......what else....?

Then we laugh.

But not for long. I usually have to cut the laughing short to deliver a brief lecture on being attentive and showing appreciation for all my efforts. For which Sam is always grateful. This kind of thing is always in good fun, but the other day his obliviousness went a little too far...

Sam and I were sitting on the couch all tangled up when he attempted to get up to get a drink. Because we are oafs, Sam's knee came up and knocked me squarely on the cheek bone, right beneath my eye. It was a really hard blow with a sickening crack, and it hurt like the dickens. You can imagine my disappointment when, minutes after the assault, my cheek looked completely normal. Not even a smidge of swelling or bruising. It's always such a let down when you go through something like that with nothing to show for it... nothing to make people gasp with horror and pity and glare at Sam all accusey while I point a finger at him and say, "he did it."

No, this wouldn't do. Something had to be done. So, naturally, as soon as Sam left the house I scampered over to my makeup case, grabbed my eyeshadow, and masterfully applied a big bruise over my cheekbone. I even rubbed in a bit of red lipstick for that "fresh bruise" look.

I busied myself with making lunch and doing the dishes when Sam returned from his run. He sat down at the table and I steadied myself and honed my acting skills in the kitchen before presenting him with his lunch. I was trying not to smile and be all obvious as I sat across from him, waiting for his eyes to fall on my face for the first time. I imagined the shock and fawning that would take place when he saw my giant bruise, and the subsequent laugh attack I would have when I started wiping it off in front of him. Oh what a good joke it would be!

He looked up... and looked right back down to his plate of food. I thought, "well, that was just a quick glance" and waited for him to look again. He did... and we started chatting... and nothing. I got NOTHING. He had a full on 20 minute conversation with me, jabbering away about his run and classes and aspirations, and failed to notice the great big pulsating bruise that covered the left half of my face.

I felt my blood start boiling. How the crap was this happening? I put my hand up to my cheek, and in a last ditch effort not to ruin my little joke said, "man, my cheek is still hurting, is it bruising or anything?" He looked up briefly and said, "I don't think so, I'm sorry it hurts sweetie."

I felt like Tommy Boy. "Not so much here, not really here... but riiight here."

I was dumbfounded. I flew out of my chair and ran to the mirror in our bedroom. I thought for sure I had accidentally rubbed off my little masterpiece. There was no WAY he was this clueless. But no, it was still there, staring back at me, blaring and obvious.

I stomped back into the dining room and shouted, "It's not BRUISING???! LOOK AT MY FACE!" He looked up in surprise, "Oh! Yeah, there is a bruise. Oh man, that's bad. I'm sorry baby."

After I got all tantrumy about it and he was all sweet and attentive, I felt a little guilty and ridiculous and didn't really know how to tell him it was a fake. So I settled on trying to make it funny and quietly slipped away to wash my face.

When I reappeared in our living room all fresh-faced and giggly... trying to display my injury-free cheek in the most obvious way possible... guess who didn't say a word? That's right. He didn't notice the dark blue and purple bruise he'd inflicted, the very one I'd just thrown a hissy over, had magically disappeared...

And he still hasn't brought it up.

Good grief.

It's a good thing he's so preoccupied with taking stellar care of our little family, or I'd never get over it....

Now, for an abrupt change of subject. Try not to get whiplash.

Take a look at THIS tasty morsel!

Isn't she glorious?!

Cutest little bug on the block, I dare say.

The Title of this Post is Simply; BETHANY

The last few days have flown by in a blur. Probably because that's what happens when you're having an especially good time... and each night you get a little bit panicky because it came too quickly and you know your good time is running out. And you even consider doing NOTHING at all so that these especially good minutes will crawl. But, of course, minutes only crawl when you're doing something sucky.... like staring at the clock... no blinking... tears streaming down your face... mostly from not blinking, waiting for your husband to get home. Sooo, my friends, my minutes have been blazin'. Here's why:

Just look at her! Isn't she glorious?! Isn't she BEAUTIFUL?! For those of you who don't know, this is my oldest sissydoodle, Bethany. And she came to visit me!!! Yes, that sentence did INDEED require three exclamation points. I was shouting it in my head as I typed it.

Now, don't be confused,. I know it appears that there are TWO sisters in the picture... but the simple explanation is that we were visiting "Cloud Gate" in Millennium Park. A huge coffee bean looking thing that reflects the whole skyline and makes taking pictures of yourself really fun...

The best part about being with one or both of my sisters is that any and all inhibitions are pitched out the winda' and the result is a big fat laugh till you cry hullabaloo everywhere we go. For instance, Bethany would probably never ask a stranger to take a picture of her doing thison her own:

Leah wasn't nearly as enthused. Pshhhht whatev.

She was, however, enthused about the history of Millennium Park...

And carried this little pamphlet around everywhere we went. Yes, it is upside down. Don't you judge her.

A must-do when any or all of us sisters get together is a pedicure. And I must say, Beth and I got the cutest matching pedicures on the block.

We both agreed our feet look much cuter and less sausage-y in real life.

