It's not 8 a.m. yet and I've already showered and started a load of laundry. GO ME! I've got a list a mile long of things I need to get done today - we played all day yesterday, and so today there must be work:
~ Laundry
~ Folding Laundry (yes, that is a separate item)
~ Unload dishwasher
~ Reload dishwasher
~ Breakfast
~ Vacuuming
~ Take Finn for a walk
~ Grocery shopping
~ Yogurt
~ Bananas
~ Juice
~ Salad
~ Something for dinners this week
~ Lunch
~ Finish that Jenny Lawson book
~ Read the internets
~ Make the Bed
~ Steam floors
~ Set table
~ Dinner
Okay, it's really not that big a list. I woke up feeling like I had a lot to do, but I think it's just a list of chores that come about from being a grownup and not living with your Mom.
My Jimi is home again and it feels like the world is back to normal. His training went well and he's excited about his new position - I'm glad he won't be fielding phone calls from angry people all day. A person can only be bitched at for so many hours a day before that shit breaks through and starts poisoning their mood. Jimi's always been good at keeping his work crazy at work, but that sort of stuff wears you down. I'm glad he's got an opportunity to do something new.
Bossman and I had a come-to-Jesus this week, and I unloaded all of my frustrations and fears and anger. I was expecting something in return, but not what I got. Not "You're the best employee I've ever had the pleasure to work with, and you're one of my best friends." Not "I've done a bad job managing and because of that, the workload in this office is terribly unbalanced. I think I tried to blame that on you," (he did) "but that's not your shortcoming as a manager, that's mine." The sales job I wanted, applied for, and was denied? Turns out the Big Bossman wants me for that job. He compared me to our two rockstar saleswomen in the South and Northwest. He told Bossman to redistribute the workload in the office so I can have time to focus on the customer service/sales aspects of my position, and to get me in a place where I can be out of the office a few times a month to visit our customers. We've filled the position I'd sought, but there are bright things on the horizon for me, and I don't feel quite so much like stabbing myself in the eye to avoid having to go to work. Months of stress fell away after one 45 minute heart-to-heart. It's like Bossman and I have been dancing, a delicate dance where the steps are tricky and the music is fast, and now the song has ended, and it turns out I've got some rhythm after all.
I love this morning. It's quiet and cool - it rained all night and so I can't cut the grass. My sweetheart is snoring softly in the bedroom, my puppy is at my feet. We've got nowhere to be except right where we are. And it's early. This is why I love getting up early - the day feels so full of possibility.
I'm going to go get started on that chore list; the sooner it's finished, the sooner I can play.
Happy Sunday!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
update
I miss blogging. Not that I have anything good to say, but I miss not caring if what I had to say was any good.
Blogging from the kindle is hard. Especially when autocorrect replaces blogging with blotting. Every time.
I miss jimi.
I'm sort of enjoying the alone time, though, and that feels like a betrayal in some way even though I know that's ridiculous. Ive got good books to read, that's the reason. And id set them aside immediately to hug his neck, if I could.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Oh shit, again?
The alarm went off at 9:30 - classical music, soft and soothing and a gentle way to ease into a new day. I opened my eyes and found his blue ones - he smiled at me, then pulled my face close to his and kissed me hard on the mouth with his soft lips before putting his cheek against mine and whispering in my ear "Good morning, I love you."
Giant blueberry pancakes and crispy fried bacon with coffee and milk - breakfast took nearly an hour and a half to cook and serve. While I waited for the edges to dry so I could flip the cakes, I read one of my two new books that arrived yesterday - Stephanie Nielson's Heaven is Here. Her husband served his mission in Louisville - I wonder if I met him? The world is awfully small.
Jimi's got another week of training ahead of him and it makes me sad. One of my favorite things about our relationship is the fact of waking up next to him every morning. (see above) That said, I wasn't horribly lonely or sad in the last week, so I'm sure I'll be fine this week.
I've got that pork tenderloin marinating and I'm gonna grill the shit out of it tonight. I'm also gonna have a lovely spinach salad and a baked tater with bacon, cheese, and sour cream (greek yogurt). I made a strawberry cake yesterday on a whim, and iced it with my favorite, rainbow chip icing. There's a half gallon of Blue Bell Banana Split ice cream in the freezer. I'm going to get fat this week.
After I finish Mrs. Nielson's book, I've got Jenny Lawson's (aka The Bloggess) new release on deck - Let's Pretend This Never Happened. And then, after I've finished that, I've got hundreds of free books at my disposal via the kindle and the 'net.
And Melinda and I are starting boot camp on Tuesday. YAY!
See? No time to get lonely. He'll be back before I know it, and then life will back to normal again.
(I tried to blog on the kindle, but I cannot. There's something incompatible with the text-entry screen and it doesn't pull up the keyboard, so I can blog a title and maybe some labels, but no actual blog words. I ain't got anything all that interestin' to say no how.) :) See ya next week!
Giant blueberry pancakes and crispy fried bacon with coffee and milk - breakfast took nearly an hour and a half to cook and serve. While I waited for the edges to dry so I could flip the cakes, I read one of my two new books that arrived yesterday - Stephanie Nielson's Heaven is Here. Her husband served his mission in Louisville - I wonder if I met him? The world is awfully small.
Jimi's got another week of training ahead of him and it makes me sad. One of my favorite things about our relationship is the fact of waking up next to him every morning. (see above) That said, I wasn't horribly lonely or sad in the last week, so I'm sure I'll be fine this week.
