Sep. 3: Back to school

Welcome to Day #3 of our September Blog Challenge! In trying to blog every day this month, it’s taken a very short time for me to feel like all I’ve done for three days is blog, blog, blog! That feeling will eventually wear off, if I remember correctly. Today’s topic:

Back to school: What did you love about back to school and how do you translate that to your adult life?

As a kid, my favorite part of going back to school was definitely the clothes shopping in August. Once I stopped growing so much and didn’t need an entirely new wardrobe each year, that shopping excitement diminished. I was always eager to plan my outfit for the first day of school, though. Second in importance to clothes were school supplies—because OMG, have you SMELLED freshly sharpened pencils? Brand new binders, heavy stock ruled paper, fine tip ballpoint pens, and a full pencil box could (and still can) make me swoon.

My back to school planning of long ago has impacted my adult life in that I feel the need to go all Boy Scout when I start new adventures.

I am the Queen of Being Prepared.

Um, I take that back.

More accurately, I am the Queen of Thinking I’m Totally Prepared But Actually I’ve Forgotten Really Important Stuff But I Did Pack Gum To Share So Don’t Worry Because If You Lose A Limb At Least Your Breath Will Be Fresh And You Can Flirt With The Paramedics Yaaaaaay.

These days I still enjoy going through the planning stages before I tackle new projects; I try to anticipate the things I’ll need and have them ready. My painting projects are much more efficient when I don’t have to stop in the middle for a run to Home Depot to buy spackle or tray liners. If I have to go to a meeting, I gather paper and pens for note-taking, print any documents I may need, and make sure I’ve reviewed info ahead of time. Before I have to dress up for an event, I decide what I’ll be wearing and whether it needs to be cleaned/pressed, if I have the right shoes, what purse I’ll carry, and if I have to buy horrid pantyhose. Some preparations require very little planning, and some call for much, much more. Don’t get me started on how I plan vacations.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been known to over-prepare.

I’ve always liked organizing and being ready for anything, so I don’t know if I can credit my years of back-to-school planning with those traits or not. I kinda think I’d probably enjoy those things either way.

Today is Jack’s first day of middle school. What did he do to get ready? Last night he made sure his socks matched. He didn’t make sure his socks matched his clothes, just that his socks matched each other. I had to remind him to brush his teeth and comb his hair. Katie’s first day is Wednesday, but she’s had her backpack prepped and outfit planned head-to-toe for weeks—she is my girl.

If you’re a blogger and want to do our blog challenge with us, let me know and I’ll send you our list! Otherwise, tune in here (and on Sherilee’s happy little blog) every day in September!

Mar. 1: Bits o’ nothing

I have never understood why people say “rabbit rabbit” on the first day of the month. I’m pretty sure no one knows why they do it and they’re all too embarrassed to admit it. But we in the Pacific Northwest woke up to a winter wonderland this morning, and I LOL’d when I saw my friend Melodie had FB-posted “snowshoe rabbit snowshoe rabbit.”

Funny.

(I still don’t get it, though.)

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Yesterday I pointed to a guy crossing the street in front of us and said to Victor, “You should get a sweater like that.” Right away he was all NO WAY, I HATE SWEATERS, THEY’RE TOO TIGHT, THEY’RE TOO HOT, THEY’RE TOO TIGHT, AND THEY’RE ALSO TOO HOT.

And it went on like that for a good 15 minutes. I swear, his voice went up at least one octave.

Geez.

I shall never bring up the topic of sweaters again.

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The PTO received a brochure from the Oregon Area Jewish Committee that listed and explained all the Jewish holy days. I find this useful because…

1. I never know when they are.
2. I never know what they mean.
3. Those two things make me seem ignorant and insensitive.
4. I am ignorant and insensitive—there’s no “seem” about it.

…so I read it over and then quizzed Jack, “Hey, do you know what Yom Kippur is?”

“Um… Chinese food?”

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You know what show is more amusing than I expect it to be? Cougar Town. I am not joking about that—it really is LOL-worthy.

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On March 1, 1961, John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps. Makes all I’ve accomplished so far today seem trivial.

Day ain’t over yet.

BUT I’m pretty sure anything I do accomplish today won’t come be Peace Corps-y. Nowadays getting through one day without the puppy chewing up something we treasure is a success.

There we Manullangs go with the over-achieving again.

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You know what I hate? When you buy something and the clerk doesn’t take that plastic security thingie off it and you have to go back to the store with the item and even with your receipt, you still feel like a thief. That.

