Sicky-poo

One of my germ-toting children infected me with a wicked cold, so I will be home from school tomorrow. I'm OK with this though because I have a competent substitute coming in, so the kids won't lose a day of learning.

It was really quite silly. I'd been feeling crappy for a couple days, but I was trying to be a trooper. Finally, I was walking through the front office and the school nurse spotted me. She said, "You have a fever, I can tell." So, I had my temperature taken in the clinic for the first time since I was 8. A kid was in there and looked gobsmacked when he saw a teacher with a thermometer in her mouth. This reaction goes right along with the idea they have that teachers actually *live* at school. Anyway, the verdict was that I had a fever and reinforcements needed to be called for tomorrow. I'm really hoping that it snows and they don't have school so I don't have to use that sick day.

Thus, I will be in bed all day tomorrow. I've been in bed since 4:15 and I'm very excited to go back.

Blink, blink.

This was all I could do as the end-credits rolled on Jesus Camp. I mean, this was the only outward, physical response. My insides were boiling. I don't know what to say yet. I'll get back to you.

I am an idiot.

So we all know that I've pulled a muscle in my chest, blah blah, blah. Well, you'd think after talking about it so much I'd realize that I'd be more aware of it in my everyday life. No. I'm not. In fact, I believe I've pushed myself even further since my doctor told me to take it easy.

Case in point: yesterday. Ross has been begging for some low-riding book shelves to sit next to our low-riding bed. Being the wonderful wife that I am, I decided to take care of the problem yesterday since it was a half-day at school. I went to Target and found a very cheap and very workable answer to my husband's request. So, I loaded them up in my cart, then loaded them into my car, then loaded them out of my trunk, them loaded them up to my porch, then loaded them up the stairs. Lots of loading, as you can see.

About 2 hours after everything was put together, I started to feel that slight twinge that had been plaguing me for the last few weeks. The twinge then turned into a throb which turned into an invisible person punching me in the chest. Then I said, "I am an idiot."

I woke up today and had a ridiculously hard time physically getting myself out of bed. It hurt to raise my arms to wash my hair in the shower. Putting on a shirt almost killed me. I smell like Icy/Hot. It's gonna be a great day.

Oscar Poll.

Ross, Susan, Justin, and I are in a battle to the death. Whoever gets the most Oscar picks correct wins food-my favorite kind of reward. Picks aren't due until tomorrow at 10am but I'm doing this now because I am, well, WORKING at 10am. Justin has devised some genius points system that causes the skin around my skull to almost split because my brain doesn't understand it. He works for Capital One, so I figure he knows what he's doing in the whole math/statistics arena.

We are required to pick for all 20-something categories. Some of my picks are based on my actual experiences with the movies or my understanding of the award show trends. The rest will be pulled out of my bottom. So, here we go, here we go now...

1. Actor in a Leading Role: Forest Whitaker-The Last King of Scotland
2. Actor in a Supporting Role: Mark Wahlberg-The Departed
   
3. Actress in a Leading Role: Hellen Mirren-The Queen
4. Actress in a Supporting Role: Jennifer Hudson-Dreamgirls
5. Animated Feature Film: Cars
6. Art Direction: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
7. Cinemtography: Children of Men
8. Costume Design: Dreamgirls
9. Directing: The Departed
10. Documentary Feature: An Inconvenient Truth
11. Documentary Short: The Blood of Yingzhou District
12. Film Editing: United 93
13. Foreign Language: Pan's Labyrinth
14. Makeup: Pan's Labyrinth
15. Music (Score): Babel
16. Music (Song): Love you I do from Dreamgirls
17. Best Picture: The Departed
    
18. Short Film (Animated): No Time for Nuts
19. Short Film: (Live Action): Binta and the Great Idea
20. Sound Editing: Blood Diamond
21. Sound Mixing: Dreamgirls
22. Visual Effects: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
23. Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Notes on a Scandal
24. Writing (Original Screenplay): Little Miss Sunshine

Some of these selections are who I think *should* win and who I think *will* win. I had to put some of the shoulds in there because maybe me putting it out there will help them out. I'm not really concerned about doing well on this poll, though. My contribution to the winner are pigs and a blanket which I love making/eating/eating all of them.

Dogs have personalities. Or should we say dogalities.