Best part about our pedicure excursion... getting bamboozled into spending $31 on parking for 1 hour and 20 minutes. Sam was so enraptured with the little flower on my toe, how in tarnation did they get that teeny tiny little flower on there? that he didn't even seem to notice when I mentioned our little parking splurge. We'll probably be revisiting the conversation when he sees, "giggling sisters lured into downtown parking garage by giant sparkly dome looking shopping mall thing....... $31" on our Amex statement.

We stumbled upon a sign downtown that said, "Filming taking place. Upon entering this area you agree that your image can be used to blah blah blah." You can imagine our delight when we saw 30 cameras lined up along Michigan Avenue. Naturally, we skipped passed gleefully and, upon reaching the last camera, dutifully turned on our heels to run the gauntlet again. This happened six or seven times, each time looking into the cameras in the most unnatural way possible. We are so funny sometimes it hurts.

We ate not once, but twice at Potbelly's.... contributing greatly to pot bellies of our very own. Leah and Bethy at our favorite little sandwich shop.

And last but not least, I had to take her to dance with Big Willy. Bethany has always been my partner in crime in riding rollercoasters and other adrenaline inducing activities (our other sister, Meradith, is and always will be, a big wuss about these types of things) so you can imagine my dismay when, upon exiting the 103rd story elevator to the skydeck, she grabbed my arm and with horrified, tear-brimmed eyes, held out a sweat dripped palm for me to feel. I was so alarmed that I threw her hand away in disgust and shoved her out onto the glass floor. No, no I didn't. But I wanted to. In reality, I gave her a loving squeeze, a pep talk that should be published in a self-help book, and led her gently to the window to take a peek.

It didn't take long for her confidence to return and in no time she was riverdancing out on the glass floors of the balconies.

Leah spent her time contemplating the universe and other philosophical quandaries.

Twilight Zone experience of the trip:

On our way over to Big Willy we hopped in a cab and enjoyed an uneventful ride with a very quiet, but polite cab driver. When we left the tower, I stepped out onto the street and held my arm up to hail a cab. I noticed a cab up the street put the pedal to metal and come veering towards us. As he drew closer, I could see the same driver who had taken us, neck stretched and head hanging out the window, Ace Ventura style, grinning from ear to ear and shouting, "You get me!! It's me again! Hahahaha!" like a loon. We laughed and hopped in, chattering away at how funny and weird our little coincidence was. Our cabbie, in his thick Indian accent, was like, "Yes, hahaha, I have been... how do you say... stalking you. hahhaa." Slightly creepy, but still funny. Then he's all, "So, are you both married? Or have boyfriends?" Ok, officially creepy. Keep in mind we have Leah in tow. Bethany tells him we are both married and he says, "Oh. Well, so am I. Hehe. So.... " He stopped short when he noticed our crusty looks in the rearview. We giggled nervously and held on tight as he proceeded to run TWO red lights. Very invigorating.

We spent the rest of the trip eating, laughing and as always, tag team wrestling. Though Leah and Sam (with his laptop never leaving his side) don't make a very competitive team. We whipped their As every time.

And now....

..... my sister is gone.

SO, should you need to find me over the next few days, I'll be wallowing in the bed she slept in, sniffing her pillow and stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry's Mission to Martzapon.

A Post You're Definitely Gonna Regret Reading...

This summer, Sam and I finally made the long trek to his mother's house in South Dakota. My main objective during the trip was to sort through (and confiscate) as many pictures from Sam's youth as I could get away with. After nearly 5 years with this man, I had yet to see a baby picture. Which is, in my humble opinion, a crime against nature.

I was especially looking forward to this experience because I imagined it would be some sort of grand unveiling. A glimpse into the somewhat mysterious past my husband has had so little to say about over the years. It never occurred to me that Sam just simply didn't have much to say about his upbringing. Or that he just isn't the "analyzer and reporter" that I am, and merely hadn't thought much about it. No, this couldn't be true. Certainly he was a secret fatty in his youth. Or a marching band mutant. And I'd been waiting a long time to find out.

As we delved through his baby pictures I felt distinctly maternal to the little munchkin I saw looking back at me. I saw no husband in these pictures, but a child that could have been mine, with features more familiar to me than my own... altered by chubby cheeks and the kind of innocence that accompanies only those with no real life experiences. I loved that baby boy.

As the boy grew older I was a little disappointed to find that there wasn't any big secret to reveal. He wasn't a marching band mutant after all (though he did spend three years as a Junior High Mutant... heaven help us... picture to follow).

At this point, the only reasonable conclusion I could come to regarding the "mystery" that shrouded my husband's past was that Sam had simply hated his life before me, and that I had come along and opened his eyes to what it was really like to be living. Naturally, this conclusion brought me great pleasure.

I continued sorting under this notion, puffed up with pride. Poor little Sammy, he must be so grateful for me! I really do bring out the best in him! Until we got to High School. At first, I found myself feeling all oooh la la and high school crushy over his football and dance pictures. Sam got all weirded out and awkward when I started trying to make flirty eye contact and playing footsie with him under the table, Kip and Lafawnda style. But once I snapped out of feeling swooney, something startling began to happen...

