For those who know us best, the gene that determines competitiveness runs strong in both Factora and Borchers families. It has to. I've never met anyone who's more competitive than I am. That is, not until I met Nick.
Competitiveness comes in many forms. There's the obvious kind that reveals itself in sports. The Michael Jordan/Tiger Woods (sans sex scandal) kind of competition. This is the "I CANNOT LOSE. EVER." gene which makes athletes train twice as hard and cultivates a near military discipline that most of us civilians would find unbearable.
Then there's other genes of competition, more subtle but just as lethal. This competitive gene revolves around the oratory debate stratosphere, aka "I MUST BE RIGHT. I AM RIGHT." kind of thinking. It's a gene that makes its way into the most innocuous of situations - bowling, finding a parking space, starting a campfire, any household project, insurance claims...
You think these situations are not competitive? Move in with us for a week, you'll understand after that.
No matter what the situation, Nick and I often pit ourselves against the opponent, be it a piece of stubborn firewood that will not flame up along with the others or a slow car in the Panera Bread parking lot who is blocking traffic. Everything's a competition. No dispute too small, no challenge too big. There are two trophy words uttered in our house that carry more weight than anything: I WIN.
Sometimes it's shouted, sometimes it's whispered into a billowing pile of laundry. Whatever needs conquering shall be conquered in our house.
So, you can imagine the kind of raised eyebrows and smack talk in our marriage when the competition is between us. It can get ugly, but it's always entertaining. Many people do not know that Nick is, as Keith Borchers said in his best man speech at our wedding, "an ego maniac who thinks he's sweet at everything."
Save opera and any form of dancing, this is true about Nicholas David Borchers. He hates losing. He can't stand being second. He likes strategy and mind-games during poker. He's all about focus and readjustment. Don't be fooled by his calm demeanor. There's a beast inside him called THE WINNER'S CIRCLE.
And then there's me. Don't think that I don't have my own monster and even according to Nick, I may be more competitive than him. There's a reason why I have the Rocky IV soundtrack on my iPod. Most people wouldn't see it coming, kind of like a CATEGORY FIVE HURRICANE that didn't come up on your weather outlook.
My competitiveness is often stuffed away because of its monstrosity. It can and has ruined moments of friendly game playing. While everyone else shrugs after a loss, I seethe inside. Competitiveness is like a constant search for perfection, which can never be attained. So, the desire to win or be right or dominate knows no rest. But, it's not always appropriate to be competitive so I, along with Nick, keep it to myself. We're like two man-eating sharks in a Sea World tank: it's in our blood and in our nature, but we're trained to be harmless.
That was a long introduction into the heart of this post, but it's critical for you to know the background of our competitive edges.
Nick and I have a combined goal to be and become healthier parents. Running around with Isaiah necessitates optimal states of health so we decided to commit to losing a few pounds. I need to shed my pregnancy weight and Nick, many months ago, invented a campaign called, "Don't Get Fat" because of his fear of rolling into a "fat new dad."
So we made a deal and the stakes are high.
Beginning Sunday, March 7th, we are having our own personal Biggest Loser competition. We adapted the show to our own lives and here are the ground rules:
Weekly weigh-ins on Sunday
Largest percentage of weight loss wins
Two goal dates: June 4, 2010 (our 5 year anniversary) and September 4, 2010.
Whoever has the largest percentage of weight loss on June 4, 2010 has the intermediate prize - winner gets one evening of their choice every week to go out and do whatever s/he wants while Isaiah is with the other parent.
If you don't understand the impact of that reward, go back and read it again. This prize is HUGE. This can mean going out with your friends. For Nick it can mean going to play racquetball with Books and Sam or going to the library for a few hours. For me that means extended trips to a coffee shop or taking my time at a farmer's market.
The ultimate prize, come September 4, will be individualized. Nick has yet to announce what his prize will be if he wins. If I win, I get to go to the conference of my choice in any part of the United States. (I'm such a nerd. I adore conferences on writing, feminism, media, etc...) Beside the fact that I want to shed my preggers weight, that conference-attending prize alone all but guarantees that I will win. Hello? Travel? Hotels? Learning? Meeting new writers and artists? That's what I was born to do.
This competition is huge and normally, I would not post something like this on our blog, but I figured if our friends and family - and God knows who else on the internet is reading this - is in the know, we are accountable to seeing this through. And we will.
It's man vs. woman. Focus vs. Passion. Tall vs. Short. Endurance vs. Intervals.
Choose your team now and place your bets. Nick is team blue. I am team green.
Cheers to a healthier Borchers/Factora-Borchers family in 2010.
(And, here's to ME, cause you know I'm going to lick this thing...)
Showing posts with label Life is Never General. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life is Never General. Show all posts
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Some Updates
Some bullet updates:
Saturday, January 2: Umbilical cord fell out while Nick was changing Isaiah! Hooray! Sponge baths are over. Hello glorious baths.
Sunday, January 3: St. Dominic's Sunday mass bulletin announced Isaiah's birth to the whole congregation.
Monday, January 4: Isaiah's 2 week doctor appointment went great. He was described as "mellow," with "great skin and color" and overall "looking fantastic!"
Tuesday, January 5: We solidified Isaiah's baptism date - Sunday, January 24! Bring on the Holy Spirit!
Wednesday, January 6: Um, ok - hard lesson. Isaiah doesn't like peanut butter, anything too greasy, or pizza. He fusses and gets a little skin irritation. Bad mom. Back to bland foods...
No more Wendy's...
Thursday, January 7: His first bath. Oh, you should have seen me and Nick climbing in and out of the tub, nervous as hell and as clumsy as a first graders. Also - first visitors tonight to watch the Alabama/Texas Nat'l Championship game. Uncle Brian and Christina are coming over. Thank goodness! My social exposure is just as bad as my sleep deprivation.
Also, I finally drove today for the first time in two and a half weeks! Ah, the open road! The FM pop music! Target! The grocery store! Strangers who don't know I just had a baby! No pregger belly that everyone tries to pat or stare at! It was invigorating!
Saturday, January 2: Umbilical cord fell out while Nick was changing Isaiah! Hooray! Sponge baths are over. Hello glorious baths.
Sunday, January 3: St. Dominic's Sunday mass bulletin announced Isaiah's birth to the whole congregation.
Monday, January 4: Isaiah's 2 week doctor appointment went great. He was described as "mellow," with "great skin and color" and overall "looking fantastic!"
Tuesday, January 5: We solidified Isaiah's baptism date - Sunday, January 24! Bring on the Holy Spirit!
Wednesday, January 6: Um, ok - hard lesson. Isaiah doesn't like peanut butter, anything too greasy, or pizza. He fusses and gets a little skin irritation. Bad mom. Back to bland foods...
No more Wendy's...
Thursday, January 7: His first bath. Oh, you should have seen me and Nick climbing in and out of the tub, nervous as hell and as clumsy as a first graders. Also - first visitors tonight to watch the Alabama/Texas Nat'l Championship game. Uncle Brian and Christina are coming over. Thank goodness! My social exposure is just as bad as my sleep deprivation.
Also, I finally drove today for the first time in two and a half weeks! Ah, the open road! The FM pop music! Target! The grocery store! Strangers who don't know I just had a baby! No pregger belly that everyone tries to pat or stare at! It was invigorating!
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Shot Heard Around Shaker Heights
Yesterday was a normal day for most people. A typical fall day with Halloween costume chatting, and leaf raking commencing...a very normal day indeed.
And yet, a raging two month mental battle also ended yesterday with my wondering over whether or not to get the h1n1 shot.
I'm fairly knowledgeable about the issue. Research is one of my specialties and I spared no pamphlet or website when absorbing the pros and cons of vaccinations for pregnant women. Despite my insides telling me that regardless what I choose, I will likely be fine, my housemate seems to be a magnet for all local and national news reporting bad news about the swine flu. Steeped in worry, Nick passes the information along to me as if I need more momentum to swing me back and forth in my decision.
To get or not to get the h1n1 flu shot is risky. It's risky either way, I saw it, and in the end, seeing how slow my body was recovering from a simple, albeit nasty, cold and cough, convinced me that I probably should go ahead and get stuck by the needle.
