Author Archives: Cindy

leave a message at the beep

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Hey, wanna hear about a fun part of my job that I didn’t really think about when I signed on?

So, I make these pretty little presentations, and the accompanying script that the presenter would read. I honestly enjoy that part. Playing with PowerPoint can be a lot of fun when you start fooling around with custom animations and stuff like that.

But then – THEN! – after that’s all done, I get to make an audio recording of myself reading the presentation so that any potential presenters can listen to it and get an idea for context and flow. Now, why anyone would need this, I have no idea. You’d think that they could just read the script and understand how to speak it. My guess is that it’s for the non-native English speakers, who might need some assistance. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, there just happen to be a lot of non-native English speakers in my chosen industry.)

And oh my lord, I haaate doing this. As soon as I start talking into my little microphone, my mouth dries up and I feel like I’m talking with a mouthful of cotton. And I loathe the sound of my own voice when it’s recorded. Heck, I didn’t even record the outgoing message on our home voicemail. I made Dave do it.

Also? I talk really fast. So the presentation is supposed to be an hour long, and when I did my initial read-through of it, it was barely 30 minutes. So I have to go back and do it again and focus on talking more s-l-o-w-l-y.

Oy. Hate.

dull dream post

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I try not to write about my dreams too often, because I figure it’s probably really boring for other people to read. And honestly, I have no idea if anyone is going to think that this is funny other than me. But here goes.

Sunday afternoon, Cate and I took a nap together in my bed. (Dave is totally going to call me out for saying “my bed” instead of “our bed,” because I say “my” in reference to lots of things that technically belong to both of us. But he wasn’t there, so in this case, use of the word “our” makes it sound like the bed belongs to Cate and me, and it’s just confusing. Whatever. We were in the king-size bed in the master bedroom. Sufficiently overexplained? I thought so.)

In the dream, we lived in this enormous old mansion. It was at least four stories tall, and had all sorts of weird hidden staircases and rooms in strange places. Sort of like the Winchester Mystery House, I guess. I knew it was haunted, but I knew where the haunted areas were, so we just stayed out of those parts of the house, and figured we were ok.

Oh, random aside: Dave wasn’t Dave in the dream. The guy playing the role of my husband looked familiar, and I knew his voice, but I couldn’t place him. Finally it clicked and I said (in the dream), “Oh hey, look, I’m married to movie star Keanu Reeves!” Not just Keanu Reeves, but Movie Star Keanu Reeves. Like his middle name is Keanu. It was just kinda funny, is all I’m saying.

Anyway, at some point I had to go into one of the haunted parts of the house. No reason why, just dream logic, I guess. I left Cate with my brother and sister because my husband Keanu was off doing lord-knows-what. I walked into the haunted room, and suddenly I felt something pressing against my back and I felt a hand grab ahold of my hair. I had a split-second of absolute terror, where I was convinced that the ghosts had gotten me…

Then I woke up. And I realized that what I felt in my back were Cate’s feet, and she was the one pulling my hair, trying to wake me up. Yeah, it’s weird, I know. It was just funny/strange to go from feeling completely petrified to waking up and realizing that, in fact, the “ghost” is your 11 month-old child who has declared that naptime is officially over.

Oh, and while we’re talking about dreams, I also keep having lots of childbirth dreams lately, but I think that’s because Cate’s first birthday is coming up later this month. You know, big milestone thing, the brain starts thinking about what was going on this time last year, etc. Still, I wish that my subconscious would knock it off, because they’re kinda freaking me out.

baby boogie

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I don’t normally post twice in one day, but here’s a short (less than 2 minutes) video of Cate doing her full-body happy dance to the theme song from “My Friends Tigger & Pooh.” My sister filmed this at my parents’ house on Christmas Day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmEdF5BmVTs

My favorite part is the clapping and the head-shaking, but there’s also one part where she kind of sits up and does this spasm of joy thing that just absolutely slays me every time I see it.

(Oh, and if you look carefully, you can see my new pajama pants pass in the background during the first two seconds.)

happy new yeaaaaggghhh!!

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So, the new year has begun and I am already freaking out.

It’s starting to sink in that this is the year that we are moving, and how on earth am I going to finish the hundreds of little things that need to be fixed around here, get the house on the market, then move a house full of stuff – plus two cars, four cats and a baby – to another location. Oh. My. God.

I knew this was coming, of course, it was just easier when I was still thinking of it as happening “next year.” Now next year has arrived. Hence the wigging out.

We booked our trip to Raleigh to check out the area and do a little house-hunting. We’ll be staying with the lovely and hospitable Cat, Tony and e-baby from March 6th through 10th. That’s a small item on my big huge list of “Reasons to Freak Out,” because we just did a super-long flight with a baby, and it was not exactly what I’d consider to be one of the more pleasant, stress-free experiences that I’ve had in the past, um, forever.

