A Typical Morning Convo

During the winter, Mark doesn't have to rush off to work before sunrise since he tends to spend most of his days outdoor and the weather is currently -390. In the sun.

Therefore, we get to actually see each other in the mornings and it's sort of....insane.

Mark has been up at least an hour before me so that he can eat his Eggo's and watch Fox News, while I'm struggling to not hit snooze for the 11th time and make it out the door by 7am since it's an Orangetheory Day and my schedule cannot. be. messed. up.

Once Mark has successfully inhaled his morning sugar breakfast, he will burst into the bathroom, always while I'm drying my hair and can't really hear that well and he'll start off with something like this.

We need to talk about your recycling habits.

No, we don't. I recycle and care about the environment. The end. *as I flip my head upside down to perfect the bouffant I am trying to attempt for work*

You can't just throw out candles with wax in them. 

It's glass. Glass is recyclable. I don't see the issue. 

The issue is there is wax in them.

Then take it up with Bed Bath because I'M NOT THE ONE that designed the candles that don't burn out all the wax. And I tried doing the freeze-the-wax-outta-them thing and all it ended up doing is exploding in our freezer and leaving shards of glass everywhere.

You never cleaned that out?

What does that have to do with your recycling issue?! 

*Mark shakes his head* You can't combine recyclables. If something has garbage in it or two types of recyclable materials, then it can't be recycled.

WHAT ARE YOU THE FUCKING RECYCLE POLICE? DID YOU LEARN THIS IN RECYCLE SCHOOL?! Get off my ass. 

You're basically making us have two garbages instead of one recycling and one garbage bin.

I'm not changing. The recycling people can fix it if they are so concerned. I thought you had that huge conspiracy theory that there isn't a recycling company anyways?! What about that? 

If that's so true then in theory I'm just helping your cause since it doesn't matter anyways right?

I am basically separating our garbage into gross garbage and not-covered-in-ketchup garbage.

If anything I'm helping people in this case. You should be thanking me! 

That's not how it works.

Maybe just spray paint the lid of the recyling bin green and all of this is resolved right? 

*I dab no-itch cream on my neck rash that seemingly popped up out of nowhere*

Does this look contagious? 

*Mark examines himself in the mirror*

Men need hair, you know.

.....what.

I mean, I am devilishly good looking, but this tuft of hair I'm holding on to needs to stay put and not start coming out of my ears.

*I sigh because I have seen a receding halo hairline around the top of his head for quite some time but Heaven forbid I say anything*

Yes, I am well aware of your rugged good looks. It's the main reason I married you.

Damn straight. I gotta go. 

*reaches out and smashes his face into mine in an attempt to kiss my face*

Hot.

Dirty Santa Done Dirt Cheap

Let's hop on a more-fun note today. Sound good?

I bring you...my Dirty Santa gift guide.

Every year I scour Amazon for the funniest gifts since our family partakes in this annual Christmas Tradition. Give one of these at the next White Elephant party and you're sure to get a laugh!!

Dad Bod Fanny Pack // The Leg Nightlight // Grow the Fuck Up Book // Wine Bottle Glass // Freshmen Survival Guide // Lady Porn Coasters // Adult Coloring Book

Dad Bods: They are all the rage these days. Get the look AND function of holding your flip-phone, receipts, and post-it notes with this attractive fanny pack! 

Who can forget THE LEG lamp from Christmas Story? Give the miniature version for someone to look at every time they get up in the middle of the night to pee!

Know someone in the family that hasn't quite figure out how to adult yet? Want to passive aggressively stick it to 'em? This book is for them. It's actually super informative and easy to read and maybe they can get their head out of their ass long enough to skim through a couple chapters. 

I just love a wine goblet big enough for those rough weeks. Grab this glass and throw in a box of the finest Franzia for that crazy aunt of yours!

Any seniors heading off to college? This funny and witty guide helps keeps them in check and reminds them about things like...No, Dorito's actually AREN'T a food group.

You know those Ryan Gossling meme's you see floating around everywhere? These are just as good, but they are COASTERS. No rings on the counter from a cold beer already has me hot and bothered. They say things like, "here, let me fold the laundry for you."  Did you just cream your panties a little?! ME TOO. 

Finally, a good old fashioned adult coloring book. Politely tell someone to fuck off by gifting this one to them. Or do what I'm going to do and buy it yourself to vent some frustrations while guzzling a bottle, I mean, a glass of wine. 

Cheers, folks! XO

Grief Comes in Like a Wrecking Ball

Man oh man, you guys. Grief. What a shit show.

One day I'm partying and laughing with friends, and the next day I'm curled up in the fetal position crying so hard I think I popped an eyeball vessel.

The holidays are no joke this year.

I am so, so happy to be surrounded by upbeat and receptive people.
You have no idea how grateful I am to see this tribe of friends that have been in our lives for 20+ years. They show up to our events year after year and we all get to watch each other's lives unfold.

It's amazing and I am truly humbled that we get to share each other's ups and downs.

And then, after a completely fulfilling weekend, I find myself breathing heavy as I cry into my pillow...saddened by the thought that I should have a four-month old.
Flash backs of the day of our miscarriage are still fresh in my mind.
I still feel every pain, every tug, every emotion that occurred in those quick minutes where I watched our baby die in the palm of my hand.

I remember Mark, hysterical, throwing up in the garbage.
The numbness. The emptiness.

Gosh I wanted and still want that baby so badly I could just punch through a brick wall with my bare hands if it meant I could have him back.

Life isn't all that fair, sometimes.

I can't believe I get the "luxury" of getting over this phase in my life.
I can't believe it didn't work.

The grief is just so overwhelming sometimes.
It usually rears it's ugly head as I'm trying to fall asleep.
When it's just me and my thoughts.

I will be sobbing next to Mark, while he sleeps peacefully.
Finally he will stir enough to hear the chaos and roll over to me, gripping me tightly, trying to force me to calm down.

But it needs to come out.
All the ugliness and loudness and gasping for air.
It needs to come out so I can move forward.

My therapist said I need to work towards giving him a name, something to call him by.
But I honestly have never come up with anything worthy enough.

He's always just Baby.
The baby I was supposed to spend our first holidays together with this year.

It's a weird time, right now.
Thanksgiving came and went, and it was all the same yet completely not.
We announced to our families on Thanksgiving and all our friends the day after at our annual Shrimp Boil Friendsgiving last year.
And now I have nothing to show for that celebration.

We all carried on in the most upbeat fashions, myself included.
We laughed and drank and played games and enjoyed each other, and yet...sometimes I catch people...stuttering...that tiny, quick...awkward silence.

Because I know they know...they remember too.
I don't know what to say anymore than the next person.

