a little ray of sunshine

It's been a rough couple of weeks:

• I caught a serious cold Thanksgiving weekend that still lingers, even two weeks later. Colds seem so harmless until you get one and remember just how awful they can be. Crappy sleep, fatigue, sinus pressure, painful sore throat, uncontrollable coughing -- all no fun. Getting sick at the onset of the holidays is not ideal. My natural inclination to plan ahead and be super-organized has been thwarted by the overriding need to get what little rest I can. Thus, though my shopping is almost done, I haven't even begun to work on my Christmas cards, mail packages, wrap gifts, or plan my holiday baking schedule. One silver lining, though, is that by some miracle, no one else in my family has gotten sick (knock on wood).
• What little energy I do have is being consumed by the Christmas Breakfast being held this weekend, for ~350 people, that I am co-in-charge of. I am co-responsible for feeding and entertaining a whole heap of folks. One interesting lesson I've learned during the past few months of planning: everyone has an opinion about how things should be done, and no two opinions are the same. In other words, it's impossible to please everybody. Also, making changes from the way things were done in the past -- even when done with a lot of thought, prayer, and the best of intentions -- will cause backlash that requires very thick skin.   
• Guess what decided to die last week? No, not the beta fish that has lived, despite total neglect, for almost 4 years in a bowl on our kitchen counter. Our furnace! If you're keeping track, which I know you aren't, that means that in the past 18 months we've had to replace our air conditioner, hot water heater, and furnace. And who doesn't want to spend thousands of dollars on fancy home upgrades no one will ever see and will only notice if it stops working? Home-ownership demands so much more than just a mortgage payment. I love my home, and am grateful for the comfort it provides, but I wouldn't mind a break from having to tap into our "rainy day" savings quite so often.

The little ray of sunshine in what can only be classified as a trying couple of weeks, came in the form of this movie preview, recently released:

I feel better now.

Oh, and I promise Part 2 of my Australian adventure will be posted at some point this month. Try to contain your excitement.

In the meantime, why don't you tell me what you would do to entertain 350 people who don't want to participate in anything and would much rather just talk to their friends? I've considered forcing folks to do all sorts of awkward skits, getting-to-know-you games, or relays (because the pass-the-orange-from-neck-to-neck game would be hilarious). What do you think?

Highlights from Australia (Part 1)

I can hardly believe that a month ago today I got on a plane bound for Sydney. I don't know how successful I will be at writing posts detailing every moment of my trip, and I don't assume that you have much of an interest in reading them. But, since I don't ever write in a journal, I figure this is my best shot at recording the experience. True to the nature of this little blog, I'm just going to give you random bits and highlights. Perhaps a few pictures, too. And since I am rarely capable of keeping it brief, expect a lengthy post (or two).

Getting There

My Sunday night flight from Chicago to LA was packed. I sat next to two sleepy, harmless women on their way back from a trip to Paris. I was traveling with just a carry-on suitcase, my purse, and a little pillow. Everyone on the flight had a carry-on suitcase, and I was one of the last people on the plane to get my bag in the overhead compartment before they started checking luggage. I was in such a rush to get my bag up and get into my seat that I forgot to get my book out of the front pocket of my suitcase. After all the passengers had boarded, but before the safety information video started, I jumped up to get my book. I had stowed my bag a few rows back, and as I went to open the compartment door I realized that I was too short to reach the pocket at the top of my bag where the book was stored. Being short is really inconvenient. So I looked around, found a nearby handsome aisle-dweller, and casually said, "Excuse me, sir? Do you happen to be taller than 5'2"?" He laughed and said that he was (thank goodness or that would have been embarrassing). I asked him to get my book, he smiled and willingly obliged, I returned to my seat and spent the next four hours buried deep in The Death Cure.

I waited a couple of hours in LAX before boarding my 10:40pm flight to Sydney. Miraculously, my prayers were answered when, on an almost entirely full flight, I somehow managed to have an empty middle seat next to me. The guy on the other side of the empty seat was a 20-something dreadlocked Australian. He was headed home after a week of surfing all day and hitting up "pubs" all night along the California coast. He was very friendly, as I soon learned most Aussies are. I would later be quite jealous of him, since he managed to sleep almost the entire flight. Another Aussie gentleman seated in the row in front of us received a round of applause from everyone in our cabin when he finally managed, after much effort, to cram a very large stuffed animal (like the ones you win at amusement parks) into the overhead bin. Despite the 15 hours of travel that was ahead of us, we were all in a good mood.

Transcontinental overnight flights are like one big awkward slumber party with 350 total strangers. Everyone is dressed in comfy clothes or even pajamas. Passengers kick off their shoes, cuddle up under blankets, use travel pillows, noise-reducing headphones and sleep masks. Once you take off, there's a dinner service then the lights are dimmed and people start to fall asleep. I wanted to wait awhile to fall asleep because I knew I wouldn't sleep long (plane-snoozing isn't easy for me) and I wanted to get my sleep in closer to when we would land, since I would be arriving at 7:20am Sydney time. I read for a bit (this time about a teenage girl in love with a fallen angel), then pulled out my iPad and watched 4 episodes of Downton Abbey, which, due to my love of period dramas, made the time pass quickly.

Mary doesn't deserve you, Matthew.

Eventually, I attempted to sleep. There's something really uncomfortable about sleeping on a plane, and not just because the seats are narrow and upright. It just makes me feel vulnerable and exposed. I think I managed to sleep for about 4-5 hours. Between the showings of inflight entertainment (which I didn't watch because I had no desire to see Mr. Popper's Penguins, Cars 2, or Something Borrowed), the path and current location of the plane is displayed. There really isn't anything but ocean and a few islands between LA and Sydney, so each time that display came up all that could be seen was a plane against a large blue ocean backdrop. Sometime mid-flight they handed out the snack, a sandwich, which was actually the yummiest plane meal I had the whole trip. I watched the last three Downton Abbey episodes, read a little, and was pleased when they started serving breakfast because it meant we had about an hour before we were scheduled to land. It was weird eating what was essentially dinner, lunch, then breakfast all during a time when my body was used to sleeping. I opted for a diet coke instead of juice with breakfast, since I knew I would need to stay awake for another day before I could sleep again.