I've got that pork tenderloin marinating and I'm gonna grill the shit out of it tonight. I'm also gonna have a lovely spinach salad and a baked tater with bacon, cheese, and sour cream (greek yogurt). I made a strawberry cake yesterday on a whim, and iced it with my favorite, rainbow chip icing. There's a half gallon of Blue Bell Banana Split ice cream in the freezer. I'm going to get fat this week.
After I finish Mrs. Nielson's book, I've got Jenny Lawson's (aka The Bloggess) new release on deck - Let's Pretend This Never Happened. And then, after I've finished that, I've got hundreds of free books at my disposal via the kindle and the 'net.
And Melinda and I are starting boot camp on Tuesday. YAY!
See? No time to get lonely. He'll be back before I know it, and then life will back to normal again.
(I tried to blog on the kindle, but I cannot. There's something incompatible with the text-entry screen and it doesn't pull up the keyboard, so I can blog a title and maybe some labels, but no actual blog words. I ain't got anything all that interestin' to say no how.) :) See ya next week!
Saturday, April 21, 2012
My boyfriend's back...
Jimi's home! YAY! I missed him very much and the house feels like home again now that he's back in it.
Also I missed computering with a computer - the kindle is a great little tablet, but it's not ideal for exclusive internetting. I like bigger pictures. And a keyboard.
I like to sleep in a cold bedroom under the weight of a lot of blankets. In summer, this requires dropping the AC temp before bed, in winter I lower the heat. In Spring and Fall, those delicious in-between seasons, I live for nights like last night - breezy and a little rainy, but not rainy enough to soak my floors if I leave the windows open in the bedroom. I didn't check the weather, but Jimi says it got down to 50. Sweet. It was freezing in the bedroom when you left the safety of the covers, but snuggled under the sheets, the thermal blanket, and the down comforter, the ambient air was juuuust riiiight. For me, at least - Jimi insists I'm crazy... like that's some sort of news flash.
I finished my first kindle book last night - 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I'm a huge SK fan, and this book didn't disappoint. Like so many of his novels, the character development was excellent, the story moved along quickly, and I was completely sucked in to the world King illustrated with his words. I'm not sure about the medium, though. I really liked this book a lot, and as is often the case with books I enjoy, I want to share it with the other readers in my life, like Jimi, my Momma, Daddy. I want to pass it along to Stacy, who, like me, in keeping with the precedents set in our adolescence, will probably forever read whatever Stephen King puts out simply because Stephen King wrote it. But this medium, this e-book format...I'm not sure about it. I really loved it, until I realized my $15 book is a file on an electronic device that I can't drop off at Stacy's or Momma's without a care, as I would a $15 paperback. I didn't really think that through when I made the impulse purchase. I can't pass this book around to my closest friends and family and then go offload it at the Book & Music Exchange in trade for a half dozen other dogeared tomes. I think I may need a few days to sort out my feelings on this subject - till then, free e-books only.
I just remembered today is Thunder Over Louisville - a day of celebration in our downtown, with an air show and the World's Largest fireworks display, bringing together a crowd of a quarter million on our riverbank to kick off the two-week lead-up to the Kentucky Derby. For the last few years, bossman has given us all tickets to the local AAA baseball stadium, where we watched a game, watched the airshow, got drunk, and watched fireworks before sitting in the hours-long traffic jam that always results at the end of the night. Last year, though, the weather turned to shit (rain and sleet and temps in the mid-30s) and no one went - the company had something like $1200 worth of unused tickets. Bossman swore he'd never do it again, but when the time came to order tickets this year, he offered them again. We all refused, for fear the day would turn out like last year and no one would want to go. Looks like we made the right choice - it's 50 degrees outside and drizzling. I'm not much interested in being outside in that crap all day. I'm good right here in my living room. (Besides, the badass park across the street has an awesome lookout from which you can see the entire downtown - complete with fireworks on Thunder night - so maybe we'll take advantage of the walking-distance vantage point. Daddy took Brother and I there one year when Momma was out of town - I remember hearing later that there was a huge animatronic dinosaur on the bridge that year, and I was bummed that I didn't get to see it because we were miles and miles away.)
Also I missed computering with a computer - the kindle is a great little tablet, but it's not ideal for exclusive internetting. I like bigger pictures. And a keyboard.
I like to sleep in a cold bedroom under the weight of a lot of blankets. In summer, this requires dropping the AC temp before bed, in winter I lower the heat. In Spring and Fall, those delicious in-between seasons, I live for nights like last night - breezy and a little rainy, but not rainy enough to soak my floors if I leave the windows open in the bedroom. I didn't check the weather, but Jimi says it got down to 50. Sweet. It was freezing in the bedroom when you left the safety of the covers, but snuggled under the sheets, the thermal blanket, and the down comforter, the ambient air was juuuust riiiight. For me, at least - Jimi insists I'm crazy... like that's some sort of news flash.
I finished my first kindle book last night - 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I'm a huge SK fan, and this book didn't disappoint. Like so many of his novels, the character development was excellent, the story moved along quickly, and I was completely sucked in to the world King illustrated with his words. I'm not sure about the medium, though. I really liked this book a lot, and as is often the case with books I enjoy, I want to share it with the other readers in my life, like Jimi, my Momma, Daddy. I want to pass it along to Stacy, who, like me, in keeping with the precedents set in our adolescence, will probably forever read whatever Stephen King puts out simply because Stephen King wrote it. But this medium, this e-book format...I'm not sure about it. I really loved it, until I realized my $15 book is a file on an electronic device that I can't drop off at Stacy's or Momma's without a care, as I would a $15 paperback. I didn't really think that through when I made the impulse purchase. I can't pass this book around to my closest friends and family and then go offload it at the Book & Music Exchange in trade for a half dozen other dogeared tomes. I think I may need a few days to sort out my feelings on this subject - till then, free e-books only.
