Of life and legs

Over the last decade or so, I've found that the stages of a gal's life and relationship status can be measured by the state of her legs.

In my experience, there have been 4 leg/life/relationship levels.

Status: Single
Legs: Shaved often enough, but only really before heading out for the evening
Reason: You never know. *wink, wink*

Status: In a relationship
Legs: Shaved to perfection. With shaving cream, even!
Reason: Look how flawless I am. You totally want to marry this.

Status: Married
Legs: Shaved haphazardly in a speedy shower
Reason: I'm late for work and it's not your birthday.

Status: My business-traveling husband is in New York for the rest of September
Legs: I have legs?

It's a new low, y'all.

Puppy update

Well, Bella's gone and we're back to being a one-pup household.

She was obviously a sweetheart, but it was a little too much for us to handle -- and would have become impossible once Dave starts work and begins traveling 4 days a week. (SINGLE PARENT FTW.) I have decided that I don't want to be outweighed by my pets, so we can only get little fouffy dogs from here on out.

Of course, the good news is that our little girl went to a foster-to-adopt home with a woman that works remotely and can give Bells the attention she needs. Fingers crossed it works out because that dog really deserves it.

In the meantime, Dave casually mentioned something to me while on our rescue's Facebook page the other day...

"Hey, Lis, look at how cute this pit is."

Yes. Cute.

Cue me scrolling through to read the comments about this sweet-looking gal.

Cue me seeing DAVE comment about fostering her.

"Oh, yeah, I said we might be interested in fostering her," he shrugs.

You what, now?

"Just a foster, not adopt! Come on, look at that face."

Look at MY face.

"We'll just do a meet-and-greet and see if she and Rocco get along."

I don't recall that ever being a problem with Rocco.

"Oh, look, they already emailed us."


So, we may be fostering another Court Case pup next week. And we may not. Someone is already interested in adopting her, so she might not even need a foster home at all. We'll see...

He called the shit "poop"

If there's one thing I know about my husband, it's that he will always laugh at a poop joke. Without fail. I guess most men will. But one little poop joke recently took his amusement to a level I had never experienced before.

It won't surprise you to learn that the joke came from Louis CK. Before I link it, let me just set the scene...

We are driving back from our beach vacation, listening to one of Louis' sets from 2010. Specifically, Dave is driving and I'm in the front seat.

The joke starts out about Louis' 3-year-old daughter getting bit by a pony and soon drifts into poop territory.

With the first visual description of a turd, Dave bursts out into booms of laughter. His mouth is wide open, his eyes are watering and he is practically having an amusement-induced seizure.

"TAKE...THE...WHEEL," he gasps, in between convulsions.

What the hell is wrong with my husband? I've never seen him so giddy he's practically blind!

I then begin exploding with laughter. Not just because the joke is hilarious (it is) but also because I have never seen this man laugh so hard at anything during our 7 years together.

I grab the wheel and take over the steering while Dave alternates between approving claps and involuntary convulsions. This goes on until I can no longer see the road through my tears and beg him to drive himself. With one hand clutching his stomach, he puts his other hand on the wheel and manages to get through the entire poop joke without killing us.

So what was so funny?

This.

Either that's the most hilarious clip I've ever seen or else I was beyond delusional after hours upon hours of travel.

Not pregnant, just PMSy

While watching Dexter last night, this thing made an appearance on my screen.

Me: What is that for?

Dave: Warming bottles. Because I guess microwaves aren't "good enough" anymore.

Me: Oh, that's right.

Dave: Dumb. Just use a microwave.

Me: No, Dave, microwaves seriously don't heat bottles evenly.

Dave: Oh, please. That thing is pointless.

Me: NO IT'S NOT. Microwaves don't heat evenly!

Dave: Come on.

Me: SHUT UP, DAVE, WE'RE GETTING ONE.

Dave: Uh, what?

Me: DEAL WITH IT.

Dave: No. We're not buying one. Ever.

Me: IT'S A NECESSITY. I'm buying it tomorrow.

Hi, I'm Lisa and I'm PMSy today.

OMG DADDY'S HOME

When Dave came back from China, I took (blurry) video of Rocco seeing his dad for the first time in 6 weeks.