What in the world is that little pang in my heart and in my stomach? Seems so out of place right now. Why am I wanting to criticize all these pukey little friends in the pictures with Sam? Why do I want to be insulting about his cute and fun ex girlfriends and dance dates? Why am I feeling.... wait. Am I feeling..... JEALOUS???

I was. I was feeling jealous. And left out. I had heard about Sam's high school experience before, and he had never made it sound exceptional in any way. But as I looked through the pictures of him and his friends laughing, bon-firing, dating, pulling pranks (including streaking through the school on the last day of senior year. No, pictures not to follow. Perves.) and having an all around great time, I knew that my previous conclusion had been way off. He did, in fact, have an exceptional high school experience. He did have meaningful relationships and experiences. His life before me wasn't all dark and dreary and lacking in purpose. It was as if I was meeting a new Sam for the very first time, and this new Sam didn't need me in the slightest. I felt jilted.

At that moment I remembered vividly the first time Sam came to visit my home town when we were still dating. He behaved, for lack of a better word, shamefully, the entire time. He was stingy about taking any sort of trip down memory lane, resented my high school friends, and was completely uninterested in looking at any pictures. At the time, I was hurt, confused, and embarrassed by him. So much so, that I briefly considered breaking it off. And suddenly there I was, 3.5 years into our marriage, feeling perfectly sympathetic to my crusty little, poorly-behaved boyfriend. It was not a proud moment.

I have no real purpose for telling you this story. It just kind of spewed out of my fingertips as I considered how I wanted to present some pictures of Sam as a wee lad. But I will say, it took a good amount of snuggling and complimenting on Sam's part to get me through my stint of insecurity. You'll be relieved to know I did make it through though, with only minor damages... and now I'm really happy Sam had a happy childhood.

Now for some pictures. I'm sure they'll have the same effect on you that they had on me...

O.T.S. (Original Turkey Sub) Not to be confused with O.G. (Original Gangster)

Look at this little imp. This picture makes me laugh every time. What I really wonder is what derelict photographer looked at this picture and thought, "Yes, that'll do. Run along now."

I adore this one. That smile!

Ok, ok here we go. Junior High Mutant Alert: Brace yourselves:

.................

Don't hold back. Go ahead and scream. Upon seeing this photo I looked at Sam and with the most disdain I could muster, said, "I can just tell you would have bugged the crap out of me. You're lucky I didn't know you back then." Seriously, why am I so beasty? I shudder whenever I think of saying it. Forgive me, sweet hubby.

High School brings vast improvements

Such a handsome boy

Out with the old and in with the new! This is the Sam I knew from college.

I couldn't resist including this. For posterity.

Note the boots. And that sosweetitmakesmewanttocry couch.

And this one too... but just cause he's so fly

You've come a long way, my love.

Looking back, even though it was terribly difficult, I'm so glad I got to meet the Sammy of old. And now I'm so much stronger for it. I really have struggled through so much....

I'll Have Mine Toasted...

I feel like I've had a lot of random things to talk about lately, which can mean only one thing: the turkey sub hasn't been getting nearly enough air time. I realize, even though I've been taking a slew of pictures of her, and capturing all sorts of tasty moments to share, I've been a complete blog hog. SO, I plan to redeem myself entirely with a post so full of pictures of the sub your head might explode. I've already blown three fuses .... But mostly because my little girl is so grown up and beautiful these days that I feel like crying and laughing and having a panic attack all at once... which pretty much sums up what it feels like every day to be a mother.

Warning:

***NO NON-S.L.E.s (serious Leah enthusiasts) ALLOWED ***

Haters of posts consisting solely of child bragging and oogling need not continue

On Monday, the Hives (other wives currently replacing void left by absentee husband. husband+wives=hives. thank you) and I ventured to Indiana for the requisite fall appleorchardpumpkinpatch extravaganza. Leah was really getting into the spirit of this place with her tractor and rake.

Until she realized raking is for suckers and bull rushed me at the speed of light, swinging and chopping that rake in an attempt to take my life.

Whenever Leah would disappear for any amount of time I would find her here. Peeping.

We interrupt today's programming with a Quick Blog Post Progress Report:

Thus far this post has taken me no less than 2 hours to complete. The process has been as follows:

...click back and forth from picture to picture. Zoom in. Grin like tard. Zoom out. Grin like tard. Swell with pride. Brim with tears. Grin like tard....

.... fight Leah off with left hand while hunt-peck typing with right. Get annoyed. Find something within reach to distract. Throw with precision into bedroom. Contemplate running and closing door with her inside. Feel a little guilty. Consider putting computer away. Reconsider....

.... cue tard grin.

Just look at her!

*photo by Amber

We took a little tractor ride out to the orchard. The driver calls out the different kinds of apples as you pass and then you tuck and roll when you hear the kind you want to pick.

We opted for Gala... or Fuji? Leah was gleeful and greedy, dutifully gathering up her loot.

