July 23, 2010 by suzanne day by day

Friday Randomosity – Hypochondriac Edition

Happy Friday, Internet!

Thank you for all your well wishes, and hallelujah! I am no longer sick of anything but humidity.

* First of all, let’s not blame Chili’s for my food poisoning. On Sunday, I flew home from a lovely visit with my family. I ate at a sad excuse for a Chili’s in O’Hare airport. (Seriously – I LONGINGLY looked at the other tables and ENVIED them for their bubbly sweet waitress, while my harried and overworked waiter barked questions at me as he was moving on to the next table and two busboys had a heated discussion during which they invaded my personal space. AWESOME.)

Anyway. I LOVE Chili’s. Clearly, I love it enough to eat at a Chili’s in an airport.

But that was not the only food I ate that day. Oh no. My husband took me to a barbecue joint he’d been wanting to try. I ordered a half rack of ribs and a side salad with ranch and a beer and my husband and I shared a plate of parmesan fries (which we barely dented). And is there really any doubt why I am sadly in need of a diet overhaul?

But back to the matter at hand. I ate at two places. Plus the Dairy Queen, where I got a green slushy. No, I am not ten years old.

So it could have been any of those places that hosted some disgusting bacteria that made me ralph for hours on end. Among other things.

On second thought, maybe I didn’t have actual food poisoning. Maybe my stomach was just rebelling against all the crap I’d eaten.

* Let’s say something good about Chili’s. Have you tried their nachos? I am a huge fan of nachos, period. But at Chili’s, they coat every. single. chip. In refried beans and cheese. They place a single jalapeno on each chip. And they put heaping piles of guacamole and sour cream in the middle of the plate. YUM.

They have a limited menu at the O’Hare airport Chili’s, by the way. That limited menu does not include nachos. So I had to eat chips and salsa with a side of sour cream instead. Not the same as nachos, let me tell you!

* I was out walking yesterday and a bug flew into my mouth. It was horrifying! I saw it coming at me and then BAM! It was in my mouth! So I spat it out on the ground. And continued to spit every four feet or so, you know, in case it had left a LEG or an ANTENNAE or something equally gross inside my mouth.

* Of course, then I was terrified that another bug would fly into my mouth. Not like it’s ever happened before in all my 29 years on this earth. But it was a near certainty that it would happen twice in one 30-minute period.

So I kept trying to breathe through my nose instead of my mouth, so that any kamikaze bugs would fly into a Wall of Lips instead of my open mouth. But it’s hard to speed walk and nose breathe at the same time.

So then I tried to breathe through the edges of my mouth, which didn’t work either. And then I tried to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.

And then I realized I was being an idiot and started breathing normally.

Not! I totally kept trying not to mouth breathe for another mile and a half.

* Has anyone else said “Not!” unironically since 1995?

* Speaking of the BUG that flew in my MOUTH… I had this mini panic attack that maybe it was a bee or a wasp. And not that there’s any PROOF that I’m allergic to those bugs… but I could SWEAR that maybe my throat was going numb… or perhaps my tongue was swelling up. And I was really glad I brought my phone in case I went into anaphylactic shock and needed emergency assistance.

(Spoiler alert: I did not go into anaphylactic shock. But I did spit a few more times.)

* Aside from being a huge hypochondriac, I am a terrible patient. Case in point? I visited my OB/Gyn last year to get an annual exam and a prescription for ocps. I wanted to try a new brand because I wasn’t loving one side effect of the brand I’d been on.

And just so you know, I was the one who attributed this side effect to the ocps. Because, you know, of all my extensive medical training (i.e., lots of Googling and many episodes of House).

But my gyn was very receptive to my highly expert self-diagnosis… so she wrote me the new script and told me to try it out… if I didn’t like it, just let her know and she’d switch me to something else. I tried the new ocps for three months and HATED them. Hated. With the fire of ten thousand flaming Tampax boxes.

I still had a few months left on my other prescription, so I just went back to the old brand. And I never told my doctor. (My husband, by the way, has told me for months now that I should just call her and tell her I switched back. But I am afraid she’ll yell at me.) (She didn’t give me any reason to think she’s a yeller.) Anyway, now I’m up for my annual exam again and I am afraid to tell her that I’ve been taking this old prescription for… um… nine months.

* While I am still working on the posts where I tell you all about my Severe Weight Angst (I know – you can hardly wait), I am already taking action. The lovely bloggess from Notes from the Fatty File turned me onto a new (to me, at least) calorie-counting type website that I am loving. Sure, I have been doing it for all of two days… But I am enjoying it so far.

You put in your weight, height, and the amount of weight you want to lose, and the site spits out a calorie count for you to adhere to. It has a fairly extensive search engine… so you just plug in whatever you ate that day and it spits out all the calories, fat, protein, etc.

