Birth Day Conundrum

So, today is Jason's birthday. But officially it's not until tomorrow. Not tomorrow as in March 1st, but tomorrow as in February 29th. Wait, but there is no February 29th!

This presents a problem. One much larger than the mere problem of people annoyingly asking upon receipt of this knowledge "Oh, so like...you're only 6 years old?" Ha ha, like he's never heard that one before. (Don't feel bad if you've ever said that to him, I definitely said it when we first met, it's impossible not to).

Anyway, the much bigger problem is when to celebrate the birthday.

Apparently, Jason grew up celebrating it on March 1st. The rationale being that his birthday is the day after February 28th, thus March 1. However, this seems absurd to me! Following this rule, his birthday is displaced to another month. He is no longer a February birthday person, now his birthday resides in March. Weird.

The other option, which I would prefer, is to celebrate the birthday on February 28th. This way his birthday remains the last day of February and we still honor the birthday month rules.

Am I right or am I right?

I guess this isn't such a bad problem to have, considering that every four years when we actually do get a February 29th, the birthday becomes that much more special.

So, maybe we really should just celebrate on the actual day, February 29th, thus making Jason only 7 years old at this time and making me, yes, married to a child.

I want...

I think part of Santosha is not wanting things or coveting thy things of others. But sometimes I can't help myself.

I want a hula hoop. I want to hoop.

I want to feel like a little girl again.

Carefree, I think little girls feel carefree, right?

Afternoon Delight

62 degrees. sunny. air.

I do love those rare February days in NC, before the spring pollen sets in and before winter is even over, when you get to experience the delight of a perfection.

I think its the surprise element that I love. You think: February, cold, dark, blah.

But not today. SURPRISE!

So we sat out side all day and drank things. We started with a delicious coffee platter pictured here:

Now, it's about time to move on to a different beverage of the colder more fizzy variety, which I won't name for fear of getting in trouble with my sponsors. I'll let you guess...

Perhaps a fire at sunset? Yes, please!

And yes, that's a trailer in the background.

TGIF

I feel like such a slave to the five day work week. I think about Friday, a lot. And when Friday comes, it's the best day ever! When it goes, I sit teeming with anticipation for the next Friday. But why? Before I worked a "real" job, I didn't think about Friday like that.

Consequently, Monday has also taken on it's own feeling as well. One of dread and terror. And, whats even sadder is what Monday has done to Sunday. Monday's cloudy shadow has turned Sunday into a day of ruminating over the imminence of Monday.
Again, before I was chasing five day work week, I really didn't care at all.



I know, I know. Some people don't have jobs. Some people would kill for my job. Some people...

Maybe, I'd like a little cheese with my whine.

I want to change this. I want to value all the days and what they bring. I want to appreciate the day, hour, minute or whatever, even if I'm working, hanging out, vacationing, running, eating, having sex, sleeping, yoga-ing, arguing, laughing or crying. Every day has to have some meaning to extract from it, right?

All days should get to feel like Friday.

I'm sorry Monday, I didn't mean to be like that. You have value and importance too.
I promise to be better.

Snow Days

A few weeks ago, we had 3 consecutive snow days followed by a 2 hour delay. That's a lot for NC. I mean, a lot. Everything shut down for a minute. We were "snowed in". Literally. My car was stuck at the bottom of the driveway and it was awesome! We drank wine, watched movies, cuddled, made vegetarian chili in the crock pot, we even had an impromptu dance party. And, despite what most people say about eventually getting tired of being in the house and wanting to get out or being worried about eventually having to make the days up, blah blah blah, cabin fever never set in for me.

But, as with all things good, it had to come to an end. The snow melted and we all had to go back to doing normal things like, I don't know, work.

It's just not fair! Why do I have to go to work?!

Now, all I can think about are snow days. If there is a slight chill in the air or talk of any kind of precipitation, I'm lusting for snow days. Oh, that feeling of excitement, the spontaneity of all things being cancelled.

Now, I'm going to go check the weather channel...

A girl can dream, right?

Dirty Jokes

Dirty Jokes are awesome! I really wish that I could be a person who told dirty jokes often. It definitely fits my personality. My problem is that I can never remember them when someone tells me the joke. And, when I do remember it, I'm only remembering the punchline.

"You know...the one where the guys says 'if you can't beat um', do um'...or something" That would be the joke. Not funny.
But now, through the wonders of technology, I can utilize my blog to relay all dirty jokes properly.

So, in honor of the impending day of Valentine. I will now tell you a dirty joke.

(Imagine that I'm clearing my throat)

So, a man and woman work together. The man goes up to the woman and says "Hey, if you have sex with me, I'll give you 100$." The woman says "No" and walks away. Later they run into each other at the copy machine and the man says "Come on...It'll only take a minute! Look, I'll throw the 100$ on the floor and it'll be over by the time you pick it up". Well, with the economy the way it has been and realizing that this may not be such a bad idea, the woman runs back to her desk to call and consult her husband. The husband says "Honey, tell him you'll do it for 200$, it'll be over in a second. just pick up the money really fast and call me as soon as you finish". So, the husband waits by the phone. He waits and waits and waits. Finally, 45 minutes later the woman calls. "Honey, what took so long?!" the husband asks. Out of breath and dazed, the woman answers, " He paid me in quarters!".