As I said in my most recent post, the dogs' crates have been moved upstairs into the front office. I was sick of my dining room looking and smelling like an offshoot of the SPCA, so I took action (very unlike the Catrow family) and instigated the upward migration. Ross predicted that Shooter and Zapp would go absolutely insane. The one thing that we are truly consistent with is the command "Get in your crate." We can say this in any tone, at any volume, at any time of the day, and in they go. We were a little nervous that changing the location of the crates might disrupt this.

Well, moving the crates really separated the men from the boys. Or the smart from the stupid. We've always known Zapp to be, shall we say, vapid? It's pretty clear that Shooter is smart considering he is able to make generalization, such as knowing that ALL remote controls fall on the floor and make loud noises, or anything made of metal will give you a shock. The crate migration just gave us another example.

After moving them upstairs, I gave the usual command, and Shooter went to his corner of the dining room, saw that his crate wasn't there, and went to go find it. He had been watching me move them, so he trotted up the stairs, into the office, and stood in his crate waiting for me to shut the door. Meanwhile Zapp went to *her* usual corner, walked around in circles and looked at me in utter confusion (while Shooter had been watching me Zapp had spent her time doing headstands on our bed). I enticed her to go upstairs, which she did so with the same enthusiasm that would have come with me presenting her with a steak dinner. But, when I told her to go into the office (where Shooter was still standing in his crate, even though the door was wide open) her body went rigid and she pressed herself against the wall. I didn't understand. She loves the office! It's the only part of the house that gets direct sunlight. She will contort herself into the most obscene positions to ensure that every part of her is grazed by a sunbeam. But when *asked* to go in there, she assumed an entire veterinary staff was waiting there to euthanize her.

I gently wrapped my finger around her collar and tried to coax her into the office. You would have thought I was trying to coax her into a cauldron of boiling water. She straightened her front legs, cemented her bottom to the floor and would not move. Finally I had to use the unbeatable "carry her like a sheep" technique to get her in there. Once she saw her crate and the love of her life (Shooter) she went in, but not after gouging every part of my upper body with her tallons.

This routine was repeated several times this weekend (even once at 5:00am during which Ross and I kept yelling at each other, "BE PATIENT WITH HER!!!!") with the same response. It was my job to get them in their crates this morning, so I set aside an extra 15 minutes in preparation. I blocked off all escape routes, put Shooter in place, and gave the command with a slight wince. She looked at me, wagged her tail, and trotted on in. Consistency my friends, consistency.

I AM GOING TO BE THE BEST PARENT EVER.

Weekend Wrap Up...

Friday: Sat ALL DAY while my kids did their simulation writing test, dealt with bullying drama, stayed at work until 5:30 rearranging seats in the classroom.

Friday night: Had dinner with Tim and Jenna (delicious, amazing, wonderful), went to ChrisFromCanada's house and yelled at MattWhite a lot, fell a little more in love with Rachel Harms.

Saturday morning: Babysat Remus and enjoyed all the fun that includes.

Saturday afternoon: Went to PharrOut offices for lunch so I could finally meet Scott and Christi's cutie pie Halle, came home and moved the dog's crates upstairs, fell asleep watching American Beauty.

Saturday night: Enjoyed a delicious pasta dinner made by Maura, watched 4 hours of Top Chef, realized that the head judge looks way like Cal Ripken, Jr.

Sunday morning: Got up before noon, snuggled.

Sunday afternoon: Went to the gym, opted out of church, watched a lot of MTV, probably fell asleep.

Sunday night: Got the usual Taco Bell Sunday Dinner, watched documentary on Wal-Mart, experienced somewhat of a cleaning fit, off to bed in a bit.

And the thing I love this week is...

Mine are fake so they are not as luxurious as these, but my imitation Dansko's make my life at work so much easier. Not only do they make me almost as tall as some of my students, but they make the over 15,000 steps I take per day SOOOO comfortable.

Have a great week!

An announcement.

I'm pregnant.



Ha ha, just kidding. Again.


The real, and perhaps even more exciting announcement is: my scale at home was off approx. 4lbs., making me appear to be 4lbs. heavier than I actually am. 'Tis a happy day in our neighborhood.

I owe you an apology, Chad Lowe.