That's the stumbling, bumbling, raw emotions that people try so desperately to hide most of the time.
That's why I talk about it.
Because it never quite goes away.
The grief.
And when it does show up, it comes in like a wrecking ball.
But as quickly as it rolls in, it disappears and you feel normal again.

Keep moving forward, my friends, as I plan to do the same.
XO

Spark in Life

Some first and lasts this week; I started my Orangetheory membership in a neighboring town. I took my final antibiotic, officially ridding me of this two week virus. I decorated for Christmas. I donated my treadmill. I unsubscribed from the fertility clinic's newsletters.

And most importantly...I am starting to feel that spark again.

Not just between Mark and me, pervs...I mean with my LIFE.

Not one to sit still for too long, I kept asking Mark what exactly it was that I did with "all my free time" before it was consumed with babies.

His response? 

I worked.

If I wasn't working, I was traveling to and from the office. (3.5 hours round trip, yo)

If I wasn't physically at the office, I was answering phone calls and emails about work.

If I wasn't doing any of the above..I was bitching about work.

#jesustakethewheel

I keep forgetting how hard my 20's were....fighting tooth and nail to get ahead with my career, waking up at 4am and getting home at 8pm (or later) most days,  trying to establish myself, to figure out what the Hell I'm actually good at, steer clear of recessions and job losses and unemployment, and make decent money in the process.

So when I finally landed in a job that I was actually praised and rewarded for all this prior hard work, with a much easier commute and more sanity....I decided to fill all my free time with babies.

Of course....what woman with a ticking biological clock wouldn't??

Just like every other thing I so desperately wanted in life...I worked my ass of to make a baby for five solid years. And although we failed miserably, it wasn't all in stride.

I am realizing there were many lessons to be learned in that chapter of our lives.

Coming out of that haze...I am starting to look around more clearly at everything we have worked for and all the rewards we have reaped and all the opportunities still staring us down.

We fucking did it. 

We moved out of a town that wasn't meant for us.

We moved into our forever home that we're in love with.

We became financially stable with good credit!

We climbed those damn ladders and someone is FINALLY allowing me grace to spread my wings and make a difference with my career.

And I have free time. And down time.

I can do whatever the Hell I want with it.

It's like a new lease on life, really.  I am starting to feel like this:

I am starting to take everything I have learned in my 20's and mix it into everything I have learned through infertility, to apply a more leveled approach to each day.

Before infertility, I was a very go go go person. I had extreme FOMO even though I desperately craved down and alone time. And I never gave myself that sort of self care, so basically I would party all the time, and then any down time was forced upon me from some sort of massive illness, recovery, rinse and repeat.

Fun.

And with infertility, well...I slowed down so much I hardly did...anything.

Sure, I appreciated sun rises and meditation and the simpler things in life. But at the same time, I always felt stuck. 

Like...Heaven forbid I work out for fear that I would harm my ever-failing fertility.

Or please don't be too social because then you have to keep explaining all this science to the crowd.

Don't participate in too many events because HELLO....IVF DEBT.

Just keep waiting and wishing and hoping, right?

That's all we have when we're in the droves of infertility.

It was all consuming. 

But I'm here to tell you that when you're on the other side, whether it's with a baby or not, you start to realize that a lot of what makes you YOU will eventually start showing itself again.

And it's fabulous.

All of my time is MINE again. 

I feel really weirdly powerful right now because I get to be as crazy and as spirited or quiet and reserved...all of what makes me....ME...again. I missed that bitch.

I forgot how much fun I am.

Not to toot my own horn too much but you should definitely invite me to your next get-together. I love mixing and mingling and working a crowd and making people laugh. I am hot mess most of the time and shamelessly honest. Those two qualities are fun to see in action.

I love....loving things. 

I love all the fun Christmas decor that's in all the stores these days.

I love growing closer to my friends and meeting new tribe members.

I love getting dressed up to go out.

I love that my husband stills slaps my ass and calls me his smokin' hot wife.

I love my pets TO DEATH. And they deserve more of my attention.

I love fitness and working out and feeling awesome in my own skin.

I love quiet nights in and the security and warmth that comes within the walls of our home.

I love Netflix and good tv shows.

I love good winter-time crockpot dinners and wine with friends while we dance to gangster rap. If you haven't been over in the last two years, don't worry, I am working to change all that.

I love that I have the designer's eye to change things around whenever and however the Hell I want. 

So...I'm getting there. 

I am forever grateful for all the disaster that happened the last few years with IVF and infertility. 

I truly mean that. 

Every shitty event that has ever happened in my life has been looked back on with lessons learned even though they were fucking trying at the time.

It taught me so much more than the fact that I have old-ass eggs. I learned to weave the quiet moments in with the super outrageous ones, and I think this new chapter is going to include a nice balance of the two. 

Those of you still on your own paths to motherhood....I am right here, rooting for you.

I promise.

And you bet your ass I'm still hoping for my own miracle. I still believe it could be possible...but this life sure as Hell can't wait around to find out. 

That's not how it works, anyways. 

Happy Thanksgiving folks. Hug your loved ones tight! XO

(ps, Happy 500th blog post to me!)

Work Ethic

The issue of a populous of people lacking work ethic has been a recent topic of popular debate, ever since another 20-something spouted off about her so-called terrible working conditions during her time at Yelp.

To those who haven't read this article....I'm going to give you a bit of a spoiler: she was fired immediately after posting her open letter to the owner of Yelp.

Personally? I'm glad she was fired. I wouldn't continue to employ anybody ungrateful enough to assume that their first job would be filled with a standard 40 hour work-week and a ton of perks.

It's your first job. Dig in. Make something of yourself. Put in the work. Be proud.

I had not bothered to read the original article, until someone else posted a retaliation article about what it means to have a proper work ethic. It was written by a girl in her late 20's, and was a breath of fresh air to the seeming endless masses of young people who feel that once they finally finish college (because that's the hardest part of adulting, right?), they should rightfully be owed the position of CEO, or something equally lucrative.

Why work your way up when you should just be granted seniority?
But my parents told me I was THE BEST. 
Shouldn't I be placed on my golden throne just as they said?

I will admit, it does make me hot under the collar to think there are people in this world that don't understand it takes hard work, dedication, commitment and follow-through to reap the rewards of a life you think you deserve.

A lot of what I see stems from the notion that we set up these now-adults to enter a world where "YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT. THE SKY IS THE LIMIT!"

The issue with these types of statements is they are only half true.

Let me elaborate:

YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT...if you take the time to work for it.

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT...if you are willing to make the sacrifices and put in the long hours to reap the rewards that you desire.

THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER if you take a stand, mold yourself into something greater, and do your part.

YOU CAN BE ANYTHING YOU WANT...if you apply yourself.
Learn from those before you.
Understand your surroundings.
Fail.
Get back up and do it better.

