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BarniganFlarn
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Name: amber
Birthday: 1/30/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: christianity, photography, reading, writing, camp counseling, children, college, volunteering, hanging out in coffee shops or at the beach, shows, concerts, car rides, friends, randomness, violin, piano, guitar, the season of autumn, seasons in general, nature, camping, traveling, knitting, baking, sleeping, dreaming, people watching, learning, rebelling, eating,
Occupation: Program Director
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  becauseiamtricky
Member Since:
1/19/2004
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I may or may not be nesting.
Over the past few days I have gone into hyperdrive getting things ready for the baby. We still don't have everything ready. If the baby were to arrive today, we'd shrug and tell it, "welp, I hope you like cardboard boxes," because the crib doesn't have a mattress in it, nor is the travel crib assembled or even out of the cardboard box it was delivered in, nor have I washed any sheets, etc. But those things I do have, they are far more orderly than they were last week. The clothes are folded and arranged by size (again, not washed yet, but what do you expect from a someone who doesn't own a proper washing machine?). The crib is settled in its (maybe) final resting place. And I even cleaned out an old plastic storage bin (in which we had for some reason been storing nothing but an old hamster cage and a shadow box filled with Michael Jackson memorabilia) and placed the books and toys we have accumulated inside of it. Bam. Instant toy chest.
I have been drooling jealously over other people's nurseries lately, mentally picking out rugs and decor that I would buy IF I had the money. Which I don't. In fact I'm currently working on project "get to the point where we can cut up our credit card and never, ever look at it again." Our nursery will be quite cheaply put together, containing only the basics, especially since we're planning on moving within four months of having this baby. It would be pointless to invest in any kind of permanent decor whilst living in an apartment under a 12 month lease. Still, I decided I needed to have SOME kind of theme in my nursery. I like things to somewhat match, and I like quality when I can afford it. This may or may not come from growing up with parents who accepted any and all hand-me-down furniture and decor in order to "save money." In their current living room, they have one blue-ish green armchair, one tannish purple one, one red-white-and-blue striped couch (with light wood arm rests), dark wood cabinets, a beat up coffee table in yet another shade of stained wood, white carpeting left over from my grandparents' basement remodeling project...on half the floor. The other half of the floor is a "design" my dad threw together using leftover dark brown brown kitchen tile and light caramel colored fake wood flooring from the front room. The computer desk is an old garage work bench, in yet another shade of wood. The tv is set atop the coffee table for lack of a tv stand. The walls are sponge-painted navy blue, a floral design painted along the top....of only half of one wall. And everywhere you look, hung along walls, leaning against tables, cluttering the shelves, are items my dad has purchased at garage sales, planning to sell them on ebay. It's a constant flux of items, none of them matching, nothing coherent. Star wars and Abraham Lincoln and floral china pots. The overall effect is not pleasing to the eye. I wish it was eclectic and cute, but it just looks messy and cluttered. After living in that home for 18 years, I vowed to never bring random crap into my home, free or not, unless I could place it in a room in which it not only served a function, but also somewhat fit with the functional or decorative items around it. And so far I feel I have been doing a pretty good job of this.
But that doesn't mean I'm not thrifty or cheap, because I am. Typically, when it comes to the big items that make all the difference in a room, I hold out until I find what I'm looking for, and I hold out until I can find it for a good deal. When we first got married, Mike's parents were in the middle of a divorce, and they were offering us furniture left and right. One such piece was a dining room table, cheaply made, much too big for our purposes, in a color I knew I would never want to pair with any other piece of furniture. Instead of taking it because it was free, we politely rejected it, and held out for a table we wanted. We knew that if we accepted it, the guilt from already owning a "perfectly good table" would perpetually keep us from purchasing one that we really wanted. A few months later, my dad called, having found a nice, solid oak table at a garage sale. The price was great, and we took it. A few months after that, a city wide yard sale yielded six perfectly matching oak chairs, for an equally low price. Our couch, love seat, and tv stand we purchased as a matching set, on sale. Our bedroom set, a classic design, we got from some place called "crazy al's furniture warehouse" and it was the floor model, so it was extra cheap. Largely fake wood and vinyl "varnish," it nonetheless LOOKS quality, and is surprisingly sturdy. We've received a lot of compliments on it. That's how we live life when it comes to possessions. We're picky about the ones we own, thrifty about the ones we buy, and selective about the ones we accept.
So back to the nursery. I decided that theme-wise, I would go with something incredibly simple. I didn't want bubblegum pink everywhere or furniture shaped like animals or rainbow wall paper or hello kitty or Noah's Ark or jungle decor or any of that. I just wanted a timeless idea that would unite the room and be able to follow the child as he/she grew. I wanted something they couldn't possibly outgrow, that could be adapted to fit their age and style. And so I decided to go with: black and white.