Now, I know I was all hating on Chad Lowe last night, but he did say something on Larry King that was pretty good. He pointed to himself and said, "This is the face of addiction." Was that a public service campaign at some point? Because if it wasn't, it should be. I think if public figures were to participate in some kind of campaign like that, a lot of people would be freed from the stigma that comes with addiction, eating disorders, etc. I mean, Tom Cruise might dissolve them all with his acid mind-bullets, but I think it might be worth the sacrifice. So, here's mine:

This is the face of depression.

I call on you to post something similar.

A potpourri, if you will. AND YOU WILL.

First, let me just say that I love seeing what "relevant" ads show up on my sidebar. For the last few days there have been ones about being a slacker mom, headaches, and fibromyalgia. It's a party over here!

I'm sure you all were constantly checking back to see what happened when I went to the doctor about my chest issue. Well, I'm pregnant. Just kidding! What the hell would my chest have to do with being pregnant? Anyway, it just turned out to be a pulled muscle(s) afterall. Check out the diagram to see the specific area in question. I have colored it lime green. This is EXACTLY what I look like, btw:



So I got orders to stop lifting weights until everything heals. It will be rough on my body-building career, but, ya know, ya gotta do what the doc says. I did 30 minutes on the treadmill tonight, making sure to keep my entire upper body still. I hated it. But I *did* get to watch Chad Lowe talk to Larry King about how he's not at ALL resentful of his brother ROB LOWE and his ex-wife HILARY SWANK. Yeah, right, Chad. And the sky isn't blue, and Heidi Klum isn't insanely hott, and pigs in a blanket aren't the best food ever. Get a grip, Rob. Oh, sorry, I meant Former Mr. Swank.

But, on the bright and much less bitchy side, I was out of the doctor's by 1:30. I came home and boiled a chicken (see previous post) for Mark and then took a much needed nap after getting zero sleep last night. Ross and I had a HUMUNGO fight, but everything is fine now. I think we are both just really exhausted and I'm looking forward to tomorrow evening when neither one of us has anything to do.

I came home from the gym and went into a cleaning frenzy in the kitchen. The smell of chicken is all over my house and it kind of makes me want to throw up. This is why I don't cook the meat. Or anything. I'm terrified that salmonella is lurking in every corner. Consequently, every corner got scrubbed and rescrubbed with Clorox Hard Surface Cleaner. And then I threw away my rubber gloves.

The Matt and the Maura are supposed to be here this weekend and I feel much excitement in my heart about this. I talked to Stephanie on the ol' IM tonight. I had been thinking about her all day and POOF! there she was. She makes me miss her and college.

The superintendent comes tomorrow. We all need to make sure we look spiffy and that all chaos is kept to a minimum.

I feel very nauseated. It's either salmonella or the 18lbs. of Doritos I ate for dinner. Hmmmm.

True Friendship.

I must love Mark and Jenni very dearly because I just stuck my hand up a chicken's ass for them. I don't touch raw meat, let alone enter its cavities to remove bits. Blech.

Good day

Today my kids had to do their Knights of the Round Table presentations. They had to come in costume and do an oral presentation in order to convince King Arthur (me) to give them an invitation to join his knights. It was just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. They went all out and there was much aluminum foil everywhere.

This evening marked our first "History Night" following last year's "Math Night." It was called "Virginian Idols" and we had people dressed up as all kinds of historic Virginians. We served a barbecue dinner and my awesome older brother provided the entertainment. The 5th grade teachers acted as Idol Security, meaning we were crowd control. We all wore white shirts, black ties, and sunglasses. I looked kind of like a lesbian. But hey, the people listened to me. It was a good time had by all.

I just realized that I spent 12 hours at work today. That means I will be *back* at work very soon. I must go to sleep soon. Half day tomorrow though because of my trip to the doctors to investigate the mysterious boob/chest problem!

More ailments please, because I don't have enough...

I have an appointment to see my doctor on Wednesday about the crippling pain in the stage right side of my lower chest. The area is very tender and seems to have some swelling or a lump there, can't really tell. I'm really really really hoping it's just a pull or torn muscle rather than something else. Apparently scar tissue often forms when you've hurt a muscle. I'm trying hard not to strain it too much but the area involved is required to do a variety of things including:

• opening doors
• sitting up
• lifting anything at all
• existing as a human being

Who knew your chest was so involved in your daily life? The most frustrating part is that I can't really exercise how I want to. I've been seeing results in my arms, abs, shoulders, and back (key in supporting the bossoms). But oh well, hopefully my doctor will tell me that's what it is and we'll get it treated/dealt with so I can get back in the swing of things. I have a funny feeling that my signature scent will soon be muttled by the smell of Aspercreme.