So, after work yesterday Nick and I made plans to get to the middle school where they were administering round #2 of the vaccine. I imagined it was going to take hours, Nick disagreed. Of course I was right.
But before I took the shot in my arm, I felt like I had to confess something to Nick. A deep, dark secret welling inside me like a balloon. I looked up at him in the kitchen over chopping Bok Choy and green beans for dinner and announced,"I realized today I have been stalling to get the shot because I think if anything goes wrong with the vaccination and hurts Isaiah, I'm afraid I'm going to blame you for the rest of our lives."
There. I said it.
Nick had a confession as well. "Last week, when you were sick, all I kept thinking was that if you had the flu and something happened to Isaiah, I was going to blame you for not getting the shot for the rest of our lives, too."
Immediately, I brightened, "Really? We were ready to blame each other for the rest of our lives? This sounds demented, but I feel SO much better!"
We hugged.
Now that our confessions were confessed, we headed to the middle school and saw the lines wrapping around the building. It took several minutes to find parking and finally got in line. It felt something like a combination of the lines at Cedar Point, a huge pediatrician's office with a million kids running around, and a gigantic holiday sale where they haven't opened the doors yet and make you wait outside.
In other words, it was hell.
Immoveable and inflexible situations are prime time conversation periods for me and Nick. The possibilities were endless. We had hours to wait, so talked about numerous things:
Nick's Topics: the lack of efficiency when it came to setting up the lines (half the people were waiting outside when the whole middle school could have been utilized), his brainfart that he did not bring a heavier coat, how people were supposed to "prove" if you were on the priority list (pregnant people are kind of obvious, but healthcare workers? ), and other issues relating to orderliness and publicity.
I was fairly single-issue minded: WHY ISN'T THERE A SEPARATE LINE FOR PREGNANT WOMEN?
Seriously.
No chairs. Standing out in the chilly air with children running amok.
A thought occured to me and I shared it with Nick, "Do you think that it's slightly ironic and even more slightly idiotic that they make us stand outside in the cold with a bunch of screaming children with no heat or chairs so we can get vaccinated for the FLU?"
The women behind me had a stroller for her perfectly big 6 or 7 year old. She was not careful with the wheels and kept rolling over the back of my foot. I was feeling a bit snappy but bit my tongue countless times. After all, she'd be right behind me for God knows how long.
We make it inside only to wait another hour or so. A volunteer took pity on my very pregnant state and asked if I wanted a chair. I nodded gratefully.
So, Nick held my place in line while I sat for about 20 minutes, giving my back and feet a rest. Watching Nick, I just shook my head while he made friends in line - chatting with people in front and behind him - and even helping a stranger get their stroller down the stairs. What a good samaritan. All I kept thinking of was how much I wanted a Twix bar.
I got back in line with Nick and discovered he'd made his own h1n1 support group in line. Everyone was offering us advice on birthing, breastfeeding, sleeping, pain meds, and Hillcrest Hospital where we'd be deliverying Isaiah. It was nice to be talking, inside the building and shielded from the cold, but my energy had depleted and I just wanted to get it over with.
Surprisingly, Nick was able to get a shot as well, thanks to Isaiah's due date of 1.1.10, Nick qualified as a parent with a child less than 6 months.
Then came the time to decide whether to get nasal mist or the needle.
Another decision. Not my specialty.
The nasal mist is the activated vaccine. It has no mercury.
The needle is the inactivated vaccine with mercury to keep it germ free.
My only question was, "So where's the INACTIVATED vaccine with NO MERCURY?"
One of the volunteers replied, "They are just starting to make that now, but we have no idea if or when those will ever come to the Cleveland area."
Awesome.
So, loaded with all different kids of information pamphlets on brightly colored paper, we got in line - Nick in the nasal line, me in the needle line.
And within 3 minutes, it was over.
How can one seemingly simple decison be so complicated and anxiety-ridden?
As someone said to me, "Welcome to parenting."
And yet, a raging two month mental battle also ended yesterday with my wondering over whether or not to get the h1n1 shot.
I'm fairly knowledgeable about the issue. Research is one of my specialties and I spared no pamphlet or website when absorbing the pros and cons of vaccinations for pregnant women. Despite my insides telling me that regardless what I choose, I will likely be fine, my housemate seems to be a magnet for all local and national news reporting bad news about the swine flu. Steeped in worry, Nick passes the information along to me as if I need more momentum to swing me back and forth in my decision.
To get or not to get the h1n1 flu shot is risky. It's risky either way, I saw it, and in the end, seeing how slow my body was recovering from a simple, albeit nasty, cold and cough, convinced me that I probably should go ahead and get stuck by the needle.
So, after work yesterday Nick and I made plans to get to the middle school where they were administering round #2 of the vaccine. I imagined it was going to take hours, Nick disagreed. Of course I was right.
But before I took the shot in my arm, I felt like I had to confess something to Nick. A deep, dark secret welling inside me like a balloon. I looked up at him in the kitchen over chopping Bok Choy and green beans for dinner and announced,"I realized today I have been stalling to get the shot because I think if anything goes wrong with the vaccination and hurts Isaiah, I'm afraid I'm going to blame you for the rest of our lives."
There. I said it.
Nick had a confession as well. "Last week, when you were sick, all I kept thinking was that if you had the flu and something happened to Isaiah, I was going to blame you for not getting the shot for the rest of our lives, too."
Immediately, I brightened, "Really? We were ready to blame each other for the rest of our lives? This sounds demented, but I feel SO much better!"
We hugged.
Now that our confessions were confessed, we headed to the middle school and saw the lines wrapping around the building. It took several minutes to find parking and finally got in line. It felt something like a combination of the lines at Cedar Point, a huge pediatrician's office with a million kids running around, and a gigantic holiday sale where they haven't opened the doors yet and make you wait outside.
In other words, it was hell.
Immoveable and inflexible situations are prime time conversation periods for me and Nick. The possibilities were endless. We had hours to wait, so talked about numerous things:
Nick's Topics: the lack of efficiency when it came to setting up the lines (half the people were waiting outside when the whole middle school could have been utilized), his brainfart that he did not bring a heavier coat, how people were supposed to "prove" if you were on the priority list (pregnant people are kind of obvious, but healthcare workers? ), and other issues relating to orderliness and publicity.
I was fairly single-issue minded: WHY ISN'T THERE A SEPARATE LINE FOR PREGNANT WOMEN?
Seriously.
No chairs. Standing out in the chilly air with children running amok.
A thought occured to me and I shared it with Nick, "Do you think that it's slightly ironic and even more slightly idiotic that they make us stand outside in the cold with a bunch of screaming children with no heat or chairs so we can get vaccinated for the FLU?"
The women behind me had a stroller for her perfectly big 6 or 7 year old. She was not careful with the wheels and kept rolling over the back of my foot. I was feeling a bit snappy but bit my tongue countless times. After all, she'd be right behind me for God knows how long.
We make it inside only to wait another hour or so. A volunteer took pity on my very pregnant state and asked if I wanted a chair. I nodded gratefully.
So, Nick held my place in line while I sat for about 20 minutes, giving my back and feet a rest. Watching Nick, I just shook my head while he made friends in line - chatting with people in front and behind him - and even helping a stranger get their stroller down the stairs. What a good samaritan. All I kept thinking of was how much I wanted a Twix bar.
I got back in line with Nick and discovered he'd made his own h1n1 support group in line. Everyone was offering us advice on birthing, breastfeeding, sleeping, pain meds, and Hillcrest Hospital where we'd be deliverying Isaiah. It was nice to be talking, inside the building and shielded from the cold, but my energy had depleted and I just wanted to get it over with.
Surprisingly, Nick was able to get a shot as well, thanks to Isaiah's due date of 1.1.10, Nick qualified as a parent with a child less than 6 months.
Then came the time to decide whether to get nasal mist or the needle.
Another decision. Not my specialty.
The nasal mist is the activated vaccine. It has no mercury.
The needle is the inactivated vaccine with mercury to keep it germ free.
My only question was, "So where's the INACTIVATED vaccine with NO MERCURY?"
One of the volunteers replied, "They are just starting to make that now, but we have no idea if or when those will ever come to the Cleveland area."
Awesome.
