There's a Wedding this Weekend...

So, as I've mentioned several times in the course of this blog, my dear friend is getting married. The happy day happens to be this Saturday and I'm very excited.

When my dear friend met her intended I knew right away that this was a different kind of boyfriend. You see, this friend of mine had dated a lot of people. A lot of men with very different personalities and styles-- just about everything imaginable. This friend didn't have a type so it was hard to tell when she was serious about someone or not.

I knew when she liked someone though, because she would talk about him all the time. But soon, once the "newness" wore off, she would start talking to convince herself that he was the "right" guy for her and he never was.

But then one day she stopped talking about the guy she was dating. If I wanted details or to know the general status of her romantic relationship, I actually had to ask. And that was when I knew it was serious.

Several years and a joint mortgage later, my dear friend and her intended will be wed on October 3rd, 2009 at Lake Waccamaw, NC; where they live their life.

The ceremony will be sweet and simple. The whole fete will be by the lake that is so special to this couple and I can't wait to be a witness to it all. 

Skinny-fat...

Has it really been a week since I last posted? I wish I could say that I was on vacation or something rather fabulous, like that. But the truth is I've just been busy with regular old-life-stuff.


Last week the Hubster was sick with a cold, a cold that I may or may not have passed along to him. But he's all better now, basically, so our marriage is safe, yet again. But with Hubster being sick I was busy tending to him-- okay, so that is a lie too. But I did go get him some cold medicine after work last week and I did get him a glass of water and a tissue one time.

Anyway, last week I just got distracted. I've started walking a little bit with my mom. Since she is retired now and I live on a very non-busy road, a couple afternoons a week, we take off walking. All the walking and the shower and nap afterward ate into my posting time.

Did I mention that I've developed an uncharacteristic fondness for napping? I can't seem to get enough sleep anymore. I'm trying hard not to think about what that could mean.

Fall officially happened last week-- I felt its cold hand, this morning. And, of course, the sudden weather change has got me all out of sorts. My sinuses are acting up, which had me convinced I had the Swine Flu. It turns out a headache was just a headache. To make matters more depressing than the Swine Flu, I have to start dressing for the cold mornings and hot afternoons. But either way, after watching the new episode of the Rachel Zoe Project on Bravo last night, I went to my closet to find the latest greatest chilly-morning-warm-afternoon appropriate work outfit that I could muster-- I was motivated.

And then I discovered that I'm the fattest skinny person you're ever going to meet. Is it possible to be skinny fat? Yes. The only problem with being skinny fat—regular sized people think you are a whinier with an eating disorder.

My whole life I've been the shortest and the tiniest of all my friends and family members-- even my cousin's that were still in elementary school when I was in college were giants compared to me. My whole life I've been "little Emily" which is fine, although it should be said, I hate being short. But that aside, I’ve been little my whole life—fine— I'm little!

I've listened for years as friends and family members complained about having to lose weight for prom or their wedding or for swimsuit season. I even feel that I drove one former friend crazy, literally crazy, because I could eat whatever I wanted and never gained an ounce while she just barely looked at a grain of rice and her ass would explode. I've listened for years to people talking about diets-- crazy diets where they only ate egg whites and grapefruit or cut out carbs and everything that makes food good. I've always listened and never participated.

And now, that I'm experiencing an uncharacteristic metabolic slow-down and subsequent weight gain, as minor as it might be, I have no one to complain to because regular sized people think I'm crazy-whining-skinny girl. I can't even talk to my mom or sister about this new issue, because they just laugh at me and start worrying I’ve became an anorexic.

Here’s what I know. I’m a five foot tall person that wishes I was five foot seven inches tall. I weigh a healthy 103.5 pounds… which I’m proud of considering that when I graduated from high school I was barely 93 pounds. And last night when I went to try on a couple pairs of my Fall/Winter dress pants, they fit—but more snuggly than I would have liked. I’m hoping it was bloat… or gas, which is likely considering I ate a FiberOne bar at lunch.

But either way I deserve to bitch and moan just like all the rest of the American women I know.

Mircale Product Monday-- NeilMed Sinus Rinse...

Two weeks ago, I was sick with an allergy/cold that I was afraid was going to turn into a sinus infection or worse--maybe the Swine Flu. And even though, Swine Flu or H1N1 really isn't all that bad, unless you happen to be pregnant or diabetic and in that case, it could kill you, I still don’t want it. However, missing a couple days work wouldn’t bother me either.