I just remembered today is Thunder Over Louisville - a day of celebration in our downtown, with an air show and the World's Largest fireworks display, bringing together a crowd of a quarter million on our riverbank to kick off the two-week lead-up to the Kentucky Derby. For the last few years, bossman has given us all tickets to the local AAA baseball stadium, where we watched a game, watched the airshow, got drunk, and watched fireworks before sitting in the hours-long traffic jam that always results at the end of the night. Last year, though, the weather turned to shit (rain and sleet and temps in the mid-30s) and no one went - the company had something like $1200 worth of unused tickets. Bossman swore he'd never do it again, but when the time came to order tickets this year, he offered them again. We all refused, for fear the day would turn out like last year and no one would want to go. Looks like we made the right choice - it's 50 degrees outside and drizzling. I'm not much interested in being outside in that crap all day. I'm good right here in my living room. (Besides, the badass park across the street has an awesome lookout from which you can see the entire downtown - complete with fireworks on Thunder night - so maybe we'll take advantage of the walking-distance vantage point. Daddy took Brother and I there one year when Momma was out of town - I remember hearing later that there was a huge animatronic dinosaur on the bridge that year, and I was bummed that I didn't get to see it because we were miles and miles away.)
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
My birthday last week (and the whole week of celebrating that was done) was amazing and wonderful and fantastic. I even managed to go an entire day without taking one single work-related phone call. That's never happened before. We had a house full of people Saturday night, and my goodness, I love throwing parties. To have dozens of people gathered in my home, celebrating and eating and making merry, it makes my heart so full and happy. This 32nd birthday of mine made me feel loved and appreciated and special.
One of these days I'll start blogging regularly again. Probably not soon, though - Jimi's heading to Cincinnati to learn a new job (Yay!) and he's taking the computer with him. I can blog from my phone or kindle, I guess...but we see how often I'm blogging these days with a keyboard at my fingertips - I don't want anyone to expect any touchscreen updates, because that's much too slow and frustrating for my touch-typing fingers.
I've got a dozen notes hidden in his pants and t-shirts and boxers; I'm hoping he'll find them one by one, over the course of the week, maybe just when he needs a little boost. He's not been away from home for even a night, and I know it sounds silly to be talking about a grown man and making it sound like he's a little kid, but it's a big deal to us. I miss him already.
One of these days I'll start blogging regularly again. Probably not soon, though - Jimi's heading to Cincinnati to learn a new job (Yay!) and he's taking the computer with him. I can blog from my phone or kindle, I guess...but we see how often I'm blogging these days with a keyboard at my fingertips - I don't want anyone to expect any touchscreen updates, because that's much too slow and frustrating for my touch-typing fingers.
I've got a dozen notes hidden in his pants and t-shirts and boxers; I'm hoping he'll find them one by one, over the course of the week, maybe just when he needs a little boost. He's not been away from home for even a night, and I know it sounds silly to be talking about a grown man and making it sound like he's a little kid, but it's a big deal to us. I miss him already.
Friday, April 6, 2012
WOW, what a weekend!
What's that? The weekend's just beginning? Oh. So it is. I'm sorry you didn't get to start yours on Wednesday.
We're just home from an amazing night at the swimming pool hotel. The what, you ask? The swimming pool hotel. You know, the one where they have a swimming pool IN your hotel room. Here, let me show you what I mean:
See? Our very own pool.
The hotel chain is called Sybaris, and I've been dreaming of spending a night there since I heard of it 4 years ago. It was totally worth the wait.
I imagine everyone in the world is reading Momastery these days, because that Glennon is one smart cookie. I found her blog over a year ago, the piece called A Mountain I'm Willing To Die On, and last March she posted Birthdays, wherein she tells the story of her first birthday spent with her husband and how he didn't know what her expectations were and she was so disappointed. Instead of brushing it under the rug, though, she made the brilliant move to *wait for it* talk to her husband, and explain why birthdays are a big deal for her and that celebrating special occasions is something that makes her feel loved. That post encouraged me to give my requests to Jimi regarding this year's birthday - and man, did he outdo every one of my expectations.
Wednesday night, he presented me with a smallish package, wrapped in red paper dotted with multicolored Christmas trees, with a card tucked in under the hand-tied pink fabric bow. He gave it to me early, saying I'd probably want to take it with us for our overnight trip on Thursday. I thought it was a vibrator - we went to the naughty shop a few weeks back and there was a great display of high-end vibrators that the sales lady claimed came with a 10 year warranty. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Turns out the warranty is really only for a year, girlfriend just didn't know her job too good. Anyhow, I wasn't willing to drop $120 on a vibrator that night, and when we came home we discovered that you could find the same thing on Amazon for $70. Score! Except I never did buy it, because, well, do I really NEED a $70 vibrator? So yeah, I thought that's what was wrapped in the Christmas paper. It wasn't. It was a kindle fire. Holy crap! A kindle?! I couldn't believe it. I spent the next few hours playing with my new toy - ha! That sounds funny after talking about vibrators. But yeah, I "bought" some free e-books, discovered our Amazon Prime account allows me one free book rental per month from the online library, ordered a protective cover for the kindle, bought that new First Aid Kit album and uploaded it to my cloud (I have a cloud!), played Angry Birds for the first time. LOVE.