Could somebody cue the laugh track please?

Random Acts of Presents

Jason and I decided to give each other a present every month. I'm really excited about it! He got me this awesome shirt:

Woah....This is a picture of me blogging in my new shirt. Now I'm blogging about my picture of me blogging. It's some kind of weird meta cognitive craziness!














Anyway...


I got Jason this book:







I think he likes it.


Presents are fun!

Woman or Bear?

Why is it that we want to eat more in the winter? I mean, I get it. It's cold, we need to store up our energy for hibernating and staying warm and stuff.

But, come on... we're not bears. We are "civilized" beings. We've been far from being at all "animal like" for a long time. The more advanced and overly civilized we become, the farther away we are from being like bears or even like our old caveman ancestors.

It's funny too, because people always want to point out the fact that we are animals when it benefits them in some way. Like, accounting for or justifying some animalistic behavior like eating a whole pizza or having sex with 5 dudes in one night. People are all like "Oh yeah, well we're all animals and eating and sex are our basic survival needs. Those needs need to met, I need to spread my seed, blah blah blah....".

Seriously? Now you want to be an animal after you worked out on a machine for 3 hours, got your eyebrows waxed and watched people moving around on a giant screen for 2 hours. You probably don't even have a pet!

As soon as the human race does something amazing like invent penicillin, send a man to the moon, or have a conversation to solve a problem rather than ripping heads off with giant paws, people want to say how smart and civilized we are.

It just seems very fickle of us all. But maybe we are not civilized enough to realize it.

So, maybe we can be both- animalistic and civilized. I guess we don't have to choose.

So for now, I will continue to eat giant burritos and drink beer all winter while blaming it on the bears.

My Children

WARNING: This is going to be one of those things where I say "The world is divided into two groups, those who ....and those who....". I don't really believe in divisive statements like that, BUT it feel as though it works for what I am about to say.

So, The world is divided into two groups, those who believe that their pets are their children and those who don't. I feel like the people who don't believe that their pets are their children either have real human children or they hate animals. Either way, these people usually get pissed off at you when you say things like "Yes, I was hanging out with my children this weekend" or "We took the children to the park" (meaning the dog park and not the playground park). Maybe you just shout "MY CHILDREN!" at the top of your lungs every time you get home and your children (your pets, not the real kind) know that they are, indeed, your children.

I will say though, this can be taken too far. If you believe that your pets are your children and you have done one of the following things, then I give permission to the angry people with real children to come after you:

1. Made one of those Christmas card photo things with you and your pets in it and mailed it out saying "Merry Christmas from the family".
2. Allowed your pet to sit at the dinner table with you, in a real chair.
3. Purchased a ramp or steps that lead up to your bed because its too difficult for your pet to climb up.
4. Dress your pet up in human clothes, like a lot.
5. Put diapers on your dog and tried to change them.
6. Started a college fund for your pet.

So, for now I will leave you with this:

I like to call it "MY DAUGHTER!!!!!!!"

Happily vacillating

Ah, decisions decisions! Life is full of them: Paper or Plastic? Crunchy or Soft? Flats or Heels? Hot or Cold? Regular or Decaf? Fried or Grilled? Beer or Wine? Chocolate or Vanilla? Dog or Cat? Go or Don't go? Who? Which one? Why? It's enough to make you go hide somewhere! But where???? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I am reminded of the word vacillating. I love this word!!! Other words which mean basically the same thing such as wishy- washy, flakey, and indecisive have such a negative connotation, but vacillating sounds like you're wishy washy with a purpose.

If I'm wishy washy, nobody wants to hang out with me because they're never quite sure if I'm going to show up. Maybe I make plans and cancel at the last minute. People might say "That Blaine, she's so wishy washy. You never can depend on her!"

If I'm flakey, aside from the immediate image that conjures of pieces of my body flaking off, you might assume again, that you're never quite sure where I will be or what I'm going to do, maybe I'm even a big fat liar! "That Blaine never can be trusted! Why can't she just say what she means and mean what she says?!"

Same thing with indecisive. "Blaine and those annoying indecisive people! They always want you to make their decisions for them. Well, I'm through with that! I'm no friend of hers!"

But with vacillating, you can be sure that I am making intelligent decisions. I am always vacillating between very smart things. Vacillating is what I do when I don't want to act to hastily or make the wrong decision. Vacillating is a rare art form of decision making, actually.

So, to all indecisive, wishy washy, flakey flakes, from now on you can be happily vacillating with me. We vacillate, happily, and extremely intelligently, of course.