119 has always been my lucky number. Apparently it's the same for this guy! Haha! I wonder what it all means...
It sounds like a Twilight Zone episode that would make Rod Serling blush.
Call it a mere coincidence, if you will. Or see it as a rising anti-panties movement. It might even be seen as one more sign of the impending apocalypse … one that those ancient Mayans missed.
Whatever the explanation, the facts are clear: Exactly 119 pairs of women's underwear have been stolen ... twice!
The panty pilferages occurred more than one year and 1,500 miles apart.
Last year in Bismarck, North Dakota 23-year-old David Haberstroh got two years in prison after he was caught with 119 stolen girly undies.
David had been banned from possessing panties at all, the result of a previous underwear adventure. So 119 was really too many.
Then just last week, Victoria's Secret in Springfield, Pennsylvania reported that 119 pairs of panties were taken from a store display.
What is it about 119 pairs of panties What does it all mean?
We have scoured every resource from Nostradamus to old Sears catalogs for answers, but so far we only have more questions.
Questions like: Doesn't anybody steal bras any more?
-Article courtesy of Investigation Discovery
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
No, You Say Goodbye First...
I don't know what's more pathetic - that I just used Face Time to talk to Mark out in the living room or that, after 5 years of marriage, we still had a hard time saying goodnight.
Ugh
What a week! I should be home enjoying my beautiful baby girl but instead ended up in the ER Monday night with a gall bladder attack. Then 3 straight days of blood work to find out if I had a blockage. Good news is - all signs point to no blockage, so I can wait to have surgery for 4-6 weeks.
In order to confirm that, I started with another round of blood work yesterday morning. Luckily the woman who knows my crazy veins insisted on doing it, so I didn't have to "train" someone new. Then a CAT scan to check for inflammation, etc., due to some lingering pain.
I thought that'd be the easiest part of my day, but they had to do an IV for additional contrast and a better image. What a nightmare! My veins had given up after all the blood work. They had to use Novocain to numb my arms and search for a vein. Ironically the Novacain shot was one of the worst pains I've had (and I've been through labor and gall stones in the last 2 weeks). I had them get Mark from the waiting room. I usually just go to my appointments alone, but I think I had reached my breaking point. I needed to be taken care of. The nurse went out to get him, and I desperately watched the open doorway. Seeing him walk in was almost like seeing him at the end of the church aisle on our wedding day. I knew we were in it for the long haul. He held me through two more IV attempts. I gave up and just cried. Third time worked, they finished the scan, and I was done.
Then the nurse said, "With the IV contrast, you may not want to breast feed for 24 hours due to possible adverse reactions to the baby."
Well that would have been nice to know... yesterday. I had pumped some milk for E to get through the morning of appointments but definitely not 24 hours worth. And E had finished that batch about a half hour ago with my mother-in-law in the waiting room. I quickly brought her upstairs to the birthing center where she had been born two weeks before. By then, she was screaming, pulling my collar down, and trying to eat through my shirt. I was crying just as hard. The poor nurses looked a little overwhelmed but set us up with some formula for the night.
I was torn... I wanted to breast feed, but after the day (and week) I put in, I gave her to my in-laws with the formula and headed to my appointment with the surgeon.
He was a wonderful man and made me feel like everything would be ok. In the waiting room after, E was sleeping happily after some formula. I felt such a mix of emotions - guilt for temporarily stopping breast feeding, happiness that my child was happy, and relief knowing that I'd be ok.
More than that, I just wanted to sleep. Thank God for my in-laws who got us some dinner, and watched E when we got home, so we could sleep for a few hours.
Everything seems better today - if all goes well, no more hospital appointments until February. At that point I'll schedule my surgery...
In order to confirm that, I started with another round of blood work yesterday morning. Luckily the woman who knows my crazy veins insisted on doing it, so I didn't have to "train" someone new. Then a CAT scan to check for inflammation, etc., due to some lingering pain.
I thought that'd be the easiest part of my day, but they had to do an IV for additional contrast and a better image. What a nightmare! My veins had given up after all the blood work. They had to use Novocain to numb my arms and search for a vein. Ironically the Novacain shot was one of the worst pains I've had (and I've been through labor and gall stones in the last 2 weeks). I had them get Mark from the waiting room. I usually just go to my appointments alone, but I think I had reached my breaking point. I needed to be taken care of. The nurse went out to get him, and I desperately watched the open doorway. Seeing him walk in was almost like seeing him at the end of the church aisle on our wedding day. I knew we were in it for the long haul. He held me through two more IV attempts. I gave up and just cried. Third time worked, they finished the scan, and I was done.