Such a pea-brain.

Rocco! from David on Vimeo.

Also, the reason Roc ran away and took his Kong bone into the bedroom is because he's started ripping it apart instead of playing with it like a normal dog:


Again...

Pea-brain.

But we love him.

Chemistry, y'all

Title page of Dave's dissertation:


Am I the only one that starts singing that song from Brownies/Girl Scouts when I see "silver" and "gold"? Make new friennnnds, but keeeeep the ollllllld... ONE IS SILVER AND THE OTHER GOLD.

No?

Okay, never mind.

Over and out

Well, friends, Dave's China trip is almost up. It's hard to believe 6 weeks have already come and gone, but as of right now, I'm 28 hours away from seeing my husband and I CAN'T WAIT. Seriously. It's disgusting, even to me.

But, now that Dave's Wild Asian Adventure is over, it's the perfect time to recaps my highs and lows of living alone...


HIGHS

• I learned how to parallel park by myself.
• I didn't forget to feed my dog once.
• I did some pilates a few times. Okay, fine, twice.
• I leveled up on Call of Duty.
• I finally got my hair cut.
• I had lovely, boozy playdates with Ang, Suz and Jessi.
• I wore my new, cute, yellow ballet flats from Cole Haan.
• I drove Roc to Cleveland so he could play with his cousin and I could get drunk with my sister-in-law and mother-in-law.
• I met my new neighbors and their adorable Boxer -- love them all.
• I bought 6 pairs of shoes, 6 dresses, 11 shirts, a pair of pants and 3 belts.
• The weather warmed up!... For half a second. We'll take it.
• I saw Suz's new condo and it's awesome.
• I found a convenient, lovely spa that I will be going to instead of the uber-expensive Bliss for my facials.
• My sister came in town and made amends.
  

LOWS

• I lost my apartment keys.
• And mail key.
• And almost locked the dog in the car. ALMOST.
• I rarely cooked for myself.
• I often ate popcorn for dinner.
  
• I got into bed embarrassingly early every weeknight.
• I got sick and sounded like a chain-smoking, truck-stop hooker for three days.
• I almost ran over a little woman with my boat of a car.
• We frequently lost at trivia.
• My dog may or may not have eaten chocolate, so I pumped him full of meds and Benadryl out of sheer panic.
  

Eh, let's call it a draw.

Dave's China

As of two days ago, Dave left the hellhole that is Lanzhou and embarked on his 10-day vacation across the more modernized parts of China. He's already seen Tienanmen Square and the Great Wall, and tomorrow he departs for Shanghai for more sightseeing and fun.

However, before this little vacation of his, he was stuck in one of the most industrial (read: crappy) cities in the country. This shit was downright Third World! Well... that might be a tad dramatic, but here, judge for yourself:

• Dave only had 2 hours of hot water allowed in his dorm. Showering, apparently, was a luxury.
  

• His lab had squat toilets. This is a squat toilet:

• He had no access to a laundry room or laundromat, so he had to do his laundry in the bathtub. The bathtub!

• He could really only stare at a wall for entertainment after work, since he couldn't stream any TV shows or movies online.

• His lab had no heat and typically hovered around 30 degrees, so when he worked, he had to bundle up and pray for sunshine.

Just a reminder to be thankful, America. We are so, so spoiled.

Stupid China

Dave's gone. It's sad. Been taking care of myself. Kitchen has yet to catch fire.

That's basically the gist of it. I mean, it's only been a few days... But it's going well, I guess.

Anyway, with this time difference, Dave and I been relying on short Skype convos and emails to communicate. He is 14 hours ahead of us here, so when it's lunchtime in Beijing, it's bedtime in Chicago. (Also, I'm old and go to bed around 10.)

But tonight? Tonight I'm staying up until 11 so he can Skype me during his lunch. This is what he will see:


HAWT. Who doesn't like seeing their wife with makeup smudges, flat hair and a double chin?

Also, the pup and I are both a little doped up (him on Benadryl, me on Sleep II), so having a conversation in 90 minutes should be extra fun.

Zai jian, friends.