It also allows you to input your fitness activities for the day. And that’s the only fault I’ve been able to find so far. I mean, it has calorie-burning rates for SITTING IN CHURCH, but not for DOING SITUPS. WTF, website?

(FYI, sitting in church – quietly – burns 64 calories per hour. Who knew?)

* I wonder how many calories repeated spitting burns? Because, as I mentioned, I did a lot of spitting yesterday.

A lot. Of spitting.

* This post has more references to spit than anything I’ve ever written.

* My new down-time obsession is this super fun online game called Word Bubbles. If you are a word nerd, you will love it. But if you break the 3,000 point barrier, don’t tell me. I can’t get past 2,900 points. And it hurts my soul.

* Whilst in the airport on the way to visit my parents, I had a serious accident. I was in the restroom. I hung my purse and my laptop on the hooks on the stall door and… proceeded to avail myself of the facilities.

Then my laptop committed suicide. Somehow, it let go of the ONE TINY HOOK that the stupid bathroom stall provided and fell to the floor.

But, it was encased safely in a clunky laptop case, strapped in tightly with velcro. So I didn’t think anything of it.

Until, that is, I tried to log onto the airport wireless to play Word Bubbles. Then I discovered that my laptop had landed directly on the part of the machine that connects to wireless Internet. Rendering it completely useless for anything but word processing.

You have no idea how much this freaked me out, Internet. I mean, I am a person who works from home. Via the Internet. And I was going to my parents’ house in the boonies where they had set up wireless Internet JUST FOR ME so I could work while I was there.

Plus – WORD BUBBLES ONLY EXISTS ONLINE!!!!

I had to forcibly prevent myself from calling my husband in a panic. And my mom. And my best friend.

Luckily, my mom had an Ethernet cord. (I’d forgotten those things existed. How weird to be attached to the Internet with a physical tether!) And now, back home, I have my old laptop to fall back on. It’s mind-numbingly slow, though.

I know. “Poor me! My laptop died so I have to use my backup laptop! Waaahhh!”

That’s a first world problem if I’ve ever heard one.

* I think my laptop was an undercover agent from Best Buy, acting on a top-secret directive to prove to me and my husband that we should have bought the super expensive warranty plan that covers accidental damage. Because I think my husband’s response was something like, “I’m not going to spend $269 on accidental damage insurance.”

* I made catfish the other night for the first time. It was terrible. I can’t decide if the disgusting way it turned out was because catfish sucks, because the recipe sucks, or if it was due to user error.

Anyone have experience with catfish? If it was a bad one, please let me know. Otherwise, I am going with “user error” and that will damage my self esteem. And damaged self esteem means increased intake of chocolate. Which will make my LiveStrong profile scream at me. And who wants to be screamed at by a website?

NOT ME.

* My husband and I have been invited to a three-year-old’s birthday party. I’m looking forward to seeing her parents… But what does a 29-year-old do at a three-year-old’s birthday party? What does a 29-year-old BRING to a three-year-old’s birthday party? I mean, I usually bring wine… But that seems inappropriate.

Holy bajoly. This is the Randomosity that never ends. So I’m ending it.

Have a great weekend, Internet!

June 24, 2010 by suzanne day by day

Thursday Randomosity – End of Intern Year (!!!!!) Edition

Oh lordy Internet, it has been A WEEK.

A week of such epic CRAP proportions that it has not even fully sunk in that my husband is DONE.

DONE with intern year.

So. That is awesome.

Excuse me while I take a nap. When I wake up, I will no doubt be elated on a proper level.

In the meantime, some randomosity.

* Do you ever stand in front of your bathroom mirror and look suspiciously at the little mound of flesh below your belly button and wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could be pregnant and not know about it? No? That’s just me? Then I beseech you to never watch “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” on TLC. Because if so many women actually didn’t NOTICE they had a human growing inside them, then I suppose it’s Always Possible.

* Speaking of pregnancy… The vast majority of my new friends are mommies or mommies-to-be. Which is super! I love mommies! They are Normal People too. But hanging out with them has had two contradictory results.

1. I find myself wishing I could be pregnant for the sole reason of not wanting to suck in the afore-mentioned tummy-pooch anymore. (Yes, I know, SIT UPS.)

2. I find myself never ever ever in a million years ever wanting kids. Because while the mommy bloggers whose blogs I frequent write about the horrors of motherhood, they temper those stories with sweet and tear-jerking tales of looooove and cuteness and special moments. Not the moms I hang out with. I think they honestly just need to get out and vent a little… but the effect is that I hear about Bewb Deflation and Diaper Blowouts and No More Sexy Time with the Husband. And it’s enough for me to say, nope, not for me.

* I am not pregnant. That is just a taco (or seven) happily expanding in my gut.