They carved and painted faces into some of the trees at this place and each time Leah would reach to pluck an apple, this ogre would slap her little hand away. Don't think for one second Mama didn't whip out her trusty pocket knife and hack that limb right off. Normally I don't resort to violence, but I had to make an example out of him.

Seriously though, how disturbing were these abusive apple trees from the Wizard of Oz? I will burst into tears right now.

Luckily, Leah was left unscathed.

In other news...

Lately, she loves to watch Backyardigans... under very specific conditions. She starts witching around if I try to start the show before she has settled into her "go to" position on the lambskin rug that sits directly in front of the TV. She also requires not one, but two pillows. Whenever I try to prop her up on one, she inevitably gets so excited by the splendor she is beholding on the screen that she rolls off... which all but ruins her entire Backyardigans experience.

Notice the hand up the sleeve in this one. She does this as a friendlier version of an old self-pinching habit some of you may remember from this post.

I thought this was a good one to end on. This is her, "clearly you have no clue what you are talking about and therefore I must patronize you" face. I laugh out loud every time she does it. She generally tops it off with a little pat to the forehead

She makes me very happy, my little turkey sub.

Wait, what? What's that you say? Why isn't Sam in any of these pictures? Oh, he's been loving life doing this:

Poor guy. We miss him.

A Lesson in Self-Awareness... and some other stuff

Whenever I make eye contact with someone on the street/hall/whatever, I always make a point to smile. Not like a big toothy grin or anything, more like one of those slight, closed mouth, minimal effort smiles. You know, the "stranger smile." This particular point has been a source of some stress and annoyance because I rarely get a smile back. More often than not, my little gesture of camaraderie is met with a hurried glance to the ground. I've attributed this discrepancy to my Idahoan upbringing starkly contrasting the guarded streets of the big cities that have been my home these last few years. Recently however, my sister snapped this little jewel, and I was faced with a startling reality...

Turns out my "stranger smile" looks like this:

Meet Chester McPervy. It's sobering to discover that my making a conscience effort to smile at strangers (something I've secretly always congratulated myself for) was in reality, only seriously creeping them out.

Sam had a "self-awareness" moment like this a few months ago when I happened upon him peeing himself with laughter on the couch... no doubt thinking back on something hilarious and brilliant I had done that day. I just so happened to have my camera in hand and immediately began snapping pictures. He suffered through a small identity crisis and a brief stint in therapy after seeing these...

Of course I think these pictures are completely adorable and am over the moon when Sam laughs... especially if I'm the one making him do so. BUT, have you ever caught an unintentional glimpse in the mirror, or had a picture taken of you mid belly-laugh? It's never anything like you imagined you would look... and it's usually quite terrifying.

I remember when I was in 3rd grade and a group of my friends were swimming at the Aquatic Center, an indoor swimming pool in Idaho Falls. There was one boy I loathed more than anything named Brad Vuccovich. I write his name unabashedly because he knew very well that I hated him. Anyway, after various attempts to dunk him under the water (I was a brute of a 3rd grader and he was a complete pip squeak of a 4th grader and when you're in elementary school it's still okay to practice violent dominion over those smaller than you) we actually started having a real conversation. For some reason, I was explaining to him and showing him all of the different kinds of "smiles" I had in my repertoire. I remember one was "flirty" and one was "cheesy." I don't remember the others. I had never practiced these smiles in the mirror, or differentiated my different kinds of smiles before, but it seemed super interesting at the time and I was sure the feelings I was having on the inside were showing through perfectly on my face.

After our conversation, my feelings of hatred towards Brad had, of course, transformed into feelings of true love. When I got home I was anxious to get to a mirror to check out the different smiles I had showed him... just to make sure I had indeed been as sexy and charming as I thought. I can still picture exactly the ridiculous, chestery, creepy little girl that looked back at me from the mirror when I reenacted my "flirty" smile... hair still slicked straight back from swimming (not a good look for me) with the little bit of my mom's make up I had secretly applied that morning, forming dark smudges beneath my eyes. Come to think of it, it was pretty much the 3rd grade version of my "stranger smile." It was hideous. I had made a complete fool of myself. And making a fool of yourself while trying to be flirty (seductive) is ten times more foolio than any other kind of fool you can make. If that makes sense. At that moment the only obvious choice I had was to start hating Brad again.

I realize this post has gotten off topic... hence the addition of "and some other stuff" to the title. Here's where I attempt to tie it all in. Ahem.

I can't even count the number of experiences I've had like the one I had with Brad, or the discovery of the "stranger smile." Not over the top humiliation (those I'll save for another post) but just times where I was completely lacking in self-awareness. I wish that I could go back and talk to my teenage, or pubescent, or pre-pubescent self and tell me not to worry, and that I wouldn't even remember the times I made a spectacle of myself... and to take comfort in knowing that the adult version of me is super confident and graceful and pretty much awesome in general. But I can't. Because the truth is, I still get a wave of embarrassment down the back of my neck when I think back on my "flirty" smile from 3rd grade. And I still make a big fat fool of myself on the regular.

