I scorn thee, Kenny

Tell me if you think this is scary:

For our trip to IKEA on Sunday, I have taken digital photos of every single wall in our house (except for the garage — should I do the garage?). I will then enlist Tim to help me take all relevant measurements (wall height and width, distance from the floor to the bottom of the windowsill, area available between our bedroom window and the farthest point the closet door swings out, etc.) and write them on the printouts of the photos. Finally, I will place said printouts in a handy binder to tote along to the store.

I’m going to frighten the nice salespeople, aren’t I?

And what is up with everyone being all smart, all of a sudden? I could barely follow Mimi Smartypants today. My brain is all limpy or something.

I got an “I lost 10 pounds!” ribbon today, thank you very much. It seems that my worries that I would balloon back up while visiting my mother last week were unfounded. I actually lost 4 more pounds. Yippee! Now, I’ve lost a total of 10.6 pounds (not that I’m counting or anything). The lady who weighed me made a big deal about how heavy jeans are and that I’ve probably even lost more, but I don’t know. Sounds like something fat people tell themselves to make them feel better.

All I know is that my jeans are getting big! And I tried on pants this weekend, only to have to go back for a smaller size. Yay, me! I haven’t been this skinny since Tim and I were training for the 10K we ran back in 1999. Of course, I have had a child since then. But still!

Oy, but I still have a long way to go until I’m within my “recommended weight range.”

I have so many things to do right now. I’m in one of my can’t-deal-with-it-now-so-I’ll-just-procrastinate kinda moods. Like I said, limpy.

So the ineptitude of our mortgage company continues to grow each and every day. I swear that I’m going to have an ulcer before we close on the damn thing. You know, I’m not one of those “I’ll have your job” kinda people, but I really feel like the guy we’ve been dealing with should be fired for incompetence. I ended up calling one of the owners of the company yesterday and telling the whole sad story to him. Now he has taken over our file. I hope I never have to speak to “Grateful Dead bears ring-wearing dude” again. I should have known better.

I would fire him.

I love R-A-G-E in the U-S-A!

Here’s an e-mail I just fired off to my local Senator:

My husband and I are in the process of refinancing our home, in order to take advantage of the lower lending rates. When the mortgage company pulled our credit reports, there were many erroneous entries under my name from one of the credit reporting agencies, Experian. The entries belong to my mother-in-law, Elizabeth C. I am Beth C, so the mistakes are understandable, I guess, even though we each have distinct Social Security numbers, of course.

Now I am trying to get the erroneous entries off of my credit report. Apparently, since we paid a third-party company to pull our credit histories from all three agencies at once, I now have to shell out $14.95 to Experian for a report from them. How can this be? Normally, I would write to Experian to complain, but they do not provide any means of doing so, it seems.

I know there are much bigger problems with this country right now, but this is completely frustrating. First, there are three credit reporting agencies, each with different information. Why? And when the information that they provide is so important, why is it so often incorrect? And why do I have to pay for this information? It’s mine, isn’t it?

So, as it stands right now, if I want these incorrect items removed from my report, I have to pay Experian for a brand-new report. Then, I have to “request an investigation” of each and every erroneous entry. Otherwise, I will continue to receive a lower credit rating (which adversely affects my buying power, and, in turn, the country’s economy). I am at the mercy of Experian, and that makes me very uncomfortable. This is America. I should be able to handle this myself, without paying money out of my pocket.

If there is any way that the United Stages Senate can help remedy this antiquated method of providing credit information, I would really appreciate it.

Respectfully yours,

Beth C

That should get ’em moving, eh?

God bless DSL

We’re back! Sorry for the lack of updates, but I just could not stand to do more than check my e-mail on that dial-in modem. That took nearly 20 minutes as it was!

The floors look great, thanks for asking. I can’t believe how beautifully they turned out. Sorry that I can’t work up much more enthusiasm right now, but we are both totally wiped out from moving all the furniture back. That’s especially sad, seeing as how we have only moved about half of the stuff back.

See, we’re going to Chicago next weekend, and while we’re there, we’re going to check out the IKEA store up in Schaumberg. Whee! New bedroom suite here we come! And new desk! And closet storage stuff! And rugs!

Anyway, we don’t want to move a bunch of stuff back upstairs, only to move it back downstairs next weekend. Capeche?

So what can I tell you about last week? It was really hard. I really missed Tim. Auggie was a major pain during the night, waking up and not going back to sleep until I brought him into bed with me.