So, loaded with all different kids of information pamphlets on brightly colored paper, we got in line - Nick in the nasal line, me in the needle line.
And within 3 minutes, it was over.
How can one seemingly simple decison be so complicated and anxiety-ridden?
As someone said to me, "Welcome to parenting."
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday Blues
Depression resulting from sports-related issues certainly cannot be resolved overnight.
I know this for a fact because it is Sunday afternoon and I am still moping over OSU's loss last night to USC. I'm normally not an advocate of bottling away emotions without properly processing them first, but, in this case, I think it's better for everyone in my life, especially Nick, if I just move on as best as I can and deal with the blemish on the Buckeye's early football record.
When my sister was a highschool senior, their graduating class' senior tshirts were custom designed for the class of 1993 and on the back it just read: Seniors rule. Deal with it.
I think I should make a similar tshirt for myself that reads: We had that game but we lost. Deal with it.
Beyond football frenzy 2009, Nick and I have had a lovely weekend of hanging out with friends, attending our neighborhood block party, and sleeping in. This morning we attended a pre-baptismal training class which Nick both led as the Pastoral Associate and participated as a soon to be parent.
It's always fun getting the opportunity to watch your spouse in a different role, a role outside of the house. Not surprisingly he was great at making sure everyone's little bundle of joys were on the right path to their first sacrament.
Our little saint, Isaiah, has been stretching his limbs and tumbling around like an Olympian. Sleep has been a bit finicky for me lately and some days I just feel like I just need a comfy chair to lie down in. Others days I am rip roaring with energy.
Today is a lay low kind of day. Nick is working. I can't take any more football this weekend. And our house is a dustbowl of disaster because of the bathroom demolition.
I am hoping by the end of the day my Buckeye-induced sadness will have dissipated.
Here's hoping...
I know this for a fact because it is Sunday afternoon and I am still moping over OSU's loss last night to USC. I'm normally not an advocate of bottling away emotions without properly processing them first, but, in this case, I think it's better for everyone in my life, especially Nick, if I just move on as best as I can and deal with the blemish on the Buckeye's early football record.
When my sister was a highschool senior, their graduating class' senior tshirts were custom designed for the class of 1993 and on the back it just read: Seniors rule. Deal with it.
I think I should make a similar tshirt for myself that reads: We had that game but we lost. Deal with it.
Beyond football frenzy 2009, Nick and I have had a lovely weekend of hanging out with friends, attending our neighborhood block party, and sleeping in. This morning we attended a pre-baptismal training class which Nick both led as the Pastoral Associate and participated as a soon to be parent.
It's always fun getting the opportunity to watch your spouse in a different role, a role outside of the house. Not surprisingly he was great at making sure everyone's little bundle of joys were on the right path to their first sacrament.
Our little saint, Isaiah, has been stretching his limbs and tumbling around like an Olympian. Sleep has been a bit finicky for me lately and some days I just feel like I just need a comfy chair to lie down in. Others days I am rip roaring with energy.
Today is a lay low kind of day. Nick is working. I can't take any more football this weekend. And our house is a dustbowl of disaster because of the bathroom demolition.
I am hoping by the end of the day my Buckeye-induced sadness will have dissipated.
Here's hoping...
Friday, August 21, 2009
GEDs and LBJ Sighting
Nick has decided to do some volunteer work.
You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone's spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]
So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.
The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner...when will you do something, I don't know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm...now there's a possibility.
Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.
And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, "Remember, you're doing the most important part for us - making sure Isaiah is good and growing."
Ah, yes, our son.
And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.
So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It's gone so fast!
In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of "More Than a Game," the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron's St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.
The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.
Yeah, we're important.
You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone's spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]
So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.
The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner...when will you do something, I don't know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm...now there's a possibility.
Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.
And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, "Remember, you're doing the most important part for us - making sure Isaiah is good and growing."
Ah, yes, our son.
And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.
So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It's gone so fast!
In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of "More Than a Game," the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron's St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.
The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.
Yeah, we're important.
Friday, August 7, 2009
August, I Love You
This week has been normal.
I love writing that sentence.
Sometimes the routine of life can help one relax, breathe easy, and appreciate the itty bitty grains of awesomeness in August. Like how AMAZING the weather has been, holding steady at 70ish degrees this week with pure sunshine.
Lately, I've been thinking about what kind of weather announcer I would be. Channel 5 news would definitely have higher ratings because all I would do is squeal and yell YES YES YES when there's a beautiful day on the horizon. I don't know much about jetstream or northeast winds pushing whatever into whereever region. But I DO know how to be excited for cool August weather.
I'd also announce the weather wearing sunglasses.
This week has had a little rumbling of busy-ness throughout it. One of Nick's coworkers is moving and so we, along with our pals, are planning a goodbye party for her this evening. Tomorrow, Kelly and Tim Norris will be hiking it up to Cleveland for a wedding so we'll get to chill with them for a few hours before their wedding. Then tomorrow evening we have a BBQ to attend. Sunday, both Nick and I are helping chaperone/drive/be with a bunch of highschool cats who are spending the day at Cedar Point. Now, other than the ferris wheel, there isn't much for me to ride at the greatest amusement park on earth. But, that fact does no stop me from going where I will have access to funnel cakes and elephant ears.
So, we're back in the groove of our lives and as Nick often says, "I'm just excited, you know, for life!"
I love writing that sentence.
Sometimes the routine of life can help one relax, breathe easy, and appreciate the itty bitty grains of awesomeness in August. Like how AMAZING the weather has been, holding steady at 70ish degrees this week with pure sunshine.
Lately, I've been thinking about what kind of weather announcer I would be. Channel 5 news would definitely have higher ratings because all I would do is squeal and yell YES YES YES when there's a beautiful day on the horizon. I don't know much about jetstream or northeast winds pushing whatever into whereever region. But I DO know how to be excited for cool August weather.
I'd also announce the weather wearing sunglasses.
This week has had a little rumbling of busy-ness throughout it. One of Nick's coworkers is moving and so we, along with our pals, are planning a goodbye party for her this evening. Tomorrow, Kelly and Tim Norris will be hiking it up to Cleveland for a wedding so we'll get to chill with them for a few hours before their wedding. Then tomorrow evening we have a BBQ to attend. Sunday, both Nick and I are helping chaperone/drive/be with a bunch of highschool cats who are spending the day at Cedar Point. Now, other than the ferris wheel, there isn't much for me to ride at the greatest amusement park on earth. But, that fact does no stop me from going where I will have access to funnel cakes and elephant ears.
So, we're back in the groove of our lives and as Nick often says, "I'm just excited, you know, for life!"
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
4th of July Weekend Recap!
Our 4th of July weekend was terrific. It was terrific in a kind of firecracker way, not big boom fireworks kind of way.
Nick came back from his week long service trip Friday afternoon and we both needed a quiet evening at home before a long weekend of activities. So we made dinner and rented Revolutionary Road and invited our friend Alexis over who brought three boxes of ice cream to share. We feasted on just mint chocolate chip and gave the movie a B rating for compelling themes but mediocre acting. Nick, who obviously read the book, kept commenting how much one loses in cinema as compared to literature. He likes to rub it in that he's such a book worm.
That night, I think I fell asleep face down in my pillow. I was exhausted.
Saturday afternoon was spent cleaning up the house, running errands, and enjoying the beautiful weather. I know my energy level is depleting as my pregnancy marches on when I have to take a 1 hour nap after mowing the lawn. Apprehensive as my Dad on prom night, Nick wondered if it would be safe for me to mow the lawn. I assured him that as long as he can rev the motor up for me, I can take care of the rest.
The jittering and jostling may have taken more out of me than I would care to admit, but I laid on the couch afterward and fell asleep. Snoring as loud as the mower itself.
Then we headed off to Christina and Brian Emerson's for a BBQ. Nick dominated at cornhole while I ate a hamburger like I've never eaten before. My appetite, to put it lightly, fluctuates. Somedays I can barely swallow three grapes without feeling like a stuffed cabbage. Other days I feel like eating a rhino would not suffice. Saturday was a rhino kind of day.
Then we watched the fireworks and I got all sappy and happy sitting on the lawn and thinking how by next year, we'll have a little live firework in the flesh of our own.