(And I'm the girl who swore, when e-readers came out, that I'd never own one. Books are where it's at, I said, and no electronic device can ever be as satisfying as turning the pages on an honest-to-goodness, made-of-paper book. Um, yeeeaahh...unless that electronic device can also allow you to surf the web, read blogs, stream Pandora... I often say dumb things. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?)
For the last few days, Jimi'd been telling me "We're going to Indianapolis and catching a train up to Wisconsin and back. An overnight train ride! We've got a room on a sleeper car, and there's a dining car - I think it'll be fun." "Uh huh" with a side-eye was my response. I didn't buy it. I didn't know what he had planned, but I didn't think that was it. In an effort to get the secret out of him, I told him yesterday morning, "If we're really going to be riding a train all night, I'm just wearing yoga pants and a tank top (no bra) and my grey sweater." (My friend Angie calls this get-up "fat ballerina". Or maybe that's only when you're wearing leggings, not yoga pants. Either way, it's my favorite outfit and I always giggle at the idea of me as a fat ballerina when I wear it, which is every day I can possibly manage to leave the house without a bra.) Jimi just shrugged his shoulders at my comment and said, "So long as you're comfortable." I sorta expected him to argue - I mean, what about the nice dinner part of my request? So I sat on the bed to be packed a bra, a nice sweater, some clean jeans, a comfy dress I like to lounge around in - I figured we probably didn't have reservations somewhere with a dress code if he was letting me leave the house dressed like a fat ballerina, but I didn't want to find myself with no options if we did actually end up somewhere that frowns on yoga pants in public. Jimi comes in, sees my to-be-packed pile and sighs, "What are you going to do with all these clothes?" "Just in case," I say. He put aside the sweater and the dress. "You won't need them. Trust me."
He was right. We were naked within minutes of the above photo being taken. Actually, he was already naked from the waist down - he saw me starting to take a picture and ran for the bathroom. Oops! I'm not used to a wall full of mirrors.
Ten miles outside of Louisville, he told me where we were really going. At that point, my interest in a fancy sit-down dinner was gone - I wanted to get to that pool as fast as I could. We got into Indianapolis an hour and a half before our 6 o'clock check-in, so we went to the Wal-Mart down the way for provisions. There was a Noodles & Company across the street that promised a quick meal, and it was conveniently located in the same shopping center as a liquor store and a naughty shop. On a whim, I popped into the naughty shop and bought a grab bag of novelties while Jimi bought the booze, and we headed off into the sunset toward our evening in the Den of Sin. (The grab bag was an awesome impulse buy. That's all I have to say about that.)
Our suite was amazing. For starters, you're in your own building, so you don't have to worry about hearing your neighbors gettin' freaky in the middle of the night. When you walk in, the pool is on your right, and I expected to be hit in the face with an awful chlorine smell, but there's a wall of windows dividing the suite in half and the door opens to the living/bedroom section. To the left of the door was a massage chair (!!), an electric fireplace, and the entertainment center in the corner. There were two club chairs and a round table along the side wall, and then the king-sized bed on a light-up platform jutted out at an angle into the room. A flat-screen TV hung just above the massage chair, and could be turned in any direction for your viewing pleasure. (Free porn on 3 channels.) The carpet was plush and freshly vacuumed, and there were two soft robes waiting for us on the bed. (Available for purchase, $75, buy one get one free! We didn't come home with robes.) The mini-kitchen had a small fridge (complete with bag-o-ice in the freezer section), a microwave, coffee-maker, a couple of mugs and champagne flutes. There was a huge two-person whirlpool tub, his and her sinks, and a bidet! Have you ever used a bidet? Me neither, till last night. I was impressed at the selection of toiletries they offered - toothbrushes and toothpaste, Bath & Body Works shower gels and shampoos and conditioners, cotton balls and Q-tips. I don't stay at hotels very often, okay?
Then there was the pool. They've got several different options when planning your stay, and each has a different sized pool. Ours was 16 feet long, 4 feet deep. Not enough for diving or actual swimming (though it did have a swim jet, I don't think it was powerful enough to actually swim against; I kept running into the wall.), but plenty big for hanging out naked in the 92 degree water with your honey. The next time we go, we're hoping to stay in the suite with the second floor loft, with a slide into the 22' pool below. How awesome would that be? Really awesome, that's how awesome. A pipe system hidden by fake ivy rained water into the middle of the pool - we expected it to be cold water, but it was shower-temperature; Jimi loved it, I thought it was a little too hot.
There was a normal shower in the bathroom, but in the pool portion of the suite there was also a glassed-in shower cave that doubled as a sauna. Jimi liked to sit in the steam for 10 minutes or so, getting real hot and sweaty, then turn on ice cold water full blast through the four overhead shower nozzles and the hand-held sprayer. "Like the Norwegians," he said. Yeah, I prefer to go from steam to pool, not steam to ice, but I'm probably just a wimp and doing it wrong.
Remember the kindle he gave me? Their sound system included a jack to plug into it, so we were able to pipe music throughout the entire space. They didn't offer free Wi-Fi - I imagine most of their clientele aren't interested in surfing the web much during their stay - but my phone can act as a portable hotspot, so we were able to stream Pandora all night.