All by myself

I have never lived alone.

I just realized that.

I went from my parents' house to my college dorm, where I lived with the girl who became my best friend. Then I moved into an on-campus apartment with two other girls. After that, I moved into an apartment with Dave. And here I am.

My god, for the last 10 years, I haven't even had my own BEDROOM.

But that is about to change for 6 weeks, when Dave goes to China for research work.

He leaves in less than a month and I'm just now processing what that will mean for me. Mostly, I'm going to miss him a disgusting amount. But part of me? Well, part of me is looking forward to this flash of complete and utter self-reliance. I'll cook for myself, parent by myself and focus exclusively on myself. (Okay, fine, sometimes I do that last part whether he's around or not.)

It's a strange feeling. I don't want him to go, but I do want to see how this Miss Independent thing will play out...

Let's do an over-under on my sloppy, drunk mental breakdown that will occur in which I have full-on conversations with my dog, name my cell phone, dress my pillows in Dave's sweatshirts and pass out at the table every night into a bowl of cereal, the only food I can cook.

I win.

You know how celebrities like to beat the gossip rags to the punch by blogging about some controversial story they're involved in? Or how they write their own autobiography rather than letting some unauthorized author put out a tell-all? It's all a way to take control of the situation and reveal juicy details on their own terms, in their own way.

This is kind of like that.

Minus the celebrity aspect.

You see, this morning, I found myself caught in the midst of a bit of a fib. Background: We have a big meeting every Monday morning at 9:30, which means folks start to head over to the meeting spot around 9:15.

Dave has always driven me in on Mondays after his bike ride with his cycling team (OMG, IS HE 12?), which means I typically got IN at 9:15. Even if you're not good at math, you know that this leaves me zero time to get settled, check email and mentally prep for the day.

So... I told him I had to be in by 9am sharp every Monday.

He thought that meant the meetings started at 9am on Monday.

I did not correct him.

This means that for the past few months, he's been skipping the mid-ride coffee break with his buddies in order to get home in enough time to shower and drop me off at work. WHICH I VERY MUCH APPRECIATE.

Except this morning, it may have slipped out that the meeting starts at 9:30. And always has.

His jaw dropped and he called me by my first AND middle names! "You lied to me!"

Well, no, technically, I did not. "Oh yes you did! A lie of omission!" he said.

We got into the car as he, mildly amused, continued to chastise me for this little discrepancy. I, of course, could not stop giggling. And because he wouldn't stop, I decided to do something to end the conversation.

"Look," I said, "take this $20." I reached into my purse.

"OH MY GOD, I DON'T WANT YOUR BLOOD MONEY," he exclaimed.

"Just take it!" I told him.

"No way," he said. "You're trying to pay me off. This is dirty money. I'm not having it."

And so here I am, at work with $20 still in my pocket and a meeting about to start. Also, I beat him to the punch with this story. So there.

Lisa - 1. Dave - 0.

J-O-B

Remember when Dave was interviewing for an internship at a massive, prestigious firm? And we were really excited about it? And he made it to the final round? And then didn't get it? Crushing.

Well, this time around, he interviewed for a full-time position there and landed the job!

*Cue awkward happy dance*

So, he'll still interview at a few other firms to see if he gets to interview there and have a choice about where he'll end up, but regardless of who he works for, this job situation means several things for us:


We'll be able to pay off student loans.
Funny thing about being a grad student -- you don't make enough money to survive. And things (rent, vet visits, car insurance) cost a lot of money. So, Dave has a few loans that will kick in once he graduates. Now that he has a job secured, we'll be able to PAY THEM... and still afford groceries.

At least one of us will have a job come May!
It's likely that I'll be out of a job sometime in the middle part of next year. I know it's coming, so I'm preparing/prepared for it, but I was not looking forward to both Dave and I being jobless. Two unemployed, broke people living in an urban area with their pit bull? We're just one felony charge and an armband tattoo away from the worst stereotype ever.

Summer fun.
Because I'll probably be out of a job next year and I know about it far in advance, I may have the luxury of taking next summer off, with the exception of a few freelance projects. I'll drive to STL to visit friends, lay out at my favorite beach, finish sewing drapes in my apartment and play the part of happy housewife for as long as I can stand it.