Sunday afternoon was spent in Canton, Ohio where Nick and I went to a baptism reception. My highschool friend, Becca, married and now lives in England but her son, Logan was baptized here in her hometown and had a gathering to celebrate the little tyke's induction to the holy Kingdom. I saw a bunch of highschool buds and it was great to catch up after so many years.
And that was our weekend.
Upcoming weekends are going to N-U-T-S.
July 11-15 Borchers' family vaca to Charleston, SC
July 17-19 Russia bound for Staci Condon's wedding
July 24 -26 Russia bound for Abby Cordonnier's wedding
July 31 - Aug. 2 Cincy bound for a wedding I'm shooting (like, for money!)
And if you're wondering how everything else is going -- all I can say is the God honest truth: splendid.
Nick is wonderful.
I am wonderful.
Baby is wonderful.
(You are wonderful, too, in case you need a pick me up.)
Nick came back from his week long service trip Friday afternoon and we both needed a quiet evening at home before a long weekend of activities. So we made dinner and rented Revolutionary Road and invited our friend Alexis over who brought three boxes of ice cream to share. We feasted on just mint chocolate chip and gave the movie a B rating for compelling themes but mediocre acting. Nick, who obviously read the book, kept commenting how much one loses in cinema as compared to literature. He likes to rub it in that he's such a book worm.
That night, I think I fell asleep face down in my pillow. I was exhausted.
Saturday afternoon was spent cleaning up the house, running errands, and enjoying the beautiful weather. I know my energy level is depleting as my pregnancy marches on when I have to take a 1 hour nap after mowing the lawn. Apprehensive as my Dad on prom night, Nick wondered if it would be safe for me to mow the lawn. I assured him that as long as he can rev the motor up for me, I can take care of the rest.
The jittering and jostling may have taken more out of me than I would care to admit, but I laid on the couch afterward and fell asleep. Snoring as loud as the mower itself.
Then we headed off to Christina and Brian Emerson's for a BBQ. Nick dominated at cornhole while I ate a hamburger like I've never eaten before. My appetite, to put it lightly, fluctuates. Somedays I can barely swallow three grapes without feeling like a stuffed cabbage. Other days I feel like eating a rhino would not suffice. Saturday was a rhino kind of day.
Then we watched the fireworks and I got all sappy and happy sitting on the lawn and thinking how by next year, we'll have a little live firework in the flesh of our own.
Sunday afternoon was spent in Canton, Ohio where Nick and I went to a baptism reception. My highschool friend, Becca, married and now lives in England but her son, Logan was baptized here in her hometown and had a gathering to celebrate the little tyke's induction to the holy Kingdom. I saw a bunch of highschool buds and it was great to catch up after so many years.
And that was our weekend.
Upcoming weekends are going to N-U-T-S.
July 11-15 Borchers' family vaca to Charleston, SC
July 17-19 Russia bound for Staci Condon's wedding
July 24 -26 Russia bound for Abby Cordonnier's wedding
July 31 - Aug. 2 Cincy bound for a wedding I'm shooting (like, for money!)
And if you're wondering how everything else is going -- all I can say is the God honest truth: splendid.
Nick is wonderful.
I am wonderful.
Baby is wonderful.
(You are wonderful, too, in case you need a pick me up.)
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Missing Nick and Michael
Photo taken 6/21/09, Filipino Festival in ClevelandIt's amazing all that can happen in 10 days when you don't blog.
In addition to Jan and Rog Borchers coming to visit us in Cleveland, Nick and I attending the Cleveland Filipino Festival, my friend Alexis who I worked with in Boston last year moving to Cleveland last week, having 10th row at a New Kids on the Block concert!, seeing the movie "State of Play" (mildly good, entertaining, nothing great), attending our nephew Zach's 4th birthday party, watching fireworks in Massillon, having another ultrasound (Baby Plum is no longer a plum and is growing quickly!) on Wednesday, hosting Kelly Borchers Norris this weekend on her way to Abby Cordonnier's (cousin of Nick and Kelly) bachelorette party, and seeing Nick off for a week long trip to Kentucky -- even with all of that going on, what I just can't believe is that Michael Jackson is dead.
(I'm listening to "We Are the World," as I write this.)
Trumping MJ's cardiac tragedy, the biggest heartache is being separated from Nick for a week. Now, I know how that sounds -- I was gone for 2 months last summer and globe trotted my heart out -- but I'm pregnant now and that means two things: 1) I get to say whatever I want without feeling bad and 2) I'm uber emotional
(My MJ music marathon continues. Now on my ear "You Are Not Alone.")
Nick will be back Friday afternoon and that seems like eons away.
Sometimes when Nick is gone, I feel like this blog becomes the soggy pillow where I consistently weep into with my sadness that he's not around telling me a corny joke or trying to work some miracle with our shower's water pressure.
*sigh* It's going to be a long week.
(last song for tonight's MJ's dedication is Nick's favorite MJ song: "Man in the Mirror")
Friday, June 12, 2009
Already, It's Getting Old
I'm right at 11 weeks today and it's going to be a long haul to January if I don't keep my annoyance in check. I'll chalk it up to hormones, but lately, I'm so flipping irritated with answering the same questions over and over and over and over and over again.
From family and friends, I don't mind, but at the mechanic's body shop, at the grocery store, library, WHEREVER where people see you are buying something that indicates your preggers, people undoubtedly will ask the following:
1) How far along are you?
2) What's your due date?
3) How are you feeling?
4) Is this your first?
5) I bet you're excited, aren't you?
Now, I sound like a total jerk, but I just want to remind people that answering the same questions, multiple times a day, everyday can add to the overall fatigue and moodiness of a pregnant woman.
The only thing that I REALLY don't like is when complete strangers' hands make a dive for your belly. HEY -- belly is off limits to unknown persons.
Family and friends, that's a totally different story.
As Nick does a 1/2 day at work, I am getting ready to leave for Russia. Of course, I have procrastinated to where we are now leaving in about 3 hours and I have not packed a thing, eaten, exercised, or showered yet. I better get a move on.
This weekend will be another hectic one. Eric Rosenbeck will be getting married while Keith is in the wedding and Nick is a reader. Big involvement for team Borchers this weekend. As always, I'm excited for another June wedding.
Russia-bound in t-minus 3 hours.
Ok, enough procrastinating.
From family and friends, I don't mind, but at the mechanic's body shop, at the grocery store, library, WHEREVER where people see you are buying something that indicates your preggers, people undoubtedly will ask the following:
1) How far along are you?
2) What's your due date?
3) How are you feeling?
4) Is this your first?
5) I bet you're excited, aren't you?
Now, I sound like a total jerk, but I just want to remind people that answering the same questions, multiple times a day, everyday can add to the overall fatigue and moodiness of a pregnant woman.
The only thing that I REALLY don't like is when complete strangers' hands make a dive for your belly. HEY -- belly is off limits to unknown persons.
Family and friends, that's a totally different story.
As Nick does a 1/2 day at work, I am getting ready to leave for Russia. Of course, I have procrastinated to where we are now leaving in about 3 hours and I have not packed a thing, eaten, exercised, or showered yet. I better get a move on.
This weekend will be another hectic one. Eric Rosenbeck will be getting married while Keith is in the wedding and Nick is a reader. Big involvement for team Borchers this weekend. As always, I'm excited for another June wedding.
Russia-bound in t-minus 3 hours.
Ok, enough procrastinating.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Year is 2100
Last night I came home from work at roughly 9:30pm. Driving in a rental, I pulled up and saw Nick sprawled on the couch, watching our old but new to us TV (huge applause to Nick's cousin, Abby Cordonnier and fiancee for selling us a monstrously large and much improved telly) with an intent look on his face. I was chatting on the phone with Kelly, Nick's sister, about the joys and woes of the growing Pinto Bean in my belly.
As I babble, I observe Nick is flipping the channel between some NBC news special on the White House and an ABC special program about what the earth will look like in the year 2100. After I got off the phone, Nick scooted closer to me and says, "It's good your home. I was about to kill myself after watching this," he referenced the Earth 2100 show.
I sat down to watch.
