Showing posts with label Everything Else. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Everything Else. Show all posts

Thursday, July 21, 2011

BIG

BIG NEWS . . .

[Excuse the lack of a picture, you'll understand why when you keep reading]

I can't believe I've gotten so behind, but maybe once I explain why, you'll understand.  Our big news.  Baby #2 is a going to be another little girl.  We had our ultrasound about a month ago, and caught little Emma Rose sucking her thumb, just like her big sister.  We can't wait for her arrival in 3 months!

BIG BELLY . . .


I'm not sure how accurate my own opinion is, but I feel SO MUCH bigger this pregnancy.  Maybe I am.  Maybe it's the heat of the summer.  Maybe I'm growing two placentas instead of one.  I can't say - all I know is that I feel HUGE, and I still have three months to go.  At least I'm not an elephant - or I'd be pregnant for 2 years and give birth to a 200 lb. baby.  Things could be worse.

BIG MOVE . . .


Have I mentioned that we're moving?  Yep, again.  One week from today, to be precise.  It's a long story, but the short end of it is that Dave's parents are moving to the Caribbean (poor things, right?), and they've basically asked us to house sit for them for the next couple of years.  It was a tough decision . . .

Dave's parents: Will you please move into our huge and very nice house for dirt-cheap rent?

Us:  Well . . .

Dave's parents: Did we mention that we're repainting the whole house and getting brand new wood flooring?

Us: Okay, fine.

So yeah, it's actually great timing for us, since little Emma isn't far away, and Kate really doesn't sleep well with anyone else in her room.  Tender mercies from the Lord.

Sorry I've been such a bad blogger recently.  I'll make it up to you by inviting you over to my nice big house once we get all moved in.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Never 21

The actual title of this post was supposed to be

Forever Never 21

but they don't let you do strikethrough in a title.  Another thing to be angry about.

Now I better just warn you that I'm still quite upset.  Maybe I should wait until this is a month behind me and I'm not so angry.  No, that wouldn't be as interesting.

Try using a quote from "Runaway Bride" to try calm me down.
"I don't blame you for being mad.  Or furious.  Irate?"

"Livid."

Deep breath Heidi.  Inhale.  Exhale.

This is me.

Let's get straight to my story . . . several weeks ago Kate and I went on a little jaunt to the mall to look for a new coat for mommy.  After trying several other stores, we headed into Forever 21, and found quite a good selection.  I tried on a few, and found a gray one in a style that I liked.  Still not sure though, I decided to buy it, take it home and get Dave's opinion, and then decide for sure.

{Dave said, "That looks just like your other coat."  Note to husbands: that is not exactly what your wife wants to hear.  But that's not the point of this post.  After wearing it for a few more minutes I decided it was too itchy around the neck anyway, and I decided to return it.}

I take the coat back, in the bag, with the receipt, and the girl is very helpful.  "Is anything wrong with the coat?" she asks in a very chipper voice.

"No," I reply, "I just decided I don't want it." 

"Great," she says, "would you like to exchange it?"  

"No thanks," I say.

"Okay, then I can give you store credit."

"No, I just want my money back."  

"Well I'm afraid we don't give cash refunds.  We only do exchanges or store credit."

"Well, I don't see anything that says that," I answer back, starting to get a little annoyed.

"It's on your receipt," she says smugly, pointing to the no cash refund policy at the bottom of my receipt in small print.

"Oh, the receipt I received after I'd already paid for the coat?"  I question, just as smugly.

"Oh, well there's a sign right here . . . well, I'm not sure where it is right now, but it's always right here on the counter."

"Well, I didn't see it." 

After this runaround continues for a few more minutes, I finally ask for the manager.  The sales rep looks relieved, and runs to grab the manager.

"Yes, how can I help you?"  The manager gives me a very condescending look as if she's dealt with people like me a hundred times.

"Yes, I want to return this coat, and I want a cash refund, not store credit."

"Well, we don't do refunds.  It says that at the bottom of the receipt."

"Oh, the receipt I received after I'd already paid for the coat?"  Sound familiar?  And then, I kid you not . . . she said - 

"Oh, well there's a sign right here . . . well, I'm not sure where it is right now, but it's always right here on the counter."

"Well obviously it isn't always right here," I say, and now I'm really getting mad.  Furious.  Let's just skip irate and go straight to livid.

She looks at the bottom of my receipt and says, "Besides, Jason ran your transaction - he's our head cashier, so I'm sure he would have mentioned it."

Did no one teach this lady that the customer is a guest?  They have a wallet?  They can choose where to spend their money?  That you actually want a customer to return?  Because I've never worked in retail, but I thought that was pretty obvious.