I would like to think I have established a good work ethic, and was lucky enough to marry into a family of like-minded do-ers.

Every day of our lives, Mark and I get up well before sunrise to accomplish the tasks that no one else is going to do for us.
We go against the "norm" of society and hit the hay early to make sure we have the energy to take on the next day.

Partying and staying up all hours of the night watching TV and snacking and generally not accomplishing anything has no room in our life.

We WANT to get ahead.
We WANT to better our lives.
I WANT to be in good shape, therefore I workout most days and choose to take the time to eat correctly and meal prep as needed.
Mark WANTS to run a successful company, so he makes the calls and plans his days at hours that may be deemed unfit to some.
We WANTED to buy a bigger home, on a larger lot, with some privacy, and we WANT it to be upgraded to our liking.
We WANT a child, therefore, will go through Hell or high-water this year to make it happen.
We WANT to retire at a decent age, and plan to do so by putting in the hours NOW to ensure our success.

And sometimes we fail.
But instead of pitching a fit, we figure out how to fix it and make it better the next time.

Throughout my childhood, I was told to not give up when the going gets hard, and if I want to be good at something, I have to practice.

For my third Christmas, my parents gifted me a keyboard and a music book.

I'm not sure they had any intention of me actually putting it to use, I mean, my fingers couldn't even reach an octave at that point. I was THREE.

But within a couple of hours, I had figured out how to read the elementary music and was playing Up On The Housetop without skipping a beat.

My parents, over-joyed, threw me into piano lessons faster than you could blink an eye.

I was a natural, but as I progressed in my lessons, I never really gave it much thought to practice unless I really, really needed to.

That was, until I entered my first contest.
I was up against some serious competitors (at age 5!) that ended up embarrassing me to no end because their talent was paramount.

And I cried because IT WASN'T FAIR!

And my dad looked me square in the eye, and said, if I wanted to be great, I had to work harder than everyone else.

So I put in the effort.
I practiced until my itty bitty fingers had callouses, then kept going.

I would memorize one song, then move onto the next, honing my skills along the way.
And each and every competition moving forward, I crushed, because I wanted to be the best.

Hard work pays off.

From that point forward, it set the tone for every task, every to-do list, every accomplishment I have ever made.

Nothing is worth doing if it's not worth your full effort.

You respect nothing and have no gratitude for those things you have been handed in life.

That doesn't mean life has to beat you down relentlessly for eternity.

If you're stuck doing something you hate, and have given it all you've got, exhausted all your resources, then make the choice to change, but do it wisely.

Be smart about changes and upgrades, learn from those older than you, survey your surroundings and make sound decisions.

My goal with work has always been the most money for the least amount of work.

But that doesn't mean I am lazy, nor does it mean I expected that straight out of college.

I put in more hours at more shitty jobs than I care to re-hash.

Each and every shitty job has managed to teach me something very important as I moved into the next position, and climbed the ladder to where I am today.

And guess what? I'm still climbing that damn ladder.
Still improving myself and my life.

A person needs life experience to get ahead.

They need the setbacks and failures as much as they need the accomplishments and triumphs.
Because it's those setbacks that make you grateful for things you can do or buy or become later in life.

The moral of the story is.....you CAN have anything you want in life, as long as you work for it.
Luck has a bit to do with it sometimes, but for each goal achieved, luck is a mere 5-10% of it.
Hard work is the other 90%.

And no, you don't have much life experience out of college.
That's what your 20's are for.
So eat some humble pie, wise up, and join the rest of the hard workers at the top....it's where you wanted to be anyways, remember?

Thanks for reading.

Six Weeks

Quick note, I totally threw you guys for a loop blogging on a Monday, huh? Anyways...

Well folks, we are six weeks in.

Six weeks ago, we sat down with Dr. Jacobs to go over a general timeline of what is to be expected.
We were handed a thick packet of papers to review, and eventually, sign-off on.
(I haven't done any of it yet)

I was introduced to our IVF team in Highland Park, where we went over costs (gulp), set-up, and procedures. I then scheduled my intake phone screen with the genetics lab.

Two weeks later I had that phone screen only to find out we needed to coordinate an ungodly amount of saliva all over the country from all four of our parents.
After much begging, pleading, willing, praying, begging, negotiating...and did I mention begging? we got our parents DNA results.

Those results were sent from California to New Jersey.
Along with blood vials for Mark and I.

Oh! Funny story (I can't believe I forgot to tell you!) So, the day we went to get our blood drawn, Mark and I were ushered into a small room to sign a bunch of waivers and what not.

Mark immediately heads over to a wall filled with tchotchkes on a bunch of shelves (all the shiny things!) and grabs an hour glass. He proceeds to flip it over and tells me "how cool these things are."

I am hardly paying attention at this point because I'm trying to read disclosure statements and whatever other garbage is in front of me.

So the nurse comes in and agrees with Mark....Isn't that thing so cool!? I hate that it goes so much slower than the smaller ones though.....

I stopped in my tracks and slowly look up at this lady.

What.

Clearing my throat, I say...."like sands through an hour glass.....so are the days of our lives."

And watch the wheels start to spin.

OOOOHHHHH....it tells TIME!!! A WHOLE HOUR!! How cool, huh?
Those little ones must be, like....MINUTES or something!?

HOLY SHIT.  I'm about to let this crazy bitch stab me with a needle and SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT AN HOUR GLASS IS?

How, in a person's entire existence, did the thought or question ever come up to ASK WHAT IT IS?

Ok, whatever......I follow her out of the room to the stabbing chair...YOLO.

I proceed to tell her the chances of me passing out are high.
I can't help it. It happens with almost every needle that enters my body.

Shots at the doctor at a kid? Pass out on my mom
Blood draws at my old gyno? Slump down and out of the chair as the nurse hurries out of the room, ignoring me.
Ears pierced at Claire's? Pass out in public (that one was fun)

So I get myself ready for the inevitable.
I slump back in the chair so my head is resting along the back.

She pokes me....(I should also mention that she keeps saying small prick AFTER the needle is already in my arm) and I look down and realize she is nowhere near a vein.

I'm going to have to maneuver the needle.

UM.....I'm a lefty, why don't you just try the other side instead of MOVING the needle around in my arm, m'kay?

I feel the hot sweats starting.
Trying to will all my yoga power to focus on some speck on the ceiling....I get light headed.

The needs enters my left arm....Small prick!...she says again.

Welp....see you on the flip side....I spout, and wake up seconds later to her yelling at another nurse for back-up.

I already had my juice box ready to go, so am grabbing for it while the nurse is asking if anyone has sniffing salts.

I'm good! This happens all the time.  I'll be okay...no salts, please.

I pay the lady at the front my $3,000 deposit for the upcoming procedure, then we are out the door.

And now?

