Crocs and the Woman Who Loves Them

Let us take a collective moment here and bow our heads in reflection of the glory of Crocs. I know, I know, I know. The original design can be sort of elfish-y meets raver meets garden whore. But have you gone past that one design and seen their website with wedges, narrow clogs, and ballet flats? Sadly, the last example has been discontinued but, as of my 29th birthday, have been enjoying a classic black pair that my eldest sister gave me. These shoes have seen me through trips to the store, all over work in different terrain, countless potty trips outside in the snow, rain, mud with Curt. From dress way casual to slightly fancy, these are the go-to shoe for me.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am more than just a Crocs enthusiast. The Crocs folks should pay me for all of my free advertisement plugs since I've been enjoying the product for nearly 6 years now. The comfort is outstanding and, speaking from a massage therapists point of view, feel that it is the one shoe that bends in the 3 positions required for optimal spinal and reflexology health. They are nearly odor resistant, color fade proof, and Curtis indestructible. No, these are no Louis Vuitton. The Crocs are what you wear when you are NOT busy pretending to be Oprah.
The main point of this post is to tout yet another of the Crocs efficiencies. You can freshen up a Croc by throwing in the dishwasher. I've done it before but, if you've been keeping up, it's been over 5 years since my last in-house dishwasher luxury. So, I did it. I threw my ballerina flats in with the rest of the dishes last night.........
Not only are they completely odor free AND matte black again but THEY FIT LIKE THE FIRST TIME. Even better, perhaps. They've tightened up around the edges and hug my big ol' tranny feet just like they did over a year ago.
I am giving Crocs a standing ovation in my head now.
You should, too.

Gettin' His Hairs Did

I gave Curt a minimal trim around his eyes so we could confirm that he CAN, in fact, see us when we are training him. He, like most teenagers, likes to play the "I didn't see you waving me down" card by hiding behind his long hairs and ipod. Now he has bangs.

And, unlike Anthony Kiedis, I think it works for him.

The Bugina Monologues

As we sat filling out a birth plan that I had down loaded off the internets, Dustin and I were being schooled on the myriad of options that are available to us. The questions range from ambiance preference to induction rights. We were feeling rather comfortable until it came to the perineal care portion. Up to this point, the questions were answered with a "yes, that sounds fine" or a "no, we'd like to try to avoid that if medically possible". Now, we were finding ourselves in the there-is-no-way-to-avoid-this arena. The words tear, suture, repair, anesthesia, hot compresses, and the like were tossed about on the page as if someone had just sneezed and it wasn't any thing to get fussy about. After reading through and answering what seemed like the same statement, er, question, about the my procedure choice, I looked up at Dustin and said, "So. To be clear here, Dustin, we're discussing the options on HOW I would like to achieve a conjoined vagina/butt hole. Not HOW we would like to avoid that but, rather, HOW we want to get there. Because it's going to happen. This union of private parts. Is happening. To me. Period."

Dustin's Truths about Curtis' Truths

Not sure if it was the excitement of the moment (seeing as how we JUST GOT HOME... JUST LIKE YESTERDAY AND THE DAY BEFORE) but Curtis, after ripping through the yard with a stick in his mouth, paused to go potty. Like a lot of potty. Like a waaaay lot of potty.
Dustin and I stood, speechless, watching this projectile potty happen until it was finally over. While Curtis ran off like "no big whoop" to smell the mail box, Dustin turned to me and said, "I didn't know whether to dip a strawberry or be concerned."

Dustin's Truths

On our ride over to the Oregon coast, Dustin and I were feeling extremely energized as we were becoming increasingly aware of just how good this trip was going to be.
We realized that it had been about six months since we had both been away from our home and lives (and all of their degrees of responsibility) so we discussed things that we used to when it was just us in San Diego. We talked about why it could be that grapes are deadly poisonous for dogs (along with raisins... don't test it. It's a fact), the old scallops vs. shrimp being the best topic, odd side jobs, etc. It was all very relaxing and fun to hang out like the buddies that we are and not just the soon-to-be-parents, home owners, job havers, bill payers that we also are. Dustin, in all of his enthusiasm, exclaimed, "We can do it! We just have to grab life by the throat and kick it in the balls!"
After cleaning up the jo-jo chunks I had spit all over the dash of the car, I took away his coffee because, clearly, he'd had too much.

Que the "Loser" Sound from The Price Is Right

I became thirty years old today. And the title of this blog is merely meant to be facetious as I actually really like the idea. I feel more wise and like my life and the way I got to it more with every passing year. So, if this is the beginning of the "old" that I've heard so much about, I welcome it with open arms.
We had a nice, slow paced day at work where everyone was receptive to my Unicorn Sandwiches that I made for my birthday dessert. I came home to a rather impatient and pushy Dustin who was "hungry. Like right now hungry" and offered for us to go to Blondie's. I was pretty content sitting on the porch eating my birthday gift from Megan. I wasn't feeling much like stuffing my 30 year old body and near 6 month old baby belly into a dress but... I did. And I am glad because we were greeted with a table full of patiently waiting friends and family. Surprise! That was awesome.

We woke up early the next morning, packed up, set the pets up with my mother-in-law, and took off for the coast. It was a trip sponsored by my mom and two sisters as they were clued in by Dustin. We stayed at the adorable cozy Lowden's Beachfront Bed and Breakfast in Brookings which had the best view of the waves and river outlet.

As it was hailing upon our arrival, we were relieved to be forced to stay in. We cruised the awful cable and settled on my personal favorite... The Rock of Love with Brett Michaels: Season 3. Intrigued, I feel asleep next to a fascinated Dustin. We made reservations at The Nautilus and ate until beyond stuffed. Barfy stuffed. In a good way.

The next morning, after setting off the fire alarm over a burnt croissant (my bad. figures), we headed toward The Trees of Mystery. SO MUCH FUN HAD HERE. Right up our alley.


We took our time coming home and even went to a movie to make the weekend last that much longer.


It was perfect.

A lovely babymoon.

A lovely 30th birthday weekend.

Dustin's Truths

This was said some time ago but, due to the profound clarity and realism, we take turns declaring it around our house weekly.
After a particularly ridiculous day, Dustin came home and said, "You know, Ed? Life is nothing but a series of obligations and disappointments."
Bitter and officially over it, anyone?