I Yuv Estrogen

One thing they don't tell you when you apply for business school is that you will be required to sever all relationships not pertaining directly to the enhancement of your career. This includes spouses, children, extended family and all (non b-school) friends. You are also expected to devote all remnants of extracurricular time to kissing professor/alumni butt, fellow student butt, recruiter butt, and any and all butt deemed necessary by career services... which includes many different kinds of butt but absolutely no wife butt. SO, those of us who are officially "Booth Wives" (U of Chicago Booth School of Business) have decided to take a collective stand against being lonely and have vowed to seek comfort in each other's arms. Oh, and be deliriously happy... with or without our better halves.

In keeping with this theme, on Saturday, Booth Wife, Carina, sent out a text saying, "I wanna do something fun today." Of course this sent all on the receiving end of the text into a gleeful, giddy scurry... something akin to the way a dog dances around when you finally notice it needs to be let outside to pee.

After deliberating over what we should do, we settled on a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry. Don't let the name fool you--this place is hoppin'. Mostly because there's an expansive, gated area with all sorts of child mind-boggling things to look at... which allows for minimal tending and maximum blabbing.

Booth Wives Club (BWC): Mimi, Amber, Carina and Moi....

There's also one more first year Booth Wife named Dianne... but she's a newlywed so she still waits around at home just in case her hub gets some free time. Pfshhhff whatever newlyweds (little bit jealous).

This picture brings me great joy. Look at Mimi in all her sassy glory. Amber was refusing to harness her inner sex kitten for this picture... but don't let her fool you... she was merely considering the children and married men within the vicinity.

This was the exact position Leah and Mimi's Josh stayed in for pretty much the duration... Mostly I'm just including this picture as proof that Leah was actually there, considering like TWO of the pics I took turned out.

This little afternoon delight is Amber's Avery. She is the single most squishable baby I have ever seen. She's only 7 months old and seriously, look at her mop on top. This picture alone makes me feel as though I might huck my laptop across the room. I can't take it.

After the museum we ditched the littles and went out for a girl's dinner. It was a glorious occasion spent laughing and talking and pillow fighting and tag-team wrestling. One real highlight was when Amber attracted the attention of a gawker who STARED at her the ENTIRE meal. The weird thing about it was she was a woman... a rather hostile looking woman. Of course we all huddled in over the table, whispering, giggling, feeling a little frightened, and taking turns peeking to see if she was still staring. Every time...

..........

Didn't budge an inch....

Aside from our intimidating admirer (we'll just say she was admiring) we were miffed because we ordered the four cheese pizza and after one bite we agreed immediately it needed to be sent away. When I talked to the waitress about it she said, "Oh yeah, this happens all the time with the four cheese pizza." Are you kidding me? Now, I'm not a restauranteur or anything, but it's probably a good idea to take the poo sandwich off the menu.

Anyway, the whole day was fab and I guess the real, A.D.D., roundabout point I'm trying to make with this post is that I've found this little group of beautiful women here in Chicago who seem to fit like a glove. Women that my mom would refer to as "soul sisters." In my experience, that doesn't happen very often. Needless to say, I'm twitterpated...

Has Anyone Ever Told You You Look Like....

My entire post-puberty life I have been told I look like Tiffany Amber Thiessen. Not so much the Kelly from Saved by the Bell Tiffany, but more the Valerie from Beverly Hills: 90210 kind. People always make a point to make that distinction. I'm guessing it's because I'm such a sexy, sultry vixen.... Funny enough, I was even asked for her autograph once. Except I don't really remember any of the details of how it happened... which kinda makes me think I might have made it up.... Hmmmm....

Anyway...

Strangely, I haven't gotten the comparison much since I gave birth to my body altering, celeb look-alike destroying little cherub... BUT last night I got a text from my friend Brad saying he saw Tiff on the tube and it took him 5 minutes of pondering why in the world I was on TV to realize it wasn't me. Which of course threw me right back in the zone and gave me all of my peoplethinkIlooklikeTiffanyAmberThiessen confidence back.

So, I started musing about all the lookalikes I know and wanted to share...

***Disclaimer: after perusing pics of my peeps and their celeb counterparts for like 5 hours trying to find perfect, identical matches, and showing each picture to Sam for his approval only to get a "no, they don't really look alike in that one" I realized my laptop was singeing my thighs and I was all sweaty and frustrated so I had to settle... and now I'm starting to think none of them even really look alike at all (including mine) so just use your imagination. And I say these things in the name... just kidding.

My sister, Mera, always gets Mandy Moore. Cept' let's be honest here... Meradith is way hotter than Mandy. And she sings better, too. No disrespect, Mandy, but even you know you're a little annoying.

Mera's husband Jason is twins with the Italian Stallion... which is precisely why he holds a Rocky movie marathon annually.

I have to give Meradith friendly little reminders to keep the fist fights in their marriage to a minimum.... heaven forbid Jason ends up looking like this:

BFF Shalyse looks a lot like Debra Messing. Except she's a lot hotter, too! Come on celebs! I guess I should add that I've always thought the resemblance was stronger when Debra's on film, not in still frame.

