Saturday, January 31, 2015

It's Saturday and I'm Boring (the Choo-Choo Edition) ...

Note: Today's "It's Saturday and I'm Boring" post includes recent photographs of The Girl taken by the Norwegian Wonder. The photos have nothing to do with the text, other than that this is my blog and I make the words and like my kid's face (even when she looks like a Chucky Doll.)


Last night we drank Autumn Ash, ate spicy guacamole and watched a few episodes of "Mozart in the Jungle." The drink is one of those pure-of-booze bevs that sort of white-van jacks you and the next thing you know, you're hunkered over a box of chocolates from the dollar store waxing hysterical about the subtleties of the maple filling.

I took advantage of being a little loosey goosey to order a book online in hopes I'd forget I ordered it and find a surprise tucked between the doors next week.

"I've been wanting to read this so bad!" I'd say to myself, hugging it to my chest. "You really do know me so well, Me."

Then I drank about 100 glasses of water so I wouldn't, come the a.m., look like the antagonist from an After School Special.



I made French Toast for Big Family Breakfast.
"I just feel like you make it better," Chuck said, which is the trick I use to get him to make scrambled eggs, so all is fair.
I had to make Choo-Choo noises to get the girl to taste it, but then her eyes crossed and recrossed at the Essence of Maple Syrup and she stuffed fistfulls into every pocket of her face.  
(He really is better at making scrambled eggs.)


We bought a new dishwasher.

That makes us sound so ... something. Our current dishwasher system would fall under the category of a Broken Walkman Situation.

Broken Walkman Situation: (Metaphor) In the 1980s, we would frequently travel between Rochester, Minn., and various Twin Cities' suburbs to participate in sporting events. At about the midway point was a restaurant called Edgewater, where the Minneapolis radio stations were finally accessible via walkman. But before the Edgewater was a dead spot where you would have to shift into increasingly difficult yoga positions to get the walkman to work. Before you knew it, you'd have a foot on the ceiling, walkman held to a corner of the back window, head tilted to a 45 degree angle and you'd be like: How did I get here?

I use this metaphor whenever you're in a situation where you get used to a series of inconveniences before you just finally deal with the problem. In the case of the dishwasher: We have to flip the switch on the circuit breaker in the basement to turn it off.

We learned this by melting all of the plastics involved with our smoothie-making appliance.

So anyway, we bought a new dishwasher. It took about 20 minutes and while Chuck was wheeling and dealing I got to explain to an 18 month-old the intricacies of a washboard.

Me: "... Laura Ingalls Wilder."
The Girl: "Elmo."

After we had left the appliance store, we talked about dishwashers for at least 10 more minutes. Arguably our most boring conversation. But get this. According to to the dishwasher salesman, the number one need for people in search of a new dishwasher is:

Something quiet.

"People used to want something that got their dishes clean," he said. "No one cares about that anymore."

("Consider us old-school," I told him.)


This rapid-fire dishwasher purchase gave us time to go to Target, where all but three carts were in use. We got a new Smoothie-Making Appliance and I bought underwear in two different sizes because I'm straddling a line.


We went outside, but there was nothing to do. Just a little too biting, not enough snow. So we crunched through the yard for about five minutes and brought our cold faces back inside.


As soon as I realized The Girl was going to take a real-live nap, I busted down to the basement to get in a workout on the elliptical machine. I chugged through Season 1, Episode 4 of "The Good Wife" and hit 10,000 steps way early in the day.

This FitBit has been a rude awakening. Turns out I'm a pretty sedentary person. It's impossible for me to hit 10,000 steps by just being alive and doing chores and making dinner. I have to actively *try* to hit 10,000 steps. I have to actually exercise, lest this teal bracelet turn into a Failure Shackle.



My friend Jodi wrote this cool thing and it got all viral and I especially liked seeing it on the Facebook timeline of a high school friend who doesn't know Jodi and doesn't know that anyone she knows knows Jodi, just read it and liked it. I stifled the urge to write, "Hey, my friend wrote that" and just clicked Like instead.



I made salmon, sweet potatoes and peaches for dinner. The Girl ate the peaches and tried to crush my windpipe -- her signature move -- when I dared suggest the Choo Choo game might work with the fish like it did with the French toast.

We played an inexplicable game that involved sticking crayons through the windows of Winnie the Pooh's house, then opening the house and taking the crayons out and shutting the house and doing it again.

It didn't seem to matter who was charged with yellow or who had blue.

The Girl took a bath and then was slathered in a layer of Burt's Bees lotion. She went to sleep easily, but only after many shadow puppets were made on her ceiling. I flipped the circuit breaker so I could wash a load of dishes.

We don't get the new one for a few days.

The "It's (fill in the blank day) and I'm Boring" series is something Jodi and I do to pay homage to the beauty of old-school blogging. 

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