Weekend Wrap Up...

Friday night: went to the Hill Cafe with Ross, MattWhite, and Justin, went to Commercial TapHouse with aforementioned people and met up with Rachel, Jake, and Zach for beers and fun. Went to bed.

Saturday morning: Woke up with a sore throat and a headache (I'm sure this had nothing to do with the beers from the night before), puttered around the house.

Saturday afternoon: Went to the gym and DID NOT get McDonald's afterwards, fell asleep watching Talladega Nights.

Saturday night: Went to Kroger and bought crappy food, ate crappy food while watching Jeremiah Johnson on AMC, went to bed.

Sunday morning: asleep

Sunday afternoon: Did absolutely nothing until it was time for church.

Sunday night: Went to church, once again thought the pastor had spent the last week secretly following my every move after I heard his sermon, had snacks and chats after church, picked up Jenni and Remus and met Rachel at Joe's for dinner, came home, realized it was too cold to stay downstairs, going to bed hoping for lots of ice, i.e. a day off from school.

And now for a something I love:

This picture is saved as "my love" on my computer. If loving her is wrong, I don't wanna be right. I am counting the days until Project Runway season 4 (and Tim Gunn, if you eff it up with your "I need to honor my obligations to my students" bullsh*t then I WILL END YOU).

And the truth comes out...

Apparently, all I want is for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie to like me. I had a dream last night that I was hanging out with the couple at their fabulous home in Africa. I have no idea how I got there, but I was there and it was FABULOUS. Brad and Angie kept talking to me about their children and asking me advice on the best way to educate them. When I tried to talk I discovered that my teeth were glued together (I imagine this comes from the fact that I clench my jaw shut while sleeping) and couldn't talk without sounding ridiculous. Finally they got so fed up with me that they kicked me out and told me to go hang out with Jennifer Aniston. I woke up very upset.

Prayers

This little guy's parents could use a little help right now. Pray for his Daddy's health and his Mama's strength. I put his picture up because I knew once you saw how cute he is you wouldn't be able to resist. Thanks.

I thought my head was going to split in half.

At around 3:00pm today I was assaulted by the pain of what I was convinced was the onset of a brain tumor. Ok, it wasn't really *that* bad, but I rarely get headaches so my tolerance is pretty low.

I am notorious at home and at work for not taking medicine when I should. I think this is because I already have medicine in my system 100% of my life that I'd prefer to not add to the arsenal of chemicals adjusting my body. Rather than taking something for a headache or cold, I just sit and talk about how I have it, not complaining, just stating that it's happening.

Well today it was bad enough for me to drive home and immediately pump myself with Aleve and go straight to bed. Who knew that would take care of it? You all did, probably. Anyway, when I woke up feeling better I started thinking about how crazy headaches are. I mean, your brain doesn't feel pain, so how can your head hurt, especially when you haven't experienced any trauma or injuries. To find out I turned to the authority of all information: wikipedia.org. You can find out about headaches here. Or if that doesn't interest you, try this, this, or this, all of which I find fascinating and mysterious. Happy reading!

MEAT SPACE MEETING

THE CATROW FAMILY HAS FLIPPED ITS COLLECTIVE LID!!!!!!!!! STRANGERS IN THE HOUSE!!!!!

A while ago RVAblogs tried to have a get together so we could see each other as real, live people. It didn't really work. I think it didn't work because it was at a place that a lot of people didn't no about, a "suggested donation" was mentioned, and, hey, we were all a little nervous. But, friends, we're so close now. Our love is real. Our hatred is founded. Let's get together.

So, I am hereby putting an invitation out there. I would like members of RVAblogs to come to our house for a party. Any friends/children/babies/offspring/yung'uns/chirren/little ones/etc. frequently mentioned on your blog are welcome, too. I'm a teacher, I will entertain them and smother them will love with your permission. I don't know when this will happen because I wanted to feel out general interest first. We have a small house but it's a cozy one and I'd like you all to come. ALL OF YOU.