Turns out, my allergy cold never got the chance to turn into anything major because of a little miracle product called, “NeilMed Sinus Rinse.” I purchased this little gem at my local Target after my mom’s doctor had recommended that she get a box. And being the type that loves to buy things—anything, even contraptions that push water through one nostril to the other, I just couldn’t say no.

So I quickly put a box in my cart and continued shopping, excited and a little nervous as to what this “NeilMed Sinus Rinse” might bring. The box claims that it is the “#1 Physician Prescribed OTC Nasal Rinse” out there. It also had a little bulleted list saying that it is drug free, safe, and would not cause any “burning or stinging” which sounded just wonderful.

What’s in the box? I know you sinus sufferers are just dying to know as you sniffle and wipe your running nose with the back of your hand. Yuck—but we all do it, especially this time of year when the seasons start to change.

In your kit you get a 240mL or 8oz bottle with a “custom designed cap” which really looks like a giant Afrin Nasal Spray top—but it’s big enough that you can’t jam the “custom designed cap” inside your nose.

You also get 50 packets of “USP Grade Sodium Chloride & Sodium Bicardonate Mixture” and an educational brochure about how to use the product.

First of all, you have to use warm to room temperature sterilized or bottled water. I like my water a little warm so I’ve taken to boiling water a few hours before I decide to use the rinse. If it’s too cold for me, then I warm it up in the microwave.

Once you’ve gotten your water ready, you fill the bottle to the 240mL line, dump in a packet of the salt mixture, and shake it up. The salt, I guess, dissolves into the water.

Now for the fun part: The kit brochure instructs you to stand over the sink with your mouth open to breath out of and just in case some of the solution decides to come out the back of your throat (and in my experience it can), and place the black cap up to one nostril of your nose. Squeeze the bottle. Water will go up one nostril and out the other, which is just as freaky as freaky can be. When you squeeze to the half-way point (120mL) then you switch to the other nostril and repeat.

Two weeks ago when I was just sure I was tittering on the edge of something serious that would result in going to the doctor’s office with all of the sick-sad-sacks out there, I had remembered I had “NeilMed” and I should give it a try.

Right after I bought the “NeilMed” kit I had used it and then got out of practice. At the time, I was suffering with severe (for me) seasonal allergies and it seemed to help at the time. But once my seasonal allergies had subsided, I put away the kit, because I didn’t need it. Silly me.

Honestly, I didn’t really enjoy putting water up my nose and I was terrified I would drown doing it. In other words, I wasn’t motivated and by the time I started using the product my new allergy med’s were doing the trick. So all summer long “NeilMed” stayed on a shelf in the bathroom between the cotton balls and tampons.

But two weeks ago as I was stuffing tissue up my nose and as my husband was making fun of me for stuffing tissue up my nose, he asked, “what happened to that nose washing thing you were doing, while back?”

I had completely forgotten about it. So after suffering the whole rest of the night, the next morning, I pulled out the kit, dusted it off, and tried it out. I felt better. Mucus was removed and my nasal passages were moisturized. If that was all it did, that was a great improvement.

When I got home from work, I did it again. I felt even better. And I’m one of those people, even if the box says only do it twice a day, I felt so good, I did it once more before I went to bed.

That morning I could breathe. The whole rest of the day I wasn’t constantly blowing my nose. By the end of the week I was so much better that my red nose was starting to look like a normal human-non-reindeer kind of nose. Small children stopped asking me how Santa was doing. People at work quit politely asking, “Are you sick?” only to follow it up with, “I thought so. You look sick,” after I confirmed that I was, indeed, sick.

The "NeilMed" healed me and that was a miracle.  I've been using the kit almost twice a day since (some days just once because I may or may not get up in time.)

If you too, are a seasonal allergy sufferer or someone that gets easily sick-- I highly recommend going down to your local drugstore/Target and picking up a kit.

It's a Big Weekend in Emily Land...

First of all, it's "International Talk Like a Pirate" day on Saturday. Argh! I don't know that I'll be participating, but I had to mention it for those of you (even though no one reads this blog) interested in letting your inner pirate out. You know, pirates have gotten some bad press this year and I bet participation is going to be down. Damned Somalia Pirates have to ruin everything for everybody.