In the next 20 minutes, I watched the most depressing and strange story which told a part cartoon, part computerized tale that predicted what the world will become should we continue in our fossil fuel consuming ways. The southern states of the USA were desert, the coasts were in perpetual threat of flooding, and everyone was hoodlums with shopping carts on the side of the road, hitch hiking their way to Canada. I felt like I wanted to just bury my head in a sand dune and hope for a quick death. That or drink myself into an oblivion.
"Ugh," I grunted at Nick, "it IS a good thing I came home when I did. You might have put a bullet to your noggin if you were alone watching the world go to shit."
We tried to focus on something else to cheer ourselves up from the morbidity of 2100 and impending doom of human life.
Nick asked, "Did you see our new car?"
Yesterday, we had our insurance agent shop and find us a car. When they find one that fits your general description, s/he will arrange a test drive and get the car to us for inspection. If we like it, we buy it on the spot. It's a nice FREE service from Nationwide. (Nick asked the agent 3 times to make sure it was FREE.)
Our used but new to us (do you see a theme emerging yet?) car is 2006 Honda Accord, blue, with a non-descript gray interior. According to Nick, back in his seminary days, one of the older priests drove an Accord and Nick told himself, "If ever someday I have a lot of money, I'm going to buy an Accord."
I don't know anyone whose car fantasies began in the parking lot of a Cincinnati seminary.
As Nick retold me his vow to buy an Accord someday, I jested, "Well, we are just rolling in the millions these days, so let's pull the trigger. It's now or never."
The test drive was scheduled at 2pm yesterday and I was not able to get off work. Nick was hesitant to be the only one driving/inspecting the car, but I told him, "Look, this will be the second biggest purchase you have to make without me. Remember, we bought our house without my ever seeing it. Now it'll also be our car."
The Accord runs beautifully.
We returned our rental last night and then drove around Cleveland, frequently getting lost because we are the two most geographically challenged people in the midwest.
"I like it," I told Nick. "Good job."
Nick muses, "This thing is going to last forever. I mean, it's an ACCORD. It's supposed to run forever. For real, the world is going to collapse on itself in 2100, but this car is still going to be running."
As I babble, I observe Nick is flipping the channel between some NBC news special on the White House and an ABC special program about what the earth will look like in the year 2100. After I got off the phone, Nick scooted closer to me and says, "It's good your home. I was about to kill myself after watching this," he referenced the Earth 2100 show.
I sat down to watch.
In the next 20 minutes, I watched the most depressing and strange story which told a part cartoon, part computerized tale that predicted what the world will become should we continue in our fossil fuel consuming ways. The southern states of the USA were desert, the coasts were in perpetual threat of flooding, and everyone was hoodlums with shopping carts on the side of the road, hitch hiking their way to Canada. I felt like I wanted to just bury my head in a sand dune and hope for a quick death. That or drink myself into an oblivion.
"Ugh," I grunted at Nick, "it IS a good thing I came home when I did. You might have put a bullet to your noggin if you were alone watching the world go to shit."
We tried to focus on something else to cheer ourselves up from the morbidity of 2100 and impending doom of human life.
Nick asked, "Did you see our new car?"
Yesterday, we had our insurance agent shop and find us a car. When they find one that fits your general description, s/he will arrange a test drive and get the car to us for inspection. If we like it, we buy it on the spot. It's a nice FREE service from Nationwide. (Nick asked the agent 3 times to make sure it was FREE.)
Our used but new to us (do you see a theme emerging yet?) car is 2006 Honda Accord, blue, with a non-descript gray interior. According to Nick, back in his seminary days, one of the older priests drove an Accord and Nick told himself, "If ever someday I have a lot of money, I'm going to buy an Accord."
I don't know anyone whose car fantasies began in the parking lot of a Cincinnati seminary.
As Nick retold me his vow to buy an Accord someday, I jested, "Well, we are just rolling in the millions these days, so let's pull the trigger. It's now or never."
The test drive was scheduled at 2pm yesterday and I was not able to get off work. Nick was hesitant to be the only one driving/inspecting the car, but I told him, "Look, this will be the second biggest purchase you have to make without me. Remember, we bought our house without my ever seeing it. Now it'll also be our car."
The Accord runs beautifully.
We returned our rental last night and then drove around Cleveland, frequently getting lost because we are the two most geographically challenged people in the midwest.
"I like it," I told Nick. "Good job."
Nick muses, "This thing is going to last forever. I mean, it's an ACCORD. It's supposed to run forever. For real, the world is going to collapse on itself in 2100, but this car is still going to be running."
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A Dip into the Valley of Darkness
Sometimes the sports world makes the rest of the world too depressing to deal with.
Last night, the famous four (Me, Nick, Christina, and Brian) gathered around their monstrously clear flat screen to watch the flat screen effect of the Magic against the CAVS.
Sometimes it just hurts and the pain of defeat zaps all ability to write with enthusiasm.
In other depressing news, we just got word that Nick and I need to go shopping for a new car. For some people, this can be an exciting adventure. For Nick and I, buying something large - and all the details and discussion that goes into that decision - is about as enticing as eating a bowl of raisin bran. Not exciting whatsoever.
Why, you ask, does the prospect of buying a car antagonize us so much? Well, for Nick is means shopping. (It's the same reaction if you ask him to cook, or go look at swatches at Home Depot.) For me, it means I have to make a decision based on practicality. I hate that.
So, it puts us in somewhat bitter moods, but we try to look on the bright side of things. But with the Cavs performance lately, Cleveland is one big gray cloud called Annoying. And it's hanging right over our house.
Last night, the famous four (Me, Nick, Christina, and Brian) gathered around their monstrously clear flat screen to watch the flat screen effect of the Magic against the CAVS.
Sometimes it just hurts and the pain of defeat zaps all ability to write with enthusiasm.
In other depressing news, we just got word that Nick and I need to go shopping for a new car. For some people, this can be an exciting adventure. For Nick and I, buying something large - and all the details and discussion that goes into that decision - is about as enticing as eating a bowl of raisin bran. Not exciting whatsoever.
Why, you ask, does the prospect of buying a car antagonize us so much? Well, for Nick is means shopping. (It's the same reaction if you ask him to cook, or go look at swatches at Home Depot.) For me, it means I have to make a decision based on practicality. I hate that.
So, it puts us in somewhat bitter moods, but we try to look on the bright side of things. But with the Cavs performance lately, Cleveland is one big gray cloud called Annoying. And it's hanging right over our house.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Like Father, Like Son
Two words: car accident.
UGH.
Minor, but any form of a car accident has a ripple effect. It puts these tiny but significant wrinkles in your day.
Nick was at a complicated 4 or 5 way stop, turned into the intersection while someone decided to pause and keep going into the intersection, part of her brain erasing one important fact: THERE'S ANOTHER HUMAN BEING IN THE INTERSECTION.
A frontal collision, the bumper ripped off, some damage that left her car scratched and ours not drivable. The most important thing, obviously, is that Nick is fine and the only thing affected was his anxiety over paper work, car rental, insurance, and my need to get to work that morning but our 1-car situation made that slightly impossible.
UGH.
Nick is fantastic in high stress situations. He claims it's very Borchers of him, and I must agree. When the pressure is on, the shields and blinders come up so he only sees his goal, strategy, and the most direct access to resolving the issue. My brain, in times of crisis, assesses the likelihood of survival and then ponders how precious life is, how short and fleeting our dreams are...You can see the difference.
What I think is hilarious is we were just in Russia this weekend when Kay and Kelly (Nick's mom and sister) were out running errands when the car overheated. Fortunately but against Kay's will, they pulled off the road to make sure the car didn't explode or anything like that.
They call Ron (Nick's Dad).
According to Kelly and Kay, it was 2:40pm when they called and Ron said he could leave in about 20 minutes. According to Kelly and Kay, they sighed and complained to one another as to why he couldn't leave right then and there. According to Kelly and Kay, he should just come to their rescue whenever a crisis occurs.
Ron comes to the rescue, of course.
We all laugh at the expectations in the story and I giggle at some of the similarities I see in Nick whenever a crisis occurs.
While Nick was the one in the accident, he called to let me know, ask me to find the location of the closest Enterprise, but then took care of all of the details after that. I did nothing. I offered my help, but I just sat there, watching him make phone call after phone call, eating my salad and listening to him give policy numbers and identifying information a bazillion times to a bazillion people.