So, leave a comment if you're interested, or email me at valerie.catrow@gmail.com.

I talk about this way too much.

I debated with myself over whether or not to write about the size of my chest with you all again, but in the end I decided that it's my blog and I can do what I want. If you are not interested in my bossoms and their adventures then you can kindly stop reading.

My chest is on my mind a lot (haha, funny mental picture) because it's kind of hard to ignore. I have a relatively small body frame and relatively not-so-small bossoms. I don't know where I get it from. My sister has the same issue to a point. Our mother keeps telling us that hers didn't get big until after she had kids, so it's not her fault. Regardless, it's an issue I've been dealing with since middle school.

It was seriously like I woke up one day and they were there. They've gotten progressively bigger over the years, but it wasn't like I started out as a nice A-cup (oh, to be an A-cup and get to wear string bikinis and shirts with low necklines...sigh). I went from nothing to somethings in no time.

Once I went to college and finally made it to a healthy weight (I was barely 100lbs. when I got there and finished the year at 115lbs., a fact which made my mother exclaim, "You look like a girl now!"), the somethings gained weight, too. A trip to Victoria's Secret for a massive stock-up was required pretty much every year. Why do you *have* to go to Victoria's Secret you ask? Well, the thing is, when your bossoms make up a significant percentage of your weight, you don't want to go low-budget. It's like with trashbags or tin foil: you think you're being all smart buying generic but end up cursing yourself when you realizes it's just not the same.

Anyway, one of those trips had to happen today. Although my new workout regime has been helping with the discomfort, the girls just weren't being taken care of properly. I've been ending each day with soreness all around my middle as my bras seem to have staged a mutiny, pinching and poking me at every turn. Not only that, most times I'm required to wear some kind of binding tank top under all of my shirts to keep things under control. It was time. So, nearly $100 later (sorry, hubs) I left with 3 new, properly fitted bras (that were on sale and still cost over $30 a piece for about 2 yards of fabric, some elastic, and some wire) and thoroughly pissed that I had to go through the whole process AGAIN. It almost makes me want to not have children for fear of what kind of science fiction hoopla will go on up there once that happens.

Weekend Wrap Up...

Friday afternoon/night: NEW HAIR!!! Nap, ate some mozzarella sticks for dinner, watched some TV, bed.

Saturday morning: Gym at 8.

Saturday afternoon: Lunch with the sister, short nap.

Saturday night: Saw Notes on a Scandal with hubs (it's really good) and then drinks and snacks at Capital Ale House. Bed.

Sunday morning: Unexpected babysitting instead of feeding the homeless as planned.

Sunday afternoon: Finally started taking down the Christmas decorations. Church.

Sunday evening/night: Dinner with the in-laws, did some work for PharrOut, off to bed in a bit.

And here are two of my favorite things that I love so much:

On the left we have Zapp, our hound-dog-mutt. She'll be 2 in March. She loves digging, sniffing, kisses, standing on her head, and petting people. She is not smart.

On the right we have Shooter, our German Shepherd mix. He'll be 4 in July. He loves empty paper towel rolls, socks, and Clementine oranges. He's an excellent prancer. You can tell he is very smart by his distinguished gray face.

FACE.

Here's my new hair. Please excuse the tired eyes - it's after 10pm and I'm still awake. I made the picture small so my enormous nose wouldn't come through the screen and bop you on the face. I am also wearing my Charlie Brown T-shirt which accompanied me on my tattooing expedition AND makes me popular with all the kids.

I am INsane!!!!!!!!!

I woke up at 7 in the A.M. this morning to let the dogs out (yes, it was me. again.) and fed them and what not. After puttering around the downstairs and readings some Interents, I realized that it was almost 8. I knew if I went back to bed I wouldn't wake up until noon. So I went to the gym. Yes. It's true. I went to the gym at 8 on a Saturday. Not only that, I was the first one customer there. Because you're interested, here's what I did:

• 15 minutes on the incline treadmill (incline ranging from 10%-20%) at an average speed of 4.5 mph
• 15 minutes on the elliptical
• 15 minutes on the bike
• Leg pressed 100lbs. REPEATEDLY while reading People magazine
• Did some arm stuff (I don't know how much because it never lasts long)
• 15 minutes on regular treadmill using 5lb. weights.