This next one is an interesting comparison because Lady Gaga is kind of the fugly version of my friend, Jenna. Or maybe the not so cute big sister who's always been way jealous of hotter little sister and therefore acts out in a trampy, weirdo with lots of heavy make up, version. BUT, there is a total resemblance--in a one's hot and one's not kind of way. Sorry Denny.

I'm so progressive that my celebrity comparisons even span across racial boundaries. Now hear me out. For some reason, my friend Stacy has always reminded me of a white Tyra Banks. I told her this once and she called me a freak so I'm looking for some validation.

This next one is really legit. My friend Tawny and Jessica Simpson. Don't pretend you don't see it.

Back in the day (like 6 months ago) my sis and I would fall to pieces watching our two little munchkins together...

Because we are demented, we became particularly slap happy when discussing their resemblance to...

A few weeks ago Sam's brother, Seth, Sam, Meradith and I were all sitting around the dinner table talking about this very subject. Seth piped up and said, "People always tell me I look like Will Ferrel." Of course we all gasped and objected. Seth, looking defensive, said, "What? I don't mind, he's a good looking guy." We were stumped, but Seth was adamant so we just moved on with the conversation. After a bit I noticed Seth staring down at his dinner plate, looking contemplative, when he looked up suddenly and said, "Oh wait, not Will Farrell. I meant Colin Farrell." Then he went on eating as if nothing had changed.

Seth and Colin....

Seth and Will....

Pretty much the same thing.

And last, but not least....

Sam's step mom, Kathy, always goes on and on about how much she thinks Sam looks like George Clooney. That's right. Good ol' Georgy. Sam, of course, thinks this is completely preposterous and gets all agitated and huffy whenever she says anything. When I told him I was going to put it on the blog he said, in the words of Ron Burgandy, "You do that and I'm gonna punch you in the ovaries."

SOOO, just for that....

I have a few more but they involve a couple of Sam's exes, which he told me would be weird... and a couple of my exes... which he told me isn't allowed. So, that's all she wrote. Now, tell me about your celeb comparisons.

Big Willy

For those of you who filled your drawers when you saw the little teaser picture on my last post, here it is again:

You're welcome for that. Chilling, right? Our first official Chicago tourist destination was a visit to Big Willy... aka the Willis Tower... aka the Sears Tower (rest in peace). Needless to say, it was pretty awesome and provided some sweeping, other-worldly views of the city.

A little family shot out on the skydeck. Notice the glass floors. You need not take this picture lightly....

I say this because what you don't see here is the trembling, icy-handed mess that was my husband seconds before the shot was taken. While his smile is all charmy and convincing, he was suffering from a severe case of what I like to call "terror rage." The symptoms of terror rage manifest themselves in many ways, but generally include extreme irritability, paranoia, heightened reflexes, potty mouth and occasionally, violent flinches or outbursts.

Sam denied having any issues (typical in terror ragers), but his condition became undeniable to me when I, upon pretending to heave my body weight against the outer glass of the skydeck, felt a fist land squarely between my shoulder blades. And, in what can only be described as the voice of Satan, heard the words, "You better. Freaking. Knock. It OFF."

Sam never so much as uses a stern tone with me so it was almost as if he was another person entirely. I secretly kinda liked it. Just sayin'.

Anyway, these hot little numbers are a few of our new found besties here in Chicago who braved Big Willy along with us. Lincoln and Carina with littles, Brooklyn and Carson:

ANNND.... Mimi and Matt (not pictured, their little guy, Joshua):

We're pretty much in love with them already.

I'm hoping documenting all of the cool things there are to do here in Chi-town will prompt some of you to come visit... so be prepared for some tourism advertising, mixed with lots o' pics of the turkey sub to try to entice you.

*photos taken by Lincoln and Carina

Blue Moon... You Saw Me Standing Alone.............

Two weeks, folks. It's taken two measly weeks for my intrigue and elation with this place to turn into slobbering, sniffling homesickness and disdain. Well, not really disdain... cause I still really love it here... just mostly the homesick part. Many of you told me, "Oh yeah, you'll be fine until winter hits." Well, you severely overestimated my tender, little, wuss of a heart.

A small caveat; I'm PMSing and just started my post vacation diet... which means endorphin decrease + hormone increase + favorite thing in the whole wide world (food) decrease.... so don't be judgy.

Oh yeah, and I've also been feeling miffed this morning because I got out of bed all shivering and quivering and checked the weather... 56 degrees out. Not that bad for 6:30AM, right? Then I notice it says "feels like 42." WHAAAT?? How 'bout 56 degrees going ahead and feeling like 56 degrees. Thanks.

The truth is, there's really only one reason I'm feeling all blue and lonely today:

These beauties: My marme and daddy

And these beauties: My sister Meradith, hub Jason and their little beaut, Lucy

And these beauties: My sister Bethany and her 4 munchkins Ally, Elyza, Olivia and Isaiah... oh and Meradith... who is taking the place of Beth's mysterious hub, Walid... who has never been captured on camera...