Sydney

Once I landed in Sydney, I had to get through customs. I was unfortunate to get stuck just ahead of a couple in line who spent the whole time ranting and raving about the flight we'd just taken. Apparently the guy was some big-shot million mile club member, and he hadn't been treated as special as he expected to be. I wanted to turn around and say "Dude, look around. You're in Australia! Get over it!" Getting through customs was no big deal, but passing through the quarantine area is a bit intense. The Australians are rightfully protective of the types of foreign pests/substances/produce allowed into their country. I had to get my bags sniffed by a trained dog, which was nerve-racking even though I wasn't trying to smuggle in anything. Once I passed through quarantine, I was ready to leave the airport, hop in a cab, and head to the hotel.

I arrived at the Four Seasons feeling tired and gross. I knew Scott was somewhere in the hotel participating in the conference that brought us there in the first place. The plan was for me to arrive, get settled, shower (hooray!) and go exploring while Scott was busy working. I picked up a room key from the front desk and went to our room. I had decided before I left for Sydney that I wanted to hit up the hotel fitness center first thing in order to wake up a bit and get my blood flowing after sitting for so long. Scott showed up unexpectedly when he took a quick break from his meetings to come up to the room and dial in to a conference call. It was really nice to see him since we'd been apart for a few days. Arriving on his birthday made it extra special. Soon I headed off to the fitness center and planned to meet up with him again for dinner.

Despite the fact that I was exhausted and smelly, it was really nice to get a run in. I hopped on the treadmill and discovered soon after I began that it was displaying everything in some other language, Italian I think. I fudged my way through programming the settings I wanted. I thought I was having the run of my life until my groggy, jet-lagged mind clued in to the fact that the treadmill was showing my distance and pace in kilometers, not miles. Still, I managed to run 5k before heading back to my room to take a much-needed shower. Clean, mildly tired, but very refreshed, I decided to head out and explore downtown Sydney.

By this time it was midday and the city was bustling. Our hotel was perfectly located right by Circular Quay, close to transportation, shopping, and many popular tourist spots. I walked past the shops and through the business district, and soon noticed something remarkable: Australians are extremely attractive. Like, seriously a good-looking group of people as a whole, and I'm not just saying that because of the accent. There were hordes of well dressed, clean cut Sydneysiders (that what they call themselves -- fun, right?) out on their lunch break. Also surprising was how many people were out jogging through the city in the middle of the day. In summary, Australians are fit and attractive and their accents are really cool.

I knew within my first hour of Sydney exploration that I was destined to love that city. The fact that the sun was shining and the weather was perfect certainly didn't hurt either. I walked and walked, over to Darling Harbor and along the water back to Circular Quay. It was the ideal way to begin my time in there.

That evening, Scott and I went out to dinner with his boss, James. We stopped at a pub with rooftop seating and enjoyed a nice dinner together. Somehow I managed to stay awake, despite having only slept for 5 of the previous 48 hours. After we ate, we walked over to the Sydney Harbor Bridge and had a great view of the Opera House all lit up at night.

I was thrilled when it was finally time to go to sleep! I found that adjusting to the time difference was easier than I expected. All I really had to do was force myself to stay awake during that first day and the rest of the trip was easy. In fact, I was almost too adjusted by the time we headed home.

That's all the recapping I can manage for now. Stay tuned... next time I'll post about some of the fun stuff we did once Scott was free from his work obligations, and I'll tell you observations I had about Australia. There will probably be more pictures too.

Before and After

Just a quick picture post today to show you a bit of the progress in our basement-finishing project. Here's what this area towards the back of the basement looked like before:

tons of crud stacked on shelves made of plywood, surrounded by more crud




But today something magical happened. Today, this was installed:

empty canvas waiting to be stuffed with aforementioned crud

I am giddy. This is a dream come true for an organizer like me. I cannot wait until all of the toys, crafts, art supplies, and other random stuff is neatly concealed behind those crisp white doors and within those perky wicker baskets. Oh, and there's a mini-fridge! Because sometimes, when you're thirsty, you really don't want to have to walk up a flight of stairs to get refreshment. Know what I mean?

Life is good, my friends. Crazy and hectic, but good.

Oh, and an Australia post is coming. It feels like a lifetime ago that I went, even though it hasn't even been a month. Hopefully I can still remember enough of what we did to make it interesting. It was the best trip I've ever taken and I'll be lucky if I ever get to go back someday.

I'm Going to a Land Down Under

Are you ready to know about my super amazing awesome surprise? Good! I'm finally ready to reveal what it is: I am going to

Australia

very, very soon. Like, less than a month from now soon. I haven't been ready to talk about it until this moment because I was so worried that plans would fall through and I was desperately trying not to get my hopes up. But it is happening, though I can hardly believe it.

So why am I going? How did this come about? Well, this past spring Scott traveled to Sydney on business, spent a week there, and returned home with nothing but wonderful things to say about that part of the world. When the company he was working with asked him to return this fall, he gladly agreed and vowed to take me with him. I've spent the past couple of months trying to get all the details to fall into place. I've got my passport, airline miles have been cashed in and flights have been booked, and I've made arrangements for my kids. It is real and I am going.

Now I realize that for some of my jet-setting, world-traveler friends, this trip probably seems like no big deal. And maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it really isn't. But for me, it's huge. The last time I traveled across the ocean to another country I was 18. The last time I crossed a border was on my honeymoon, when we went to British Columbia. It's been awhile since I've been off American soil and this will be my first time in the Southern hemisphere.

Scott will head out a few days before I do, so that he can take care of the business that requires him to go in the first place. I'll join him later and keep myself entertained for about a day and a half before he is freed up and we are able to be tourists together.

While in Sydney, I plan to sleep here:

I think I'll take a gander at these:

and maybe some of these:

I want to tour this:

Sydney Opera House

Also, I will climb to the top of this:

I do not plan to eat any of this:

But I might just eat this:

(I hear Kangaroo is tasty)

I will probably spend a day here:



Blue Mountains



And perhaps some time will be spent here:

Bondi Beach

But before I can do any of that, I must endure 20 hours on a plane, by myself, sitting in coach. To that end, I've been on a quest this week to find the perfect cross-body purse for travel. Here are the three choices I've narrowed it down to:



I know they all look similar, but there are subtle differences. I need a bag that can hold all of my stuff on the plane, like travel documents, electronic devices, my book, wallet, etc. It also needs to look cute and be easy to carry since I'll be toting it around Australia for a week. I ordered them all online and plan to stuff each to capacity, wear it around the house, and pick the best one to keep. Such big decisions, I know. Which do you like the best, based solely on the little pictures above?