"Well, he didn't."

The lady wouldn't budge and insisted that since the day Forever 21 opened its doors 25 years ago they've always had a no cash-refund policy.  The cash register won't even give cash refunds, she insisted.  The encounter ended with me angrily grabbing the gift card with store credit in it for the price of the coat and leaving in a huff.  Yep, I left in a huff.  I like that phrase, and it perfectly describes how I felt.

But this was not over.  I talked to Dave about it and he called Forever 21 (he's better at intimidating people than I am).  I'm not sure how he does it, but he is very good at talking people into things, including me.  When he called in to Forever 21 headquarters, a district manager agreed to call him this past Tuesday, meet us at the store, and give us a cash refund.

No wait, this gets better.  It's now late Thursday night, practically Friday.  No call.  But we're not quitting until we get our money back.  In the meantime, I'll just rant and rave in the blogosphere.

And may I just take a moment to rant and rave about stores that don't give cash refunds?  To me that says, "We don't sell quality products" loud and clear.  In fact, because they don't sell quality products, they have no faith in their own merchandise, which is why they don't give cash refunds.  They believe that given the choice, you'll take your cash and spend it elsewhere, which is why they'll only do exchanges or give you store credit.  And they'll put that policy at the bottom of a receipt in small print, and they'll hide the signs that are supposed to be at the checkout counter.  Grrr. 

I'll keep you updated.  In the meantime, you should join with me in my boycott of Forever 21.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Delinquency

For those of you out there who read my blog, I have a LOT of excuses up my sleeve as to why I haven't posted for so long.  For example,

My dog ate my computer.
He is NOT as innocent as he looks.

I needed a mental health week.
Is it that obvious?

I have a solar-powered computer and it was cloudy.

Honest, it was.

I was kidnapped by terrorists and they only just let me go, so I didn't have time to do it.
 Look at the bright side, at least they let me go.

Or, it could be that I've been really busy.

Cleaning up after Kate.

Decorating for Christmas.

Christmas shopping!

 Watching Law & Order (at least I can admit I have a problem).

Seeing White Christmas at Pioneer Theater!  I'm gleeful about this :)

Working on a secret project that I will reveal soon.  And, if you don't already, after seeing this, you will think I'm awesome!

Anyway, please forgive my delinquency.  Please! Please!


With a cherry on top.

No, with three cherries on top.

I knew you'd forgive me.

Now, on to other matters.  I will be posting soon: some new recipes, book reviews, and a current event that's been on my mind.  And we all know how you've been dying to know what's on my mind.

Like literally, dying.

So stay tuned!


Saturday, November 20, 2010

The NUMB3RS in My Life

Here are the numbers that describe my week: 



TWO:
 The number of days I've actually done my hair.  Eeek.

NINE:
The number of times Kate has bitten me.
(One - the number of times she has drawn blood)

ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE:
The number of Christmas songs I've listened to.  I know, I know.  I just can't wait until after Thanksgiving.

SEVENTEEN:
The number of mini Almond Joys I have eaten.  Yep, and I'm proud of it.

SIX:
The number of times I've been ecstatic about something sweet Dave has done for me.  Let me be specific: bought me new (nice!) knives, got up with Kate in the night, got me a beautiful Christmas tree (and didn't make me wait until after Thanksgiving), surprise cleaned the house, took me to La Jolla again, and is just pretty much wonderful and patient with me.

TWO: 
The number of times we have been to La Jolla Groves in the past week.  Yes, I somehow tricked Dave into taking me there again!

SEVEN: 
The number of dropped calls I've had.  AT&T . . . grrr.

ZERO:
The number of Christmas presents I have bought so far.  Not good.

ONE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTY THREE:
Number of pine needles that have fallen off our tree since we brought it home 3 hours ago.  Number of pine needles Kate has eaten so far . . . inconclusive.

ONE:
Number of car accidents we've had this week.  Which means it's also the number of drivable cars we have right now.  Boo. 

Any significant numbers in your life right now?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Gestapo Part II

Dave returned home late Friday night (he was out of town Wednesday through Friday, if you didn't read the previous post, click here).  Since then, he's been going around the house singing, "I'm the Gepetto, I'm the Gepetto!"  I think he meant Gestapo.  Nice old Italian man who carves wood - the evil state police of Germany - practically the same thing.