Then the nurse said, "With the IV contrast, you may not want to breast feed for 24 hours due to possible adverse reactions to the baby."
Well that would have been nice to know... yesterday. I had pumped some milk for E to get through the morning of appointments but definitely not 24 hours worth. And E had finished that batch about a half hour ago with my mother-in-law in the waiting room. I quickly brought her upstairs to the birthing center where she had been born two weeks before. By then, she was screaming, pulling my collar down, and trying to eat through my shirt. I was crying just as hard. The poor nurses looked a little overwhelmed but set us up with some formula for the night.
I was torn... I wanted to breast feed, but after the day (and week) I put in, I gave her to my in-laws with the formula and headed to my appointment with the surgeon.
He was a wonderful man and made me feel like everything would be ok. In the waiting room after, E was sleeping happily after some formula. I felt such a mix of emotions - guilt for temporarily stopping breast feeding, happiness that my child was happy, and relief knowing that I'd be ok.
More than that, I just wanted to sleep. Thank God for my in-laws who got us some dinner, and watched E when we got home, so we could sleep for a few hours.
Everything seems better today - if all goes well, no more hospital appointments until February. At that point I'll schedule my surgery...
Monday, January 23, 2012
Owl Babies and Sun Dogs
Two weeks ago, Little E came into the world. The doctor placed her in my arms, and she looked up at me with those big, owl eyes. She whimpered softly and took in the world around her.
I remember last year before getting pregnant, Mark and I were out for a walk in the fall, and I was crying about the possibility of not having a baby. He told me that all the tears, grief, hope, that it was all part of the process - and that it would end with a baby in my arms. Hearing that gave me the strength to keep trying. By spring, I was watching her little heart beating on the ultrasound screen. She looked like a baby owl, and will forever be known as my "owl baby" and "baby bird."
I knew this pregnancy was different. I could feel her in my arms as soon as I knew she existed. Nine months of anxiety and trying to do everything I possibly could to guarantee a healthy pregnancy, and she came to us after a very simple, beautiful birth.
Those nine months were also filled with dreams and symbols (beautiful rainbows) of promises and hope, (read more here), that I would hold her in my arms, that everything would be ok.
The day we left the hospital, one of the nurses came to our room to get us ready and walk us out. She went to Little E's bassinet and smiled at her. She spoke softly to her and said, "You are absolutely perfect. It's a beautiful day to go home, E! The sun is shining, and there's a big rainbow across the sky. I've never seen one in the winter before." I told her that rainbows have a special meaning to us, and she said, "Of course they do - they're a symbol of God's promise."
That night the news had a story about the January rainbow - called a sun dog. I had never heard of them before, but they had a picture - the most beautiful rainbow I had ever seen.
It was more than coincidence. It was an every-day miracle just for her. She's a special baby, and the world is already so much more beautiful with her in it!
I remember last year before getting pregnant, Mark and I were out for a walk in the fall, and I was crying about the possibility of not having a baby. He told me that all the tears, grief, hope, that it was all part of the process - and that it would end with a baby in my arms. Hearing that gave me the strength to keep trying. By spring, I was watching her little heart beating on the ultrasound screen. She looked like a baby owl, and will forever be known as my "owl baby" and "baby bird."
I knew this pregnancy was different. I could feel her in my arms as soon as I knew she existed. Nine months of anxiety and trying to do everything I possibly could to guarantee a healthy pregnancy, and she came to us after a very simple, beautiful birth.
Those nine months were also filled with dreams and symbols (beautiful rainbows) of promises and hope, (read more here), that I would hold her in my arms, that everything would be ok.
The day we left the hospital, one of the nurses came to our room to get us ready and walk us out. She went to Little E's bassinet and smiled at her. She spoke softly to her and said, "You are absolutely perfect. It's a beautiful day to go home, E! The sun is shining, and there's a big rainbow across the sky. I've never seen one in the winter before." I told her that rainbows have a special meaning to us, and she said, "Of course they do - they're a symbol of God's promise."