This has happened to us twice in the past five days, once with a large, heavy and awkward item. What a pain in the ass. Makes you wonder why they even put those plastic security thingies on stuff. They obviously don’t set off alarms.

I wonder if I can buy one of the plastic security thingie remover thingies on eBay. I totally should.

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My new Sonicare is awesome. Added bonus: it’s a great ring cleaner. My rings are always gunked up with hand sanitizer goo, and this sparkles them right up.

That, my friends, is the very definition of spit shine.

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I’m off to start my day, forming Peace Corps ‘n stuff. I hope you contribute to society today too.

Jan. 17: Snow, snow long ago

It’s been snowing in the Portland area for a couple days. Where we are—apparently the banana belt of the city—nothing’s really sticking so there’s school today and that means every kid in the district is bummed out. The forecast keeps changing but it says more snow is on its way. This is a big deal because Portland absolutely SHUTS DOWN when there’s even an inch of snow on the ground—no one knows how to drive in it and people totally freak out. It’s funny because it’s true.

I went to school in Walla Walla for five years and THAT place gets snow. One of my favorite memories of winters there is watching the snow fall from the warmth of my dorm room. It was so lovely and calm—not anxiety-inducing, like it is here. There were a few times over those years that I got out in the middle of the night and played in the snow with friends. Such happy times, walking down the middle of College Avenue in the peaceful, dark silence of white. Beauty, that.

Not so beautiful was, when the temps dropped to single digits, having my nose hairs freeze the instant I walked outside. Every time—EVERY TIME—I was convinced I had something in my nose and would subtly but furiously paw at my face, hoping to dislodge it. How anyone ever gets used to that weirdness, I don’t know. Maybe they don’t.

This morning as I shivered in the 39° car, I wondered how I ever kept myself warm during those five very cold snowy seasons of college. I didn’t wear stocking caps (they would have ruined my hair), and I didn’t wears boots (unless they matched my clothes). How did I not freeze to death? OK, I wore gloves and thick socks, but there’s no way that was enough.

And then I remembered The Coat. There was a tiny hole-in-the-wall Eddie Bauer outlet in Spokane, and it had super-discounted prices—not like the slightly discounted prices at Eddie Bauer outlets nowadays—so we drove up frequently to shop. Kim F’n-W (she was just Kim Eff back then) and I each nabbed trenchcoats with removable goose down linings that were marked down from $200-some to just $35. We thought we were rockin’ awesome for finding these stylin’ coats. We were eager for winter to arrive! The coat’s down lining was so thick that it almost felt hot in the biting cold air—it was like walking around in a sleeping bag. With a belt. And no lower leg coverage. And hand holes. You know what? It was nothing like walking around in a sleeping bag.

Never mind.

I was warm.

Jul. 9: IDCEAYWTPFriday

It’s Friday, and that means you get a post called I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday.

• Summer has definitely arrived in the Northwest. It’s been near 100° here in Portland for several days now. I’m not complaining (because we have air conditioning) but it’s strange after our long Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad spring. I have to get used to getting all sweaty every time I go outdoors. And YES, I had to tell you that.
• Jack has been at my mom’s since Monday. The house is so quiet without all his heavy sighs of “I’m bored!” and the constant bickering between him and Katie and their friends. Jack will come back tomorrow, and then Katie will be gone for a week.
• Katie and I saw Toy Story 3 the other day. We liked it. Did you know that Sid—that bratty neighbor kid in the first movie—is the garbage man in #3? There are all sorts of hidden things like that in the movie. Here’s a nice, long list of them.
• We were hoping to get started on dismantling the playroom and setting up our office this week—it always seems easier with fewer people in the house; why is that?—but Victor was working a late shift and with the heat, neither of us had the energy to do much in the evenings. The only important thing we got done was the one thing we’d promised Jack would happen while he was away: we took down his loft bed and gave him a regular bed again. That ought to make him happier than seeing our new office anyway.
• Katie came home with these shirts after a shopping trip with Grandma yesterday:
  
   
  
  I know, I know… Sunshine and Dina are probably laughing their asses off about the werewolves one. I curse that damn Justice store and all their graphic tees! And I might possibly have to curse my mother-in-law for purchasing these two. Bieber Fever. Gah.
• Last week Sherilee linked to a hilarious site called Catalog Living—“a look into the exciting lives of the people who live in your catalogs.” You gotta read through it a little to get the gist, but everything I’ve seen so far is chuckle-worthy.
• You know what I’m tired of eating? Leftover party food. Thank goodness it’s almost gone.
• I need this print for my kitchen. I do. I have the perfect place for it.
  