It's the same principle Mike and I used when we registered for our wedding. Every appliance, kitchen fixture, etc. we registered for was either black or red. That way, everything matches, no matter what. The microwave matches the kitchen aid mixer matches the toaster oven matches the toaster matches the coffee maker. Simple. Done. Any kitchen can work around black and red appliances, especially any boring, white-painted kitchen that you're likely to find while renting.
In the baby's room, the crib is dark black. It's a 4-in-1, so it will grow with the baby until it's ready to move out. The dressers, repurposed from my childhood, were sanded down and painted a grey-black. Eventually, I may paint the knobs white. And that's it so far for furniture. As far as decor, I plan to hang some black and white photos on the walls in black frames. And I have another sub-theme for this child's baby years: birds. My husband is going to make a homemade mobile out of coat hangers and folded paper origami cranes, in shades of black, white, and grey, naturally. I may purchase some wall decals featuring birds, if I can afford them; I have a few mentally selected. If not, I will copy the decal designs using construction paper, which will be taped to the walls in similar fashion. The black and white photos I have so far all feature birds or other little flying things. In some cases, cats, which chase birds, so united in that way. Colors, where they are added, will mostly be green, as I received a lot of green at my shower. With a basic black and white base, possibilities are really endless. I can switch up the theme quite regularly without really changing too much or spending a whole lot of money. As for crib sets, I've scrapped the idea entirely. As cute as they are, there is no way I'm spending close to $300 on something my kid will crap through nightly. Bumpers, I've heard, should not even be used as they are suffocation hazards. Blankets shouldn't be used for the same reason. So the only thing worth buying from any crib set is the sheets. And I'm going with a few basic sheets. And that's that. The only thing I may splurge on in the baby's room is a rug. I would love one that somehow unites black, white, and birds. Plus the floor in that room is all wood and a bit uninviting.
But mostly I have been ignoring the nursery and channelling my newfound nesting energy into non-baby-preparation-related projects. I spent the majority of this afternoon finishing up baby shower thank you notes and then went on to address envelopes for Christmas cards. I began repairing a scarf I knit for my husband a few years back, that has been coming unravelled. I've been Christmas shopping, and cleaning our bedroom, and have been just generally keeping myself busy.
If the baby were to arrive right now, it'd find me in the midst of 12 different projects, none of them in order. For the baby's sake, I hope it stays in there another 7 weeks like it's supposed to. | | |
| My dog will consent to playing dressup every once in awhile.
But that doesn't mean she has to like it. | | |
| Remember that story about the guy whose house is too loud because of creaking pipes so he complains to the wise man whose solution is to give the guy a ton of animals to keep in his house? After a few days of listening to all the mooing and barking and neighing and clucking, the guy goes back to the wise man and says "what the hell? How is this supposed to help? my house is noisier than ever before!" And the wise man tells him to give away all the animals and suddenly, wow! How quiet the house seems! The creaking pipes seem like nothing compared to all that animal noise, and the man is satisfied.
The moral of this story, of course, is that no matter how bad life seems, it could always be worse, so instead of complaining about our petty issues, we can put them in perspective and realize how good we actually have it.
I'm reminded of this story often throughout this pregnancy. Before I got pregnant, I remember feeling very lazy and out of shape. I wasn't fat or even chunky by any means. I"ve always had a small frame and a fast metabolism. But I was lazy, and I was flabby. Muscle did not exist on my body, and it was a great effort to get me to complete even the smallest task. I spent a great deal of time lounging around online and exercise was definitely not a part of my everyday life.
And then I got pregnant, and before I knew it, all those problems above had extrapolated themselves. Now, at almost 33 weeks, I know what tired and lazy truly are. I know what it is to truly be out of shape. And it's only getting worse over the next seven weeks. Whereas before I had a young, lithe, capable body and absolutely no excuse not to get out there and use it, now I feel like I have the body of a 90 year old. My back aches when I stand up or lie down for too long. I can't stand on one foot and keep my balance. Rolling over is an effort. And as I compare pictures of my growing stomach to "before" pictures of my body 8 months ago, I can't help but think "I didn't know how good i had it!"
Right now I am craving something I have only craved maybe twice before in life. I am craving exercise. And I am craving exercise in my former body, not in my pregnant one. Because exercise during pregnancy is so limited. I can only stretch so far, get my heart rate going so fast, do so many reps of something before I am completely drained or I worry that I might be hurting the baby in some way. The kind of exercise I'm craving is stuff I can't physically do right now, or at least stuff that isn't recommended by my doctor that I do during pregnancy. I want to run a mile or two. I want to rock climb. I want to lift weights. I want to push my body to its limits, build muscle, lose fat, and in short, get back to my pre-pregnancy body and THEN some. I don't just want to be small with a fast metabolism. I want to be healthy, active, toned, and eating well. I want a body that I can be proud of in a bikini. Even in my skinniest state, I have NEVER felt that comfortable in my own skin. But once this baby is out and I no longer have any more excuses, I don't just want to take my metabolism for granted. I want to love and appreciate the skin I'm in by maintaining a healthy fitness level. And heck, achieving MILF status wouldn't be so bad either.