UGH.
When he was done, I threw my arms around him in a big hug and asked if I could make him something to eat, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the fact that he was fine, our life is great, and no one was hurt.
He just smiled, said, "No, thanks...I'm heading off to work now to get some stuff done."
My forehead wrinkled in confusion and disbelief, "Uh, you work for a parish. I think most folks would understand if you're in a car wreck to at least take your lunch hour to breathe."
But he just grabbed his briefcase, kissed me, and walked out the door, heading to the office, his original destination.
You gotta hand it to that Borchers work ethic...they sure don't mess around.
UGH.
Minor, but any form of a car accident has a ripple effect. It puts these tiny but significant wrinkles in your day.
Nick was at a complicated 4 or 5 way stop, turned into the intersection while someone decided to pause and keep going into the intersection, part of her brain erasing one important fact: THERE'S ANOTHER HUMAN BEING IN THE INTERSECTION.
A frontal collision, the bumper ripped off, some damage that left her car scratched and ours not drivable. The most important thing, obviously, is that Nick is fine and the only thing affected was his anxiety over paper work, car rental, insurance, and my need to get to work that morning but our 1-car situation made that slightly impossible.
UGH.
Nick is fantastic in high stress situations. He claims it's very Borchers of him, and I must agree. When the pressure is on, the shields and blinders come up so he only sees his goal, strategy, and the most direct access to resolving the issue. My brain, in times of crisis, assesses the likelihood of survival and then ponders how precious life is, how short and fleeting our dreams are...You can see the difference.
What I think is hilarious is we were just in Russia this weekend when Kay and Kelly (Nick's mom and sister) were out running errands when the car overheated. Fortunately but against Kay's will, they pulled off the road to make sure the car didn't explode or anything like that.
They call Ron (Nick's Dad).
According to Kelly and Kay, it was 2:40pm when they called and Ron said he could leave in about 20 minutes. According to Kelly and Kay, they sighed and complained to one another as to why he couldn't leave right then and there. According to Kelly and Kay, he should just come to their rescue whenever a crisis occurs.
Ron comes to the rescue, of course.
We all laugh at the expectations in the story and I giggle at some of the similarities I see in Nick whenever a crisis occurs.
While Nick was the one in the accident, he called to let me know, ask me to find the location of the closest Enterprise, but then took care of all of the details after that. I did nothing. I offered my help, but I just sat there, watching him make phone call after phone call, eating my salad and listening to him give policy numbers and identifying information a bazillion times to a bazillion people.
UGH.
When he was done, I threw my arms around him in a big hug and asked if I could make him something to eat, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the fact that he was fine, our life is great, and no one was hurt.
He just smiled, said, "No, thanks...I'm heading off to work now to get some stuff done."
My forehead wrinkled in confusion and disbelief, "Uh, you work for a parish. I think most folks would understand if you're in a car wreck to at least take your lunch hour to breathe."
But he just grabbed his briefcase, kissed me, and walked out the door, heading to the office, his original destination.
You gotta hand it to that Borchers work ethic...they sure don't mess around.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
My How They Grow
Some people may remember that three days before Nick and I got married, my side of the family had our first baby born. My first nephew, Zach, was born June 1, 2005 and every year of his life is another year of life for Nick and I, for our marriage.
It's been so funny watching him grow through the years and now Zach has two younger brothers - Jesse and Joey - and an older sister, Morgan, to keep him busy.
I took this photo of him on Easter, as he chowed down his ice cream. Sometimes watching kids eat ice cream just gives you a hearty reminder to relax a bit and enjoy life.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Ode to Nick
Nick is man who works hard
There's nothing he can't do
He drills into new tasks
and does what he puts his mind to
Nick is man who works on taxes
and brings them to H&R block
But it's Nick who corrects
the Block's mistakes - oh, really, what a shock!
Nick is man who works on our bathroom
the sorrowful sight that it is
But Nick takes pride in accomplishment
and owns every task as his
So, cheers to you, Saint Nicholas
I'm very grateful for all that you do
Not just for the taxes and paint peels
But just because you're you
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Popcorn in Bed
There is a gaping hole in our kitchen ceiling and it is atrocious.
Our contractor had to rip it out because our noggins were endangered of having the thing collapse on us.
So, Bob, our very own Mr. Fixit, is kind and generous enough to help us through this problem. It's going to be finished at the end of the week. I can't wait because every time I stand in front of the refrigerator it feels like I am about to be sucked into a huge vortex of darkness and leaky pipes above.
The joys of homeownership. Nothing is better.
In other news...
Last night was an unusual night. I had a late meeting for a potential and temporary short term job and came home around 9:30pm. I chatted on the phone for an hour or so with my lovely sister in law and figured, with a quick peak at our shut bedroom door and the sound of the space heater, that Nick was already sleeping, passed out like the old man he is.
So you can imagine my surprise as I head upstairs after I was done talking to Kelly and my phone rings. And it's ringing Nick's ringtone.
Nick is still out to tell me he's on his way home. If he's still out, who in the hell is in our bedroom?
And the door swings open and it's bleary-eyed Nick, cell phone in his hand.
YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK. WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME WHEN YOU ARE ONE ROOM AWAY?
"Oh, hi, babe. I was wondering where you were. I was getting worried."
HEY MR. SHARPIE - I'VE BEEN HOME FOR AN HOUR.
"Really? I didn't hear you."
So, I give him an odd look and get ready for bed.
As I snuggle into my side of the bed and begin drifting off to sleep, Nick speaks clearly as if it's the middle of the day, "I'm wide awake."
"Well, this is certainly a role reversal." I just want to get to sleep, but know it's not going to happen.
"Maybe I should eat something," Nick muses.
"If how I feel right now is what you felt the entire first year we were married when I kept yapping my head off because I wanted to talk, this is my way of apologizing right now and I swear I'll never do that again."
"I will go eat something," he decides.
"Fine. There's some popcorn I just made sitting out downstairs if you want that."
Now, if you know ANYTHING about Nick and popcorn, you know that popcorn is not just another snack like, say, Pringles or M&Ms. Popcorn, in the Borchers family, is eaten in a rather methodical, non-stop robotic nothing can interrupt my rhythm, kind of way.
So you can imagine my surprise, slight annoyance when I am drifting off to sleep and all of a sudden I hear the clank of a glass (filled with sprite and ice, I'm sure) hitting the side table near our bed followed by Nick easing onto his side of the bed and I hear the back and forth of hand-bucket-stuff into mouth -hand-bucket-stuff into mouth - hand-bucket-stuff into mouth rhythm. All in the background is the distinct sound of Nick chewing the grains and fluff of salty popcorn.
I flipped over, "Are you eating in bed?"
I can't see him in the dark but I hear the crunching continue, "Yup."
My tiredness turns into sarcasm, "Is it good?" referring to the popcorn. I try not to think of the crumbs, particles, and oil that are going to get on our sheets or on me because of this late night snack.
"Mhm- MHM!"
With the dark veiling my face, Nick could not see me roll my eyes. I just laid on my back and waited for him to finish the bucket. It didn't take long. For Nick to finish a bucket of popcorn, it never does.
As I heard him clap his salty hands and throw the excess on the ground because I know he doesn't believe in napkins, I closed my eyes for much needed rest.
Sure enough, he falls asleep.
Our contractor had to rip it out because our noggins were endangered of having the thing collapse on us.
So, Bob, our very own Mr. Fixit, is kind and generous enough to help us through this problem. It's going to be finished at the end of the week. I can't wait because every time I stand in front of the refrigerator it feels like I am about to be sucked into a huge vortex of darkness and leaky pipes above.
The joys of homeownership. Nothing is better.
In other news...
Last night was an unusual night. I had a late meeting for a potential and temporary short term job and came home around 9:30pm. I chatted on the phone for an hour or so with my lovely sister in law and figured, with a quick peak at our shut bedroom door and the sound of the space heater, that Nick was already sleeping, passed out like the old man he is.
So you can imagine my surprise as I head upstairs after I was done talking to Kelly and my phone rings. And it's ringing Nick's ringtone.
Nick is still out to tell me he's on his way home. If he's still out, who in the hell is in our bedroom?