And let's not forget my two brothers, Abe and Jesse, and their respective broods (Tiffany, Kinley, Cal, Ethan and Carson)... who have no decent full family pictures to speak of and therefore are remaining "unpictured" as punishment for not being better picture takers. Don't screw with me.

I guess that's more than one reason... but that doesn't change the fact that they are to blame for my feeling so disenchanted. Come to think of it, it was most likely the phone call I got from my two sissys, laughing and cackling away together, that really sent me over the edge. The reality is, I will never really love a place unless it comes fully equipped with all the bells and whistles.... my fam.

********

In the mean time....

We have been doing all sorts of really cool and exciting things. More on that later....

A Night to Remember...

So... I had a "you're in a new place with lots o' weirdos" experience the other night. Not that I'm not used to it... I've been living in San Francisco for the last 3+ years. And by San Francisco, I mean Weirdo Mecca. BUT, this was my first intro to the Chicago brand of weirdo. And it came in the form of the cable guy.

To start, Sam was off at a friends house watching BYU get spanked so I was all alone. Which makes having a strange man in your house especially invigorating. I knew I was in for a treat when I got a frantic call from an unknown number:

***I'm typing this in my very best eastern European accent, so read it like that***

Ahem...

Cable Guy (CG): Ummm... miss Vanessa? I can't find parking ANYWHERE! (stream of expletives) YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! I'M GONNA WRECK MISS VANESSA! OH (expletive) I'M GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN A ONE WAY STREET! (honking) YOU GOTTA FIND ME A PARKING SPOT!

Me (trembling in fear): Uhh, ok, let me go to a window and see if I can see a spot.

I lead him to a spot pretty much directly in front of our building.

CG: Oh man I am such an (expletive)! You are my SAVIOR Vanessa! I'm so stressed out. Today has been a very very bitter day.

At this point I was super excited to hang out with this guy, so I said a quick prayer that I'd know not to let him in if he was gonna kill me, and opened the door.

The first thing he proceeded to do was snoop around in the kitchen. I was surprised, but I thought for sure there was a cable related purpose to his snooping so I didn't intervene. When he emerged, he shouted in a whisper that he needed a soda and asked if I had any. I got him a drink and he stood there in the middle of my living room, head thrown back, guzzling like a drunk, gasping and smacking his lips in satisfaction after each swig.

He busied himself with the cable wires, etc. in a very dramatic, frustrated fashion, peppering his expletives and grunts with small talk about his life growing up in Serbia and his transition to the States. He asked me where I was from and I immediately regretted telling him I had just come from San Fran. This sent him off on a tirade about homosexuals. He shook his fist in the air and told me, "If you try to be gay in my country, my people will bloody you!!" Then he asked if I was gay...

Don't you worry, there's more. My very FAVE part....

Just before my Serbian Stallion was about to leave, he told me he wanted to run one more test on the cable outlet, which was located in one of the coat closets. I sat back, anxious for him to be done. He disappeared into the closet and reappeared suddenly in the doorway, arms clasped and stretched out in front of him in a Charlie's Angels pose, pointing his power drill at me like a gun. I gasped and wet my drawers.... he threw his head back IN LAUGHTER and gave the drill two revs to show me what it was. Even now, as I type this, my heart is pounding out of my chest remembering the feeling that washed over me when I thought this maniac had a gun.

Needless to say, I was a bit jumpy and a little irrational for the rest of the night. I checked on Leah like 10 times.... I called Sam and witched him out for not being more protective and allowing the cable to be installed when he wouldn't be home.... pretty standard post think-you're-gonna-get-shot-or-at-best-maimed behavior.

Now that it's over and I'm past the trauma of it all, I'm probably gonna get myself a power drill and pull that little prank on some of you. It was a pretty good joke.

THE END

Chicago, Yer Treatin' Me Good

*******UPDATE SEE BOTTOM FOR ADDITIONS*******

I'm not sure exactly what I love so much about my new home... Maybe it's that every morning I look out my window and see this:

Or it could be that I live in a HUGE apartment in this cool, old building:

And that it's graduate student housing so every tenant is mange-free and a potential BFF.

Or maybe it's that the manager is a jolly man from Croatia who, no matter what emotion he's feeling... excited, frustrated, startled, amazed... turns beet red and shouts, "Wot de hick!? You son offa beach!" I'm pretty sure he doesn't know it's not exactly polite...

Possibly it's that pretty much every building on the University of Chicago campus looks like this:

It could be that everyone here is seems to be especially jovial and friendly. Or that every single street is covered by a canopy of lush, green trees and speckled with vine-covered brownstones. Or that I've been checked on by like 10 people in my ward already to see if we're doing OK and getting settled in.

Or perhaps it's that my bishop is from Blackfoot (near Idaho Falls) and during our introductory meeting with the bishopric posed the question to his two Utahn couselors, "why is Idaho so windy?" and then replied, "cause Utah sucks!" and high-fived me across his desk. I jumped up for a chest bump but I don't think he planned on taking it that far and it got a little awkward.