That night the news had a story about the January rainbow - called a sun dog. I had never heard of them before, but they had a picture - the most beautiful rainbow I had ever seen.It was more than coincidence. It was an every-day miracle just for her. She's a special baby, and the world is already so much more beautiful with her in it!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Little E
Little E has finally arrived! Both of us are doing well and settling into our Mommy/Daughter roles slowly but surely.I was blessed with a beautiful birth, and I couldn't ask for a sweeter baby and daughter. Mark and I are quite smitten with her!
More updates to come!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Out For A Bit
Today I started having some more regular contractions. I went to the hospital to confirm - labor is starting but progressing slowly. We won't rush the little lady, but are due to head back to the hospital this evening. With a big storm coming (and hopefully some bigger contractions), we'll most likely be staying there the next few days. Let's hope she comes tonight, and I can be home by the weekend! If not, they'll induce me tomorrow night and probably end up keeping me through the weekend.
Either way, I may be off the grid for a few days but will write as I can and update with my progress!
Come on baby!!
EG
Either way, I may be off the grid for a few days but will write as I can and update with my progress!
Come on baby!!
EG
Monday, January 9, 2012
$9 To Look Like Gwen Stefani
Thursday we did our mid-week grocery shopping - the one you do after you remember everything you forgot to buy on Sunday. Mark was adamant about not spending too much money, so I tried to keep my donuts and chip & dip cravings from interfering, though the junk food devil on my shoulder was screaming all kinds of profanities at me.
Surprisingly, I was able to turn down almost everything (except the donuts and something kind of unexpected--mascara).
I swear, every woman still has that teenage girl inside of her who pops out when she least expects it. Thursday mine was triggered by Voluminous False Fiber Lashes Mascara. I plea temporary insanity, because it definitely wasn't the advertising drawing me in. I know I'm smarter than to buy anything that reads, "...boosts your own lashes to bold, outrageous, OMG levels." I refuse to believe I'm a member of this target market.
The packages were on an end display, and there was no price. I told Mark that I "needed" some new mascara anyway and was just dying to try this new brand. I told him I would have the cashier scan it at checkout to make sure it wasn't too expensive.
A few minutes later, the cashier broke the news to me: "It's nine dollars." Mark's eyes got wide. I know you can spend a lot more for makeup, but I've just never been that kind of girl. I began my own sales pitch to Mark, "Ahem, that's nine dollars to look like Gwen Stefani. Don't you think it's worth it?" The cashier rolled her eyes at me. Mark sighed. I threw it in with our groceries.
...and forgot about it until yesterday evening, when we decided to go out for pizza and a movie. I thought, "I'm going to make 9+ months pregnant look good." I got all dolled up, put on a few dramatic shades of eyeshadow, and grabbed my new mascara!
For some reason, though, it wasn't giving me the "umph" I expected. It looked like my regular mascara. In an attempt to get that Gwen-Stefani "wow", I put on a lot--to the point it was clumping, and I had to do some damage control, dabbing with a paper towel. I was determined to make it work. I finally came up with something I was semi-satisfied with and went into our bedroom to begin the 10-minute task of putting on pants and socks (still waiting on baby...).
I sometimes need Mark's help but was determined to do it myself. Five minutes in, after pulling my back out, twice dropping my right sock, and remembering that, in the morning, I had to start my doctor's appointments leading up to being induced, I had a complete emotional breakdown. I started crying and couldn't stop--uncontrollable sobs.
Mark overheard and came in. My head was buried in my hands, and he gave me a big hug, told me everything would be fine, and finished dressing me. I looked up at him, trying to catch my breath and said through a few last, whimpery sobs, "I just love you so much...."
He looked at me sideways and said, "Oh my God. Are you wearing mascara?" I could only imagine what I looked like, especially when I later read the other side of the box. Opposite of the "Never Fake it Again" line, it says, quite clearly, not to get these "false fibers" wet. It had done more than run. It looked like I had tried to fingerprint my face.
I started crying all over again and sobbed, "I'm not Gwen Stefani... I'm Lindsay Lohan... on drugs..."