Here's where I really need your help friends: what advice can you give for international travel and super-long flights? Got any tips or suggestions for what I should do/eat/explore while I'm away? What should I pack for Australian spring weather? Finally, how long do you think it will take for them to kick me out of their country if I greet each person I meet with "G'day Mate!" and ask every waiter to "Throw another shrimp on the barbie!" for me? (I love shrimp, so this is a real concern.)

Truth be told, I'm still in a state of denial about the whole excursion. I don't think it'll feel real until I'm on the flight to Sydney. And don't even get me started on everything that needs to happen between now and then. It's not like I'm in the middle of a major house remodel or anything...

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p.s. Where has all the comment love gone? How have I failed you, loyal readers? Help me feel validated by leaving a little note. Please and thank you. :)

My latest obsession and other random stuff...

I was about to open with how my life has been so busy that I haven't even had time to write about it, but honestly, who doesn't have a busy life? Isn't it kind of silly to talk about how busy you are? Isn't everyone busy in their own way? And does anyone really care what particular brand of busy you are? Probably not. So I'll spare you the "I've been soooo busy" opener and just get right down to it. And by "it," I mean blathering on for a bit about the things that are smooshed together in my brain right now, taking up space and occupying my free time.

The Basement

We're a week into finishing it and so far everything is going smoothly. I'm trying to get used to the sounds of saws, nail guns, and even jackhammers that are ringing through the house. This first week has helped me recognize the importance of ceiling insulation, which we will certainly be installing downstairs.

There are so many decisions to make! I don't know how my friends who have custom-built their homes have survived it. I'm overwhelmed by samples and photos of carpet, tile, counter tops, cabinets, faucets, and light fixtures. Every detail, like where I want the light switches to go, what sections of the room should be controlled by which switches, which direction I want the doors to be hung -- should they swing in (bathroom) or out (storage room)? -- needs to be decided and I'm the one who has to do it. While I wouldn't necessarily classify myself as an indecisive person, I'm not really a decisive person either. I'm sort of semi-decisive, which is why I've already been back to the tile store to change everything I chose the first time I was there.

One consequence of having the basement finished is that we were forced to clear out or relocate all of the junk we had down there, thus leading to my new obsession: Craigslist! Faced with the idea of having to find a spot somewhere else in my house for the many cast-offs relegated to the basement, I decided it was time to purge some of the items we didn't need. Over the course of a few weeks, I managed to sell all sorts of stuff, including baby items, furniture, small appliances, and tools. There is a sense of satisfaction that comes from ridding your home (and life) of stuff you don't need, and if you can make a few hundred dollars in the process, all the better!

Craigslist takes some figuring out, though. I've never been much for garage sales or second-hand stores. I have nothing against them -- I wholeheartedly admire those who are hard-wired to find a good bargain -- but I cannot seem to be able to look past all the junk in order to find the treasure. The distance that someone would travel to purchase a $20 coffee table, as the guy from Oak Park did, surprised me. I sold an old baby gate for $5 to a girl who lives 25 minutes away. My mind is not wired to think that driving that far for something like that would be worth it.

But I must say that all the buyers I dealt with were great, and I'm happy that some of the dust-collecting items I had are now being put to good use. Of course, at some point my new obsession has to end, because I am running out of things to get rid of. There's a certain high that comes from having someone hand you cash and walk away with your unwanted goods, so I've found myself eyeing everything I own and mentally putting a price tag on it. Not good. Must stop.

Justin Bieber

Don't worry, he has not, nor will he ever become my new celebrity boyfriend. But, I think I get it now -- why he's such a big deal. I had a strong desire to run last night after a few exercise-free days thanks to a weird confluence of illness symptoms over the past week that made me feel like death was imminent. When I run on the treadmill, I sometimes listen to music, but more often I watch something on TV. Since all of my go-to "treadmill shows" haven't started airing new episodes yet, I decided to watch a dvd, and as luck would have it, Justin Bieber's Never Say Never movie had just arrived via Netflix. (Don't ask why. You really don't want to know.)

Why not? I thought. Why not run to some ridiculous footage of Justin Bieber and his thousands of adoring fans? And you know what? It made the time pass quickly; it really did. I ran nearly 8 miles as I learned all about Justin's meteoric rise to fame. His humble beginnings, his musical "gifts" presenting themselves at an early age, his youtube videos that led to his "discovery," his grassroots campaign to win fans over by driving all over the country in a van hitting up every radio station that would have him... All leading up to the pinnacle of his 16 years of life, singing at a sold-out Madison Square Garden concert. But wait! What's this? He has a sore throat just days before he's supposed to perform!!! Oh, the suspense! Will the swelling and redness (which we get to see thanks to the wonders of medical technology) go down in time? What if he has to cancel?! I was on the tips of my toes, which I think is the treadmill equivalent of being on the edge of your seat.

Say what you will about his pubescent looks, or that awful mop of hair, but you can't deny that the kid has talent. I was left wondering whether I would have been obsessed with Justin Bieber if he'd been popular when I was 12. I honestly don't think I would, since New Kids On The Block were my generation's equivalent of the Biebs and I had little interest in them. My girls are the same age of many of the little girls that were shown throughout the video, screaming about how "hot" he is, or crying as he came on stage. Thankfully, my girls are not in the least bit interested in him. I know there will come a day when one of them might feel that urge to become completely fixated on a celebrity, but I hope it won't happen anytime soon. I want them to remain as innocent as they can for as long as possible. Because it's a slippery slope, my friends.

Lone Wife Habits

Since the days when we were first married, Scott has always had a job that requires him to do a certain amount of travel. While I certainly prefer the times when he is not away on business, I must admit that there are some benefits to having him gone. For example, last night we had cereal for dinner. It's the kids' favorite dinner, it requires no effort on my part, and I am free from whatever "I am such a lousy wife for serving cold cereal for dinner" guilt I might have if Scott were in town. Not that he would ever think I am a lousy wife for the occasional easy dinner, but my wife-guilt is rarely rational.

Also, my house stays cleaner. My husband is not a slob, but he's not a neat-freak either. There's less clutter, fewer dirty socks in odd places, and virtually no random used paper towels left on the counter. (What is it with men leaving random used napkins and paper towels everywhere?) Making the bed in the morning is super simple when I'm the only person who has slept in it.

At night, once the kids are all in bed, I've got the whole house to myself and am free to do what I like. Last night I ran 8 miles, but sometimes I'll turn on a chick flick or read a book. I always stay up later than I should, as my night owl tendencies tend to come out when I'm left to my own devices.