Then I came home and ate breakfast that was NOT a McDonald's sausage biscuit. Now I will shower and possible take down our Christmas decorations. Maybe.

New and Improved

I got a haircut and some hi-lights today, so I figured I'd do-up the blog as well. I even put Google Ads on here, but it was giving me some error message when I was trying to mess with the layout and whatnot. So, sorry if you keep seeing the same ad over and ad. And more sorry for me if it makes me no money.

For a good laugh at my expense, click here and please note the ads that appear at the bottom of the post.

Delicious new discovery

Friends, I have to tell you about something wonderful. I was reading an old issue of Real Simple and I saw a little blurb from this lady who takes extra virgin olive oil, mixes it with a little bit of sugar, and uses it to exfoliate her face. O.M.G. I did this the other night and it was amazing. You obviously need to scrub very gently and avoid the eye area, but it makes your face so smooth. There will be a little olive oil left on your face after rinsing, but it apparently works as a great moisturizer because I woke up with the softest face this side of a baby's butt.

*Note: You probably won't want to do this in the morning, what with the olive oil that's left on your skin. Or I guess you could just rub your face into your salad at lunch and call the scrub multi-functional.

In reference to a comment on my last post.

Listen, anonymous, until you have the guts to actually post who you are, I would shut your face. I never said I hated my job, I said I wasn't liking it right now. And yes, believe it or not, sometimes it's hard to love a job where you spend most of the time getting yelled at by people who do not value you as a professional and are more concerned with being right than with the welfare of their child. And sometimes I don't like how I'm sick 9 months out of the year because kids sneeze in my face all day. It's not always fun dealing with children being blatantly disrespectful to adults and other children. Call me crazy.

If my mother lived here I would be so grounded.

Almost every dish we own is piled up in the sink and some of them most definitely have NOT been rinsed.

I have had the same pile of dirty towels and sheets lying on the floor of our bedroom for the last two weeks.

Our Christmas decorations are still up.

There is a nice film of dog hair over pretty much every surface of the house.

Instead of emptying the overflowing trashcan in the bathroom, we just put it in the bath tub so the dogs can't get into it.

We are a complete disaster.

Holy Lord, I don't think I can take it anymore and then some good things, too.

I am having a VERY ROUGH WEEK. This week is making it hard for me to be nice to anyone and has sent me into fits and rants pretty much nonstop. Like earlier this week, I saw a copy of GoodHouseKeeping in the lounge with Tom Cruise on the cover. Well, we all now that PMS and Tom Cruise are a recipe for disaster. I spent about 10 minutes ridiculing his too-frequent use of the word magnificent. I was seriously out of breath by the time I was done.

My children have lost their minds. I must set a timer for everything they do, order their movements around with buzzers, and have them walk down the hall with their hands over their mouths. I don't like them very much right no, or my job for that matter. I'll tell you that Ross and I have opened the discussion for a possible career change on my part.

I went to the dentist today. I usually start flossing about 6 weeks before my appointment to make it look like I'm dilligent. Well, this time I didn't start flossing until this past Monday. They still told me I was doing a great job with the flossing. Chumps. But yay for me!

I stole another picture from Jane. What you see below is the group of lovely ladies who knitted for the Red Scarf Project. Notice how my head is tilted up as to not show my double chin.


I finally get to have my hair hilighted on Friday. I know how spoiled that sounds but the naturally mousy color of my hair does not help my mood.

Weekend Wrap Up...

Friday morning: Got to gym by 6:00, did 40 minute workout, came home, showered, dressed, ate, went to work early, did some knitting before I technically had to start working.

Friday day: Taught, tore my hair out, taught some more, remaining hair turned white.

Friday evening: Took nap with hubby, ordered dinner from Carytown Burgers and Fries, watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while finishing Remus's hat, went to bed.

Saturday morning: Slept.

Saturday afternoon: Went to gym, worked out for almost 2 hours, came home, showered, went to Ben Franklin, ABC store, and grocery store, came home and ate dinner, watched the Gauntlet starring Clint Eastwood and a few episodes on Nip/Tuck, went to bed.

Sunday morning: Slept.