Travel times a thousand.
Travel, in theory, sounds like something fabulous. But in the context of Dave's new position, it means that HE will be traveling and I will be staying home. This is definitely a bummer, to put it mildly (and to also use a phrase typically reserved for 80s sitcoms). We'll manage somehow, but I'm not convinced it will be easy.


Yep, things will certainly change around here. Some good, some bad. We'll see how it all plays out, but for now, we're just enjoying the lack of total panic and horror that we'd be feeling had his interviews gone in the other direction. WAY TO GO, DAVE! You earned it.

Tag team music, in full effect

The scene: Post-dinner last night, still sitting at the table. Dave is mindlessly eating my fries. I am mindlessly eating chocolate chips.


Dave, abruptly: Take these away from me.

I confiscate the fries and give my chocolate the side-eye.

Me: Now you take these away from me.

Dave grabs the bag of chocolate and tosses it aside.

Me, to the dog: That's what we call "tag team," Rocco.

::pause::

Me: Tag team, back again...

::pause::

Dave: No.

Me: ...Check and direct and let's begin!

Dave: Party on, party people, lemme hear some noise.

Together: DC's in the house, jump jump rejoice. Party over here, party over there, wave your hands in the air, shake your derriere. These three words when you're getting busy. Whoomp, there it is.

Me: Hit me.

Dave, shaking his head: My god.

Me: It's gonna be SO easy to embarrass our kids.

We shouldn't own nice things

Remember that time Dave lost his wedding ring in the snow? And then I found it? And squealed with delight?

Well, bring on the panic attacks because it's lost again.

This time, we're convinced it's somewhere in the apartment. Dave says he took it off at some point on Sunday evening and put it on the dining room table before walking the dog that night. On Monday, sans ring, we went to Home Depot, got a ton of paint and started painting the bedroom. This included moving all the furniture, sweeping and creating multiple trash bags. On Tuesday before work, Dave didn't see the ring in plain sight so we both went to work without worrying about it.

And now here we are. Wednesday. No ring.

The thing is, Dave's not the only guilty party in this whole I-lose-nice-stuff fiasco...

It also appears that I have, um, misplaced a diamond earring, part of the set he got me as a wedding gift.

So, this morning, I tore the bedroom apart looking for it -- nothing. I finally confessed to Dave that I couldn't find it. But my guilt was quickly replaced by panic when he confessed that he still couldn't find his wedding ring. We shifted into high-gear and started scouring the apartment for it... and, of course, turned up nothing. Could it have been swept into one of the trash bags from painting? Did Rocco get a hold of it? Will it ever show up again?

Start praying to St. Anthony, folks. He came through last time. Let's see if he can do it again.



UPDATE: He found it! It was buried in a bag. Perhaps it's time to get that thing insured, no?

Oh, you think so?

Dave's birthday is coming up on May 27, and this is what I just found on our shared Goog calendar.




WTF. So, just in case you're wondering how 5/27/2010 will play out:

Kind of a big deal

I sent Dave off for his Big Interview this morning and now I think I know what it feels like to be a mom sending her baby off to his first day of school.


"Play well with others."

"Just do your best."

"You're the prettiest. Don't forget that."

"Try not to say the f-word."

"I'm so proud of you."


This Big Interview, by the way, is for an internship at a consulting firm -- it's 4 hours long and includes an important written test. If it were me, I'd be popping Propranolol like nobody's business, but I digress.

Anyway, lots of nerves in the apartment this morning. But he's well-prepared, he looks professional and he doesn't talk like a robot like those other science kids.

If he gets it, he'll take a brief leave from school to work on a 2- to 12-week project with the firm, hopefully in Chicago. If he doesn't get it, he still has other options for internships and various programs. Though, I will probably have to beat him.

Yep, that's me. The epitome of nurturing support.


(Seriously, GO DAVE!!)

I FOUND DAVE'S WEDDING RING

I'm excited. He is confused. Who, cares, WE DID IT!

Looks like Jesus came through!