* So. Work? Is busy.

* Did anyone watch Danielle “Prosititution Whore” Newjerseyhousewife on the Bravo Live Watch What Happens special the other night? What WAS that?

* Did I mention that my husband is officially No Longer an Intern? That means he’s an upper level resident! And it also means no more overnight call! Except in certain situations, which I am not entirely clear about! (I swear, the hospitals make all these super crazy confusing schedules just to eff with me. ME.) Oh and also when he’s on a Night Float rotation, which is when he will be away from me all night every night for two weeks straight. Twice. Why was I so excited about second year again?

* The other night, when my husband was at the hospital, we were out of food (okay, we were out of planned meals, I should say) and I noticed that we had some crab cakes in the freezer. So I thought to myself, wouldn’t crab cake pasta be delicious? And I had visions of dining on al-dente pasta with tender lumps of crab, all drizzled in a lovely white-wine-garlic-and-lemon sauce.

Guess what? Crab cakes do not equal crab. They had lots of bread in them and they soaked up all the liquid really fast and refused to get crispy, so I had this lumpy, soggy, breadness all mixed in with my overcooked leftover penne. It was disgusting. Like a cross between Thanksgiving stuffing that someone ralphed up on your plate and a fish-flavored bread pudding with pasta garnish.

Worst of all? Eating the crab cakes by themselves never even crossed my mind.

* Husband and I (FINALLY) went to the grocery store. As I am always dressed in my finest clothes, I was wearing jeans, flip flops, and a sweatshirt with my alma mater plastered across the front. We were waiting in line at the deli, and an oldish man approached us. Then he asked MY HUSBAND if he went to my college. (My husband was wearing nothing with our school logo on it.)

That’s weird, right?

I mean, I am going to pretend that this guy is from a long-ago age where men weren’t allowed to approach strange women out of the blue and talk to them.

But come on. Even if you come from the Olden Days, you should know that this is 2010. Women go to college. And while they may wear their husbands’ sweatshirts on occasion, that doesn’t mean you should assume they are.

* My husband – who, I don’t know if I mentioned it, is not an intern anymore HALLELUJAH! – has a week off before he starts as a second year resident. His parents are coming to visit us. And I am feeling all whiny and annoyed about it. Because usually, when they come to visit, I am working. They – clearly, not working – all go do fun stuff and eat at fun restaurants and I have to carry on with my normal routine PLUS the stress of getting dressed and going out and staying up late. I end up feeling anxious about getting all my work done on time so I have time to spend with the in-laws (which I enjoy – they are lovely people)… and feeling left out when they do things without me. Yes, yes, poor me…Please join me at my pity party.

* And finally, I am a shorts convert! The long shorts from J. Crew were really cute! Even my husband loved them! He said they were – get this – FLATTERING. Shorts haven’t been flattering on me since I was a 98-pound, 17-year-old cheerleader.

So I am currently resisting the urge to buy eight pairs of these shorts. I mean, you can never have too many pairs of shorts, right? (Wonders the girl who hasn’t owned any kind of non-athletic shorts since 1999.)

* * * * *

Only comments from you can lift me from my pit of pity-party despair! Do say hello won’t you?

April 21, 2010 by suzanne day by day

Long Overdue

Despite the fact that my husband’s suitcase from our vacation is still sitting on our bedroom floor…

Our lovely two-week vacation took place MONTHS ago.

And now I’m going to recap it.

With PHOTOZ!!!!*

Warning: I took a LOT of photos. And the ones I’m posting here are just the “best” ones. Get ready…

On a sunny day in late February, we flew into Bozem@n, Mont@na where my parents picked us up. Then we made the long trek up the mountain to the Big $ky/Moonlight B@sin Ski Resorts.

Our condo had a theme.

Any guesses about the owner’s favorite long-legged woodland creature?

The stuffed moose above the fireplace had cobwebs between its antlers. And inside its nostrils.

(I suck at inserting photos into posts. Sorry about that.)

The first day, we skiied our butts off. My dad and I have this game we play where we try to get our “cost per ski run” down to the lowest figure possible. So if lift tickets cost $50, and we got in 10 runs, we’d be “paying” $5 per run. I believe we got in about 16 to 20 runs per day. What can I say? We are cheap.

This is the kind of terrain we were skiing.

The tips of my skis. I love my Atomics. Even if they are 10 years old.

The second day of the trip, it snowed. I was really sick – sick enough that I stayed home and worked. And moaned. And hacked up a lung or two. I don’t like skiing in the snow anyway.

(My husband can sure make a snowy day look beautiful, huh?)

I’ve been coming to these ski resorts (which are right next to each other) since before I could ski. (And I was skiing at two.)

But I never get tired of the views.