  
• Here are the top 50 iPhone apps for moms, according to The iPhone Mom. Less than half of her favorite apps are useful to me, but I’m giving some of her recommendations a try. Of the ones she likes best, I already had iRewardChart, which I love, and Red Laser, which is sometimes handy, plus a few others here and there. I’m so glad Potty Predictor isn’t something I need. So, so glad.
• Here is something I love:
  
   
• And this is something I do not love: I’m going to a funeral tomorrow. I hate funerals, especially the ones for people who were too young to die. A friend’s brother passed away last week after fighting liver cancer two separate times. For those of you who went to WWC/U and remember Aser, Kary was his brother-in-law.
• Yikes. I don’t want to end my IDCEAYWTPFriday post on that bummer of a note. Let’s see… okay, here’s something. I took pictures of the birds who came to drink at our fountain yesterday, and I took pictures of some of our flowers too. Here’s one of our bellflower plants that is LOVING the sun these days:
  
  
  Those are some sea thrift blossoms peeking in behind. I like those too; they bloom for months and months. We have lots of color in the front yard right now, and when the sun shines right on it, it really comes alive. So cheery.

Victor is home (on call) today, so we’re going to enjoy the day together. Buh-bye, and have a great weekend, friends!

Apr. 10: Bad fashion and grocery memories

When I was in seventh grade, I saved up my pennies for the coolest EVER pair of Lawman painter pants. They were brown corduroy, and went perfectly with several of my acrylic sweaters. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find a picture of the pants, but if you’re anywhere close to my age, I’m sure you can easily remember what they looked like. To finish the perfection of this sweater-pants combo, I had Cherokee Mary Janes—and it took just a quick search to find the exact style on eBay!

Yes, it be true: I was one stylin’ chickie.

OK, so do you remember those days when the only way you could get the brand name clothing you really, really needed to be popular was by buying it yourself? And the process of saving any $$ you could get your grubby little teenage hands on became the sole focus of your entire life? And then that day when Mom finally drove you to the mall—directly to Jean Machine, pro’lly—you could barely contain your excitement? And your head-to-toe attire for the next day was coordinated so perfectly, you were sure it would finally make all those cool kids want to be friends with you?

I remember that feeling more with those Lawman cords than any other article of clothing I ever bought as a kid. I don’t know why—maybe it was my first purchase like that, or it could’ve been my first one Mom didn’t go halfsies on with me; I don’t recall. But I knew for sure that those pants would change my life. The only thing I can compare it to in recent memory is getting my iPhone.

And what’s weird is that I have no memory of the first day I actually wore them to school. Two other kids in junior high had the exact pants, and I don’t know if I knew that before I bought them, but I was embarrassed anyway. Somehow it was okay to have the same jeans, but not the same anything else. Whatev.

Maybe the reason I don’t remember anything about wearing them to school is that what happened AFTER school that day was more memorable. I was helping my mom bring in groceries and accidentally brushed a new bottle of bleach against my leg, and immediately a bright white spot appeared. Who knew bleach bottles sometimes have bleach on the outside of them?

Nowadays something like that would make me say the unclean version of “effity eff eff,” like I did yesterday when I found out that using softener on my moisture-wicking clothes is what ruined their moisture-wicking properties, damn my non-tag-reading self all to hell. But back in seventh grade I probably just cried and cried. (It’s possible I was kind of a wiener.) At first I thought my brand new pants were ruined, but within a few days I discovered the magic of a little brown Magic Marker. Every day I wore those brown Lawman corduroy painter pants, I’d first scribble over that dime-sized bleach spot. It was as close to saving those beloved pants as I would ever get.

I’m quite sure that the bottle of bleach I bought at Target yesterday is the first one I’ve held in 30 years. I’ve never been a big bleach user—could it be something in my past??? Anyway, I noticed with horror that from the time I took it off the shelf, I was completely obsessed with not letting it touch any part of Victor’s or my clothing. When we loaded up the trunk with our purchases, I insisted he put the bleach in a plastic bag in an overturned stepstool we had just gotten at IKEA, so’s not to brush against anything else in the trunk BECAUSE GOD FORBID WE UNINTENTIONALLY BLEACH ANYTHING IN OUR POSSESSION. I was like a freakin’ psycho over it. What is wrong with me?

(Is it possible that I’m still kind of a wiener?)

Let’s call that a rhetorical question.

June 8: Age-appropriate attire

Oh man, I just found the perfect thing to wear when I celebrate my birthday in Vegas. I'm sure to get some action in this thing:



By the way, Mom, by "action," I mean laughs.

Yep. Laughs.