But there are disadvantages to having him gone, not the least of which is that I miss him. The house gets eerily quiet at night and as I'm trying to fall asleep every noise that I hear I mistake for a burglar. If there's a spider I have to kill it myself. I have no partner in the nightly bedtime battle we wage with our children. If I need to go out in the evening to a meeting, social event, or school function, I have to hire a babysitter. Whatever I want to tell him I have to save up until we get a few minutes of time to talk on the phone, and then I have to actually remember what it was I wanted to tell him in the first place.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I am accustomed to being the wife of a man who travels for business. I don't whine or complain, nor do I think my situation is more difficult than that of any of the other wives and mothers out there. I try to look on the bright side, and am grateful that he travels less than he used to -- he spent the first two trimesters of my first two pregnancies traveling Monday through Friday, week after week. That, I admit, was tough.

But the airline miles and hotel points he earns have allowed us to take some amazing trips together, like to Maui, New York, Boston, and Charleston -- all with free hotels and flights. I cannot complain about that.

On that note, I urge you to check back in a few days when I will finally be ready to reveal the "super amazing awesome surprise" I mentioned in my last post. All the details are falling into place and I'm just starting to believe that it's really going to happen. I can hardly wait!!!

Anticipation

There are few feelings I enjoy more than anticipation. In fact, I like looking forward to some things so much that I often have to temper my expectations or risk feeling let down when the long-awaited event actually occurs. I've been thinking through the next few months and I've realized that I have A LOT to look forward to before 2011 comes to a close. Shall I write a chronological list of the excitement to come? Yes? Well okay then, here goes:

School Starts

It's been a loooong summer, friends. We've had many wonderful adventures including a trip to Six Flags Great America, a jaunt up to Michigan to pick fresh, ripe peaches and blueberries, a day spent exploring the great city of Chicago, and visits from dear old friends, family, and both sets of grandparents. Add to that days spent at the movies, at the children's museum, at the ice cream parlor, at summer camp, at the zoo, and countless nights at swim meets and you can see why I am just so. dang. tired.

I want my life back. I crave structure and need routines. My family functions best when have a schedule and when that schedule includes school. We all like each other more when we've seen each other less. School starts on Monday for my girls and Wednesday for my boy. Freedom is so near and I can hardly wait to reduce the number of hours each day that are available for my kids to bicker with each other. Being able to run to the grocery store by myself and listen to the music of my choice in the car are extra added benefits.

Finishing the Basement

We've been in our house for five years and the only purpose the basement has ever served up until this point is as a dumping ground for all of our unused stuff. Old furniture, boxes of college textbooks, spare computer parts, holiday decorations, outgrown clothes... they all live down there in that abyss. It's a massive waste of space and an easy way to ignore accumulated clutter. The following picture, just one portion of our basement, proves all that I have just described:

But now we've scrimped and we've saved and we're finally ready to pull the trigger and turn our basement into usable space. The work begins in September and will hopefully be done early October. Once complete, we'll have a large rec room, area for guests to sleep, a place to put the treadmill (which now resides inconveniently in the master bedroom), a full bathroom, storage space, and a wall devoted solely to a large screen for TV/movie viewing. All the toys and crafts will have a new home, and I will be able to reclaim my family and living rooms. Just don't ask me how, in the next three weeks, I am going to manage to clear out my entire basement. I'm seriously considering renting a dumpster and pitching everything!

Another concert? Why not?

There are so few musicians that Scott and I both enjoy that when one of our favorites passes through town, we make every effort to go see them live. Next month we get to go see Alison Krauss perform and I am very excited! Do you know her music? Chances are, you've heard this song before:

Her voice is truly the most beautiful one I have ever heard. I cannot wait to spend an evening in the city, sitting next to the guy I love, listening to such angelic tones. (<------Holy crud, that was cheesy. Geez). Anyway, you know I love a good concert and this one will be fantastic, I am sure.

The Death Cure


Have you read The Maze Runner? It is such a fantastic book series! The third and final book in the trilogy is coming out in October, I've got it pre-ordered, and I can hardly wait! If you liked the Hunger Games, I think you'll like this series. In fact, I might like The Maze Runner series a bit more. There's less violence (though there certainly still is some) and no blatant underlying political agenda, which makes it a more compelling read in my opinion. There are lots of unanswered questions and I cannot wait to see how everything is resolved. Anticipating a book release is always tricky, though. I'm having to manage my expectations and remind myself that the author will write what he wants and I'll just be along for the ride when I read it.

Super Amazing Awesome Surprise

I apologize for having to be annoyingly vague, but I have the most spectacular, amazing, once-in-a-lifetime event to look forward to in October. I've spent the past few weeks trying as hard as I can not to get my hopes up, because if what I think is going to happen really happens, then I'm going to be so very excited! Until it's 100%certain, with all the details in place -- and right now I'd say it's about 90% of the way there -- I won't mention it because I don't want to jinx it. But just know that it is awesome and you'll hear all about it once I'm ready to believe it's actually real.

Sisters Weekend

Every year or so, my mom, all of my sisters, my charming sister-in-law, and I get together for a spouse-free, kid-free long weekend getaway. In years past, we've gone to Chicago, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, San Francisco... This year, in early November, we are headed to my parents' house in southern California to spend time with each other and my sweet 93 year old grandmother. I love these weekends! I'm ashamed to admit that I appreciate my sisters (and my mom) way more now than I ever did growing up. Now that my nearest sister lives over 1500 miles away, these rare times of togetherness mean so much to me. We haven't planned out every minute of the time we'll have yet, but I'm certain there will be lots of laughter and at least one meal at The Cheesecake Factory -- it's a tradition!

ZEMAS Reunited

Ladies, it's almost that time again. Last night I was at the movies (Crazy, Stupid, Love -- go see it if only for Ryan Gosling) and this trailer came on before the show.

At the end of the trailer Scott turned to me and said, "Uh, yeah, you can go see that with your ZEMAS friends." Such a good husband! It looks predictable and contrived, but it has Zac as part of the ensemble so you will find me in the theater at the beginning of December when it opens. Mark my words.




So much to look forward to! I'm still hoping to find another race, preferably a 10k, to add to my list of things to do by the end of 2011. Overall, though, I think I've got a solid 4 months ahead of me.

Now I want to know what you're looking forward to. Tell me, what's coming up in your life? Got anything, major or simple, that has you quivering with anticipation?

Third Time's the Charm...