This trip should be slightly easier – we bought Cate her own seat, so the three of us can take up a whole row to ourselves. And she’ll probably (hopefully?) be walking by then, so I can set her down in the airport and let her toddle around a bit to burn off some energy. This last trip, she kept trying to wriggle out of our arms because she wanted to get down and crawl, and eww, gross. Just the thought of her little hands touching the same dirty floors that all those shoes have trekked across… yuck. Sorry, kiddo, not enough Purell in the world.

Anyway, I have a feeling that once the ball gets rolling on all of this move stuff, I’ll be fine. It’s just the anticipation that’s worrying me. I’ve started making my to-do lists now. Obsessive-compulsive? Maybe. But it helps me fall asleep at night instead of lying awake and twitching, so I guess that’s worth it.

open letters, air travel edition

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Dear American Airlines ticket agent who waved me away when I tried to pay for our suitcases that were respectively 2 and 4.5 pounds overweight:

You’re awesome. And I’m sorry that I said, “You too!” when you told me to have a nice flight. I guess you probably get that all day.

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Dear American Airlines:

Would you please re-design your planes so the people who spend a good chunk of money to fly your airline could have maybe an extra couple of inches of legroom? In case you hadn’t noticed, people in this country are getting bigger, not smaller, and the fact that the seats keep getting tinier is really just cruel. All you’d have to do is take out maybe one row of seats to make the extra room. It’s gotten to the point that my husband and I decided that for our next flight, we’re going to have to buy our infant her own seat because there isn’t enough room for her to sit on our laps. It’s insane.

And I know, I know. Doing something radical like allowing there to be less seats on the plane might cut into your profit margins a teensy-tiny bit. But it won’t help you at all when passengers start jumping out of the emergency exit just so they can get rid of the damn charley horse that your stupid cramped seats gave them.

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Dear woman seated in 13F from Dallas to Seattle:

Thanks so much for flying with what appeared to be either the flu, or perhaps a mild case of tuberculosis. Really. My baby girl and I haven’t been nearly sick enough this winter, we really needed to be within close proximity of your germs, in a small metal tube with poor ventilation.

Also, thank you for keeping your seat reclined for the entire flight (even when you got up to go to the restroom!) which essentially pinned my 6’2″ husband in his seat so that he was totally unable to move. I know he appreciated that.

Oh, and I thought your kid was kind of annoying too – it bugged me that he kept looking back between the seats to see if I laughed every time he told his dad a knock-knock joke (and I know he’s young, but the kid needs to work on his delivery, because those jokes sucked). But there was really no need for you to shush him every time he opened his mouth.

Bitch.

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Dear 130 mph headwinds that made our flight a full hour longer than normal:

You suck.

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Dear car service that picked us up from the airport:

I love you. It was so nice to not have to catch the shuttle to the satellite airport parking lots, and then drive 25 miles back home. We’ll call you guys every time we have to go to the airport from now on.

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Dear my back:

I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll buy you a massage soon, but the massage therapist who we like is gone for the holidays. In the meantime, please stop hurting me.

pre-Civil War homes and alcohol, what could be better?

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Guess how Dave and I spent our first night away from the baby? Go on, guess!

We had a lot of fun. We toured a couple of the old antebellum houses, checked out downtown Natchez, ate some great food, stayed in a nice hotel. And oh yeah, the cocktails. It was pretty awesome.

And I only cried about being away from Cate once, so I think I did pretty well. According to my sister, she was an absolute angel the entire time we were gone. She has totally bonded with my sister – Tracy makes a funny face or talks to her, and Cate just cracks up. I think she has already established her Cool Aunt status. I imagine they’re going to be inseparable when Cate is a little bit older.

We got up this morning, toured one more house (for the locals: Longwood, the big unfinished octagonal house that is totally haunted). Dave and I both got carsick on the way home – kind of strange since I was driving, and I don’t usually get motion sickness, but it hit me both on the drive down and on the way back. Blah. So we’ve been all dopey on Dramamine since we got back.

And as much fun as our little getaway trip was, I absolutely could not wait to get home to this little face.

I mean, seriously, can you blame me?

Christmas post

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I hope everybody had a fantastic Christmas. This is going to be quick because we’re about to run out the door.

First, Cate got a haircut for Christmas:

My mom trimmed her bangs, and they’re a little too short because Cate kept jerking her head. She looks sort of like Mia Farrow in “Rosemary’s Baby.” Still, it’s a pretty cute look for her.

The rest of the pictures are here.

Right now we’re about to take my brother to the airport, because he has to get back to Charlotte. I’m bummed he can’t stay the whole week, but you know, people gotta work.

Tomorrow is when Dave and I get our Christmas gift for each other – we’re leaving Cate with my parents and sister for the night, and we’re going to Natchez to tour the antebellum homes and stay in an old historic hotel. Dave’s never been, and I haven’t been there in years, so I can’t wait. This will also be my first night away from Cate since she was born (she’s 11 months old tomorrow!), and I’m torn between feeling slightly terrified and unbelievably excited. I can’t wait.