We wait.
Our PGD set-up is finally under way.
The geneticist says it'll take roughly six weeks to complete.

So we're six weeks in, with another six weeks to go before the actual IVF phase.

And in that time? I am planning to keep busy around the house.
That should get us to the end of March and I still have plenty of painting and smaller tasks to do to keep me busy before the weather finally starts to break.

I know you guys are dying for photos of the house progress, but I can't stress this enough...

It's going to be a slow process.

Because we have to volley our IVF bills with normal bills and home reno bills, which means I can't max out my credit cards all at once.

I have succumbed to the fact that I won't be debt free any single month this year, and while that reeks havoc on my chi as an accountant, it is what it is.

But! I'll have little snippets here and there on Instagram, if you're following along (@tgendooza).

Check it out and thanks for reading!!

Merry Christmas

Happy Christmas Eve Eve!
I am juggling some last minute wrapping, my last day of work before the first of two holidays, and through it all trying to find some time to just enjoy the glow of the Christmas tree, a festive cocktail, and maybe a nap?

Tis the season....
for Christmas music!
for a dusting of snow...maybe?
for a never ending to-do list!
for wrapping that present just so...only to have it destroyed in seconds.
for eating one too many Christmas cookies!
for soaking in a tub filled with sugary skin-softening goodness.
for seeing family that you love and those you just....tolerate.
for laughing through the chaos!
for hugging that awkward uncle...a little too long.
for doling out heaping plates of food.
for playing another round of cards.
for forgetting that damn present at the house again.
for watching Christmas Vacation....again...because you love it.
for wearing Christmas pj's...all day.
for a warm cup of coffee.
for staying up too late.
laughing too much.
loving with every ounce of your soul.

Merry Christmas to all!
Hope it's fucking magical!
If not, there is always booze!

See you next week! But you can always follow along on Instagram (tgendooza).
Stay classy, folks!

A bit of luxury

I bit the bullet.
I got home yesterday and was relatively spent from work, and cold...mostly cold.
It's tough to go from 80's to 50's in a DAY, people! I haven't adjusted yet.
Mark is outside winterizing our sprinkler system and the noise is unbearable, and it's cold, but there I am, standing in the garage, yapping loudly about the day, in my flip-flops, slowly freezing to death.

He's exhausted he said; a day of digging.
But we need dinner so he fires up the golf cart for quick errand run to Jewel.
I schlep in the Target toiletries I purchased on my break that day and start to unload everything.

The dogs are freaking out. They want to play and run like it's summer, but it's clearly not summer anymore.
And the second they hit the concrete outside, it's like they realized it's not fun anymore to just hang out.
No, you must be in constant motion and bundled up. Gross.

So back inside we go, to put away the items and clean counters, and change out of work clothes and wash my face, then the dogs face, then their ears, then treats.
I collapse on the floor for some puppy sumo wresting, and it hits me.
That smell.
Our carpets have a mild funk about them.
As much as I deep clean them the best I can, at the right angle, with the right breeze, that funk fills up my nostrils and makes me wince.

That's it! I yell to no one.
A quick Google to Yelp and I find the closest carpet cleaning company with the best reviews.

Mark comes in and I tell him it's time to shell out some dough for a proper carpet cleaning.
And instantly feel guilty.
Who are WE to pay for services we can clearly do ourselves?
I look to Mark for hope. He smiles and agrees.
I immediately backtrack and try to "fix" the situation by saying it'll only be this one time. And no more than 1x a year. That's fair, right? To start from a blank slate each year, while we still have these damn carpets.
The smell is embarrassing and I am killing myself trying to hand scrub them.
It's okay to ask for help every now and then, I guess.

So I made the call. And twenty minutes later I got off the phone with a lovely lady who set us up and gave us a decent price, I think. I actually have no idea how much this stuff costs. All I know is we have a lot of old lady carpet in the house, so if it works and the smell and stains are eliminated, I will empty my bank account, again. This seems to be a trend these days.

But you guys...this is huge!
I feel like I don't deserve a silly carpet cleaning, like those things are meant for the privileged.
And we are so far from that, it's insane.
I already know I will probably go ahead and vacuum and move the furniture before he shows up. I can't just sit there and watch him do it for me... I mean, what if the guy is really old? Even if, I can't not help.

So here is a post about carpet cleaning. Pretty ridiculous, right?

Other than this non-news, things have been relatively normal.

I am running in a Color Run this weekend, and should probably freeze my ass off as it's a night run and the high that day will be 58.

I know it will be a blast, regardless! I imagine the visual of all the color mixed with black lights and some thumping music will make me wish it was 85 instead of 45, but at least I'll be with good family!

My workouts have stayed consistent. I switched up my weekly routine a bit based on my daily effort.
Mondays and Fridays I am completing 10 minutes of treadmill HIIT followed by legs
Tuesdays is 15-20 minutes of treadmill HIIT followed by arms.
Wednesday is no cardio, weights only, full body super-set workout.
Thursdays is my off day.

It seems to be working out. I've added a few new songs to my playlist to keep me interested.
It's good to change things up, keeps me looking forward and not get too stagnant.

So tell me, what little luxuries have you indulged in recently?
Are you still getting in your workouts?

Thanks for reading!

He called the $hit...poop

Dudes.
Have I ever told you how glamorous my life is?
I have a perfect home with a perfect life and a perfect job and the perfect clothes, hair, and makeup, and perfect husband and a big ole' yard for my fabulously well-behaved dogs to run and frolic at their leisure.
My three pets are just the spitting image of perfection. They all get along so well and I don't ever have to keep an eye on them at all!! They are so clean and nice and respectful of our home that most of the time I forget we even have them.
The house always smells divine and there are never any spills because we are all so very careful.
And I never have to lift a finger to clean anything up.
Isn't life just so wonderful and CLEAN? Nothing EVER goes wrong...is that just so perfect?!

No dudes....it's not.
If you believed ANY of that crap I just wrote it's because you probably have never been to my house.
Kids, don't always believe everything written on the internet.

Now, don't get me wrong. My house is far from a pig-sty. But you know why, my dear?
It's because I go on these lovely cleaning tantrums after my pets have managed to funk up the place so terribly that I am beyond embarrassed of having even the pizza guy deliver something to our front door.
I am SURE the smell would knock them over.

I am about to get all kinds of disgusting so if you are eating lunch or have a weak stomach, I beg you, back away now.
You have been warned.

So, you want to get a bulldog?
You see them on TV or the internets and you think, "my gosh, a bulldog would be just so much fun! They are so funny looking and adorable and wrinkly and I just want to smash their wittle face wiff all my kisses!"

And then you get one.

And yes, they are still quirky and goofy and lovable and loyal and fun!! so much fun!!
But dudes, owning a bulldog is no walk in the park.
Oh, and they don't really walk, so that park nonsense is a joke. It'll never happen. 
Bulldogs are fat for a reason. 

