Kardashians or Griswolds? You decide...

Our family just went on our annual vacation to the lovely shores of Emerald Isle in North Carolina.  We rented what we assumed to be a lovely oceanfront beach cottage.  In our excitement for the upcoming trip we forgot that if it weren't for bad luck, our family wouldn't have any luck at all.

We decided to rent a minivan to get half of us (plus two dogs) from Virginia to North Carolina.  I was to pick up the minivan the day before we left.  I made the reservation in person and even called later to confirm  because I didn't quite trust the clueless rental agents.

Anyone see Seinfeld's experience when he tried to rent a car?  Just curious.  The manager called me on Friday morning to let me know that they did not have a minivan and would not have one.  After I asked him to define the term "reservation" for me I told him that I would be picking up a minivan and to make it happen.  Our minivan looked a lot like a Kia SUV (my mom shrieked "A KIA?!?! Are they even built to go further than 10 miles!?!?"). 

This should have been our sign that Murphy was applying his stupid law to us again.  Our lovely little beach cottage ended up being nothing more than a cramped and smelly beach shack.  My sister and I immediately turned around and rented yet another beach home further down (but not ocean front).  So now we were the proud renters of not one, but two beach homes.  If we had added together what we spent on two homes we could have spent our week in a large ocean front home (maybe even with a pool!).  We were burning through money faster than a Kardashian. 

A couple of days later we may or may not have had an incident at a local Belk that may or may not end up costing me an additional couple of hundred dollars.  I'll just let your imaginations take over from here...

The fun continued when two of our dogs decided to medicate their thyroids with a human prescription that was on a nightstand.  We can't get them to take their own pills, but they evidently relished the opportunity to take pills that weren't theirs.

But our relaxing vacation wasn't over yet!  My mom was enjoying the rough surf when a wave swept her prescription sunglasses out to sea.  Although she was sad to see her glasses go, she was happy to give the gift of sight to a fish in need.

At this point we decided our best course of action was to hunker down and not leave the house for fear that a plague of locusts would descend on us next.

Who wants to join us next year????

 

 

Miniature disasters and minor catastrophes

Did anyone see the Friends episode "The One with Ross's Tan?" where he uses the spray tan but only tans one side of his body?

If not, here it is on  YouTube

My skin is naturally pasty white.  I guess "porcelain" is a more attractive adjective.  I also have blue eyes and freckle with reckless abandon in the sun.  I am skin cancer waiting to happen.  I usually use a gradual self tanning lotion and I finally got the application process down so I get it all nice and even. 

Then, I watched about 5 minutes of Regis and Kelly on Friday (because 5 minutes is about all I can handle).  In the segment I saw they were going over the different types of self tanners and the girl from Allure magazine just loved the sprays.  She said anyone could do them!  I'm anyone, so I went right out and bought me some self tanner spray.

I applied it in the bathtub with the curtain closed to ensure that I did not tan the house, the cat, or the dog in the process.  It seemed to go on well so I just waited for it to tan.  A few hours later I looked down at my legs.  I had managed to spray tan them in carnival tent stripes.  Tan stripe/pasty stripe/tan stripe/pasty stripe...all around both legs.  So I hopped into the bathtub again and tried to tan the pasty white stripes.

I successfully managed to just darken the already tanned stripes. 

After my sister laughed uproariously at me this morning, I attempted to tan my legs again.  The rest of me tanned just fine the first time around.  So from the waist up I am a nice, even, medium tan.  From the waist down, it is another story altogether.  After three tries at this, I am now another ethnic background stripe/lightly tanned stripe/another ethnic background stripe/lightly tanned stripe. 

So tell me, what is it like to be normal?  Because nothing I ever do is normal....

Little Shop

This is my backyard:

Notice it is about the size of a postage stamp.  It is just enough for Bailey to watch the birds and Phoebe to play jungle kitty in the hydrangeas.  I try to plant things that will add color but not necessarily take up the entire yard.