Besides being "Talk like a Pirate" Day, tomorrow night is also the BBQ- A to Z- Western Themed Shower for my good friend and her intended. If you remember from a few posts back, the Hubster and I got the letter "F."

I've decided to purchase a couple decorative garden flags because "flags" starts with the letter "f." I'll probably pick something with their initial on it. You know us Southern gals just love to slap a monogram on just about anything we can. I've got a friend that had her shower curtain monogrammed and I'd love to find someone that could do a few lampshades.

I personally think that the custom of monogramming started near 'bout 1865, the year the "war" was lost, or as a few of my UDC sisters call it, "The War of Northern Aggression," (I kid you not) leaving us bitter and cynical (although I'm cynical for completely different reasons) and yelling phrases like, "the South will rise again!"

My best guess is that the women of our southland became incredibly possessive. These Southern Belles are mostly responsible for every tombstone, statue, plaque or monument erected for the Confederate dead and after years and years of marking hallowed grounds they probably decided to start putting their mark on personal property as well.

I can just imagine some little old 19th century lady coming to a UDC meeting with her nice white apron on with her initials carefully embroidered on the front and all the other little old UDC ladies just going ape shit over it.

But I digress. We will be attending the BBQ-A to Z-Western Themed shower with our "F" gift sans the Western Wear. Instead I'm thinking of wearing the very piratey Frances shirt I just got from J. Crew (see below) with a black cardigan over the top of it (in case I start to 'shiver me timbers' in the cool night air).

Afterall, it will be International Talk like a Pirate day!

Have a good weekend, y'all!

Car Pool Virgins and Headless Chicken Nuggets...

It's been hard trying to find time to write this week. I'm tired and I'm not getting enough sleep. I've been consumed with details of work and extracurricular activities. Every night this week I've fell asleep on the couch and every morning this week I've woken up about 10 minutes later than I should. Strangely, I've been earlier for work?

Work is busy. I like busy. The only problem with busy-- I don't have time to think or ponder, not mention notice the unique things that go on during the day that are blog worthy. And this would have been a great week to blog about noteworthy things. I actually got to root around in owl vomit and find two baby bird skulls not to mention a whole other slew of bones. How often does that happen? Not very.

But it’s getting hard to find the energy to type a witty and interesting post when all I want to do is sleep.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this predicament. I'm sure I'm not the only person that has a million things to type about but not enough time or energy to make it worth my while.

I do have one complaint, that might not be noteworthy, but I got to tell somebody.

There is this person at work that I swear gets to the building at the butt crack of dawn, long before probably any others dare darken the doorway. This person, by the time 7:30am rolls around, and faculty starts arriving, is chipper and buzzing about our building like a chicken with its head cut off. At 7:40am our K-2 car pool line starts. This person, the headless chicken, is practically pacing back and forth and barking commands, commands that do not need to bark.

Car pool is a mindless and simple process. The cars enter our driveway and drive down the length of the driveway beside the sidewalk to the end of the traffic cones. When the lead car stops, the 5 or so of us begin our job of opening car doors, helping the little ones get out of the cars, and making sure that no one is in the traffic line or running. Simple. Our job is safety.

But as soon as these cars start to enter our property Headless Chicken starts to go a little nutty.

HC: "The White Vann-- the one behind the blue station wagon with the brown door, it has someone in it."

Me: "Okay."

HC: "It is the lead car-- its first" (Gesturing with one hand and exaggerated waving of one finger wildly in the air with the other hand)

Me: "Okay."

HC: "Wave them down! Wave them down! Get with it Emily!"

Me: "Okay." (Half-hearted waving-pained look on my face as I stare strangely at HC)

Most of these "car pool" people have been doing this for years. They know the drill. And if Headless Chicken would pay attention, just a little bit, Headless Chicken would realize that the same people have been coming through this same line since their child entered Kindergarten. And if Headless Chicken would use the space between Headless Chicken's ears, Headless Chicken would realize that most of us Car Pool Patrol people have been on duty for at least 5 years now. We know the drill.