Anyways, my younger bulldog named Burn is an English. And my absolute "favorite" part about owning him, outside of his incessant drooling, chewing, scratching at parts of the couch, barking at people playing croquet, and plowing over small children....is his constant anal problems.

Oh yes, my friends....Burn has a bit of a leaky ass.
Let me back up. Those of you that own a dog may notice from time to time that your dog drags his ass on the ground.

Why is he doing that, you ask?

It's because he is trying to express his anal glands on his own.
Sometimes it works.
And sometimes you have a bulldog.

And you can do one of two things:
1) Pay someone $30 a pop to stick their finger up your dogs ass and squeeze those little peas clean...or
2) Ask the vet to show you how to do it and do it yourself

Guess what I chose?
Since I was having to do this roughly 1-2x a month, my dog's ass was becoming a financial burden. Mostly on my drinking habits. So I bit the bullet and started this fun little DIY project. Vets are more than happy to push this back on you, by the way. So keep that little tidbit in your back pocket.

Every month, for three years, Burn and I had a secret in the meeting in the bathroom.
I would apologize, he would think he was getting treats, I would finger his butthole and clean out the junk, he would yelp, I would wince, and it would all be over in a few minutes.
And then there were treats, but for real this time.
And then, magically, it got better. I thought maybe he had grown out of it.
Until that stink came back.
That leaky, foul, skunk smell came back in full force and I swear to Jebus it was as if it was smeared ALL OVER MY DAMN HOUSE.
Because, you know, dogs don't care WHERE they drag their ass, as long as it pleases them.

So Mark and I got to work. I grabbed the lube (yes....THAT lube) and plastic gloves and went to work on the anal probing of my dog's ass.
Delightful.

And the dog jerked and yelped while I tried to do what I had to do.  Poor guy didn't even drop the soap!! What a monster I am!
And then it was over.

But what about my house?! My plan was to tackle the deep-cleaning this weekend. I could probably hold out that long, right? I mean, the cat had only pissed on the carpet once this month and there was only a thin layer of pet hair blanketing the walk-way.

I came home from the gym this morning and there was one major shit show that broke this camel's back.
Mark looks at me with wide eyes and blurts out....you are so lucky you didn't come into the kitchen this morning....
Diarrhea.....EVERYWHERE.

(And this time it wasn't from Burn....Crash (my other bulldog) ate something bad, I think.)

And it's as if the woft of shit FINALLY hit my nose at that moment and I gagged.
Jesus Betsy Christ!

That's it!! This whole place is a dump!

So I got to work.
(mostly because Mark thought cleaning up SHIT with water and paper towels was the correct way...silly, silly man)

Of course our carpets aren't any normal, low pile carpet, by the way.
Ohhhhhh no.
These carpets are fit for an 80 year old lady with old lady feet that are in need of old lady cushioning and therefore the carpet pile is approximately 6 feet deep.
Try cleaning cat piss and dog shit out of that mess.
It ain't easy.

So I used my trusty 3-layer system and HAND. SCRUBBED. the entire first floor, for 45 minutes.
Yes it made me late for work. But I will not live in filth and that was my absolute limit with the constant smell of garbage.
I then called Mark to proposition him with either a head massage or a BJ if he could vacuum everything....(with the wand too! Get the corners!) after he got home.

I don't really know where I was going with this story, other than our dogs are a terrible pain in my ass and it takes a lot of work to keep them clean and happy.
So don't buy one unless you can deal with some serious crap....pun intended.
But I do love their faces to death....so I suppose I will keep them around for a bit longer.

That was your disgusting PSA for the week.
The end.

Use Your Words

Growing up, my mama was always fiercely adamant to tell me I had to be independent.
To make my own money, my own decisions, and not rely on a man to live.
That mantra, compounded with my dad telling me to not throw away my degree by having kids, set me up to be a working woman.

I think I said ok mom and ok dad a million times just to get them off my back.
But these days?
I get it.

I still married a man that I love with every inch of my heart.
And I will still have kids regardless of working.

But what I really learned, from all those days of listening to my parents preach, is that, even in 2015, it is still an uphill battle for equality in the workforce.

You must develop a certain wit and personality that not only meshes with the men in the office, but keeps you feminine.
Finding that balance of authoritative and confident yet uniquely tailored and chic, is what I strive for.
I don't know everything, but fine tuning the skills that I do have is what makes me a force to be reckoned with.

I have been at my new place of work for approximately four months now.
Knowing I would be the only full-time woman, I could only assume I would have an uphill battle.
A battle for equality, a battle for understanding and respect, and most importantly, a battle knowing that I was an outsider coming into a tight-knit group, in a higher position than most.

Say what you want, but it is still glaringly obvious that some men in this world simply do not listen to or respect women.  I would have loved to say that isn't the case at my new place, but I have witnessed it first hand.

Now, I can see why there could be an issue with communication. The role that I walked into was created for me. Prior to my arrival, they had a front-desk receptionist with the title of Office Manager.
These women before me were secretarial in nature, never truly embracing what a real Office Manager does.
It does not make them wrong, but it didn't help my case in the slightest.

So here I am, without much of an introduction, elbowing my way to the top as the company Office Manager, and most people here still think I am a receptionist with a pushy attitude.
And there has been backlash because of it.

So what do I do?
Instead of taking the low road, and lashing out to individuals who simply do not understand my role and my authority, I have decided to be at the forefront of our monthly staff meetings.

To give MYSELF the proper introduction I deserve.
To inform the masses of what exactly it is that I do, why I am here, why I was hired, and why my presence is not only needed, but will be met with respect and gratitude.

Will I be ruffling some feathers? Sure. You can't please everyone. But for the greater good of the company, it's time to reign it in on the machismo attitudes and get some rules and policies and procedures in place that everyone can adapt and abide to.

It's that simple.

So I have been spending my days writing and re-writing my speech.
Fine tuning my Power Point.
Dissecting each sentence to ensure I don't sound whiny, or too feminine, or too angry.

My message is simple.
I am here to help make this company great. There will be change. It is for the better.
Get on board or go home.

It will be presented with a bit of finesse and wit and facts. Mostly facts.
Without emotion and without pleading for likability.

No one hires an Office Manager to make friends. I have a mutual respect and understanding for those that came before me, but the policies and procedures I am putting in place are meant to shift the focus away from the Principals so they, in turn, can run a successful company.
It is not their responsibility to track every employees' move.
It's mine.
It is not their responsibility to deal with HR issues.
It's mine.
And the list goes on.

So you ladies reading this....remember, say what you mean. Use your words. Say them with grace but don't stutter or get too touchy-feely. You would not expect that from a man, why would they expect it from us?
There is plenty of other times to be girly and feminine.
But demanding what you need in your life is not one of them.