And the door swings open and it's bleary-eyed Nick, cell phone in his hand.
YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK. WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME WHEN YOU ARE ONE ROOM AWAY?
"Oh, hi, babe. I was wondering where you were. I was getting worried."
HEY MR. SHARPIE - I'VE BEEN HOME FOR AN HOUR.
"Really? I didn't hear you."
So, I give him an odd look and get ready for bed.
As I snuggle into my side of the bed and begin drifting off to sleep, Nick speaks clearly as if it's the middle of the day, "I'm wide awake."
"Well, this is certainly a role reversal." I just want to get to sleep, but know it's not going to happen.
"Maybe I should eat something," Nick muses.
"If how I feel right now is what you felt the entire first year we were married when I kept yapping my head off because I wanted to talk, this is my way of apologizing right now and I swear I'll never do that again."
"I will go eat something," he decides.
"Fine. There's some popcorn I just made sitting out downstairs if you want that."
Now, if you know ANYTHING about Nick and popcorn, you know that popcorn is not just another snack like, say, Pringles or M&Ms. Popcorn, in the Borchers family, is eaten in a rather methodical, non-stop robotic nothing can interrupt my rhythm, kind of way.
So you can imagine my surprise, slight annoyance when I am drifting off to sleep and all of a sudden I hear the clank of a glass (filled with sprite and ice, I'm sure) hitting the side table near our bed followed by Nick easing onto his side of the bed and I hear the back and forth of hand-bucket-stuff into mouth -hand-bucket-stuff into mouth - hand-bucket-stuff into mouth rhythm. All in the background is the distinct sound of Nick chewing the grains and fluff of salty popcorn.
I flipped over, "Are you eating in bed?"
I can't see him in the dark but I hear the crunching continue, "Yup."
My tiredness turns into sarcasm, "Is it good?" referring to the popcorn. I try not to think of the crumbs, particles, and oil that are going to get on our sheets or on me because of this late night snack.
"Mhm- MHM!"
With the dark veiling my face, Nick could not see me roll my eyes. I just laid on my back and waited for him to finish the bucket. It didn't take long. For Nick to finish a bucket of popcorn, it never does.
As I heard him clap his salty hands and throw the excess on the ground because I know he doesn't believe in napkins, I closed my eyes for much needed rest.
Sure enough, he falls asleep.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Bliss that is Natural Light
As much as Nick loves natural light, I've never seen him wear shades before.
Little fun fact about Nick: one of his favorite things in the world is natural light. He freaking talks about how awesome natural light is at least three times a month. If you add that up over the course of the years I've known him, that's a lot of time spent talking about something as simplistic as the sun's rays.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love photography. I practically salivate over natural light when I shoot photos. The best weddings photos are the ones that are shot with as much natural light as possible.
But Nick's not a photographer. He just goes nuts over sunlight.
He, and I'm not exaggerating, does not like curtains because of this. He would PREFER a curtainless world to let as much natural light into our house as possible. When we were looking at houses to buy last year, he's say, "Look at those windows! Think about how much natural light we'll get."
And I, looking at him from the corner of my eye, say, "Sure. Yeah. I mean, looks great."
When we're driving, Nick is usual steering while I am off in my own world blabbering about my thoughts on the Universe, whether we'll live to see the scientific proof of another galaxy beyond the Milky Way, and all of a sudden Nick will explode, "DID YOU SEE THAT HOUSE? THEY HAD ALL FRONT WINDOWS THAT WERE HUGE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH NATURAL LIGHT THEY MUST GET?"
And I, again, dumbfounded that he doesn't even get that excited over Xavier basketball or a Beanie Wells run, or a discounted oil change will reply, "Huh. Where?" I'll strain my head, look in the rear view mirrors, "I didn't see it. Darn."
And just like the calm sea after a brief storm, Nick will return to his 98.6 degree body temperature. His eyes will return to their normal shade of blue-ish green, and the torrent of emotion will subside as he drives on.
So it was no surprise yesterday, out on a long walk and taking advantage of our 50 degree day, Nick says, "Guess what?"
"What?"
"It's 5:30pm now and look how light it is. Just think - next week, it'll be this light out at 6:30pm!"
"Yes. Daylight savings time. Incredible." I am bemused watching him practically skip down the sidewalk like a little boy.
I remain silent, enjoying his enjoyment.
"You know," he continues, "I don't even know what I'd be like if daylight savings time were on the same day as my birthday. I wouldn't know what to be more excited for."
"Mhm," I speculate, "I'd air on the side of celebrating existence than natural light, but that's just me."
I don't think Nick hears me. He is lost to the world, absorbing his joy of the impending spring.
And with that story, my friends, I am sure you will remember to jump your clocks forward an hour this weekend. I don't know if Nick will be able to sleep the night before from his excitement.
Little fun fact about Nick: one of his favorite things in the world is natural light. He freaking talks about how awesome natural light is at least three times a month. If you add that up over the course of the years I've known him, that's a lot of time spent talking about something as simplistic as the sun's rays.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love photography. I practically salivate over natural light when I shoot photos. The best weddings photos are the ones that are shot with as much natural light as possible.
But Nick's not a photographer. He just goes nuts over sunlight.
He, and I'm not exaggerating, does not like curtains because of this. He would PREFER a curtainless world to let as much natural light into our house as possible. When we were looking at houses to buy last year, he's say, "Look at those windows! Think about how much natural light we'll get."
And I, looking at him from the corner of my eye, say, "Sure. Yeah. I mean, looks great."
When we're driving, Nick is usual steering while I am off in my own world blabbering about my thoughts on the Universe, whether we'll live to see the scientific proof of another galaxy beyond the Milky Way, and all of a sudden Nick will explode, "DID YOU SEE THAT HOUSE? THEY HAD ALL FRONT WINDOWS THAT WERE HUGE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH NATURAL LIGHT THEY MUST GET?"
And I, again, dumbfounded that he doesn't even get that excited over Xavier basketball or a Beanie Wells run, or a discounted oil change will reply, "Huh. Where?" I'll strain my head, look in the rear view mirrors, "I didn't see it. Darn."
And just like the calm sea after a brief storm, Nick will return to his 98.6 degree body temperature. His eyes will return to their normal shade of blue-ish green, and the torrent of emotion will subside as he drives on.
So it was no surprise yesterday, out on a long walk and taking advantage of our 50 degree day, Nick says, "Guess what?"
"What?"
"It's 5:30pm now and look how light it is. Just think - next week, it'll be this light out at 6:30pm!"
"Yes. Daylight savings time. Incredible." I am bemused watching him practically skip down the sidewalk like a little boy.
I remain silent, enjoying his enjoyment.
"You know," he continues, "I don't even know what I'd be like if daylight savings time were on the same day as my birthday. I wouldn't know what to be more excited for."
"Mhm," I speculate, "I'd air on the side of celebrating existence than natural light, but that's just me."
I don't think Nick hears me. He is lost to the world, absorbing his joy of the impending spring.
And with that story, my friends, I am sure you will remember to jump your clocks forward an hour this weekend. I don't know if Nick will be able to sleep the night before from his excitement.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Late Night Out
Spell insomnia.
L-I-S-A.
No caffeine. No uppers. Nothing to keep me awake.
But I can't sleep.
N-I-C-K, on the other hand is snoring louder than our beloved space heater in our bedroom.
Happy Valentine's Day! And instead of getting a nice rest and putting Friday the 13th to bed, I am up, writing, blogging, brainstorming possible article topics because I can't sleep. I think the culprits are the two pieces of Ghirarhdelli chocolate I had five hours ago. For those that don't know, I rarely eat chocolate. (I heart vanilla.) I don't drink caffeine. And so, when I take a moment or two to indulge, my heart goes a little something like, "HEY! WHAT'S THIS? LET'S SEE HOW FAST I CAN PUMP BLOOD AND KEEP HER AWAKE!"
And my mind follows suit with, "HEY! LET'S THINK ABOUT WHAT I WANT TO GET DONE TOMORROW, WHAT I DIDN'T GET TO DO TODAY, WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY, HOW I WILL GET TO THE POST OFFICE BEFORE NOON, DON'T FORGET TO BUY GOAT CHEESE AT FRESH MARKET."
