Month: March 2013

Underwear Rants #2

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Getting dressed today, my finger shot through the lace of my bra. No real surprise there since, like all the others, this one is about three years old. Yes, I need new underwear. But 1) I hate buying underwear, and 2) I was hoping to be able to buy smaller underwear.

Since I started doing DDP Yoga back in October, I’ve lost about six pounds and over 13 inches. I’m thrilled about the inches, verklempt about the pounds, and keep hoping that I’m going to step on the scale one morning and see some serious weight loss. So I keep avoiding buying new clothes.

Exercise. You’ll lose the weight. Go wheat-free. You’ll lose the weight. Do all of the above, you’ll lose one pound a month. Yeah, I know. Have my thyroid and hormone levels checked. I’m on it.

braAnyway, back to my underwear and too much information. Between being a romance writer and buying in to all those ads in Glamour, I believe a woman’s underwear should be sexy and match. Every day. Well, not so much when I work out, but the rest of the time.

So, I was searching through the panties (why do I feel like I’m five years old when I use that word?) at one of those nationwide department stores, trying to find a pair that matches the bra in my hand. I know they exist because, hello, there’s a five foot photo of some hot model wearing them on the wall.

“Can I help you?” Because the only thing better than shopping for sexy underwear is getting help from a complete stranger.
“You could find the matching panties.”
“Not going to happen.”
I stop rifling. “What do you mean?”

Get this. They want us to buy the underwear in sets, but they don’t ship them that way. They ship the bras in one shipment, and the panties a few weeks later. AND most stores only get one or two panties of each size compared to the 20 or so bras they get, so if you’re not the first one there, you’re outta luck.

WTF?!!?

johnny deppI still can’t figure this one out. I mean, the designers designed them to go together. We want to buy them together because, secretly, deep down somewhere, we’re hoping Johnny Depp is going to show up, strip our clothes off and see us in this underwear, which will make us look as hot as the model in the ad. Our significant others want to see us in them because they don’t really believe we’d throw them over for Johnny Depp. Plus, they know the odds of Johnny Depp showing up (slightly better since he broke up with his girl friend, but I fear I have a better shot at winning the lottery), so they figure they’ll score.

And they’re probably right, because when we wear sexy underwear, we feel sexy. So everyone, even Johnny Depp, wants us to buy the panties and the bra together.

Apparently only the guys in logistics want us in grandma panties and bras that hide everything from our armpits to our waist and lack lace. I’m not sure what that says about them.

Maybe by now they’ve figured things out. And maybe when I go shopping, I’ll have lost some more of those pounds.

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March Madness

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

My house is white again. For some March brings basketball. Don’t get me wrong. If you’d had a webcam on me beginning on Thursday, you would have found me watching the ACC Men’s Basketball Tournament. Really.

Twenty years ago, driving cross-country with my then fiancé, we hit ACC country in the middle of the night. We crossed some river and here we were. We’d been chatting about something mundane, probably about what it would be like to live in more than five square feet again. (We’d been driving for three weeks, with an over-packed travel trailer.)

But we crossed a river, maybe into Georgia? And the Ex looked at me and said, “OK, you have to choose a team.”

I didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. In the two years we’d been dating, I’d learned there were parts of the country who cared about college basketball. Who knew? Not me. I grew up surrounded by professional teams.

“Chapel Hill.” Not living here yet, I didn’t realize we referred to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill as UNC or Carolina. As if the other schools in the UNC system don’t even exist.

Without missing a beat, he said, “Pick again.”

I’d considered applying to Chapel Hill, so I didn’t realize what the problem was, except that the Ex went to their rival, NC State.

The Ex explained that I could choose any other school in the ACC (there are 12, soon to be 15), just not Carolina. Pretty sure I was wearing my Carolina sweatshirt at the time, just to spite him. Because I like to pick.

“State pretty much sucks, right?” (See previous comment.)

He agreed, but stressed I didn’t have to choose State. But I did. It’s that Cubs fan thing coming out. I’m used to supporting the underdog. As it turns out, State is sort of my alma mater. I attended a week-long textiles class there, so I have a certificate from them. That’s almost a diploma.

So, Go Pack!

Anyway, spent the majority of a beautiful weekend watching TV, knitting and eating a lot of stuff that had wheat in it. Saturday was gorgeous, but State was playing so I hung out with my neighbors and cursed at the appropriate times. If you saw the State/Miami game, there were lots of appropriate times.

In case you wondered, yesterday it was a balmy 77 here. 77!!!

Usually by the time ACC Tournament comes around, we’ve had some great weather and I’ve had time to pressure wash the house. This year, we had a cold snap in March, so the house was still green.

So, after State lost and Carolina won — Go Heels — (the neighbors are Carolina fans and they fed me) I realized we had another hour and a half of sunlight. Woo-hoo. 77 and sunny. I ran home (OK, no running), said a prayer that the pressure washer would start, and washed half the deck.

Yippee! By the time I was done, I could barely move. I’d started my day with DDP Yoga, then gone out to weed a garden for a couple of hours, drank the pain away while watching basketball, and then tackled the deck.