For the record, I am writing this as I come off yet another bloody mary buzz, so excuse the incoherence. I am also ridiculously excited, so there's that.

Today, I found Dave's fucking wedding ring.

After renting a metal detector, lurking in front of the neighbor's and staring at the ground every single time I walked the dog in daylight, I FINALLY FOUND IT.

Do you know why?

My mom and Jesus.

This is hilarious because my mom is a total Jew. Who is married to an atheist scientist. (Could I be any more like her?) But she was told by her best friend, a Catholic, to say two Our Fathers. So she did. Hey, St. Anthony has helped her find her own lost ring before, so she figured it couldn't hurt.

When I was on my walk today with Rocco, I was also on the phone with my mom. As we walked by the neighbor's, I looked down in the melting snow like I always do. But this time, I saw it. I saw the fucking ring. All because of her and her prayer.

I shouted a string of ecstatic expletives as I snatched that sucker up from the ground. Rocco and I practically ran back to the apartment and burst through the door with a sense of total accomplishment.

Dave was napping -- he rode to INDIANA this morning -- so we threw open the bedroom door and pounced on the bed. Rocco jacked Dave in the groin, so he was a wee bit cranky when we came in. Until I produced THE RING.

I put it on his hand and pranced out of the room to let him finish his nap.

I bet when he wakes up, he'll be all, "Where the hell did this ring come from?"

ME.

And my mom and Jesus.

The case of the lost wedding ring

It was a dark and stormy snowy night.

Kind of.

Dave was taking the dog out for one last shit before bed. I was in the apartment alone.

The phone rang.

"WTF," I say. It's 10:30 at night!

I look at the caller ID and I see it's Dave, who left the apartment not more than 1 minute ago. This can NOT be good.

"Hey," he says. "I just lost my wedding ring in the snow."

I am silent. Is this a joke? Because I am about to rage.

"Come help me look," he says before hanging up.

I throw on my boots, jacket and gloves, and head out. For the next 30 minutes, we comb through the snow in front of our neighbor's house. With all of the shoveling, the ring has most likely sunk down 8 inches into a snow pile. We, of course, find nothing.

The next night, we drive out to somewhere the trains don't go and rent a metal detector. With a new sense of hope, we bring this bright yellow (why?) device to our neighbor's snow piles. And let me tell you, I've come to realize that there's nothing more suspicious than two hooded 20-somethings lurking around in front of a home at night with a large metal weapon. But whatever. After nearly an hour of searching, still no ring.

The next day, we decide that the missing element in all this is daylight. Dave goes back out to the snow piles to try yet again. This time, a woman comes out to get her mail and looks at Dave quizzically. He tells her that he lost his wedding ring somewhere in the snow.

She says, "Oh noooo. Oh noooo. Oh noooo. Oh shit."

Oh shit is right, lady. Oh shit is right.

Everyone who walked by and heard the story shared the same sentiment. Whether they chuckled or gave the Sad Eyes, they all agreed that the ring was never going to be found. Especially after a few extra days of snowfall and shoveling.

By the end of the afternoon, we were ready to agree.

So, here we are, defeated.

Dave's new plan is to sit out in front of the neighbor's in a lawn chair once 40 degrees hits, in hopes that the snow will melt and the ring will magically appear. Hey, we've tried everything else.

In the meantime, he'll buy a $10 band from Target. And once we're rich, we'll get him a new, real band to replace the lost one. Because, really? That thing is GONE.

Dave spels gud

Our latest IM conversation...

Me: Whoa, it's 4 already?

Dave: Yep. And practically dark already.

Dave: I fucking hat it.

Me: I hat it too.

Me: I hat a lot of things.

Dave: Very funnay.

Dave: God dammit!

Sooooo funnay.

From the heart?

Not too long ago, Dave came home with a much-needed haircut and I was ECSTATIC. It was beyond time for him to start looking human again.

So, he comes home with his new 'do, looking very cute. I tell him so.

Me: OMG, you look so damn cute!!!

Dave: [bashfully] Shut up.

Me: What? Take a compliment! What if I called you ugly?

Dave: That would be better because then I'd know it came from the heart and not the vagina.

Sigh.