I honestly had no intention of going again anytime soon. Having been twice already, I felt like a third time would push me into awkward territory. I'm a fan, but not a "Super Fan." I mean, it's not like I've ever written him a letter. I don't even know when his birthday is (on a totally unrelated note, did you know that my husband shares a birthday with this guy?).

Yet somehow, a week ago, I found myself once again in his presence. Him who? you ask. Why, Michael Buble of course! I first saw him in concert, thus breaking a decade-long concert-going drought, in March of 2010. Given that he is one of the very few artists that Scott and I both like, I knew it wouldn't be the last time we saw him perform, especially since the show was so enjoyable. Our seats for that first show were decent, to the left of the stage, on the lower level, far back enough that we had to turn to one side to see the performance.

When I found out Buble was coming back through town in last December, I managed to get floor seats, 18th row, dead center. This was our view, though I'm fairly sure I was using my zoom for this picture:

It was a lot of fun, and I loved having a new perspective from which to watch the performance.

Then a couple of months ago I saw that Michael Buble was bringing his act back to Illinois once again. This time, instead of a venue in Chicago, he would be appearing in Moline, a town that's right near the border of Iowa, and is a little over two hours west from where I live. Though I was tempted, I decided not to buy tickets when they went on sale for a couple of reasons:

1. Moline is not close or convenient.
2. I had already been to see him twice in a year's time, and going a third time seemed a bit ridiculous.
3. I knew that if I went again, I would want to have even better seats than the last time. Finding awesome seats without paying a broker big bucks is not easy.

The day the tickets went on sale, just for kicks, I went online and checked to see what seats were available. While it hadn't sold out (like his Chicago shows always do, very quickly I might add), the seats available weren't any better than where I'd sat the time before. I was content with the knowledge that I wouldn't be missing out too much. And then...

...I noticed that Ticketmaster was doing an online auction for seats in the first 4 rows. Now, I'd seen and tracked these auctions before. When Buble came through Chicago, the final bids in these auctions, on these seats, were usually typically $300-500 per ticket. Which, for me, is just not going to happen.

On a whim, I thought: why not place a super low bid? Worst case, I don't get tickets, which would be fine since I wasn't planning on going to begin with. Best case, I get seats in the first few rows and have an amazing, unforgettable night! I submitted my bid, which was essentially the lowest possible bid, plus $10. I had no intention of bidding any higher, and had no doubt that I would soon lose my "place" in the auction. Imagine my surprise, then, when a week later I got an email informing me that I had won two tickets on the second row! Somehow, my low bid -- which was just a little more than the price that the normal tickets sell for -- had held. Even more incredible is that the person who won 1st row seats had only bid $160 per ticket, which is more than I would ever pay, but still really low all things considered.

My original plan was to attend the concert with Scott, but as the date drew near, he worried that he would be too busy (a large deadline at work was looming) to be able to take the time to go. When I found out my friend Carol would be coming in from out of town to visit the same weekend of the concert, the problem of who to take was easily solved.

A two-hour drive goes by quickly when you've got a friend to chat with the whole way. When we got inside the arena and saw our seats, 2nd row, on the aisle, just left of center, we were amazed. Holy crud we were so close!

There is always a really interesting mix of people at his concerts. Folks of all ages attend, and the people-watching in the front is the best to be had, because that's where you can find a lot of the crazies. Women who have spent hours decorating posters that say things like "Michael, I've been to 15 of your concerts and I just haven't met you yet!" or "I'm your cougar!" or "Bub-lay me!" Some of these women clearly dressed with the hope of getting noticed by the man himself. There was an abundance of sparkles, cleavage, and sequins.

The highlight of my night, aside from the onstage entertainment, was spotting the two middle-aged women who I had been seated next to at the last Buble show I attended. They were unintentionally hilarious. This time, like me, instead of being in the 18th row, they were right up front. First row, to be exact. When I met them back in December, they told me all about how much they had grown to like Naturally 7, the opening act. They knew all the words to every song, and even some of the choreography. This time around, when Naturally 7 came out, these ladies were in hysterics. They were standing, waving, shouting out the names of the band members, singing along to every song, and even doing the choreography. It was awesome to behold.

Now, onto the pictures...

Michael signing the poster of an older woman who had been to something like 23 of his shows.




Michael holding the towel that he used to wipe the sweat off his face throughout the evening. He handed it to a little girl seated right in front of us. Kinda cool, kinda gross.


My ginormous head! About two-thirds of the way through the concert, they allowed people to come stand right up against the barrier, so of course we did! Being that close is really fun. You know the big screens that are up so people in the back can see the performer? You know how sometimes they pan to the crowd and you see people cheering? Yeah, we were those people. Our faces were on the jumbo screens, repeatedly.








The final moments of the show, when he ditches the microphone and belts out the last few lines of "Song for You." Pretty darn amazing.


In advance, we had booked a room at the hotel adjacent to the venue, since driving back home through farm country in the middle of the night didn't sound appealing. So, after the show, rather than walk right back to the hotel, we wandered over to the back of the outside of the arena and spotted Michael Buble's tour bus, with him walking around inside it. Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones milling around, and it soon became evident that they were preparing for departure. Before the buses pulled away, Michael's personal assistant spotted the crowd forming and came out to gather any personal items that we would like to have signed by the man himself. I handed over my ticket, and a few minutes later she brought it back, newly adorned with a scribble that I'll choose to believe is his autograph. Most amusing was the person who offered up a manuscript he had written, and asked that Michael read and keep it. Gotta admire that guy's tenacity.


It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I'm so glad I acted impulsively (something I rarely do) and bid on those tickets!

Peace and Quiet

I remember once being at a gathering of women where we were playing some "get-to-know-you" games. The following question was posed: "If you had one day all to yourself, with no responsibilities and no one else's needs to attend to, what would you do?" My response came easily, without requiring much effort to think it over. Here's what I presented as my perfect, carefree day:

Wake up when my body is ready to

Eat a leisurely breakfast

Go for a run, not worrying about how long I'm gone or how far I go

Return home and shower, taking time to pamper myself with all of those extra at-home spa treatments -- like facial masks and exfoliating creams -- that I never have time to use

Fix lunch and sit down to enjoy it

Spend all afternoon reading a book

Have a light dinner

Watch a period drama (with Austenian men wearing breeches and speaking with British accents) while eating a big bowl of ice cream

Go to bed whenever I feel tired

Seems really simple, right? It wasn't until we kept going around the room, hearing the responses of the other women, that I realized something about my ideal day: it involved no one else, and aside from going out to run, it didn't include me going anywhere. Other women talked about making plans to go to lunch with a friend, or calling someone they hadn't spoken to in awhile, but not me. All I wanted was to be alone. Which doesn't surprise me one bit, because it's something I've known about myself for a long time: I love solitude.