Today I was yelled at by Headless Chicken and Company over a white SUV that "didn't seem" to know what to do. Headless Chicken disease is running rampant on the North end of the Car Pool line. On that end, they like to clump up and have long discussions about mindless things and then yell at the South end when someone seems "confused." Today it was an SUV that must have been a first timer, a car pool virgin if you will. This CPV did not seem to know what to do and Headless Chicken, Headless Chicken A, and Headless Chicken B were spazing out because I was not gesturing the car towards the end of the line, even though the person at the very end of the line was waving them down.

And its not like I'm gesturing challenged or even resistant, just at the very moment I was being yelled at to gesture, I was trying to maneuver my umbrella (did I mention it was raining) while rolling up my pant legs. Once I was off the ground, I would have been glad to have acted as a Headless Chicken and once my pants were semi-rolled up, I began my gesturing.

To top it all off, Headless Chicken, towards the end of car pool says: "Emily, you're falling down on the job today." Say what?

Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly? According to our Principal, it is our job to make sure that we are watching out for our students' safety all the while being friendly and helpful. At the very moment Headless Chicken uttered that ridiculous remark, I was helping two children, one a kindergarten student, out of their truck. I was answering a question posed by their father concerning lunches, and making sure the students were on the sidewalk headed for the building. If Headless Chicken would have chilled for just a moment, I would have then walked to the next car to help that child out. Instead, Headless Chicken pranced over to the car first, got the student out and made that little remark.

If looks could kill, Headless Chicken would be Nuggets by now.

Won't You Drive My Sleigh Tonight?...

I think my seasonal allergy "issue" is just a full blown cold working itself into a full blown sinus infection.  Great!  I've not had a sinus infection in over a year (knock on wood) and I'd like to keep it that way if possible. 

I probably picked something up from the kids at school.  The other day I walked a kindergarten student to his car, hand in hand, and I'm pretty positive he had just picked a booger sheer moments before.  Yuck!  A hazard of the job I suppose.

Last year around this very same time, I had the same thing.  Last year, at this very same time, I was helping give an IQ/Achievement test to our 3rd graders.  Last year, a big eyed, blonde little 3rd grader looked me dead in the face and asked, "Are you sick?"  I thought, 'oh how sweet, she really cares about if I feel sick or not' and before I could answer she sputtered, "Because your nose is really, really red."  Gee, thanks.

Fast forward to this year.  I'm sick again, helping out in the same classroom, again, with this IQ/Achievement test when the same little girl, one who evidently didn't pass her grade, looks at me and says again, "Are you sick?  Because your nose is really red." 

Got to love those kids, huh?

Presented by the Letter "f"...

So I've just about resigned myself to the idea that at least one day out of the week has to be just plain craptastic in order for you (I say you and mean I) to appreciate the rest of the other 6 days. Here's hoping that today was my crappy day.

And in an effort to not live in the past, I'm going to spare you (I say you and mean you) the dreary details. I mean, who cares if signals got crossed and some meeting went unplanned? I mean, in the grand scheme of things, large and small, does one little meeting matter? I think not... especially when, at the end of the day, nothing would be decided, improved upon, or changed.

So moving on...

In my mailbox this afternoon the hubster and I got an invitation to a bridal shower. A few years ago, men would never have been invited to a shower, at least not down here in the South. Now, suddenly, everyone is having couples showers. Part of me thinks this trend is great, especially when I get invited to a shower for one of his relatives or friends'. After all, why should I be the one that has to get all dressed up and eat cream cheese finger sandwiches at his people's party while he gets to sit at home and do whatever he likes in his underwear?

This shower invitation is pretty special for a number of reasons (I feel a list coming on):

The shower has three different and distinct things going on as entertainment value. 1) Its a pig-pickin' which means that there will be a gang of liquored up middle aged men talking about the proper combination of "vin-e-gar" to hot peppers in the "bar-bee-que" sauce. 2) It's westerned themed because according to the invite, "themes are fun." & 3) It's an A-to-Z shower.

We've been assigned the letter "F". I don't know if I should be offended or not. I can think of many words that start with the letter "F," but I'm having trouble coming up with an item that a young couple would want. On the flip side, I'm very thankful that I'm not the poor sap that got stuck with the letters, "Q, X, Y, and Z."

So far I've came up with Flag, Fork, and Fondue Set. When Hubby gets home I'm going to ask his opinion.