Since I was doing a couple hours’ work each morning (at 6:00 am), I caught quite a few sunrises from our condo’s tiny balcony. For a few minutes one morning, the sunlight was caught on one tiny peak of the Spanish Peaks.

Another day, the sun turned the entire sky the softest pink.

For the second half of our vacation, we exchanged this…

… for this.

That’s right! P@lm Springs. Land of palm trees and 70 degree days.

I love the juxtaposition of palm trees and green grass against snow-speckled mountains.

Okay, so you may have to squint a little to see the snow in the mountains. But it’s there.

Our condo overlooked a golf course.

We went for long walks in the sunshine. We sunned ourselves by the pool.

Then we went to The Living Desert, which was awesome. There, we saw lots of cactus.

This is, like, one tenth of the cactus photos I have. I AM BEING SERIOUS. And that’s just from my camera. Between my husband and me, we must have around 4,000 photos of cactus. It’s kind of a fascinating plant, photography-wise.

But no one needs THAT MANY pictures of cactus.

We saw some palm trees that look like they are wearing baggy, hairy trousers.

And some cute animals.

Badger! Not the most exciting animal in the world. But cute because he was so fat.

Excuse me. “Stocky.”

This caracal came running when a Living Desert employee called her name. Then she hissed at some little kids who got too close to the bars of her cage.

Clarification: The caracal hissed. Not the employee.

The kids did not bat an eyelash. They continued to taunt the caracal through the bars until I was very concerned that they’d lose their chubby little fingers.

Some sort of panther, I think? He was too full of himself to even look at us.

Foxy.

Uuuuuuuhhhhhh. Wolves give me the creeps.

Then we saw some birds.

No idea what this bird was. But he was totally unafraid of us. He and the other birds were in big enclosures we could walk through, and this dude was chilling right by the pathway.

“‘Sup, bitches.”

Snowy egrets, I think? In any case, lovely birds whose feathers remind me of my grandfather’s hair.

Roadrunner. Beep beep!

A bunch of wild roadrunners were trotting around outside the bird enclosure, trying to figure out what their buddy was doing inside.

Eating fat, delicious grubs from the fingers of the bird woman, that’s what.

This ostrich was a little on the hysterical side. He kept running around his enclosure. And when an ostrich runs? It’s a little freaky. Those things are huge.

How’d you like to see that face bearing down on you at 40 miles per hour?

Okay, I have no idea if they run that fast. But it seemed pretty speedy. Faster than I can run, that’s for sure.

We saw a few four-legged ruminants. Like the White Bearded Malbec of the Sub-Sahara.

Just kidding. I don’t remember what it is. Antelope? Gazelle? It was hot, y’all.

The weather. Not the antezelle thingy.

More four-legged ruminants. I don’t know why I insist on calling them “four-legged.” Aren’t all ruminants four-legged?

Do warthogs count as ruminants? Eh. I could look it up. But I’m much too lazy. Much like this warthog.

Okay, okay. Maybe he was more “hungover” than “lazy.” I’m not judging either way. I work in my pajamas, yo.

Then there was this pig thing.

Fun story: We were at The Living Desert on a Wednesday morning. So naturally, about twelve gazillion school children were there too. When we got up to this pig enclosure, the guide told the kids not to bother it because he was “stressed out” from moving pens.

Did the kids care? No.

The tour guide was also very insistent that no one call this pig thing a warthog. Might offend his delicate sensibilities.

Then we saw some flowers.

Ah, vivid color!

The desert isn’t just brown and grey, y’allz.

Woot woot! This is super exciting, I know it!

But I saved the best for last you guys!

What’s that, there on the horizon?

GIRAFFES!

Extreme close up!!!

Okay, that’s as extreme as you get when you are 300 yards from a giraffe in a giant desert enclosure, separated by a fence, a moat, and a hyperactive ostrich.

Alternate giraffe view. I call this, “Giraffe auditioning for ANTM.” Says Tyra, “I like that I can see your neck, but you’re not smiling with your eyes.”

The desert can be pretty spectacular, no?

So, little-known fact: I celebrated my birthday while on vacation. TWENTY NINE.

Which means that I got TWO parties – one with each set of parents. YAY!

My family and my husband’s family spoiled the bejeezus out of me. In fact, here are some of my spoils:

Dress from J. Crew (This is pretty much the worst picture ever taken. It is actually a quite cute dress of a normal knee-length.)

Shirt from J. Crew (Loving the backdrop, aren’t you. These clothes are hanging off of our wine rack/stand/thingybob because this is the only place in our apartment with moderately decent light.)

Other shirt from J. Crew (Hmmm. Am sensing pattern…)

Red shoes! (Please forgive the wrinkles in the clothing and shoes. I have packed them all in at least one suitcase since the vacation. So they got a little smushed.)