Just make sure you know your facts. Do your research. Look at the other side and big picture.
Know when to step away or stay silent. That's the tact part.

Not go on wit' yo' bad self.
Girl. Power.

Nine trends I won't follow

There are so many G.D. trends these days.
What's old is new again.
The hipster revival.
Craft beer.
High-waisted butt cheek shorts (or as I like to call...hooker-chic)
New inventions, new ideas, new thinking
Go Green.

On and on and on (got that Tove Lo song in my head, LOVES it)

HOWEVER!
These are the NINE trends that I will not follow under any circumstance
(unless someone paid me A LOT of money, because, you know, everyone has their price)

OVERALLS

I don't care how much my husband claims that Kelly Kapowski looked super hot with her one-shoulder overall/midriff combination, we cannot go there anymore. That was the 90's. And while I do love me some classic rock hair bands and flannels, this trend needs to stay in the 90's. Unless it goes on little boys...because that is just adorable.

HAREM OR DROP-CROTCH PANTS

Why?! We women should embrace our figures, not try to hide them behind disgusting trends like these. And what exactly are you trying to hide down there? Puhleeze tell me your whisker biscuit flaps don't fill that void. But if they do...then fine, wear 'em. Just stay far, FAR, away from me.

USING THE WORDS "BAE" OR "FLEEK"

Why are we giving props to some fool who got super high and started slurring his words? Are we that lazy that we can't say baby anymore? And what the hell is fleek, and are you supposed to on or under it?
It is a compliment?
Quit trying to make fleek happen. It's not going to happen!

DUBSTEP

I wish I had a crystal ball to see into the future of music. I would have gladly recorded the sounds of a blender and a laptop, cooking in a microwave, then thrown into a pool of water. Gladly.
Why can't people just play REAL instruments and be forced to have the discipline that we had growing up to suffer through years of classes and training and practice? Moving your hand back and forth across a disk does not count...but yet, here we are, dropping the bass to this robotic "music".

FOODS THAT ARE LITE, FAT-FREE, & SUGAR-FREE

Ladies...when a company eliminates the natural sugars and fats found in food, they fill it chemicals and other sugars and fats. You don't just get rid of sugar without adding in something to keep the flavor.

Plus! It makes you more hungry to eat faux food. I used to add EIGHT splenda's in my coffee every morning. EIGHT. And I always wondered why I felt so hungry all morning, even after eating a healthy meal.
After weening myself off that mess, I switched over to 3/4 of a tablespoon of the real stuff. Tastes delicious and is good on my waistline. Eliminating the diet crap eases bloating as well. That crap makes you feel like you have IBS....no bueno.
However, I will drink Bud Light until the day I die...always and forever, Amen.

INTERNET TROLLS

Trolling is the worst. People feel all high and mighty to write something behind the safety of their computer screen, but I highly doubt when face to face they would ever be anything but slightly rude....if that.

My prior company had a whole run-in with a bunch of online comments trying to ruin their reputation. And the geeks that wrote the stuff don't have a spine anyways, so it's not shocking. What is shocking is how foul mouthed people get. Not to mention lack of proper grammar and punctuation, but that's whole other story.
Chances are the people that are trolling other people won't ever meet in real life. You don't know their life and we don't know yours....so back the F off.

CHARACTER HATS

Unless you are a tween or a raver....step off this trend. (If you are a raver...get a job). I used to see grown ass women wearing cheetah hats in the dead of  winter to WORK.
IN A PROFESSIONAL SETTING. You are not cute, you are crazy.

TWITTER

I will never be a twat on Twitter. No one actually reads that shit, right? As far as I'm concerned, it's only good for news and breaking events.....not your witty one-liners and feuds. People have got to get a grip with technology. And shocking...you can get the SAME news and events on the internets.
Magic.

SOCKS WITH SHOES

Uh uh. Nope. Never. You got made fun of growing up if you wore your tube socks with your sandals, and the same holds true today. Gramps is the only one allowed to even consider it. Be a grown up lady and cut that shit out.


So tell me, what trends will you never, ever get together with?
Happy hump day folks!

Burritos, Tequila, and Target

Driving into work today, I was listening to the morning show on Kiss FM and they relayed a recent statistic that the majority of Millennials are spending their hard earned cash on three super important things:

Millennials, by the way, are those youngins born between 1981-1997. Me being born in '83, I feel as though this speaks volumes about my life.

Who doesn't love burritos? Taco Tuesdays are a weekly ritual in my house.
Whenever we don't feel like making dinner, we just hop in the golf cart and hit up the local mexican joint.
Chipotle used to run through my veins.
I used to buy it at least 3 times a week, if not more.
And can we talk about my favorite drunk food? Um...Taco Bell 4 Lyfe.
I heard they are going to start delivering their food so us drunks don't have to get DUI's.
Enter :slow clap:.
Truly amazing.

And obviously drinking goes hand in hand with burritos.
Tequila is all the rage today. I have been dabbling with it's smoky cousin, Mezcal.
How many homemade margarita recipes have you pinned on Pinterest since summer hit?
That's right...all of them. Because you need to look at all of them and then just grab a Lime-a-rita and call it a day. Those things are delicious.
Who can remember sneaking shots of Jose Cuervo when you were in High School and then jumping on a trampoline into the wee hours of the night?
Who can remember doing a "fire wall" of tequila shots at your local college bar and then knocking over a port-a-potty on the way home?
(A fire wall is when you line up shots over a line of alcohol, then light that alcohol on fire at one end and try to do all the shots in a row before you burn your knuckles. Good times.)
When you get super white girl wasted off Chardonnay, what is the one shot you ALWAYS ask for?
That's right....Patron. Even though it's really gross. You do it anyways....because #BallerLifestyle.

And after your body has soaked up all the booze with all the burritos, what's your next move?
Head to Target to "pick up a few things" and leave the store with two shopping carts full of garbage that YOU JUST NEED TO HAVE.
I went to Target last weekend for shampoo and deodorant, and walked out with four bikinis, a romper, a maxi dress, two new bras, some pj's, two cases of alcohol, chips, dip, grilling food, some cute plastic plates and cups for around the pool....and the list goes on. And I forgot the deodorant.

And that fucking dollar area right in the front. OF COURSE you need an America koozie. OF COURSE.

So tell me....do you think the statistic is right? I sure do.
Why waste your money on things like savings and retirement and bills? Those things are for losers.
You are not a loser.
Happy Friday, loves! Have a great weekend!

Nine truths

I love reading truths, or confessions, from fellow bloggers. It kind of makes me feel more connected to the virtual friendship we share. So today, I am telling you nine things that are going on in my life, good and bad.