This is not a new phenomenon -- I have sought peace and quiet since I was a kid. Being raised the 4th out of 5 kids meant I was born into noise and clamor. While I have many fond memories of growing up, most of my memories of my childhood homes involve me finding a quiet space to play, all by myself. Sometimes it was a closet, or a group of trees in the backyard, or even an oft unused space, like the dining room. The first time I had my own bedroom I was 10, and it was such welcome change. Not that I didn't love my siblings, or enjoy spending time with them, because I did (and still do). I just craved time to myself, a feeling that hasn't diminished in adulthood.

I wouldn't classify myself an an introvert. In fact, I love talking to other people and making new friends. I've had times in my life when I have felt lonely, and it feels awful. For me, there is a difference between loneliness and being alone. Loneliness is when you feel like there's no one who likes or cares about you. Being alone is when the people who care about you just aren't around. Maybe it doesn't make sense to anyone else, but it's the definition that works for me. I would classify myself as a "homebody." I love to be in comfortable surroundings, and for me there is no place more comforting than home.

But home, while sometimes peaceful, is rarely silent. With three kids and a spouse needing attention, moments for quiet reflection are rare. When my kids were very young, I could count on naptime for a brief respite. Now that my kids are a bit older, during the school year, there are windows of time when my oldest two are in elementary school, my youngest is in preschool, and I have time to myself. Often I use the time to get errands run, go to the doctor, pay bills, volunteer at school, or have the occasional lunch date with a friend. It's a little bit of freedom, and I don't take it for granted.

It's been two weeks since school let out for the summer. I certainly don't mind having a break from packing lunches and helping with homework, but there has been a whole lot of togetherness, and just like in past years, it has taken some time for me to adjust. Last night after the kids were in bed I went to the store. As I was driving from my first stop, Costco, to my next stop, SuperTarget, it occurred to me that for the first time in 8 days, I was by myself. It was an ordinary trip to pick up some groceries, but it was something. It was a break.

Please don't misunderstand... I love my family. I love spending time with my husband and my kids. But I don't handle chaos well. When life is hectic and days are crazy, I need time and space to recuperate. I doubt I'm the only person who feels this way; I imagine it's quite common. Forget flowers or perfume, one of the best gifts Scott can give me is to take the kids somewhere on a Saturday afternoon and let me stay home. This afternoon, he and the kids went for a bike ride. Even with the house to myself and endless possibilities for how to kill the time, what did I do? I cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor, vacuumed the family room, and began to write this post. I was a few paragraphs in when they arrived home. But it was enough. Enough time for me to recharge and get through the rest of the day.

I know they say that someday, when I'm old and gray, I'll miss the noise caused by an active family and a busy life. Perhaps they're right. It's hard to imagine, but I'm sure it's true. And I don't know that I'll ever have a day that's completely free from any responsibilities, but I'm quite certain I know what I would do if I did.

How about you? If you had a day all to yourself, with nothing to do and nowhere to be, what would you do?

The Ones I Got Away From...

The time has come, my little friends, to share some more stories from my past life as a single flirt. Today, as the title of this post implies, you will learn about guys I used to like and/or date. In order to allow these fellows some small amount of anonymity, I've changed their names and certain identifying details. But first, a disclaimer:

Mom, I know you read this blog and I don't mind, but you might want to skip this one. Or, at the very least, remind yourself that I am now a very happily married adult who turned out just fine. Also, I'm not going to tell you who these guys were, so don't bother to ask. (Love you!)

Also, it is worth noting that there was a time when I didn't date guys who lived the standards that I follow. There were pretty slim pickins among the church boys back then. Anyhoo.....

First up:

Jason
I met Jason during my college years. We hit it off instantly, but it took a while before we started dating because I was involved with someone else. Eventually, we began to hang out and spend more time together. Jason was really charming. He was cute, funny, tall, engaging... and he knew it, too. What I didn't know when we first started dating, but what I discovered over time, is that Jason was also a compulsive liar. I don't think I ever got a straight answer out of him about anything. He lied about his family, where he lived, what his major was -- he even lied about how he spelled his name. ("It's actually spelled Jaysen," he told me.) I'm not kidding. Every time he picked me up for a date, he arrived driving a different car and he always had an explanation as to why.

So why did I keep seeing him? First of all, I didn't realize he was lying right away (I must have been blinded by his charm). It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of his driver's license that I realized he'd lied about how he spelled his name. Also, he was fun! On one of our dates we skipped class and went skiing. He kept taking me down black diamond runs, and I'm really more of a blue square kind-of girl, so he spent a large part of the day watching me snowplow down moguls, but still, we had a good time. Then one day he just sort of vanished. He stopped calling, I found some other guy to like, and I forgot about him. Six months passed and during that time I figured out what a catch he wasn't. Then one evening he showed up on my doorstep with a story about how he had temporarily moved to the East coast, but now he was back and wanted to start seeing me again. In his hand was a bouquet of fresh-picked roses that he claimed to have grown and cultivated by himself, and all I could think was how some poor old lady was going to be really ticked when she next stepped into her garden and realized her flowers had been violated. That night, I let "Jaysen" down gently, deflected his attempt to kiss me, said goodbye, and never saw him again.


Bill
Ah, Bill. He was quite the guy. Another charmer and a total heart-breaker. There aren't a lot of details I can share about him without the risk that some of my readers might figure out who he is. But I will tell you about the time, after we'd been seeing each other off and on for several months, that we went out on a group date and in one night I lost every ounce of attraction I'd ever felt for him. Ready?

One night a group of us went out to dinner at swanky restaurant and then went dancing. I remember three things about our meal:

1. It was a nice seafood restaurant and I was the only one out of 4 girls who ordered fish. All the other girls got fettuccine alfredo. Lame.

2. At one point all of the girls except me made one of those group trips to the restroom to freshen up. When they returned to the table a few minutes later, I was surrounded by all of their smiling dates, telling what I'm sure was the most charming and hilarious tale ever told, which resulted in me getting the stinkeye from each girl.