Jimi is smart and suggested we sip on a concoction of lemon booze, orange juice, and champagne all night, and it was delicious. (I would've drunk more champagne, though, if I'd realized he'd paid $35 for the bottle. I'm more of a $12 champagne girl, and I prefer the sweeter ones over the Brut.) We also had crackers, and filled the mini-fridge with hummus, cheese, and a tray of fresh-cut fruit with vanilla-bean cream cheese dipping sauce. And a mini cheesecake, which I somehow completely forgot about until I was packing everything up this morning. THAT is how awesome our night was - I forgot about cheesecake.
Wednesday night we had dinner with my family for a cousin's 16th birthday, and around the table upon our arrival went choruses of "Nat, you look so good!" and "Nat, you've lost a lot of weight, haven't you?" and "Oh, you look great!" Always nice to hear, and I'm hearing it more often these days and that's really nice. But I've not really SEEN the difference yet. Sure, my clothes fit differently, but I've still not been real sure what all the fuss is about. I saw it last night, in the full-wall mirrors. I stood there in the bright lights and saw my naked self. I see what they mean when they say what they do. I do look good. I mean, I'm still carrying some extra baggage, but compared to where I've been, I look great. I recognize my body, the one I remember loathing when I was 16 and had that ittle bitty pooch and now look back on with longing because my only pooch was little and alone. I'm not down to just the one yet, but I'll get there. I can see, now, that I'm making progress, and man, that's great motivation. I laid on my back last night, on the plush carpet, and put my hands on my hips. Guys, I have hip bones again. I can actually see them and feel them. I was pretty bummed a few years back when I realized they were missing. Last night, I felt sexy. I spent something like 18 hours naked in a room full of mirrors, and I felt sexy. Fuck yes.
We spent hours in the pool, floating, kissing, laughing. We played silly water games and did handstands. We talked and talked and talked. We fed each other fruit and took turns sighing over the awesomeness of the chair massage. We watched some porn reality show on the Playboy channel and laughed at the chick giving a blowjob to the strap-on. (Seriously, what's the point?)
I'm just so happy and glad that Jimi took us on this little excursion. I'm flattered by his attention and generosity. This one night away, it was like a refresh key for the romance portion of our relationship - there was nothing in the world except the two of us, and we had a comfortable, fun setting where we could relax and wallow in being in love.
On our way home today, we stopped at the outlet malls and I bought myself a new dress. Jimi says he needs to give me more excuses to dress up, and as he dropped me at the fitting room with an armful of frilly frocks, he headed toward the Tools & More with this: "Don't just try them all on and decide you hate them and give up. Find a dress. We'll go out." Yes sir. I found a dress, but not until he came back and picked it out for me. He dresses me so much better than I dress myself - he knows while the dress is on the hanger if it's right for me; I'm doing good if I can make that distinction while I'm wearing it. Clothes shopping is typically a horrible experience for me, resulting in a complete meltdown of my self-esteem and extra beer and junk food consumption. Today it was fun, though. The 14s fit, and I may have been able to get into some 12s if I'd really wanted to push it. My favorite dress was a gorgeous red number that wasn't in my size, but was in a 10, and so I tried it on anyhow. The bodice was too tight, but it didn't look as awful as I'd expected and it wasn't uncomfortable and it would've fit well in another few months...I almost bought it. I sorta wish I had, now that I'm thinking more about it. I may go see of the local store has my size. I really loved that dress.
Jimi humored me and let me spend 20 minutes trying on rings in the discount gold and diamond outlet. I don't dare let myself read into that, or that he said, "I'm glad to get a better idea of your tastes, to know what you like best." I hate that the rings I like the best are the ones I don't want because for their price, I could nearly build a Sybaris-esque master suite onto my home. (Which we're seriously considering, by the way. That's how we're spending the first lottery check. When we win.) Honestly, when it comes to rings, all I want is the wedding band, yo.
And then we drove home and kissed the puppy and the kitty and lived happily ever after the end.
I started this post right after we got home, maybe around 5ish. It's after 9 now. Jimi's been sleeping for hours - he says he pulled the bottom fitted sheet off the mattress when he was pulling back the covers on his side of the bed last night, and he never got it back on all the way, so it balled up underneath him all night and was lumpy and so he didn't sleep well. That's not the hotel's fault, he does that at home too. Even if he'd slept as soundly as I did, we didn't sleep long enough, there was too much excitement to be had. I'm probably going to be in bed myself before too long - it was a fantastic night, and I'm appropriately worn out because of it. My arms and legs and back have that good I-got-a-good-workout stiffness and soreness from so many hours in the water. I feel relaxed and calm and happy and in love. I'm content with my world, right here, within these walls.
32 is already better than 31, and it hasn't even officially started yet.
We're just home from an amazing night at the swimming pool hotel. The what, you ask? The swimming pool hotel. You know, the one where they have a swimming pool IN your hotel room. Here, let me show you what I mean:
The hotel chain is called Sybaris, and I've been dreaming of spending a night there since I heard of it 4 years ago. It was totally worth the wait.
I imagine everyone in the world is reading Momastery these days, because that Glennon is one smart cookie. I found her blog over a year ago, the piece called A Mountain I'm Willing To Die On, and last March she posted Birthdays, wherein she tells the story of her first birthday spent with her husband and how he didn't know what her expectations were and she was so disappointed. Instead of brushing it under the rug, though, she made the brilliant move to *wait for it* talk to her husband, and explain why birthdays are a big deal for her and that celebrating special occasions is something that makes her feel loved. That post encouraged me to give my requests to Jimi regarding this year's birthday - and man, did he outdo every one of my expectations.