Saturday afternoon: Went to the Hardshell with the fam to celebrate grandma's 96th (!!!!!) birthday (she looked so pretty as usual), came home, made communion bread for church, went to church, suddenly stricken with wicked headache during church, left 10 minutes into the service, came home, passed out, woke up, ate dinner, knitted somemore, took pictures of Shooter because he's so cute, watched TV, went to bed.

Very little got accomplished this weekend, but at least I got some rest.

Sunday Edition: A few of my favorite things

In addition to the Weekend Wrap-Up, I'm going to start sharing with you, Internets friends, some of my most favorite things in life. Sometimes they will be objects, sometimes they will be people. You'll just have to keep coming back to find out.

First we have this:


This is our Presto Heatdish. It follows us around the house during the winter. Or we follow it. Since our house was built in 1912, our windows and doors don't so much shut. Since it is 2007, our fireplaces don't so much work. So, we're left to find other ways to keep warm. Ross's parents bought us this from Costco a year or so ago and we wouldn't make it through the cold nights without it. Zapp likes to sleep directly in front of it to make up for the fact that she, unlike Shooter our German Shepherd, has no undercoat.


What you see here is the Catrow Family bike rack. I have spent the better part of our marriage tripping over Ross's bike(s). Rather than throwing another temper tantrum, I suggested that we somehow mount the bikes to the wall in our dining room. In a fit of productivity, we actually went out, bought the supplies, and proceeded with my suggestion, ALL IN THE SAME DAY. Seeing this reminds me of how I don't get bike grease on my new pants while walking through the hallway anymore and of the time that we actually did something.


This is perhaps my most favorite spot in our house. First of all, it's pretty dark in this corner so you can't really see the layers of dust on everything. And second, it's a crazy combination of things we love. You'll see Ross's walking stick from Scouts leaning in the corner. The desk is an antique that my mom gave me. Ross's Eagle Scout blanket is folded up on the seat of the desk. The tool box is Ross's great-grandfather's and had "Catrow" stenciled on it. Those are ridiculous pictures of Ross when he was little (yes, he is dressed as a cowboy in the one on the right). And who can leave out the pictures of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and a random Confederate soldier? I love that this is one of the first things people see when they walk into our house. Oh, and the Lee picture isn't crooked. Either our floors or our walls or our ceiling is.

So there you have it. Stay tuned until next week. Maybe YOU'LL make the cut, friend.

Alert the media!

Ross and I were able to go to the grocery store without wanting to kill each other.

Anyone who has ever looked in our fridge knows that we very rarely have any real food. We just have condiments that we put on the food that we order in. Sometimes we go to the grocery store just to buy things for one particular meal, but we make "real" trips to the store about once a month, if that. I like to think that we will live forever because of all the preservatives we eat.

But today we took a major step. After both of us had gone out and gotten exercise (awhaaaahhhhhh? left is right, up is down, Britney is classy), we decided that it had to be done: We needed to make a menu and actually buy the food to make the things on said menu. And we did. On a piece of paper. We even wrote down the corresponding cookbooks and page numbers for the recipes we chose. I think the angels might have wept.

After stopping at Ben Franklin where I bought some delicious yarn that I was going to use to make fingerless gloves but came home and discovered it was too thin to use, and following a trip to the ABC store to buy to most bo-bo braind of vodka for one of our recipes, we entered the Kroger at Willow Lawn.

Immediately I thought it was going to be a nightmare. It wasn't the *real* Kroger (i.e. the Kroger in Carytown) and we couldn't find a bunch of the things we needed. It was a recipe for disaster, a moment that could make or break our relationship. Luckily, love won out in the end and I only wanted to yell at Ross (not strangle him) when he left me to push the cart or would stop abruptly right in my path while the inertia of our packed cart was almost to great for my mighty arms to fight against. I could have let the cart hit him, but I didn't. He was trying so hard to be helpful and he is much better at picking out produce than me.

"Are you expecting?"

"Do you have something to tell us?"
"Any good news for us yet?"

No. No there is no "good news" unless you are referring to the fact that I'm now very good at knitting with doulbe pointed needles or that it's quite warm out. I am not pregnant. Not. pregnant. And thanks for constantly reminding me of the fact that I'm not.

Ok, I really don't want to be harsh, it's just kind of frustrating to constantly be asked if you are pregnant when A) you want to be, B) aren't, and C) probably won't be anytime soon because we currently consider going to Taco Bell as a fancy excursion.