I've watched so many friends lose their bodies after baby #1 and never even come close to getting them back. Once pregnancy is over, then so many other excuses come into play, namely the fatigue caused by taking care of a newborn. I don't want to do that to myself. I don't want to give in to an unhealthy lifestyle using babies as an excuse for inactivity. It's been too long since I've seen my old body in a mirror, and I vow I will see it again!
So that's the plan. 7 more weeks of growing, another 4 weeks of resting and eating right, and then I'm going to actually start exercising. | | |
| Last May I opened my door, stepped out onto the front porch, and came face to face with a sexy shirtless man kneeling in my flowerbed, his naturally bronzed shoulder muscles rippling as he scooped holes into the earth with his strong, well-worn hands. "Oh my!" I thought, and immediately decided I had time for a conversation with this be-muscled garden earth groper. After all, several questions needed answering. Namely: "why was he digging holes in my garden?" And also: "How did he manage to look so sexy doing it?"
"Hello," I managed to sqeak out, amicably enough.
He looked up from where he was digging, bright blue eyes peeking through a curtain of shoulder-length brown hair, smiled warmly, and immediately took charge of the conversation, with an enthusiasm that comes from a mixture of youth and unhindered aspirations. He was the gardener, I learned, for several landlords in the area. He would be coming to cut my grass on a regular basis all summer. In the fall, he planned to go to California, where he hoped to start his own landscaping business. It wasn't long before he was relating somewhat intimate details of his life, in between bits and pieces of plant care instructions, as though we were old friends and he already knew me well. I got the feeling he talked to pretty much everyone he met in this fashion. In two minutes, I learned that he was 22 years old, he grew up further west, natural mulch is better than dyed stuff, he'd been working landscaping as a summer job for four years, he'd done some traveling abroad, the plants needed to be watered every day, his girlfriend was a vegan, I would like her, he tends to lean conservative, and to pick pine needles out of the flower bed when I could, as they could poison the plants.
And all the while I'm sitting there staring, my mouth hanging slightly open, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Not only was this garden Tarzan deliciously easy on the eyes, but he was intelligent, conversational, and fascinating. The kind of person with stories, dreams, and aspirations. When he finally left, stacking his garden tools in the back of a rusty old pickup and climbing into the cab with a smile and a wave, I sat there on the front porch wondering at the dullness of my life in comparison to his. 'Why do some people get all the charisma?' I thought to myself. After just ten minutes of talking to this kid, I was ready to hook him up with any number of my single friends. "Date this yummy Tarzan," I would have told them. "He's going places in life."
Later, when my husband got home, I couldn't help but tease him about the shirtless wonder he had missed. I loved watching his cute scowling face as I described the bronzed muscles, flowing brown hair, and bright, blue eyes of our mysterious gardener. "Yeah, you're lucky I wasn't there" my husband said, smacking his fist playfully into the opposite hand. We both giggled at the image of my scrawny, pasty white husband taking on the bronze hulking Tarzan figure in the garden. My husband has a lot of things, but muscles aren't one of them. Still, I love him, and would never ever consider another man over him. Not even a sexy, hulking, muscles-rippling, Tarzan-esque man with aspirations and a fantastic personality. 
That day in May was the only time I've ever actually spoken to "Tarzan," but Mike and I have each had numerous sightings since. He's become a source of amusement and teasing for us, this topless lawn trimmer. Usually one or the other of us would catch sight of him mowing the lawn in our back yard, or trimming branches on the tree out front. Always smiling and always shirtless, his skin glistening tan in the sunlight. "Oooh, guess who I saw doing a sexy dance with the lawn mower this afternoon" I would gush to my husband as he came home from work. "He tried to make love to me, of course, but I refused, so he's now on his way to destroy you. Better get those muscles ready." Or my husband would come into the kitchen some saturday morning, rolling his eyes and informing me "Your boyfriend's outside. Is he gaining weight? Does he have a pimple? I'm pretty sure I saw him walking with a gimp." And so we've gone back and forth like this, neither of us serious, both of us knowing we love each other more than words can describe.
With the advent of Autumn and colder weather, I'd almost forgotten about Tarzan, until this afternoon, when I heard a leaf blower whirring to life just outside my front window. And there he was, blowing leaves in all his brown-haired-blue-eyed glory, evidently having not gone on to California as planned. And alas, he was wearing a shirt.  It seems even Tarzans are human.
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| Usually, the question: "So...how's the weather...?" is uttered when someone would like to point out that conversation topics with substance are lacking. Weather is generally perceived as being boring, mundane. It's something that happens every single day and everybody who steps outside witnesses it as it's happening, so why talk about it?