Wednesday night, he presented me with a smallish package, wrapped in red paper dotted with multicolored Christmas trees, with a card tucked in under the hand-tied pink fabric bow. He gave it to me early, saying I'd probably want to take it with us for our overnight trip on Thursday. I thought it was a vibrator - we went to the naughty shop a few weeks back and there was a great display of high-end vibrators that the sales lady claimed came with a 10 year warranty. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Turns out the warranty is really only for a year, girlfriend just didn't know her job too good. Anyhow, I wasn't willing to drop $120 on a vibrator that night, and when we came home we discovered that you could find the same thing on Amazon for $70. Score! Except I never did buy it, because, well, do I really NEED a $70 vibrator? So yeah, I thought that's what was wrapped in the Christmas paper. It wasn't. It was a kindle fire. Holy crap! A kindle?! I couldn't believe it. I spent the next few hours playing with my new toy - ha! That sounds funny after talking about vibrators. But yeah, I "bought" some free e-books, discovered our Amazon Prime account allows me one free book rental per month from the online library, ordered a protective cover for the kindle, bought that new First Aid Kit album and uploaded it to my cloud (I have a cloud!), played Angry Birds for the first time. LOVE.
(And I'm the girl who swore, when e-readers came out, that I'd never own one. Books are where it's at, I said, and no electronic device can ever be as satisfying as turning the pages on an honest-to-goodness, made-of-paper book. Um, yeeeaahh...unless that electronic device can also allow you to surf the web, read blogs, stream Pandora... I often say dumb things. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?)
For the last few days, Jimi'd been telling me "We're going to Indianapolis and catching a train up to Wisconsin and back. An overnight train ride! We've got a room on a sleeper car, and there's a dining car - I think it'll be fun." "Uh huh" with a side-eye was my response. I didn't buy it. I didn't know what he had planned, but I didn't think that was it. In an effort to get the secret out of him, I told him yesterday morning, "If we're really going to be riding a train all night, I'm just wearing yoga pants and a tank top (no bra) and my grey sweater." (My friend Angie calls this get-up "fat ballerina". Or maybe that's only when you're wearing leggings, not yoga pants. Either way, it's my favorite outfit and I always giggle at the idea of me as a fat ballerina when I wear it, which is every day I can possibly manage to leave the house without a bra.) Jimi just shrugged his shoulders at my comment and said, "So long as you're comfortable." I sorta expected him to argue - I mean, what about the nice dinner part of my request? So I sat on the bed to be packed a bra, a nice sweater, some clean jeans, a comfy dress I like to lounge around in - I figured we probably didn't have reservations somewhere with a dress code if he was letting me leave the house dressed like a fat ballerina, but I didn't want to find myself with no options if we did actually end up somewhere that frowns on yoga pants in public. Jimi comes in, sees my to-be-packed pile and sighs, "What are you going to do with all these clothes?" "Just in case," I say. He put aside the sweater and the dress. "You won't need them. Trust me."
He was right. We were naked within minutes of the above photo being taken. Actually, he was already naked from the waist down - he saw me starting to take a picture and ran for the bathroom. Oops! I'm not used to a wall full of mirrors.
Ten miles outside of Louisville, he told me where we were really going. At that point, my interest in a fancy sit-down dinner was gone - I wanted to get to that pool as fast as I could. We got into Indianapolis an hour and a half before our 6 o'clock check-in, so we went to the Wal-Mart down the way for provisions. There was a Noodles & Company across the street that promised a quick meal, and it was conveniently located in the same shopping center as a liquor store and a naughty shop. On a whim, I popped into the naughty shop and bought a grab bag of novelties while Jimi bought the booze, and we headed off into the sunset toward our evening in the Den of Sin. (The grab bag was an awesome impulse buy. That's all I have to say about that.)
Our suite was amazing. For starters, you're in your own building, so you don't have to worry about hearing your neighbors gettin' freaky in the middle of the night. When you walk in, the pool is on your right, and I expected to be hit in the face with an awful chlorine smell, but there's a wall of windows dividing the suite in half and the door opens to the living/bedroom section. To the left of the door was a massage chair (!!), an electric fireplace, and the entertainment center in the corner. There were two club chairs and a round table along the side wall, and then the king-sized bed on a light-up platform jutted out at an angle into the room. A flat-screen TV hung just above the massage chair, and could be turned in any direction for your viewing pleasure. (Free porn on 3 channels.) The carpet was plush and freshly vacuumed, and there were two soft robes waiting for us on the bed. (Available for purchase, $75, buy one get one free! We didn't come home with robes.) The mini-kitchen had a small fridge (complete with bag-o-ice in the freezer section), a microwave, coffee-maker, a couple of mugs and champagne flutes. There was a huge two-person whirlpool tub, his and her sinks, and a bidet! Have you ever used a bidet? Me neither, till last night. I was impressed at the selection of toiletries they offered - toothbrushes and toothpaste, Bath & Body Works shower gels and shampoos and conditioners, cotton balls and Q-tips. I don't stay at hotels very often, okay?
Then there was the pool. They've got several different options when planning your stay, and each has a different sized pool. Ours was 16 feet long, 4 feet deep. Not enough for diving or actual swimming (though it did have a swim jet, I don't think it was powerful enough to actually swim against; I kept running into the wall.), but plenty big for hanging out naked in the 92 degree water with your honey. The next time we go, we're hoping to stay in the suite with the second floor loft, with a slide into the 22' pool below. How awesome would that be? Really awesome, that's how awesome. A pipe system hidden by fake ivy rained water into the middle of the pool - we expected it to be cold water, but it was shower-temperature; Jimi loved it, I thought it was a little too hot.