I couldn’t believe how bad I was at that! You see, Tim usually handles all the nighttime stuff. I roll over in bed and cover my head with a pillow. Away from home, it’s especially challenging, because you’re not only concerned about the baby, but also the gracious people who are hosting you and said baby.

So I didn’t sleep well. At all. Which is not good, especially considering that each morning I woke up to another 24 hours of permanent mommy duty. My mom was a huge help, but she had stuff of her own to do.

So we did a little shopping, visited Grandpa and Granny, got to see little Cammron (who is doing famously) and generally had a pretty good time while we whiled the days away, waiting for the house to be ready.

We visited the nursing home where my mother works as an ombudsman (yes, she is a saint) and Auggie put a smile on many the face among the residents.

It’s so good to be back home. I apologize for boring the pants off of ya’ll, but I think I’ll go “press some sheets” as my dad would say.

Googleriffic!

Wow, super cool, the Google robot has finally crawled through to bookerdog dot com. Yep, when you type in bookerdog to the search engine, we’re the top hit!! Judging from their cached page, it looks like it happened sometime between the 11th and the 13th because it shows the Baseball blues post. However, if you just type in Tim Clauss into the search, you won’t find us right away because apparently there’s a Tim Clauss who was the co-author of one of the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” books, so he get’s like 5 pages of Google results. Beth’s name fortunately brings it up as the second entry.

So, the reason that Beth is suffering in dial-up purgatory is that the floor refinishing has begun at our homestead. That’s right, except for a few toilletries, all of the contents of the upper floor of our house are currently in the garage/basement. It’s like one of those snow globes that’s settled after a good shake, only possibly slightly more disorganized. There was some final scrambling on Tuesday night as we finally read through the documents the refinishing company had given us. Remove the interior doors, cover all the vents, do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around. So after I packed Beth into the car I listened and sorta watched the disappointing baseball game, while performing these final acts. The last thing was to put plastic up over the doorways for the rooms that were not being refinished. I then collapsed on the couch to be available in the morning for the arrival of the refinishing crew.

Now I’m a nomad, staying with our friends Chris and Dana, who have been very gracious in offering me a place to stay. Even better is that Chris had a friend give him tickets to the Blues hockey game last night that were in the third row. Since last night’s game was the worst attendance the Blues have had in 5 years, we were able to move up and sit first row right on the glass. This is a very cool place to watch a hockey game from. After starting the game looking like bush leaguers, they got better and better through the game, and won the thing in overtime. After seeing 3 baseball games last week, it was refreshing to be at a sporting event that ends in about 2 1/2 hours. We were back to Chris’ by 10pm.

It’s only then that the realization that I’m sleeping alone sinks in. Nearly every night for the past 5 1/2 years we brush our teeth, settle into bed, do some reading, and talk. Usually it’s nothing serious, but it’s a time when I can have just about anything come out of my mouth and not worry about being ridiculed and nearly always be completely understood by someone who knows me as well as I know myself. When that’s not there, it’s the time when I miss my true love the most. Ahh well, as long as I can get to sleep, I know I’ll see her in my dreams.

I miss Beth.

Beaten and dejected

Coming to you at 21.6 kbs via the slow-poke modem at my mom’s house!

That’s right, we’re rockin’ the 54K down in the Cape. Actually, we’re crying in our proverbial beers here this evening, as the Team of Destiny lost its date with destiny thanks to a heartbreaking flare from the heartless wonder, Kenny Lofton. Is there no justice in the universe? Alas, if the NY Yankees could not do it last year, then surely destiny has turned its back on this most noble of sports.

You’ll indulge me for waxing poetic about men younger than I who make more in a year than I will ever see in my entire life. It’s been a rather long day. After an even longer weekend. And now I can do some relaxin’, rural-style. 21.6 kbs-style. Aww, yeah!

Dang Cardinals.

Baseball blues

Sorry for the lack of postage here lately. We’ve been at the ballpark for the past two nights, so I’ve been too tired and too depressed to blog once I got home.

My son is such a trooper. He was a total gem all three nights we had him at the ballpark this past week. Everyone commented about how good he was. Sometimes, I worry that I take him for granted. Some days just seem really hard with him, especially now that he’s starting to show some frustration at not being able to communicate exactly what he wants.