3. Since everyone but him was underage, Bill decided he wanted to impress us all by ordering a glass of wine with his meal. Not cool. Idiot move. Not only did he get carded, which is just embarrassing, but he was a lightweight. One glass of wine made him tipsy and made me annoyed because it meant I'd have to drive for the rest of the night.

When the dancing portion of the evening arrived I learned something shocking and horrible. Bill could not dance. I mean, it was awful. He had no rhythm and flailed around like Elaine on that episode of Seinfeld.

I was mortified and not surprisingly, instantly lost every ounce of attraction toward him. After the dancing we all decided to head back to my place to hang out some more, but on the drive home I sent Bill packing. And that was the end of my relationship with Bill.

Mike
Mike was older, really popular, and in hot pursuit of one of my sisters. Since I had a crush on almost every guy my sister liked or dated, it shouldn't surprise you that Mike was no exception. One night he called to talk to her, but I answered and she wasn't home, so instead he tried to work his charms on me. The only part of the phone conversation that I remember, lo these many years later, was when he decided to serenade me over the phone with his own version of Prince's Could you be the most beautiful girl in the world? <--------(unfamiliar with it? click the link and brace yourself.) It was the most repulsive thing I'd ever heard. When will guys learn that unless they have a voice like Michael Buble, they have no right to serenade a girl? All she wants to do is cringe and escape. What's truly sad is that these tactics must have worked on others because this Mike was rarely without girls fawning all over him. Thankfully, after that phone conversation, I was over him. I'm pretty sure my sister was wise enough to avoid his cheese as well.

Chris
I met Chris while I was in high school. He was older, seemed wiser, and was the type of guy who made whatever girl he was with feel like she was the only girl in the world that mattered. Unfortunately, Chris also was a big fan of movies about the mafia: The Godfather, Casino, Goodfellas, you name it. But I didn't know this until after he suckered me into believing that he had ties to the mob. (See, now this is where I get really embarrassed because I sound like such a gullible twit, which, maybe I was). One night he told me the most elaborate tale about how he had gotten involved with the mafia, how he had this huge showdown and almost killed someone, but instead just shot him in the knee. It all sounded so ridiculous, but I really liked this guy (for reasons that must not seem obvious) so I chose to accept that part of his past since he said he'd managed to get out. Many months later Chris finally confessed to me that he'd made the whole thing up and he had felt guilty for lying to me about it. Why any guy would think that ties to the mafia makes him more appealing is beyond me.

Steve
I had a massive crush on Steve when I was in high school. You might think that detail would be a dead giveaway for who "Steve" really is (for those who knew me when), but if you knew me at all in high school then you know that I had, on average, about five massive crushes going on at any given time. Yes, if you hadn't guessed already, I was really boy crazy. Steve and I were good friends who shared a lot of classes together and ran in the same circles. I don't think my crush on him was any secret to Steve. We just had really bad timing. When I was interested in him, he was involved with someone else. By the end of our senior year, we were both involved with other people... but that didn't stop him from asking me to go with him to our post-graduation senior celebration night. I declined.

Once when I was home from college for a visit, Steve asked me out. We went to dinner and then over to the house that he was sharing with some of his college buddies. As we hung out, it slowly began to dawn on me that all residual feelings I had for him were gone. He was a great friend, but nothing more. Unfortunately, I think at the exact time I had that revelation, Steve decided that he had feelings for me. Like I said, we had really bad timing. He started to give me a shoulder massage, and I was excessively creeped out. I think random massages rank right up there with serenades when it comes to automatic turn-offs for most women. I politely excused myself from his presence and was more than happy to return to school a few days later.

and finally...

Todd
This is the only circumstance described in this post where I am willing to admit that I was the bigger idiot, so enjoy:

When I was in high school I worked at a local brew pub/restaurant as a hostess. On Monday nights, I moonlighted as the "weenie girl" in the bar, selling hot dogs during Monday Night Football. It was on one of these nights that I met Todd. He was cute and funny, and he must have liked me too because he kept leaving his table of friends to come back over to talk to me. I learned that he was a 24 year-old grad student attending the major university in my hometown. When Todd asked me where I went to school, I told him that I also went to said major university, which wasn't a lie and here's why: My senior year I applied for and was accepted to the High School-University program. I spent the morning at my high school, then a few days a week I left campus after lunch and earned college credits by attending classes at the university. It was actually a really wonderful program and I'm glad I did it.

Anyway, when I told Todd that he and I went to school together, I didn't think much of it. Yes, it was technically a half-truth, but I was just flirting and it seemed like no big deal. That is, until he asked me out. You know how they say that you shouldn't tell lies because before you know it, you've spun a web of deceit? Yeah, well, here's a cautionary tale for you, friends: If you tell a guy that you go to the same school he does, chances are, if he's interested in you and wants to prolong the conversation, he's going to ask you questions like what's your major? and what courses are you currently taking? and pretty soon that little white lie has spun itself into a big ol' mess.

Because I couldn't pass up the opportunity to go out with a really good looking college guy, I accepted his offer and thought not about how I would get away with it. I gave Todd my number and he called the next day to set up a date. That's when things started getting tricky. He commuted over an hour each way to and from the university, so there were limited windows of time that he was able to meet me. After comparing class and work schedules, the only times he and I were both available happened to be in the middle of the day when I was supposed to be attending high school. Logically, there was really only one solution to my predicament: ditch school to go on a date, of course!

The appointed day arrived, we met at the parking lot of the place where I worked, then drove together over to the botanical gardens at the university. We walked and talked, and had a lovely time, marred only by the creeping sense of guilt I felt because I knew I was being dishonest and I needed to tell him the truth -- that he was on a date with an underage high school girl. After the botanical gardens we headed to lunch at Applebees, and I slowly built up my resolve to confess. Wait until you hear my brilliant plan to break the news...

While we were eating, I mentioned that there was something I needed to show him. I then proceeded to pull out my wallet and placed on the table before him two school IDs with my picture on them, one from my high school, on from the university, both with the current year clearly showing at the top. When he looked confused I explained that while I technically went to the same school he did, I also had yet to graduate from high school, was only 17, and was ditching school to go out with him. He handled it as well as a man who had been completely blindsided could. He said it was no big deal, but it was pretty obvious that it was in fact a VERY big deal. We ended the date back at the parking lot, with him promising to call and me knowing he never would. He had confessed a secret of his own while we were at lunch -- that he had once had his license suspended for a DUI -- so in all honesty, I think we both felt like we'd dodged a bullet by the end of that date.