There was a normal shower in the bathroom, but in the pool portion of the suite there was also a glassed-in shower cave that doubled as a sauna. Jimi liked to sit in the steam for 10 minutes or so, getting real hot and sweaty, then turn on ice cold water full blast through the four overhead shower nozzles and the hand-held sprayer. "Like the Norwegians," he said. Yeah, I prefer to go from steam to pool, not steam to ice, but I'm probably just a wimp and doing it wrong.
Remember the kindle he gave me? Their sound system included a jack to plug into it, so we were able to pipe music throughout the entire space. They didn't offer free Wi-Fi - I imagine most of their clientele aren't interested in surfing the web much during their stay - but my phone can act as a portable hotspot, so we were able to stream Pandora all night.
Jimi is smart and suggested we sip on a concoction of lemon booze, orange juice, and champagne all night, and it was delicious. (I would've drunk more champagne, though, if I'd realized he'd paid $35 for the bottle. I'm more of a $12 champagne girl, and I prefer the sweeter ones over the Brut.) We also had crackers, and filled the mini-fridge with hummus, cheese, and a tray of fresh-cut fruit with vanilla-bean cream cheese dipping sauce. And a mini cheesecake, which I somehow completely forgot about until I was packing everything up this morning. THAT is how awesome our night was - I forgot about cheesecake.
Wednesday night we had dinner with my family for a cousin's 16th birthday, and around the table upon our arrival went choruses of "Nat, you look so good!" and "Nat, you've lost a lot of weight, haven't you?" and "Oh, you look great!" Always nice to hear, and I'm hearing it more often these days and that's really nice. But I've not really SEEN the difference yet. Sure, my clothes fit differently, but I've still not been real sure what all the fuss is about. I saw it last night, in the full-wall mirrors. I stood there in the bright lights and saw my naked self. I see what they mean when they say what they do. I do look good. I mean, I'm still carrying some extra baggage, but compared to where I've been, I look great. I recognize my body, the one I remember loathing when I was 16 and had that ittle bitty pooch and now look back on with longing because my only pooch was little and alone. I'm not down to just the one yet, but I'll get there. I can see, now, that I'm making progress, and man, that's great motivation. I laid on my back last night, on the plush carpet, and put my hands on my hips. Guys, I have hip bones again. I can actually see them and feel them. I was pretty bummed a few years back when I realized they were missing. Last night, I felt sexy. I spent something like 18 hours naked in a room full of mirrors, and I felt sexy. Fuck yes.
We spent hours in the pool, floating, kissing, laughing. We played silly water games and did handstands. We talked and talked and talked. We fed each other fruit and took turns sighing over the awesomeness of the chair massage. We watched some porn reality show on the Playboy channel and laughed at the chick giving a blowjob to the strap-on. (Seriously, what's the point?)
I'm just so happy and glad that Jimi took us on this little excursion. I'm flattered by his attention and generosity. This one night away, it was like a refresh key for the romance portion of our relationship - there was nothing in the world except the two of us, and we had a comfortable, fun setting where we could relax and wallow in being in love.
On our way home today, we stopped at the outlet malls and I bought myself a new dress. Jimi says he needs to give me more excuses to dress up, and as he dropped me at the fitting room with an armful of frilly frocks, he headed toward the Tools & More with this: "Don't just try them all on and decide you hate them and give up. Find a dress. We'll go out." Yes sir. I found a dress, but not until he came back and picked it out for me. He dresses me so much better than I dress myself - he knows while the dress is on the hanger if it's right for me; I'm doing good if I can make that distinction while I'm wearing it. Clothes shopping is typically a horrible experience for me, resulting in a complete meltdown of my self-esteem and extra beer and junk food consumption. Today it was fun, though. The 14s fit, and I may have been able to get into some 12s if I'd really wanted to push it. My favorite dress was a gorgeous red number that wasn't in my size, but was in a 10, and so I tried it on anyhow. The bodice was too tight, but it didn't look as awful as I'd expected and it wasn't uncomfortable and it would've fit well in another few months...I almost bought it. I sorta wish I had, now that I'm thinking more about it. I may go see of the local store has my size. I really loved that dress.
Jimi humored me and let me spend 20 minutes trying on rings in the discount gold and diamond outlet. I don't dare let myself read into that, or that he said, "I'm glad to get a better idea of your tastes, to know what you like best." I hate that the rings I like the best are the ones I don't want because for their price, I could nearly build a Sybaris-esque master suite onto my home. (Which we're seriously considering, by the way. That's how we're spending the first lottery check. When we win.) Honestly, when it comes to rings, all I want is the wedding band, yo.
And then we drove home and kissed the puppy and the kitty and lived happily ever after the end.
I started this post right after we got home, maybe around 5ish. It's after 9 now. Jimi's been sleeping for hours - he says he pulled the bottom fitted sheet off the mattress when he was pulling back the covers on his side of the bed last night, and he never got it back on all the way, so it balled up underneath him all night and was lumpy and so he didn't sleep well. That's not the hotel's fault, he does that at home too. Even if he'd slept as soundly as I did, we didn't sleep long enough, there was too much excitement to be had. I'm probably going to be in bed myself before too long - it was a fantastic night, and I'm appropriately worn out because of it. My arms and legs and back have that good I-got-a-good-workout stiffness and soreness from so many hours in the water. I feel relaxed and calm and happy and in love. I'm content with my world, right here, within these walls.
32 is already better than 31, and it hasn't even officially started yet.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Strawberries for ice cubes.