I'm a little worried about the "western wear" part. I have a feeling I'm going to be a party pooper on that end. I'm not big on themes and I have a hard time participating in them because 1) I'd have to go buy something special that I'd probably never wear again and that would be wasting money and taking away from my ability to buy things I'd actually like and would wear all the time, like a new pair of Joe's Jeans that I really want from Antropologie; 2) even if the whole party is completely decked out in cowboy hats and wranglers, I just can't risk looking "dumb"-- I can't even do puppets at work with the little kiddies because I would feel "stupid" even though I know the kid's would love it; and finally 3) I'm uptight... well, I guess I covered that in # 2. But it's still true.

Deep down inside, I'm still that snotty little 6th grader that is "like too cool" for dressing up and acting silly. So I'm probably just going to wear a nice little outfit and maybe some turquoise jewelry or something.

I'll get the hubby to wear his cowboy boots (yes, he does own a pair) and we'll pretend he's George Strait and I'm Rachel Zoe or someone fabulous that doesn't do themes either (and I bet she doesn't either).

Better Than Bridesmaids...

So one of my best friends is getting married in a few weeks. She is a real progressive, non-conventional sort and its looking like her approach to wedding planning is following suit. My dear friend has probably been in a million weddings. I know that when I was planning my wedding I sent out a little "fun facts" worksheet to my bridesmaids. When she returned her sheet, it listed that she had lost count of how many weddings she's been in. I think it says a lot for her-- she's a good friend. Plus, she comes from a very rural area-- possibly more rural than where I'm from-- and people marry young.

Anyway, because she's been in so many weddings it would be impossible for her to have all those girls in her ceremony (we don't want a 27 dresses reference after all) and I guess, since she's been in so many weddings, she's came to the conclusion-- less is more.

She will only have a maid of honor as her attendant. The rest of us have been asked to wear any shade of purple we would like and whatever else accessories we want. She still wants us to be in pictures and I think we may have a special seating area-- but this way she isn't having to spend as much on flowers or worry over processional lines, etc. I don't blame her in the least.

I'm happy because this means that I get to wear any dress I want and look anyway I want. In the few weddings I've been in its always sort of bothered me when I look around the reception hall and 5+ other are all wearing my dress. It sort of sucks. But, as a good friend, we grin and bare it, because our friend is getting married, and how often does that happen? No more than twice, right? But seriously, I'm always honored to be someone's attendant.

The dress I've picked is, of course, is from J. Crew. I'm in love with their Cotton Cady dresses and just about every year I purchase one. It just so happened that this season J. Crew is rocking the prettiest shade of purple I've ever seen-- Spiced Wine-- which will be perfect for this wedding.

I assure you, it looks much much better on.

I've also purchased a peacock feather hair accessory-clip thingy from Etsy.com. When it comes in, and I can't wait for it to come in, I'll be sure to post a picture.

It Could Run a Car...

Have you noticed lately that the country is becoming consumed with fiber? It seems like every commercial on TV has something to do with the wonders of fiber, the importance of proper digestion, and the need to be "regular." I even spied a TV commercial the other day advertising the regular digestion of a dog! Of a D-O-G dog!

A few years ago, it seemed, we were hearing a lot about IBS or Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Remember that commercial with the parade of women baring their rumbling stomach's for all the world to see? My sister's friend's ex-girlfriend had it. Apparently my sister was out with her then boyfriend, her good guy friend and his then new girlfriend and few other people. They went to a cute little restaurant in a cute little antique section in a not-so-cute part of the county for a lovely little dinner-double date. My sister swears that in front of God and everybody, her friend's girlfriend announced to the waiter, their table, and the couples in ear-shot, that she would have the Acadian Spice Chicken Breast but with no Acadian Spice because she had "the irritable bowel." Now, in my opinion, which is luckily just mine, I do not think I'd mention on a date nor in front of complete strangers that I had a problem in the pooping area. But that's just me.

Yet the IBS fad seems to be dying out, I think because most people probably have it. Don't we all experience some sort of digestion discomfort at some point? I also heard from a friend that the medication used to treat the symptoms of IBS was found to be rather dangerous-- but again, this isn't something I've looked into-- I could be wrong.

Anyway... the IBS fad has faded and now we are being bombarded with constant ads for fiber, pro biotic supplements or yogurt with added biotic. There are snack company's right now figuring out how to add more fiber to the snacks we love so we all will "go" more often.