When I bought my house two years ago, I wanted a butterfly bush more than anything.  Mom had one in her yard and I thought its size would be perfect (I didn't realize mom's was also relatively new or that they came in other varieties).  What started out as a small butterfly bush has expanded into the Little Shop of Horrors in my backyard.

It towers over my 6 foot fence, stretching its purple tentacles into my parking area.  It has taken over close to half of my backyard, and considering the size of my backyard, that doesn't leave me with much.  I found Phoebe under it one day and went into a panic, thinking that Audrey II had swallowed her up. 

I should get rid of it, but I enjoy the butterflies too much.  I'll chop it back further next year (while it is still in its winter hibernation), and hopefully my little bit of green space will not become a tiny yard of horrors.  Maybe next time I will remember that plants typically grow....

Ways my life has changed...

...since joining a gym...

No, this is not going to be some uplifting post about how good I feel or how much weight I have lost (negligible) or how much better life is.  You should know me better than that by now.  I am not a make you sick to your stomach, feel good motivational speaker.  I am a realist.

All of these stupid websites talk about how much energy you will have from working out.  I exercise 6 days a week for a minimum of an hour (yesterday was 2.5 hours added together).  You would think my energy levels would be through the roof!  Instead, in between gym visits, I sit on my couch unable to move.  There are things to do, but I don't want to do them.  I sit here watching the animal hair collect and think the floors look good all white and fuzzy.  It's a nice change from clean and shiny, I think.

The laundry!  Oh my, the laundry!  I don't own that much that is suitable for the gym (i.e. large and voluminous to cover me).  Plus, my girls require some extra strapping in and the cheap sports bras from Target don't quite cut it.  They require the heavy duty stuff and I can only afford one...which leads to a load of laundry every day so that my girls aren't too free to do as they please.

Along with the gym I have also started to revamp my diet.  I cook every day...every single meal.  I am trying to cut processed (easy) stuff out of my diet and make everything from scratch.  So yesterday after an hour of Aqua Zumba (my uncoordinated body was under water and therefore nobody knew when I was just twirling around in confusion) I came home to make a full dinner.  By the time I was done, I had enough chicken to feed me, my wild animals, and the rest of the block (I haven't mastered cutting recipes in half yet).  Also?  My kitchen looked like a war zone....I think I found some homemade marinara sauce on the ceiling...

And my amazing increase in hunger has been trying to derail my diet.  Since I am burning millions of calories each day (ok, not millions, but it feels like it should be millions) my body wants food constantly.  While I lay here each day, all I think about is what to eat.  But since everything requires at least 20 different dishes, pots and pans to make, I don't have the energy.  So I starve.  I have a feeling that an emergency call to Papa John's is right around the corner.

I also mistakenly thought that exercising would lead to better sleep.  Nope.  I wake up all hours of the night just as I always did before I started running my body into the ground.  So not only do I have no energy, but I also can't sleep.  I just sort of lay around motionless with my eyes wide open all day and all night.  Sort of scary, dontcha think? 

I never knew one person could wash their hair this many times.  Because I thought it would be a fantastic idea to cut it short, in order for it not to frighten small children each time I go out it needs to be "styled" every day.  So I get up, shower, fix my hair, go to the gym, mess up my hair, and wash it again.  I can't let it dry on its own and then just pull it into a ponytail anymore.  I let it dry on its own last night and I look like I was trying to channel a Charlie's Angel with the fantastic feathered wings I have right now.  Therefore I have to wash it this morning.  And again tonight after the gym.  And then again in the morning.  Why did I think short hair would be easier?  I might just shave it all and get a wig...

And my gains from this whole experiment?  Any weight loss?  No.  Any inches lost? No (this could be questionable since the cat likes to help me measure by attacking the measuring tape and my legs in the process).  But on the bright side, I have discovered Arrested Development on Netflix streaming and I watch that.  How did I miss this show when it was on? 

After I wash my hair and do some laundry and clean the marinara off the ceiling, I think I am going to lie on the couch and watch Arrested Development while the wild animals shed all over the house.  Great plan.