Jimi's out picking up our new dryer - we found it yesterday, brand new in box, at a scratch & dent place for $100 less than the same model at Lowe's. The power of comparison shopping. "Aww, our first major appliance purchase," I teased sappily. Of course, it's not really - the house came with a refrigerator and a dishwasher and a stove and a washer and dryer - but it kinda still counts.
Maybe you're a sports fan and heard about the UK/UofL game last night? As my father's daughter, I have a familial obligation to root for the Kentucky Wildcats, but as a resident of Louisville, with so many friends so passionately invested in the outcome for the Cardinals, I must guiltily admit that I sorta hoped for a come-from-behind victory for UofL. I wanted to see this town go wild. Lexington kept it classy and celebrated by flipping cars and setting fire to couches - I'm sure a few of the Cards fans who're looking down their noses today at those antics totally would've participated in the same last night had their team ended up on top.
We went out shopping for the dryer yesterday and stopped in at the Waffle House in New Albany, IN. All the staff and most customers were sporting either blue or red shirts, and the shit-talk flew across the grill alongside orders for scattered smothered and covered hashbrowns. I wanted to take a picture, but was self-conscious about it for some reason. For some reason it seemed like snapping a picture wouldn't capture the moment, it would just be intrusive.
Jimi was a little sad that the Cards lost - he's a UofL Alum, and sported his red in contrast to my blue. A house divided, we were. I didn't gloat in the Cats' victory - after all, it's just a game. I'm happy for the positive recognition the game brought to our state - apparently, having two teams in the Final Four is sort of a big deal.
I'm sad to say we didn't win $640 million the other night. *sad face* I could've really used that money, too. Like, to quit my job.
Oh! Wanna hear what I did on Friday? I went on a rant about a co-worker and my general dissatisfaction at the office...and the co-worker to whom I was bitching was sitting on her mike, broadcasting the entire conversation over the airwaves and straight to the ears of all supervisors in the facility. How awesome is that? Can't wait to see what the fallout will be from that shit. Fortunately, I didn't say anything untrue, nor did I mention any hot shit, like salary or bonus complaints that I am holding onto like a bitter pill. And my boss was out of town and missed the whole thing, so at least there's that. Still. Fuck.
Last week was a little bit of alright - we went out almost every night, and as exhausting as that is, it's also exhilarating to have a social life. Especially after neglecting it for so long.
My 32nd birthday is next Monday, the 9th. We've taken off Thursday and Friday, and Jimi's taking me somewhere special for the night. I don't know where - trying to plan something was too much for me, so I asked him to please plan a nice dinner out somewhere, and to get a hotel room, and plan to have lots of sex, and to please find something fun for us to do on Friday. Looks like we may be having friends over Saturday night, though it's awfully last minute, so I won't be able to be too disappointed if it doesn't work out. I've taken off the 9th and 10th, too - I may treat myself to a facial or something. Maybe I'll go buy myself something pretty. Mostly I'm glad to not have to work for 6 whole days in a row.
Maybe you're a sports fan and heard about the UK/UofL game last night? As my father's daughter, I have a familial obligation to root for the Kentucky Wildcats, but as a resident of Louisville, with so many friends so passionately invested in the outcome for the Cardinals, I must guiltily admit that I sorta hoped for a come-from-behind victory for UofL. I wanted to see this town go wild. Lexington kept it classy and celebrated by flipping cars and setting fire to couches - I'm sure a few of the Cards fans who're looking down their noses today at those antics totally would've participated in the same last night had their team ended up on top.
We went out shopping for the dryer yesterday and stopped in at the Waffle House in New Albany, IN. All the staff and most customers were sporting either blue or red shirts, and the shit-talk flew across the grill alongside orders for scattered smothered and covered hashbrowns. I wanted to take a picture, but was self-conscious about it for some reason. For some reason it seemed like snapping a picture wouldn't capture the moment, it would just be intrusive.
Jimi was a little sad that the Cards lost - he's a UofL Alum, and sported his red in contrast to my blue. A house divided, we were. I didn't gloat in the Cats' victory - after all, it's just a game. I'm happy for the positive recognition the game brought to our state - apparently, having two teams in the Final Four is sort of a big deal.
I'm sad to say we didn't win $640 million the other night. *sad face* I could've really used that money, too. Like, to quit my job.
Oh! Wanna hear what I did on Friday? I went on a rant about a co-worker and my general dissatisfaction at the office...and the co-worker to whom I was bitching was sitting on her mike, broadcasting the entire conversation over the airwaves and straight to the ears of all supervisors in the facility. How awesome is that? Can't wait to see what the fallout will be from that shit. Fortunately, I didn't say anything untrue, nor did I mention any hot shit, like salary or bonus complaints that I am holding onto like a bitter pill. And my boss was out of town and missed the whole thing, so at least there's that. Still. Fuck.
Last week was a little bit of alright - we went out almost every night, and as exhausting as that is, it's also exhilarating to have a social life. Especially after neglecting it for so long.
My 32nd birthday is next Monday, the 9th. We've taken off Thursday and Friday, and Jimi's taking me somewhere special for the night. I don't know where - trying to plan something was too much for me, so I asked him to please plan a nice dinner out somewhere, and to get a hotel room, and plan to have lots of sex, and to please find something fun for us to do on Friday. Looks like we may be having friends over Saturday night, though it's awfully last minute, so I won't be able to be too disappointed if it doesn't work out. I've taken off the 9th and 10th, too - I may treat myself to a facial or something. Maybe I'll go buy myself something pretty. Mostly I'm glad to not have to work for 6 whole days in a row.
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