Maybe it's not Chicago at all... maybe it's just that I have a bebe who looks like this:

And another bebe who looks like this:

Hmmmm... I'll have to think about it....

In the mean time... MORE PICTURES!

I'm sorry, I love this pic. She got ahold of an earring and was standing just like this for like 5 minutes straight.... inspecting and buffing...

Nothing quite so glorious as when your child gets to the age that you can turn to the tube for some free babysitting.

And a little final Utah recap:

I can't even begin to describe how much I love every single thing about this photo.

Luckily Leah stopped being so threatening and Mera stopped being so terrified and they made up.

I can't really say anything about that little face.

Leah really hated getting her diaper changed. Lucy really loved Leah getting her diaper changed. This was the scene every time.

This little sequence pretty much sums up our entire relationship:

What could have caused such a dramatic change? Maybe I licked his face, maybe I didn't.

Oh little Loofy, Leah is going to miss you almost as much as I'm going to miss your mother.

Thanks to everyone who made our summer in Utah/Idaho/South Dakota the best!

******UPDATE******

I forgot to include this little tid bit above because the pics were on Sam's phone. But really, it would be a sacrilege not to document....

We went to the US vs El Salvador world cup qualifier at Rio Tinto Stadium in Sandy.

I was feeling so supportive I even wore a little red hat. Truthfully it was Kathy's, too big, and wool so it made an exit immediately following this picture.

We were sitting among what seemed to be a sea of El Salvadorians. And it was nice and cozy because they like to roll like this:

That's right. You are seeing overlapping glutes. There was a family of six sitting in front of us... crammed into 4 seats. Don't ask me how they got through the front gates. Maybe it's a cultural thing because I ended up asking the gentleman sitting next to me if he was trying to sit on my lap (not kidding) and gave him a good elbow shove.

Sam was so thrilled to be attending that he wasn't even phased by the $90 speeding ticket he was issued on the way there. I guess, all in all, it was worth it. A night Leah-free with the hub, getting hoarse from so much "in yo facing" directed at the little puke pictured above on the left, and beating El Salv 2 to 1. Worth it, indeed.

We Just Got Back From South Dakota! Jealous??

We took a little break from the general Utah splendor and headed up to Rapid City, South Dakota to visit Sam's mom for a few days. Amazingly, after 3.5 years of marriage, this was the first time we ventured to make the trip. We spent a glorious few days enjoying free meals, good company, Sam's mom's hot tub, beauteous weather and all the wonders Rapid City has to offer.

We stopped to take this photo because we were completely mesmerized by what appeared to be human faces reflected in the mountain facade. Weird.

Sally (Sam's mom) was the brilliant photog behind this next masterpiece. Before you look, it should be known that after she snapped the shot, the following convo ensued:

Sam: Ah! Mom, you have to tell us when you're gonna take it!

Sally: Oh, I already took it.

Sam: Ok, take another one real quick.

Sally: I already took it (looking at the cam). It looks great.

Sam: Oh ok.

The result....

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

Mmmmm... that's nice.

Surprisingly, South Dakota has a lot of beautiful scenery to offer. The Black Hills are full of lovely spots (and ladies) as seen below.

Leah spent the majority of the trip harassing Max. Luckily he is a very patient and affectionate cat and slept with her every night.

Speaking of cats... I was thrilled to learn that my husband's claim to have "severe cat allergies" has been a sham all along, just as I suspected. When I pointed out to him that he didn't seem to be bothered by the cats at all, he claimed that he only has a reaction when he touches them and then touches his eyes. After hearing this, I did what any well-adjusted, concerned, bound-to-call-her-husband-out-on-his-cat-hating-fraud wife would do and gave one of the cats a thorough rub down. I then proceeded to pretend I spotted something in Sam's eye and lovingly put his allergy claims to the test. Magically, Sam's eyes remained sparkling and clear. Thank heavens, he's cured! When I revealed to him my evil (ingenious) little scheme, he tried to convince me that he had, indeed, been suffering itchy eyes all along... to which I scoffed and threw my head back in maniacal laughter. We'll be getting a kitten as soon as we get to Chicago.

There's nothing I can really say about this shot aside from that I love my daughter... despite her weaknesses.

Brace yourself for the cutest thing you've seen in a while!

That's right--turns out Kathy, Sam's step mom, has had our wedding cake stashed in her deep freeze all these years. We didn't really get the memo that you're supposed to bust it out for the one year anniversary, so we seized the day, scraped off the mystery black film that it had sprouted, and ate it in celebration of 3.625 years of bliss.

On a different note, and in a completely different mood than the rest of this post, on the drive home from SD we stopped at Martin's Cove, a memorial to the early Latter-Day-Saints who crossed the plains with the Willie-Martin Handcart Company after being driven from the church settlement in Nauvoo. If any of you find yourself driving across northern Wyoming, it's definitely worth the stop, even if you aren't a member of our faith. You can read about it here. Even though I had heard the story many times, I was filled with overwhelming gratitude and sorrow as we walked over the hallowed grounds.

It was another great chapter in our book of adventures.

15 days and counting to Chi-Town!