One of the first things he asked when he walked in the front door is, "Did you at least save me one of the cupcakes?"  Of course I did.  I would never eat 12 cupcakes all by myself in 2 1/2 days.  Just 8.  There were 4 left when he got home.  He ate one, threw one in the garbage (he said he had to at least throw one away after I wrote that post about him), and gave me seconds to hide the other ones before he chucked them as well.

The outcome?  I'm officially addicted to these cupcakes.  I've been craving them all week.  Just in case you have too, here's the recipe:


German Chocolate Cupcakes


Cupcakes: Make life easy on yourself.  Use a German Chocolate cake mix. 

Frosting:

1 cup evaporated milk
1 cup sugar
3 beaten egg yolks
1/2 cup butter
1 tsp vanilla

Cook the above ingredients on medium heat for 12 minutes, then add:

1 1/3 cups coconut
1 cup roasted chopped pecans (pecans can be roasted in the microwave for one minute on each side)

I like to chop off a piece of Almond Joy and place it on top for a garnish.

*These cupcakes are even better when they are warm and served with ice cream!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

I'm a Fan

Dave and I are huge "Office" fans, and tonight we watched the episode where Jim confesses his love to Pam for the first time.  So adorable.  I think Jim and Pam might be the best TV love story there is.  So for all you "Office" fans, I just wanted to share this adorable video.  And the song is perfect.

The embed code had been deleted, but here is the link:  Jim and Pam

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

My German Chocolate Night Out, aka, The Gestapo is out of Town

Disclaimer: Don't get me wrong, I love my husband very much.  And I love having him home with me.  But . . . if he has to be gone, I might as well enjoy my night out, eh?

Okay, so maybe "night out" isn't a very appropriate description.  When your husband is out of town, and your daughter goes to bed at 6:30 pm, you're pretty much facing a "night in," but hey, let's not get technical.

I hate it when Dave travels, I honestly do.  And I've got 4 months of living without my husband to justify that hate.  However, if he is gone, you'd better believe that I'm going to make the most of it.  Let's start with a simple fact, and I apologize if I digress: Dave hates it when I make treats.  I know, I know, my talent of making the most scrumptiously unhealthy desserts you can imagine has gone to waste.  Just to clarify, he does like the desserts that I make.  He just doesn't like that he likes them.  Mostly because of what they do can do to the waistline.  He hates it when I make treats, he hates it when I buy goodies, or candy, or anything else that might be hanging out at the top of the food pyramid.  Namely, all of the stuff I live for.  Problem.

Thus came Dave's pronouncement: "If I find it, I'm throwing it away."  So let it be written, so let it be done.  Except for one little detail - the "if."  If he doesn't find it . . . well, I'm sure you see where I'm going with this.  I've become an exceptionally good "hider" - even given the very small square footage of our apartment.  Maybe it comes with the name.  For example . . . one of the best places I've ever come up with for my treat stash was in my closet.  In a bag, on a hanger, hidden amongst my countless shirts and skirts.  Brilliant, if I do say so myself.  But by the time Dave reads this, I will have moved it to another equally brilliant hiding place.

Now you see it.


Now you don't.


Pretty much, he's like the Gestapo (evil German police) and I'm a German citizen, trying to hide and protect the good things in this world.  Like peanut butter m&ms, and brownies.

So, what was my point again?  Oh yeah.  Dave's gone.  That means I can let the treats out of the bag, if you know what I mean.  I made German Chocolate cupcakes with my sister.  Mmmm, mmmm, good.  I'll have to post the recipe soon.  

Love 'em - you can see why.


I thought the "Give Thanks" sign in the background was quite appropriate, given what I was about to partake of.


I sat down to eat my delicious cupcake while watching two episodes of one of my all-time favorite tv shows - Law and Order.  It's too bad Dave doesn't get home until Friday . . .

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The Earring Chronicles

Well, first I have to show you this:


My earring collection.  One of the first things I'd grab if our apartment caught fire, after Kate and my scriptures, that is.  What can I say?  I love them.  I'm exactly what the scriptures are talking about in Isaiah 3:

18 In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon,

  19 The chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers,

  20 The bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings,

  21 The rings, and nose jewels,

  22 The changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins,

  23 The glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the vails.

Of course I like ornaments of the legs, the wimples, and let's not forget the crisping pins, but mostly the earrings.  I collect them wherever I go.  I have some from Italy, Mexico, Peru, and many places in the United States.  I'm not sure how many pairs I own, but I definitely have to go through them from time to time, to make sure they'll all fit in my jewelry box (a very painful process - I'd compare it to having to get rid of a child).  If you look closely at the picture, you'll notice most the slots have two pairs.  It's like a crowded prison in there.