1. I spend far too much time calculating and budgeting. I have evaluated and reevaluated how we can accomplish some larger financial aspects of our life before baby and keep flip-flopping how we are going to get there and still keep our sanity. In a perfect world, I would be able to set aside X amount each month and then we'd go buy the thing and that would be it. But life happens. And summer is always more expensive than we anticipated, even if we never really go anywhere. And now I "need" a commuter car so I don't have to volley between a '99 TransAm that can't be driven in rain or any sort of weather, and an H2 that doesn't have a working stereo (I know) and gets 2 miles to the gallon. I actually love driving that beast but can't fathom paying for the fill up each week. It's a great first world problem to have, actually. The commuter car will end up being a preemptive child-friendly car so I guess it's a win-win all around.

2. Going along with budgeting....if there is one bill I can't handle it's our Comcast bill. If it were up to me we wouldn't even have cable, let alone a TV in every. damn. room. But I have to compromise with Mark's demands for ALL THE CHANNELS IN ALL THE ROOMS. In doing so, I am on the phone threatening to switch on the daily and trying to lower our bill all the time. I finally purchased our own modem to save that $10 fee and would 100% buy a Cable CARD to eliminate our $20 in HD fees, if only I knew what the hell that was or how to use it. If someone knows please tell me. I think it has something to do with TiVo but what do I know.

3. I have recurring premonitions of walking into the kitchen to find out my frenchie, Crash, has died in his sleep. I know that is super sad. I can't help it. I usually have these thoughts right before I fall asleep and end up sobbing uncontrollably in my pillow to avoid waking Mark. The shitty thing is, is every premonition I have ever had comes true. And they are always about the dogs. I had one about Crash getting hit by a truck at the end of our driveway for years! And last May it actually happened. He is getting older and I know his time with us is far less than it was ten years ago, so maybe I am mentally preparing?

4. Ever since I have switched from working in the city to working in the suburbs, I have been freaking out about gaining a flat, pancake ass because "all I do is sit all day." Or at the very least, I am afraid of this stigma attached with having a suburban job. To an extent, it is true that I sit a lot. But I did that in the city too. The difference is I don't have the 40 minute round-trip walk like I used to. So, to try and offset that lack of movement, I may be overcompensating at the gym. I used to do zero week-day cardio, and now I do a daily HIIT routine that lasts 10-15 minutes.
Plus, one nice perk of where my office is located is we are next to a GE healthcare facility. They have a lovely walking path that winds around their building. Completing the loop twice takes about 20 minutes. (And I just ignore the bold "private property" signs. #IdowhatIwant)

5. I love having more PM energy because I am not tired and sweaty from that very walk I am trying to overcompensate for. In all honesty, it is amazing to just put on the outfit I want to wear to work, complete with hair and makeup, and arrive at work STILL LOOKING THE SAME WAY. And when Mark suggests we do this and that after work, I'm totally game for it. In the past, when I finally came home from the city, I was so damn exhausted from running the rat race I would just plop down and zone out.

6. I have been trying a new spray to enhance my natural waves during these summer months. Currently, I am using Not Your Mother's Salt Spray and am in love with the coconut scent!! I actually took advice from my Shape magazine and started using a lightweight mousse to give my roots a bit of volume, followed by a quick blow-dry at the roots, the salt spray and some major scrunching and tossling and scalp massaging.
I think the process is great and super quick to boot!

7. I will never understand people that feel like they have to one up you. News Flash: NO ONE CARES. We have been lightly dipping out toes in the whole "meet your neighbors" routine. I know this must sound insane, but Mark and I could honestly do just fine without constantly running into our neighbors all the time. Some people are totally cool, but most people are straight up crazy and I'd rather not waste my time with them. We found a couple that seem alright until they start talking. And by talking, I mean, they will ask you a question about something you have, then immediately one up you by what they have or did that was better than you. Awesome dude. Please, by all means, let's continue this conversation because I'm thrilled. I'm going to be over here minding my own business and it would be super cool if just backed the F up for a hot minute.

8. I love the wardrobe romance that is Starting A New Job and Constantly Looking Cute. I have always been that nerd that got excited to pick out my "first day of school" outfit. I'd like to start taking outfit photos for the blog, but my bathroom lighting is atrocious and we don't have a full length mirror in the ladies bathroom. However, seeing as I am the only lay-dee in my office, I plan to remedy that ASAP and hop on the fashion show train! Watch out for a lot of TJ Maxx outfits in the future!

9. When you don't listen to the radio for two years because you don't drive to work, you kind of get out of touch with "what's cool" these days. That or my age is showing and I have deemed 99% of all new music total garbage. I tend to volley between Kiss FM and Jack FM (today's hits and classic rock) and usually end up staying with Jack FM. There is this current song out that is just ear piercing. The only lyrics I know go like, "You're the light"...and then I have to switch it. What in the actual fuck is that? Why is everything to raspy and whiny and sounds like someone threw their computer in the garbage disposal?

What are your confessions?

The ugly side of marriage

I'd like to think that Mark and I have an amazing marriage.
One that thrives on openness, communication, trust....all that jazz.
We are a team. We each have goals and dreams and we help each other reach those goals and dreams.
He is my soul mate. I feel so lucky to have found the one person in the whole world that wants to be with every part of me. And quite frankly, he should feel lucky to have found someone to put up with his shenanigans too.  :)

But there are hard times.
Dark, manipulative, heart-ripping times, that after you are past it, you look back and can't possibly fathom that you actually said or did that thing to each other.
Because you love each other so much...how could you tear each other down like that?

We both have that one shitty personality trait that is just no good.
That one thing that you wouldn't actually show to other people, but it sure as hell comes out between us.

For me?
I jump to conclusions too fast in a fight and immediately start spewing venom at him.
If something sets me off (usually lack of food), I will probably start flying off the handle.
Arms flailing, spitting curse words and venom so quickly that it would make your head spin.
And my loving husband has learned, over the ten years that we have been together, that the easiest way for me to realize that I am being an asshole is to not egg it on.
As shitty as that sounds, meeting my crazy at its peak is only going to make me escalate things to the point of threatening him to move out or call the cops....over the fact that "we didn't spend the morning together on his only day off."
I have a bit of a temper, you could say.
And as quickly as it starts, it's over. I am apologizing (and probably crying) from the bottom of my heart. I know it's a terrible thing to do to someone.

And him?
His shitty trait is going off the deep end if he gets too drunk.
These days are few and far between, but when it happens, it's bad.
What will happen is we will be having a good time, and then BAM...he's slurring his words, and I'm not at his level. Any kind suggestion to take it easy, or drink some water, are met with anger and venom because "I'm embarrassing him for going off the deep end."
And then he will usually start bubbling all his emotions out and remind me that he is still pissed about our last fight...the one he was so casual about.
The good thing with these fights is I can usually dissolve them, or we go to bed, and let the booze wear off and talk about it later that day or the next morning.