So, that was a completely accurate and unbiased re-telling of my encounters with some of the men of my past. Sorry I couldn't post pictures of these fellas for you. Instead, I'll post a picture of Jason's celebrity look-alike and assure you that all were just as handsome:


You would put up with a little compulsive lying to date this guy, right?

What a headache...

I've decided that it's time for me to have a brain transplant, because my head is clearly broken. I've spent the last four days battling a nasty migraine, and I'm still not sure if I can declare victory at this point.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, we should probably talk about what constitutes a migraine. I can only write from my own experience, and refer to basic headaches not of the sinus/tension/vision variety. Also, I should let you know that I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I don't like going to the doctor, so I definitely have a suffer-through-the-pain-and-hope-the-problem-goes-away mentality. That said, having been a headache-prone individual all my life, I classify them thusly:

Headache -- a dull ache that is annoying and painful, but you can still go about your daily routine. You can usually get rid of it by taking two extra-strength Tylenol and drinking a diet coke. Sometimes all you need is something to eat and a tall glass of water.

Intense headache -- a strong ache that is not easily gotten rid of. You can still function, but the ache in your head is ever-present and quite irritating. After trying all the above methods of pain relief, it may also help to get some rest and sleep it off. But often, these intense headaches are just a preamble to a...

Migraine -- a debilitating headache that stops you in your tracks. Your head feels like it's caught in a clamp that's being squeezed tighter and tighter. The agonizing pressure is at the front of your head, just above your eyes. Everything hurts. Light hurts, sound hurts, muscles ache, the thought of eating anything is out of the question because you feel extremely nauseous. Throwing up is not uncommon. All you can do is turn off all the lights, shut yourself away from any sound, curl up in the fetal position, apply pressure to your forehead (sounds counter-intuitive, but it's what works for me), force down some prescription meds and pray that it will go away.

When you have a migraine, you are in bare-minimum, basic survival mode. If you are able to have a normal phone conversation, watch TV, text your friends, update your facebook status, post on your blog, or surf the web, you do not have a migraine. You can't think of anything beyond "Make it stop!" There is no way to "power through" it. Honestly, it feels like your body is revolting against you. Plans are canceled, kids are left to fend for themselves, and life is put on hold while you try to make it go away.

Migraines often come at times most inconvenient. I've had migraines appear on Christmas, at Disneyland, during romantic getaways (insert your "not tonight, honey, I have a headache" joke here). Migraines don't discriminate.

It was about 6 years ago that my headaches really began to get out of control. I was having intense headaches several times a week, I had a preschooler and a toddler at home with me, and I was struggling. I got my eyes checked and ruled out any kind of connection between my headaches and my eyesight. My doctor recommended I get a CT scan, as a precaution. The results showed an abnormality in my brain. While that wasn't the most promising news, in a way I was relieved because I had hope that there was at least an explanation for what was going on. I was advised to have an MRI, and I did. Here's a tip for those of you who may someday need to go in for a brain scan: don't wear a thin white shirt to your appointment. They make you remove all metal from your body, including your underwire bra, and they keep the room with the machine in it very cold. While you are lying perfectly still with your head strapped to a contraption and placed inside a large tube, you really shouldn't have to worry about indecent exposure.

The good news: the results of my MRI showed that while I have an abnormal skull/brain, there was no sign of of a tumor or anything problematic. The bad news was that I was no closer to figuring out the cause of my headaches. I was referred to a Neurologist who helped me get a grasp on the mysteries of migraines. My understanding is that while there are certain identifiable triggers -- diet, stress, monthly cycle, lack of sleep -- the actual cause of migraines is unknown. Thankfully, there are many medications that can help migraine sufferers, and I've had to try quite a few.

I got my headaches under control and then became pregnant with my youngest child. One of the few perks of pregnancy for me is that the headaches seem to go dormant. I was uncomfortable in every other possible way, but at least I was headache free!

But like most problems that you think you've overcome, my headaches came roaring back a couple of years ago. Most often, my migraines arrive in the wee early hours of the morning. I'll wake up at 2:00am with a headache that is so intense it roused me from my sleep to make itself known. Sometimes I'll even be dreaming that I have a headache before I wake up and realize that it's not just a dream. I stumble out of bed, fight off the urge to puke, hunt for my medicine, force myself to swallow some down, crawl back in bed, then pray that I can fall back asleep and wake up headache free. Other times, it is so subtle at first, and comes on during the day so gradually, that I don't realize it right away, mistake it for a milder headache, treat it with the wrong cocktail of medicines, and then by nightfall it's in full blown migraine mode.



Though I get migraines less frequently than I used to (it's once or twice a month now), they are the worst they've ever been. In the past 96 hours I've endured a most persistent headache, and have used the following drugs in an effort to get rid of the pain:

4 Excedrin Migraine
3 Advil
2 extra-strength Tylenol
2 Imitrex
3 promethazine

It just doesn't want to go away. I'll think I've got it beat, and then it comes back. Twice in the past four days I have been pulled from sleep, once at 2:30am and the other at 4:45am, with my head feeling like it might explode. My week was wasted. At this point, I've been headache free for 12 hours. Wish me luck that I might finally have knocked this one out.


Sorry this isn't a very funny or witty post. For whatever reason, I've felt for awhile now like I needed to write about what it's like to live and cope with migraines. I know I'm not the only one who gets them. I'm curious to know if what I described is what others experience. So tell me, fellow bloggers and possible migraine sufferers, does my description sound familiar, or are your headaches different than mine? What is it like for you?

I Like Things That Sparkle

Before you read any further I should warn you that, despite its title, this post has nothing to do with Twilight or Edward or vampires. (Though if you want to read something humorous and Twilight-related, might I suggest you follow this link?). Alright, now that I've made that clear, one of the sparklers shown in the blurry cell phone picture below is my new ring. These were the options I narrowed it down to before inviting my husband along to help me make my final choice. (I figured I would let him offer up an opinion considering he was the one paying for it). Can you guess which one I picked?

I'll give you a hint: it's sparkly, it suits my hand well, and I love it! Not a good enough hint? Oh well... I guess you'll just have to wait and see for yourself.

Lest you think I'll be sporting a ring that's quite ostentatious, keep in mind that the center diamonds in the settings above are slightly bigger than the one I'll be replacing it with. Now I just have to wear my fake one a week more while the ring I selected is sized up, naturally, and the stone is reset. Would you believe that some of the rings I tried on didn't even fit my pinkie? My fingers are so lame.