If I were lying down on a sofa and you were my shrink, you might ask me where my love of earring comes from.  I can answer in one word: deprivation. Yep.  That's how deprived I was growing up.  If you want to read about parents who deny their kids food and water, education, a social life, or cable, you're reading on the wrong blog.  My parents deprived me of earrings.  Namely, pierced earrings. 

I'm sure my parents had their reasons, but the rule in our house was that you couldn't get your ears pierced until you turned 18.  What did this do to my desire for earrings?  Made me want them much more, naturally.  And not just simple studs, I wanted the dangly kind, as my mom called them.  Now don't get me wrong, as long as I didn't get my ears pierced, they didn't really care.  I wore the clip-on kind to dances sometimes, but ouch - the pain they inflicted will not be forgotten anytime soon. 

After many years of pleading and begging (my parents unwavering firmness on the matter was NOT due to my lack of trying), I finally resigned myself to an earringless adolescence.  Fast forward to right after my freshman year of college.  I had just turned 19.  All of the sudden a light went on.  I had missed my big moment!  I had turned 18 (and now 19) and hadn't immediately gotten my ears pierced.  It was almost as bad as if I had turned 17 and forgotten to get my drivers license.  I got my ears pierced the next day.

As my college roommates can testify, I loved my earrings.  They were carefully and lovingly left all around the apartment, in all sorts of random spots.  I have a fond memory of a night before the cleaning check where one roommate tactfully suggested we go on an "earring treasure hunt."  I believe the number we found was in the double digits. 

Fast forward now to present day.  I still love earrings.  I also love not having my earlobe ripped apart.  That's right, I'm a mom now.  And I can only guess that Kate has inherited an equal if not greater love for earrings than I possess, if her frequent desire to rip off my earrings are an accurate indicator (the one difference being that she likes to eat them and I like to wear them).  And here lies the dilemma: do I stop wearing earrings?  My one great love (besides Dave and Kate, of course)!?  This seems unbearable.  For heaven's sake, I mean, I buy my outfits around my earrings!  I'm not ready to let them collect dust bunnies in an old jewelry box!  They need love, they need attention, and they need to be worn. So?  Any ideas?  What's an earring-loving mother to do?

Here are a few close-up pictures of my earring collection:



 Considering my quote of the day, this post seems quite ironic.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Dear Mr. Murphy, I hate your stinkin' guts . . .

I'm wondering (which means you probably are too) how this



and this . . .


Could possibly turn into this


and this . . .


so quickly?

Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong

Dear Mr. Murphy,

I hate your stinkin' guts.  Why did you have to discover and share your stupid law, anyway?  I mean, come on.  Haven't you heard the old adage, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" ?  Have you never heard of the power of positive thinking?  I bet that if you shared your discovery of a law that said something like, "If anything can right, it will go right," it could go a really long way in people's lives.  And people's kitchens.  Like mine, for example. 

Love,

A very dissatisfied Murphy's law-abiding citizen

P.S. If you want a laugh, check out this website: http://www.murphys-laws.com/murphy/murphy-laws.html


Thursday, September 16, 2010

Well, I thought starting with a list of goals for this blog might help. You know, to keep me on track. Or to help emphasize how off track I've become. Or something. So, here is a list of things that I want to cover.

1 - Stuff going on in my life (I figure that's easy and obvious)
2 - Current Events and my take on them
3 - Great recipes (ones I've tried or want to try)
4 - Cool crafts (not that I've done a ton yet, but maybe this will motivate me?)
5 - Book Reviews
6 - Things I'm learning
7 - What's on my mind

I figure that's a pretty good start. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE comment on my blog so I won't feel all alone in the world. I'd really appreciate it.

And by the way, welcome to my blog! Thanks for being here. Just make sure you wipe your feet on the mat when you come in :)

My Fear of the Blog . . .

Hmmmmm . . . I'm pretty sure that everyone I know, plus their dogs, has a blog. And I just couldn't bring myself to make one for the longest time. For some reason I've always been intimidated by them. BLOG. The word itself just sounds ominous. BLOG. The word has been unnerving me for some time now. BLOG. Are you starting to sense the alarm that the word "blog" puts into my soul? Good.

I've decided to overcome my fear of blogs by making one. So here it is, in all its glory. Ha, I can already say the word more easily. Blog. Blog. See? blog. It doesn't even deserve to be capitalized! Let it be known that in Heidi vs. The BLOG, Heidi was victorious.

Current Score: Heidi 1, Blog 0
(Note, the above score began at the creation of the blog, otherwise the blog would be up 1,293,004)