No, I could not move this morning. Which was fine since it was supposed to be about 55 today. But then I let the dog out, and I REALLY wanted the house to be white again. So I whipped up a batch of wheat-free biscuits, plopped them in the oven, told Scout Son to take them out when the timer went off, and ran to the store for bleach. No, it’s not environmentally friendly, but it’s the only thing that takes the mildew off the house, so suck it up.

Two hours into the process I stopped for lunch and to put on dry sweats. Also, I’d had to put more gas in the washer, and it apparently needed a rest before it would start up again. At that point I really wasn’t sure I’d be able to get it started again because my hands looked more like claws, locked into place.

This would have been the time to stop and, you know, watch the championship game. Did I? No. Tarheel Neighbor will read this and flip out because I’m sure if I’d been sitting on her couch, wearing any shirt I wore earlier this week, drinking and knitting in “my spot,” Carolina would have won. (Um, the game ended four hours ago and I just found out who won. Not Carolina. Oops.)

Five hours in, I was done. My house is white, the deck is clean (and needs to be painted), and the kids cleaned every downstairs window. Those who know me and love me will ask, did you get on a ladder?

Yes, I did. BUT, for once, I got one of the kids to hold it whenever I was on uneven ground or using the maximum force attachment. And good news! It’s going to be too cold for the next week and a half for me to paint the deck. Go Pack at the NCAA!!! And Carolina too!!! And I’d be ever so grateful if someone would take out the University of Miami in the first round this week.

For me, March Madness involves a pressure washer. What about you?

 

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Battling Ladybugs and Wandering Monsters

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Really exciting day here at Chez Hope. Snarky Daughter is on Spring Break because she goes to a school on a college schedule. So she’s lurking around the house, with her nose in a MacBook Air all day. Yesterday we went ice skating and I realized I was really falling down on the conversation side of things. I have no idea what to talk to her about.

Sigh. I’ll figure it out, I’m sure. It didn’t help that I’d only had about 5 hours of sleep. But ask me about the totally awesome chat I had with Magesh at Amazon at midnight. Didn’t have a problem keeping that conversation going for twenty minutes.

Anyway, today, much excitement. First there was the crash that didn’t sound quite like a crash. It was really windy here today, so when I heard a thuddish kind of sound, my first thought was we’d lost a branch. Woo-hoo. So I wandered out around the side of the house where the thud had come from in my bunny slippers (what all professional writers wear to work). OK, they aren’t really bunny slippers, but only because I can’t afford the Killer Rabbit slippers on thinkgeek.com. In college, I had moose head slippers just like these (yes, you can find everything on the internet, even 20 year old slippers). They were awesome.

Right. Focus. So, wander outside, but no, the only branches over there are the ones I have successfully ignored since November. Hey, what’s the point of picking these up until I’m ready to burn them. More will collect in the meantime and I’ll have to do it all again. Also, it’s cold out and I’m a wimp.

So, back into the house. For some reason I can’t remember I wandered into my room, and found the source of the thud, which should have really sounded like a crash. Athena has been working very hard to keep the house ladybug free. In her enthusiasm, she took out my bedside lamp. Thank you, Thea.

Hi, I'm Thea. I broke Mom's ugly-ass lamp. She has another one, and it's got to go too! I am not ashamed. Have you seen that lamp?
Hi, I’m Thea. I broke Mom’s ugly-ass lamp. She has another one, and it’s got to go too! I am not ashamed. Have you seen that lamp?

At this point I should say that I really want to redecorate my life, um, house. The lamp in question is 15 years old and totally out of date. Also, the CFL that was in it (remains unbroken) is pretty full of dark and really low on light, so really, this whole light concept is an in name only thing. The lamp shade (also unbroken) is dark green. My bedroom is periwinkle blue.

The surviving lamp. You can't tell, but that would be frosted crackle glass circa 1994.
The surviving lamp. You can’t tell, but that would be frosted crackle glass circa 1994.

In considering a move across country, I’ve been wandering the house figuring out what is worth paying to have it moved 3,000 miles. Believe me, this lamp, and it’s sister, were not on the list to go. In fact, they wouldn’t be on the move list if I was moving two blocks. I keep them because I think I’ll be starting over soon and I don’t want to cart more crap than I have to, or waste money on something I’m going to give away or sell in a yard sale in three months, but I still need light. Or something like candlelight but safer. I still have one, so I’m good.

In other excitement, Scout Son, Snarky Daughter and I all played Munchkin Deluxe tonight. It’s a pretty simple game with some of the worst written directions I’ve ever read. I’m sure they make sense to the D&D set, but I didn’t have the patience for D&D either. Anyway, if you’re playing with someone who can teach you so you aren’t dependent on the directions, it’s really a lot of fun. And vicious. I like being evil. Are you surprised? No? How odd.

Scout Son unleashed a boatload of evil on Snarky Daughter, just so I could see how it's done. He's helpful that way.
Scout Son unleashed a boatload of evil on Snarky Daughter, just so I could see how it’s done. He’s helpful that way.

Anyway, given the choice between writing a cover letter for a job and spending quality time putting curses on my kids, you can guess what I chose. And I won. Well, they kind of let me win. The kids were being gentle for the first couple of rounds because I had no idea what I was doing. They will not be as kind next time. Which will make it even more fun!

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