It's really kind of absurd how often I get asked this question. My response is always, "No, why?" Here are some reasons I've been given:

"Well, you're hair is brown and it used to be blonde, so...."
"You're 25." (?!?!??!?!?!?!!)
"You started knitting."
"You go to the bathroom a lot."

I was always under the impression that ovulation + sex + fertilization = pregnancy.
But, apparently not coloring your hair, having a birthday, getting a hobby, and having a small bladder can make you pregnant, too. Watch out, ladies.

"A Close-Knit Faculty"...or so the article in the Midlothian Exchange called it.

Check out our school's current contribution to the Red Scarf Project:

You can tell this picture was taken in an elementary school because of the tell-tale white cinder block walls.


This shows them all lined up. We have 16 so far and I'm thinking of stealing the top right one and giving it to Ross because it looks like a Hokie Scarf. Thanks to Jane for letting me steal this pictures off of her blog.

If you can look closely you'll see the tags we attached to each scarf. I love how each one is so different. I think the recipients will really appreciate them. These pictures remind me that I work with some of the most generous people around. I can't wait to figure out and get started on our next knitting charity activity.

Dear Target Mother,

Your child completely ruined my shopping trip this evening. I walked into the store, got myself an iced-venti-chai (with my Starbuck's giftcard courtesyt of Pharrout), and was eagerly anticipating what I would buy with the $9.92 left on my gift card from my brother and bonus-sister when my attention was ripped from the display of cute tunic tops to the front of the store by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling shriek. That shriek came from your child. Yes, the one who was screaming, "I WANT MY GUMMIES!!!!!!!!!! IIIIIII WAAAAAAAANNNNT MYYYYYYYY GUMMMIIIEEEEEESSSS!!!!!!" The one who when reaching the end of his sentence achieved a pitch that could have shattered diamonds. The one who then proceeded to throw his body on the floor and continue screaming. The one who became as a limp as a protestor when you tried to peel him off of the floor. THE ONE WHO YOU GAVE THE DAMN GUMMIES TO JUST TO SHUT HIM UP SO YOU COULD GO BUY YOUR OVERPRICED BUT BEAUTIFULLY PACKAGED METHOD CLEANSERS AND "CAN-YOU-BELIEVE-I-GOT-THIS-FROM-TARJAY-BEADED-SWEATER" WHILE TALKING ON YOUR BEDAZZLED CELLPHONE. That one.

It was me who stood there and stared at you with my mouth open. It was me who you made eye contact with and then abruptly turned the other way. IT WAS ME WHO WAS JUDGING YOU AND I DON'T FEEL BAD ABOUT IT AT ALL. And here's why: I have never been a mother of a child, but I have been a teacher to about 300 children and I know that unless you learn how to say no to your kid and realize that discipline is more important than shopping, I will be spending the better part of a schoolyear trying to teach your child limits once he reaches fifth grade. GET IT TOGETHER.

Sincerely,
Opened mouth girl with the obscenely large Starbucks cup who shot laser beams at you with her eyes

*Note to reader: I normally hate all caps. I could find no other way to express my frustration on this matter.

Off to a good start...

So New Year's was really fun. The hubs and I went up to Fxburg to spend it with Matt and Maura. Maura and I spent some time knitting while the boys played some video games. Chris joined us for dinner and much drinking. We actually managed to stay up until 2 (the last couple years we have gone to bed at 12:15) with the help of candy and online purity tests. In case you're curious, I was the most pure and Matt had a very scandalous score.

I got woken up by the best alarm clock ever: Matt and Maura's kitten, Elee, lying on my back and purring. It's better than being ripped from your sleep by a yelping dog or a buzzing alarm.

Ross and I drove home after a quick breakfast (I skipped eating - it turns out that 5 glasses of wine don't necessarily agree with me) and napped through most of the rain. He took off at around 2 to watch football with MattWhite while I puttered around the house for awhile.

Eventually I made it to the gym where I had a really good workout. I know I'm overdue for a day off-I've been reading a lot of stuff about how you can over-train to the point where your metabolism can actually slow down or something (Kate, Alicia, is this true?). I'm actually kind of sad that I won't be going to the gym tomorrow.

Back to school in the morning. I'm excited to see the kids and get back into the swing of things. Hopefully they're all ready, too.