Boring Can Be Fun

As you may have noticed (or more likely, haven't noticed) I've been a little M.I.A. lately. Why? Lemme tell you something I don't know if you've ever heard before: getting ready to have your first kid is distracting as h-e-double-hockey-sticks. I mean, nothing super crazy has been going on, but I'm too busy looking up "signs of impending labor," watching birth videos, and doing prenatal yoga to do things like write Boring blog posts and try to be funny or even just a little Fun. I've just realized that I've also been too busy to remember to put on deodorant this morning. Oops. A quick sniff test tells me I won't offend anyone today, so I'm going to say it's all good. Since I've last given you one of those exhilarating glimpses into my life, here's what's been going on. 1) Childbirth classes. With videos. Detailed videos. You also learn about lots of disgusting terms: mucous plug, bloody show, lightening crotch, rin

True story: I'm 4 years and about 4 months older than my husband. Normally, this does not bother me in the slightest. You'd have to know the guy, but he's been about 65 since he was born. In many ways, he's the grown-up one in our relationship. I imagine his first words were, "Dad, can you teach me to mow the yard? I feel like I need some adult responsibilities." (I never, never, NEVER uttered anything sounding like that. EVER.) But in a very real and very practical way, I was an adult FOUR YEARS before he was. So, there's that. Now, to repeat, the age difference generally doesn't make me bat a perfectly mascaraed (is that a word?) eyelash. However. Oh, however. Just now, like 5 minutes ago (yes, I'm taking a break at work specifically to write this), he was tagged in a facebook photo. It's a picture of a handmade photo collage from his 8th grade year in school, 2000-2001. That was my first year of college. As in, my senior year

There are two things that I am: Boring and a little Fun. There are several things I wish I were: totally cool and healthy and one of those people who are like, "Yum, farro and lentils is my favorite dish ever!" What is farro? According to NPR , it's an "ancient and complicated grain worth figuring out." Obviously, then, it's only for the cool, smart, healthy people who have time to figure out the deep, complicated psychosis of this noble grain. As it turns out, I'm not quite up to "farro-level cool" yet, since I don't have a degree in Psychology with a specialty in Understanding Complicated Grains. But I'm totally down with lentils. That scores some cool points for me, right? (Wrong. I know. Totally wrong.) Why do I tell you this? I'm not sure. I like pointless details. I assume you are totally interested in my feelings on lentils. Or maybe, I guess, because of the following tale of culinary triumph. The Night I Was Not D

I hadn't realized it before, but even at 31 years old, I wasn't yet a grown-up. Why? Because I'd never bought a piece of new furniture. Obviously. Yeah, I'm married and have a kid on the way, but you can do that when you're, like, 16, right? Buying furniture from a not-second-hand furniture store? Oh, you have to be super grown-up to do that. So, here's my thing: I'm financially bipolar. I love, love , LOVE saving money. I also really like spending it, too. Thankfully, I'm slightly more on the savings side of the bell-curve. Do me a favor and don't look up what a bell curve chart SHOULD look like. 'Cause it ain't this. While I like spending money on things that really matter, like face creams and chocolate and secret snacks that Patrick never needs to know about, I don't like spending large chunks of money on things that don't really matter, like insurance. (Kidding.) Nevertheless, when we looked at the amount of stuff