Well, I have a secret. I love talking about the weather. I love reading about it. I love watching it. Sometimes, I even blog about it Why do I, contrary to everyone else on this planet, find it so exciting?
Maybe it's because to me, weather gives the world a personality. Thanks to weather, the earth can appear sad, or angry, or happy, or cheerful, or calming, or invigorating, or frightening. Oftentimes, the weather's "personality" can entirely dictate my mood for the day. On sad, foggy days, I will likely walk out the door feeling contemplative, melancholy. I will need an extra cup of coffee in the morning to get me started and may or may not spend the day in a dreamy haze. On bright, sunny days, I find myself smiling, wanting to get out and explore, enjoy the outdoors, wake up early, and linger watching the dwindling light in the evenings. Rainy days are either peaceful, gloomy or invigorating, depending on the speed and patterns of the rain. Throw in thunder and lightning, and even a walk from the parking lot to the grocery store becomes an adventure.
For something so scorned and ignored by conversationalists, weather has a lot of power. It can set moods, stop traffic, alter plans, even destroy trees, homes, communities, or entire cities. it can give new life, and it can take it away. Weather can evoke memories, set holiday scenes, or give excited children a day off of school. It was partially responsible for the Great Depression. It caused the "Reformation" of the catholic church. By all accounts and examples, weather is kind of a big deal.
Maybe we don't pay enough attention to weather these days because most of us live safely holed away in our climate-controlled homes. When the snow and wind starts blustering outside, we simply weather seal our windows, close the drapes, and turn up our heat. We light a cozy fire in the fire place and watch Christmas specials on television. If we get hungry, we hook chains up to our tires, whip out the snow blowers, shovels, and sidewalk salt, and follow the plows to the grocery store. When people used to live directly off the land, a blizzard meant possible days without food. It meant being literally snowed in, unable to open the front door. It meant tying a rope between your home and your barn, to safeguard against losing your way in the blinding snow and freezing to death while on your way to milk the cows. Nowadays, even rural farms have outdoor electric lighting, tractors for plowing, and other equipment to help combat and counteract the weather. Thus, all but the most earth-bound of us tend to ignore weather, viewing it as relatively unimportant, causing no more than a minor inconvenience on occasions calling for self-justified indignant rage. "How dare weather interfere with our plans?" We ask ourselves. And then we continue with our lives, refusing to talk about it.
I like to take time out of my busy life to regularly appreciate the weather. Whether it's the pitter patter of raindrops renewing the soil, frost collecting on my windows, or a tornado warning the next county over, I try not to view weather as something to be countered or overcome, but rather as God's way of personifying the earth. A beautiful accompaniment; or an illustration of power, deserving of my respect.
Sometimes, appreciating the weather means actually reading detailed weather alerts. I always smile thinking that somewhere out there, someone has the job of writing regular updates about impending weather. And by the way that they write, I can tell they are one of the few people on this planet who also find weather exciting. Let's take a look at selections from a local weather alert for Milwaukee, Wisconsin:
... FIRST SNOW OF THE SEASON TAKING AIM ON THANKSGIVING HOLIDAY...
A COMPLEX WEATHER SITUATION IS SHAPING UP FOR WEDNESDAY NIGHT INTO EARLY THANKSGIVING DAY...
...SNOW ACCUMULATIONS WILL BE TRICKY...
ELSEWHERE... AN INCH OR TWO OF SLUSHY SNOW IS POSSIBLE... MAINLY ON GRASSY AREAS. BECAUSE MUCH OF THE SNOW SHOULD FALL AT NIGHT... SLUSHY AND SLIPPERY ROADS ARE CERTAINLY POSSIBLE WEDNESDAY NIGHT INTO THANKSGIVING MORNING...
...STAY TUNED FOR LATER UPDATES AS THERE IS A GREAT DEAL OF UNCERTAINTY IN THIS FORECAST.
Weather alerts like this really make me appreciate weather because they use words like "taking aim" "complex" "tricky" and "uncertainty" to describe it. Picturing some meteorologist in his/her office, giving weather a personality as they transcribe forecasts always makes me smile.
Take this air quality watch for example:
A STAGNANT AND DIRTY AIR MASS WILL CONTINUE OVER THE UPPER MIDWEST THROUGH WEDNESDAY. THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT PARTICLE POLLUTION CONCENTRATIONS WILL REACH UNHEALTHY LEVELS FOR PEOPLE IN SENSITIVE GROUPS.
A stagnant and dirty air mass! Holy shnit! And it's coming for you! Isn't that frightening? I don't know about you, but I immediately pictured Hexxus, hovering over the midwest munching slime on his way to Fern Gully, perhaps:
If that isn't enough to make you take the weather seriously, I don't know what is
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