Surprisingly, I was able to turn down almost everything (except the donuts and something kind of unexpected--mascara).I swear, every woman still has that teenage girl inside of her who pops out when she least expects it. Thursday mine was triggered by Voluminous False Fiber Lashes Mascara. I plea temporary insanity, because it definitely wasn't the advertising drawing me in. I know I'm smarter than to buy anything that reads, "...boosts your own lashes to bold, outrageous, OMG levels." I refuse to believe I'm a member of this target market.
The packages were on an end display, and there was no price. I told Mark that I "needed" some new mascara anyway and was just dying to try this new brand. I told him I would have the cashier scan it at checkout to make sure it wasn't too expensive.
A few minutes later, the cashier broke the news to me: "It's nine dollars." Mark's eyes got wide. I know you can spend a lot more for makeup, but I've just never been that kind of girl. I began my own sales pitch to Mark, "Ahem, that's nine dollars to look like Gwen Stefani. Don't you think it's worth it?" The cashier rolled her eyes at me. Mark sighed. I threw it in with our groceries.
...and forgot about it until yesterday evening, when we decided to go out for pizza and a movie. I thought, "I'm going to make 9+ months pregnant look good." I got all dolled up, put on a few dramatic shades of eyeshadow, and grabbed my new mascara!
For some reason, though, it wasn't giving me the "umph" I expected. It looked like my regular mascara. In an attempt to get that Gwen-Stefani "wow", I put on a lot--to the point it was clumping, and I had to do some damage control, dabbing with a paper towel. I was determined to make it work. I finally came up with something I was semi-satisfied with and went into our bedroom to begin the 10-minute task of putting on pants and socks (still waiting on baby...).
I sometimes need Mark's help but was determined to do it myself. Five minutes in, after pulling my back out, twice dropping my right sock, and remembering that, in the morning, I had to start my doctor's appointments leading up to being induced, I had a complete emotional breakdown. I started crying and couldn't stop--uncontrollable sobs.
Mark overheard and came in. My head was buried in my hands, and he gave me a big hug, told me everything would be fine, and finished dressing me. I looked up at him, trying to catch my breath and said through a few last, whimpery sobs, "I just love you so much...."
He looked at me sideways and said, "Oh my God. Are you wearing mascara?" I could only imagine what I looked like, especially when I later read the other side of the box. Opposite of the "Never Fake it Again" line, it says, quite clearly, not to get these "false fibers" wet. It had done more than run. It looked like I had tried to fingerprint my face.
I started crying all over again and sobbed, "I'm not Gwen Stefani... I'm Lindsay Lohan... on drugs..."
Friday, January 6, 2012
You Murdered My Logo!
It was Colonel Mustard, in the Study, with MSWord.
And that really is the source of the problem - someone with the title "Colonel" shouldn't necessarily be dabbling in Graphic Design.
So, since my motherhood experience has been slightly delayed (5 days overdue), I'm going to complain about something else that I feel equally annoyed about - crappy design.
Two days ago, I received a link to check out a website ad that a client created using my logo. I always cringe when I get that email, the one that indirectly says... "Hey, look how much I improved upon what you created!"
The new creation is always some degree of design awfulness. And to make matters worse, I don't have the balls to say, "Good Lord... what have you done?"
So, for illustrative purposes, let's just say this is what happened Wednesday:
And my response: "Oh, wow... um. Okay. Nice one."
Ugh. Not even remotely close to what you should say when someone murders your logo.
And that really is the source of the problem - someone with the title "Colonel" shouldn't necessarily be dabbling in Graphic Design.
So, since my motherhood experience has been slightly delayed (5 days overdue), I'm going to complain about something else that I feel equally annoyed about - crappy design.
Two days ago, I received a link to check out a website ad that a client created using my logo. I always cringe when I get that email, the one that indirectly says... "Hey, look how much I improved upon what you created!"
The new creation is always some degree of design awfulness. And to make matters worse, I don't have the balls to say, "Good Lord... what have you done?"
So, for illustrative purposes, let's just say this is what happened Wednesday:
And my response: "Oh, wow... um. Okay. Nice one."
Ugh. Not even remotely close to what you should say when someone murders your logo.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Bionic Hand
Ahh, another day of pregnancy... 3 days overdue.I think I've gone from "Oh, it's so wonderful to have all this time on my hands..." to "Good Lord, what do I do now?"