Recently, I started eating the surprisingly good Fiber One bars as breakfast. I don't like to eat first thing in the morning and generally I end up skipping the whole meal all together. But I'm trying to eat better-- really I'm just trying to be better to myself. I've started taking vitamins (my Vit. D level is low according to my last lab report) and I'm taking a calcium supplement (I don't want to shrink like my Granny) along with a Pro Biotic supplement to aid in my own digestion. Yes, I've been sucked in.

The Fiber One bars-- I can stuff into my purse and eat at work while I check emails and return phone calls. The great thing about these bars, besides being pretty good to eat (not "fibery" in the least) they are really filling. I don't know if its because they are so chewy or because they have all these whole grains and 35% of my daily value of fiber, but they keep my stomach from growling.

My mother and sister have been singing these little bars' praises for years. My uncle loves them and so does everyone else, it seems. For years I felt sort of left out because when my family would get together they would laugh and giggle about the chewy-goodness of those little bars.

I recently found out why they are laughing. Fiber One bars, for those of you that don't know, cause an uncomfortable and unbearable level of gas production in the human body. The first day I ate the chocolate and oats bar I was in a mad dash to leave the office at the end of the day for fear of letting one rip in front of my co-workers. My stomach swelled to that of an early pregnant woman's stomach-- making my white linen pants uncomfortable to wear. Once I got home I had a button impression on my stomach. And let's just say that the rest of the night was a musical one.

As my sister so delicately put it, "you produce enough gas with those bars that you could run a car off of 'em." Its sad, but true.

The good news is that the bars do not produce offensive gas (you know, the smelly kind)-- and according to my mother and sister the other Fiber One products do not have the gas production side effect. I'm going to continue to eat them because they are filling and I don't feel like I'm starving anymore, but I'm going to start eating them in the afternoon so I'm not swelling up and exploding (literally) at work!

A Movie I'd Like Not to Remember...

Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike Nicholas Sparks? Well, I do. I do, I do, I do. Almost as much as I dislike Thomas Kinkade, the artist. The other night, Sunday night to be exact, the hubster and I were flipping channels. Correction, the hubster was flipping channels because I'm convinced that he is deathly afraid of commercials, I however, was flipping through the fabulous September issue of Vogue.


Where was I? Oh yes, we were sitting on the couch flipping away, when the hubster suddenly paused on "Nights in Rodanthe," a movie (for those of you that don't know) that was on Cinemax based on the book by Nicholas Sparks. I assumed the hubster stopped there because he assumed that the movie was about the charming little Outer Banks town in our state. And it sort of was. He stopped on the part just before some minor hurricane was coming through and that just sucked dear old hubby in. We North Carolinian's are little nutty over hurricanes. The hubster didn't realize that he was watching a Mr. Sparks original.

Before I could warn him that I very much dislike these types of stories, we were "committed" to the movie. Cheap trick Mr. Sparks-- sneaking in actual places into your stories!


Actually, I've been hip to his tricks since the very beginning. My mom has been a "fan" for years and was the first person I knew of that loved everything Sparks. She would read his books in a quiet corner, dabbing at the tears rolling down her face, and between sobs saying, "you really should read this-- it's so good and its based in North Carolina!"


No thank you. I don't think Mr. Sparks and I would get along. I'm sure that he is a perfectly nice and sensitive man, so I hope he doesn't take offense. I'm just not a "pick up a good book and cry" kind of girl. I'm a Celia Rivenbark-- please make me laugh kind of girl.


My first encounter with the man's work was the movie "A Walk to Remember" starring Mandy Moore. The movie was a painful, painful look at love and loss and after viewing the heartbreaking film, I wished it was a movie I couldn't remember.


After that, I decided that I don't want anything to do with anything Mr. Sparks' does-- even if I keep hearing, "oh, but the book is sooooooooooooooooo much better than the movie." Who cares? If I wanted to be sad, I'd got sit at the animal shelter or something equally as depressing.

"Nights in Rodanthe" ended in perfect Sparks style-- yet another movie taking an in depth look at the joy and pain love can bring. The hubster looked over at me as the credits began to roll and said, "This was just god awful!" Bless his little heart.

I should have warned him.