Here’s a shot of the boys with the sign Tim made (all by himself):

We had some good, clean fun with my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Beth the first night, then Uncle Bobby brought up one of his friends the next night. My uncle is one of the biggest Cards fans that I know, so it was really nice to be able to treat him to a couple of games.

Even though we’ve enjoyed going to the games (alas, the Cards lost both nights, however), we haven’t gotten jack done on the furniture moving since Tuesday night. And we’ve decided to just relax tonight. So it’s crunch time tomorrow.

Can I just say how much I love baseball signs? You know, those funny gestures that the coaches make to tell players whether to take a pitch, bunt or steal? I mean, who comes up with these things? Do they watch old Three Stooges movies for inspiration? I always expect to hear “The Curly Shuffle” whenever these guys get going.

Tonight, we went over to Tim’s brother’s house to celebrate his daughter Mackenzie’s eighth birthday. While opening gifts, her six-year-old cousin remarked, upon seeing that one of said gifts was Scooby Doo: The Movie, ‘That is the funniest movie that I have ever seen in my entire life.’ I was like, ‘Wow. That’s saying something.’

Kids.

Who are you?

Tim is poking me with a stick so I will go to bed, seeing as how I have a dentist appointment bright and early tomorrow morning. So why don’t you take the 45 seconds you normally would spend/waste reading this entry and send a note to beth at bookerdog dot com?

You could tell me your hobbies, how you found this site, your major credit card numbers, what is currently playing on your stereo, etc. Do it now!

My life is a children’s book

Five pounds, lost into the stratosphere!

Yay!

It’s funny, because everyone talks about how the first week or so’s sometimes dramatic weight loss is “water weight.” I don’t think this is an accurate term, as we have been drinking more water than a weiner dog in the Sahara. (Sorry, I know that was a lame metaphor, but it’s late and I’m tired. Give a girl a break, won’t ya?) Anyway, I’m just thankful that something happened, because I was ready to chuck it all and go for a peanut buster parfait last night.

I feel like I’m learning a lot about myself that I didn’t know before. (Hence the “learning,” Beth. Duh. Please refer that last sentence to the Department of Redundancy Department.) I thought that we ate a fine amount of fruits and vegetables before. Apparently, I must have convinced myself that Fig Newtons and Veggie Booty count in that category, because bumping up our F&V’s to five servings a day is hard! I’m buying vegetables that I have no idea how to prepare (i.e., artichokes).

Sorry to turn into Seinfeld here, but what is the deal with artichokes? Do people really cook these things themselves instead of just buying the jar of artichoke hearts? If someone can enlighten me as to the secret of this prickly, yet slimy when steamed vegetable, please do.

Another thing I’m learning is that I get hungry at roughly the same times every day. Late afternoon is my “dinner’s not for a few hours, so let’s see what’s in the pantry” time. Late evening is my “need something sweet for dessert” time.

Now that I have to deal with these times instead of just eating my way through them, I’ve found that distracting myself by playing with Auggie outside or just drinking some water can help me over the rough spots.

OK! Are you bored to pieces yet? Here’s something funny: Tim and I have to move the entire top floor of our house to the bottom floor! It’s like some wacky Brady Bunch episode! We’re having our hardwood floors refinished in the dining room, living room, all four bedrooms and the hallway. Which means that everything must be moved off of said floors.

Shoot.

Luckily, Tim is on the case, and has slowly been moving stuff down into the garage. Actually, we’ve been like the tortoise and the hare, because last Monday, Tim started clearing off the bookshelves and I was like, ‘Dude, why are you doing that? We’ve got tons of time, man.’

And Tim was like, ‘If we don’t start now, we’re going to be in big trouble. We have a lot of stuff to move, and I don’t want to wait until the last minute.’

And I laughed and laughed.

Of course, now that we’re a week away, I’m starting to get all panicky. I’m all in my list-making mode. Must! List! Everything! Luckily, Tim has done a great job of getting the non-essential things taken care of, so we’re good. I even helped carry stuff down tonight.

Our poor cars have to sleep outside. I feel so bad for them.

Look at me, I’m on TV!

Auggie and I are off to my brother’s house for the night, to hang out with his three kids while he and my sister-in-law enjoy an evening of adult conversation. Lucky them.

Ah-ha, but it is I who am the lucky one! (Man, does that sentence read as awkwardly as it was to type? What about that one?) Their kids rock. We’re going to have some fun.