Mark and I have had to get creative finding ways to entertain ourselves. The doctor gave us the green light to have sex in hopes of starting labor, but after he worked a 12 hour day, and I had crocheted my 6th potholder (and started on my 4th baby blanket), we were both pretty exhausted. I was still willing to put in the effort, though. After I extracted myself from the sofa (which looked about as sexy as a gorilla getting out of a clown car), I said, "Want me to put in my contacts and put on a push-up bra?" to which he responded... "Don't take this the wrong way, but I would much rather watch TV in bed and go to sleep." No complaints here. By the time he turned the TV on, I was asleep.
[Side-Note: After analyzing one of my completed potholders (in a sea of half-completed baby blankets), I realized that the potholder must be the most accurate visual representation of my attention span -- a 7" x 7" square, not very deep, and covered with flowers.]
I can only guess that Mark's creation of the Bionic Hand was due to sheer boredom (and, I should add, completely unrelated to his anxiety of having sex with a pregnant gorilla). I know what you may be thinking, but, no, that's not what the Bionic Hand is used for... or at least I don't think so...
Last week Mark wanted to go to the doctor because his wrist was bothering him more than usual. The doctor thought his carpal tunnel syndrome was getting worse and gave him a wrist brace. For the last 5 days, my husband, the man-child, refuses to take it off and has been calling it his Bionic Hand.
It was funny for the first few days. He would hide behind the bathroom door and pretend to shoot lasers at me out of his fist, complete with his own "pew pew pew" sound effects. He would knock things over and say, "Woah! I don't know my own strength!" And it was the topic of our nightly conversations:
Him: "I wonder if I could upgrade this thing... add a few attachments."
Me: "You could have blades come out of it, like Wolverine."
Him: "Well, I don't know about that..."
Me: "Yeah, guess you could hurt someone."
Him: "I would probably hurt myself. Good idea, though."
I admit, I laughed... a lot. But there was a moment of realization too -- that we would get through this - the boredom, the labor, and eventually parenthood. This kid is going to have the best of the techie, crafty, and goofy in us -- probably some award-winning science projects too. ♥
Monday, January 2, 2012
How 365 Days Can Warp Your Brain
Well, no baby yet... I'm officially one day overdue.
New Year's was as exciting as it could be... being 9 months pregnant with a regular bed time of 9:00 pm. I took an afternoon nap so I could watch the ball drop.
Is it just me, or does the ball drop become less exciting each year? 365 days seem to warp my memory. By the time January 1st comes around again, I have this idea in my head that a holy disco ball the size of the moon is going to drop out of the sky with a firework display unlike anything known to man. The reality never lives up to my expectations.
Similarly, my plan for a nice meal to celebrate the New Year turned into a heartburn-igniting dinner at the local barbecue house. (My favorite restaurant was closed.)
We came home and busied ourselves with what has become "the usual" over the last few days. I retired to the couch to watch Forensic Files and crochet. He played the new Star Wars PC game with his friends online. At 11:45, we tuned in to Times Square.
I updated Mark on my crocheting progress - one complete potholder and three baby-blankets-in-progress. As I started to doze off, he updated me on his Star Wars progress. I giggled as he told me in an exaggerated nerdy voice, "I've finally attained a ship. It has sleeping quarters, a conference room, and a droid. He's like R2-D2. Well, no, more like C-3PO."
Here's to more exciting days to come...!
New Year's was as exciting as it could be... being 9 months pregnant with a regular bed time of 9:00 pm. I took an afternoon nap so I could watch the ball drop.
Is it just me, or does the ball drop become less exciting each year? 365 days seem to warp my memory. By the time January 1st comes around again, I have this idea in my head that a holy disco ball the size of the moon is going to drop out of the sky with a firework display unlike anything known to man. The reality never lives up to my expectations.
Similarly, my plan for a nice meal to celebrate the New Year turned into a heartburn-igniting dinner at the local barbecue house. (My favorite restaurant was closed.)
We came home and busied ourselves with what has become "the usual" over the last few days. I retired to the couch to watch Forensic Files and crochet. He played the new Star Wars PC game with his friends online. At 11:45, we tuned in to Times Square.
After the key chain disco ball drop and watching an excruciating .25 minutes of Cee Lo butchering Imagine, we turned off the TV and went to bed. [Side-Note: I miss John Lennon.]
Here's to more exciting days to come...!
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