Both of us can be quite the pistols to each other.
And to think this kind of crazy used to happen on the regular in the first few years we were together.
We really, really loved each other enough to stick it out, I guess.

Our marriage ebbs and flows. When it's good, it's really good. And when it's bad....well, you get it.
Being out of work kind of threw our whole routine out of whack.
My day to day, while working, takes a lot out of me, so I would let the little things (that used to piss me off) slide. And Mark and I will have a drink at night, but going to crazy town typically doesn't happen on a random Wednesday, like it did when I wasn't working.

We aren't perfect. But we are damn perfect together.
Thanks for reading.

An ode to my former party-girl self

Dear Party Girl,
Sometimes, when the mood is just right, and by right, I mean it's the first warm, sunny day in what seems like decades, you go a bit crazy. Excited! But still crazy.

Combine that with a family member's Derby themed 40th birthday and you, my friends, get to see me in ALL my glory. Trying to keep it real whilst getting shitty, like I did when I was 22.
(hint hint: I'm not 22)....but we sure as hell tried to convince ourselves we were.

I don't know what it is about the combination of certain people getting together when shots are involved...you know those people, the ones that the MINUTE they walk through the door, you two exchange a smirk because AWWWW YYYEEAAAA...shit is going to go DOWN tonight, brotha!!

That combination of people would be my husband's siblings, their significant others, and whoever else showed up this weekend.

It was Derby Day, and wouldn't you  know I had a little Martha Stewart flowing through my blood and a fancy new BRIGHT YELLOW dress that I just thought would be perfect for the event.

I do declare...this event shall be the classiest one evah! Most sober photo of the day!

And then my SIL served me this glorious champagne drink that went down like, well....champagne.

And all of a sudden, I'm in the zone.

Mark told me to bring a change of clothes because there would be obstacle races. So the minute the race was over (and we lost $100) I changed into my dance pants.
We had to complete a relay race where you held an orange in place between two people's faces.
And guess whose big Neanderthal head slammed into my eye when that damn orange fell to the ground?

Good thing I couldn't feel much at that point.

There was another challenge where you had to bend over and pick up a paper bag with your mouth, without touching your hands or knees to the ground. I am (surprisingly) not flexible, but my HUSBAND won for our team. He is surprisingly flexible (bow chica bow wow), so I'll be putting that to use later.

The evening capped off with a ridiculous amount of sweaty dancing and terrible shots and more champagne, obviously. (Or whatever is in that cup)

Here's to you...former Party Girl.
You still can do the do when the music is right and drinks are flowin'.
And your hangover wasn't even that bad!
You did wake up with string cheese wrappers and popcorn bits in your bed the next morning, but I'm sure that helped soak up the alcohol, right?

Now get your ass to the gym. You don't get fit from drinking your weight in alcohol!
Have a great boozy filled weekend!!

The haps

As my Papa used to say, "What's the haps, paps?"
Well, a lot and not a whole lot, all at once.

I need to preface this post with a quick PA.
Bloglovin' finally got their ever loving shit together and moved my domain over to the oldie-but-goodie free one so all you lovely followers can start reading again.
If you out of the loop, I'm back....HI! THIS is why I started blogging again, and the other posts from last week are HERE and HERE.

Moving on.
My first full, official week out of work was spent over hauling our disgusting house. I was so stressed out for the last four months between how much anxiety there was at work, the constant feeling I was going to be let go, and worry about needing to find a job, ANY JOB, before that happened, that I guess I just went blind to how gross this place was.
Well life took over and cleared out the clutter, so to speak.
I must admit, I am not cut out to be a housewife. I promise I am not bashing those that are, but the fact of the matter is, for me, I am only familiar with accomplishing great things in a corporate setting and seeing the end reward (my paycheck).
I have no kids, and when my bulldogs are not running around flinging drool onto the walls, they are sleeping or rolling their hairballs into the carpet.
I clean up puke all day every day.
Small spots that are all over the wall never seem to quite clean out, and I swear my house always smells a bit funky.
And it's not like I can just open a fucking window because it's 20 degrees outside.

I am She-ra, the cat pee told me so

A corner of our sitting rooms reeks of cat piss.

Do you have a cat? Have you every smelled their pee?

It's fucking gross. And strong. And tough to get out.

Many moons ago we noticed the aroma of cat pee in that same corner but were perplexed as to how it was happening.  There is an upright piano in that corner and we didn't think a cat could squeeze back there, much less get out.

But cats are sneaky assholes.

So for God knows how long we played this fun game where 

Cat would come barging into the bedroom at around 3am, 

I would kick Mark.

Mark would grunt and grab the cat and throw him into the hallway and shut the door. 

Cat would get mad sometimes (read: all the time) and go and piss in that corner.

And then I would shampoo the carpets weekly to get the stains and smell out.

I tried everything. Adding extra cat littler boxes elsewhere, shoving the piano up against the wall so he couldn't get behind, tolerating his screeching at 3am (not gonna happen), etc.

The smell seemed to finally go away until this spring. With the temperatures rising, so is the stench.

And now that I am home and have all this free time, I get to spend it deep cleaning our home. Lovely.

Amidst the cat piss debacle, I decide that I need to move the piano to the other side of the room.

That's right, move a 400 pound upright piano, by myself, across thick grandma carpeting.

Easy peasy, right?

Pre-piano position

Ha. I shifted the piano. I rocked the piano. I tried to just drag it but almost pulled my back out. 

I debated doing something crazy like waiting for Mark to come home to help, but my stubbornness got the best of me, like it always does.

I shifted my ass behind the piano, sitting in the cat piss, and shoved that damn piano to the other side of the room as if it were a make-shift Smith machine.

Imagine that for a moment, would you?

Me, in hot pink capris, a Chuck Norris t-shirt, barefoot, lying on my back with my feet propped up against the piano as if I had just birthed it, bracing myself against the wall with my hands.

And as smooth(ish) as silk, the fucking piano slid across the room, with each thrust of my legs.

Once it was in position at the other end of the room, I hopped up and yelled my mightiest She-Man howl...."I am BEAST!! HERE ME ROAR!!"

New piano spot, complete with Yanni piano music

Then, proceeded to deep clean the cat pee out of my gross carpeting.

The bright side to this is a couple of things.

1) I found out we have original hard wood under that fucking carpet and as soon as I get another job, it'll be added to the kitchen remodel.

2) I reconfigured the room and I think it looks a bit more open than before. Never

mind that I still need to hang the mirror over the sofa.

3) I found an amazing cat pee removal remedy HERE and it worked. It took forever but it worked.

Feel free to tell me all about how you got to use your gym muscles in real life!

Happy weekend!