Things are continuing apace with the new “lifestyle program” (heretofore referenced as The Program, but not in any way affiliated with Bob Greene of Oprah fame. I mean, I did read Make the Connection a few years ago [see past references to my yin for self-help books], but, anyway. Where was I?). Tim has already lost four pounds. I refuse to weigh myself more than once a week, so I have no idea.

I am going to totally hate Tim by the end of this, aren’t I? I just need to deal with the fact that men lose weight faster than women. Is it fair? No. Is it another way The Man is keeping me down? You know it, sister.

This is not a contest. This is not a contest…

It’s actually really nice to have Tim doing this with me. We’re in it together, figuring out what to eat when, how much, etc. It could be worse, I suppose. He could be one of those people who can eat anything they want and never gain weight. (If you are one of those people, please eat some frozen custard for me. I’m afraid for the Ted Drewes’ bottom line now that Tim and I are no longer indulging.)

Oh! Thanks to one of our unbelievably nice and well-connected friends, we have tickets to both Cards playoff games this weekend! So if you’re feeling bored Saturday evening, turn on FOX and look for us behind third base. (Like four rows behind third base, woo hoo!)

I’ll be the dork in the Jim Edmonds jersey, yapping on my cell phone and trying to keep Auggie from running out onto the field.

Fudgy goodness

I apologize for the malaise, my friends. Tim and I have begun a new “lifestyle program” (which will remain nameless, and, no, it’s not a cult) and we have been having a little trouble adjusting. Mainly, we are tired and hungry.

But it’s getting better!

Can I just say how much I love my mom? Not just because she took The Boy for the night last Friday (more about this coming up), but also because when I told her about our new “lifestyle” she said, ‘Oh, honey, you don’t need to do that. I was just thinking last weekend how good you looked.’ Isn’t she the best? Thanks, Mom.

Anyway, I know I need to deliver the goods, as it were, on our Big Night Out 2002. Sounds like some kinda lame sorority hay ride or something, doesn’t it?

We had a fabulous time.

Tim got home just as I was laying back on the couch, enjoying the silence. We then got suitably attired for dinner at Shittake, a nice restaurant in Clayton. We then wasted approximately 45 minutes in search of a breast pump and were nearly late for our reservations.

Once we settled in at the restaurant, we promptly ordered sake bombers, just to assure the wait staff that we were the kind of high-caliber customers that they love to wait on.

Dinner was great. Even though I ended up making Tim switch entrees. I ordered lobster pad thai. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Doesn’t your mouth just start watering, imagining the wonderful richness of lobster paired with the savory pad-thai-ness of pad thai? Me too! Unfortunately, it was soupy. And way too spicy. And had lemon grass. Wha..? I know! So I stole Tim’s shittake-encrusted sea bass with mashed potatoes, which rocked. (Note: Tim said he enjoyed my entree, even though he left half of it behind. Did I mention how much I love him?)

Dessert was even better. Tim flaked and got some guava sorbet. I hit the sweet spot and enjoyed a chocolate torte with coconut-brown sugar ice cream. There were little chocolate-y birds singing, the sun set over my shoulder and white chocolate fireworks were exploding in air, my friends. It was That Good. Did I mention that chocolate is not a large part of the new “lifestyle program”?

We also drank a bottle of wine.

So, needless to say, us lightweights were feeling pretty good as we hit the sidewalk. We decided to walk over to the local coffee concern (a Starbucks, ug). We then walked around Clayton, window shopping and dodging random throngs of high school kids headed for the barbecue place. I know, I was confused too.

We ended up down at Mississippi Nights for a rock show featuring old favorites The Promise Ring. We got there just as they were starting their set and I proceeded to feel like a complete fossil as I watched all the 16-year-olds bounce to the music. Then I made a total ass of myself by asking the merch guy if they had any Cap’n Jazz (an early incarnation of TPR). [Damn you, Jim Littrell! Buying that last Cap’n Jazz record back at the Engineering Auditorium! I’ll never forgive you!]

I’m such a dork.

All told, the show ended early and we were home by midnight. We enjoyed a blissful night of uninterrupted sleep, even though we both woke up around 6, Auggie’s usual wake-up time. The great part: We went back to sleep!

And he survived! Auggie had a great time with my mom. We showed up down there around 2 and he was glad to see us, which was nice. I guess it’s just hard to imagine that I’m, well, indispensable. Since he no longer depends on me alone for food, he’s able to branch out and be more independent. Sure, this is a little sad, but it’s mostly incredible.

He’s getting so big.