And I waaaant to sleep, but can't.
Nick and I returned home at - grab the sides of your computer screens - 1:30am.
GET OUT! I'm not lying.
It's like 2001 without college drama.
We met up with Books (aka Matt Thomas), his leading lady Janet, and our two friends Sam and Laura at a wine bar about 20 minutes from our house. It was one of those situations where you have no idea who everyone else is at the table (there were at least 8 other folks all crowded with us) for someone's birthday, but you don't have the capacity/energy/motivation to talk, so you just smile and mooch off their cheese plate.
Well, that's what I did anyway.
Afterward, we got all kick ass crazy and went to Panini's, a bar with 89% John Carroll students and I felt like the only female within 15 miles not wearing a black top (aka typical bar attire). So much opportunity for people watching. Why wish to go back to college days when you have the real thing right in front of you?
"I don't think I have to relive anything from college. I can just walk into the bathroom of any bar and find a drunk, crying, grasping her cell phone 20s something gal who is going through exactly what I went through eight years ago." - my comment to Nick at approximately 12:30am
"Do you remember in college when you saw that it was 12:30am and thought, 'Maybe it's time to head out to Dana's?' and now it's like, 'Get me out of this place. I want to go to bed.'" - Nick's comment to me at 12:31am
Regardless, it was a marvelous time and it was good to show that we're not completely old and gray and still kicking it.
Although, if you need further proof that we have graduated from young sprigs to oaks and cypresses, here is my newest thought:
The biggest evidence that I am old is that when I was out and about in college and decided not to didn't drink, my friends would pat me on the back and say, "Pretty bad hangover, huh?" Now when I go out, someone will glance at my water and say out of the corner of their mouth, "Probably pregnant."
L-I-S-A.
No caffeine. No uppers. Nothing to keep me awake.
But I can't sleep.
N-I-C-K, on the other hand is snoring louder than our beloved space heater in our bedroom.
Happy Valentine's Day! And instead of getting a nice rest and putting Friday the 13th to bed, I am up, writing, blogging, brainstorming possible article topics because I can't sleep. I think the culprits are the two pieces of Ghirarhdelli chocolate I had five hours ago. For those that don't know, I rarely eat chocolate. (I heart vanilla.) I don't drink caffeine. And so, when I take a moment or two to indulge, my heart goes a little something like, "HEY! WHAT'S THIS? LET'S SEE HOW FAST I CAN PUMP BLOOD AND KEEP HER AWAKE!"
And my mind follows suit with, "HEY! LET'S THINK ABOUT WHAT I WANT TO GET DONE TOMORROW, WHAT I DIDN'T GET TO DO TODAY, WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY, HOW I WILL GET TO THE POST OFFICE BEFORE NOON, DON'T FORGET TO BUY GOAT CHEESE AT FRESH MARKET."
And I waaaant to sleep, but can't.
Nick and I returned home at - grab the sides of your computer screens - 1:30am.
GET OUT! I'm not lying.
It's like 2001 without college drama.
We met up with Books (aka Matt Thomas), his leading lady Janet, and our two friends Sam and Laura at a wine bar about 20 minutes from our house. It was one of those situations where you have no idea who everyone else is at the table (there were at least 8 other folks all crowded with us) for someone's birthday, but you don't have the capacity/energy/motivation to talk, so you just smile and mooch off their cheese plate.
Well, that's what I did anyway.
Afterward, we got all kick ass crazy and went to Panini's, a bar with 89% John Carroll students and I felt like the only female within 15 miles not wearing a black top (aka typical bar attire). So much opportunity for people watching. Why wish to go back to college days when you have the real thing right in front of you?
"I don't think I have to relive anything from college. I can just walk into the bathroom of any bar and find a drunk, crying, grasping her cell phone 20s something gal who is going through exactly what I went through eight years ago." - my comment to Nick at approximately 12:30am
"Do you remember in college when you saw that it was 12:30am and thought, 'Maybe it's time to head out to Dana's?' and now it's like, 'Get me out of this place. I want to go to bed.'" - Nick's comment to me at 12:31am
Regardless, it was a marvelous time and it was good to show that we're not completely old and gray and still kicking it.
Although, if you need further proof that we have graduated from young sprigs to oaks and cypresses, here is my newest thought:
The biggest evidence that I am old is that when I was out and about in college and decided not to didn't drink, my friends would pat me on the back and say, "Pretty bad hangover, huh?" Now when I go out, someone will glance at my water and say out of the corner of their mouth, "Probably pregnant."
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Life Unfolding
It is officially my birthday month and I'm happy to say the festivities to kick off my 30th year of existence are already rolling.
I already received a lovely letter from my hubster on February 1st. I'd like to think he did this out of pure freedom, but let's get real here folks. He knows what's coming to him if the first of the month went unacknowledged.
And for those who cannot believe that I take an entire month to celebrate, consider this: there are 52 weeks in the year and 1 day to be happy about yourself just isn't enough time to celebrate. A month seems appropriate. Once March begins, I zip my mouth and you won't hear a peep out of me for a long time.
Nick and I had a really nice weekend. It was one of those weekends you'll likely forget once you move into the week, but it was great nonetheless. What made it so great? Well, here are the reasons:
1) MINIMAL MOVEMENT. We stayed in Cleveland. NO TRAVELS.
2) GREAT COMPANY. Friday night we went to a Happy Hour with a group of 20-30 year olds that belong to the parish. Afterward, the few of us left (hard core partiers like me and Nick who rock till 11:15pm) went to a bar SASA where a friend/colleague of Nick's was playing guitar and singing. It was really great company and it is (finally) starting to feel like we are forming a great community here in Cleveland.
3) INDIE BOOK STORES. Saturday we went to an independent book store, Visible Voice, where I curled up into a chair and lost myself in the biography of poet Audre Lorde and Nick immersed himself in the history section. Our geekhood cannot be challenged.
4) CINEMA ENTERTAINMENT. We saw Gran Torino. We both really liked it a lot. Two thumbs up from Borchers/Factora-Borchers. It swings between being a deep movie about generational and racial differences to hilarious un-PC dialogue by Clint Eastwood. Highly recommended.
5) SPORTS. Sunday provided a nice 4th quarter for the Cards, but not enough to put Ben Worthlessburger -- oops -- Ben Roethlisberger away. Still very entertaining though.
6) CANNOLI. As we were exploring Little Italy, we stopped at Corbo's - a lovely bakery that has freshly made cannoli's - and since parking was a bit of a hassle, I asked Nick to drop me and drive around the block. So we did. I ran in, bought a little slice of heaven and waited in the f-f-frigid cold. The traffic was a bit heavy and my fingers were starting to go numb. When I finally spotted our car, I ran into the road, forcing Nick to stop in the dead of traffic. (Hey, I was frickin' freezing.) As my hands defrosted and the sweet bites melted on my face, I barely heard Nick mutter, "Way to illegally cross the street with a cop right in front of you."
Oh Nick - he's so lawful.
We're heading to Russia this coming weekend for Paul Cordonnier's (Nick's maternal grandfather) 80th birthday.
When Nick and I talked about what it might be like to grow old, Nick responded with, "It's gonna be great! Just talk with your friends. You don't have to give a crap what anything thinks about you...well, I'm kinda like that now, but that's how old people are. You get to be in your own world. Then you go to lunch! HA!"
You talk with your friends. You don't give a crap about what people think AND THEN YOU GO TO LUNCH.
For the umpteenth time, we debated the odds of him going deaf in his old age and while this possibility may scare some people, Nick - who is NOT like most people - says he won't mind a bit. "I'll just nod when you're talking to me and I'll get to just wander around in my own happy world." To which, I debate, the likelihood of Nick being so hearing impaired that he can't hear me is slim to none. This is true for two reasons: 1) I refuse to be married to someone who cannot listen to me when I talk and 2) In 40 years or so, when his hearing starts to fade - don't you think medical technology would have advanced so that all the elderly can hear much better than now?
We have an extremely thrilling ride of life unfolding here.
I already received a lovely letter from my hubster on February 1st. I'd like to think he did this out of pure freedom, but let's get real here folks. He knows what's coming to him if the first of the month went unacknowledged.
And for those who cannot believe that I take an entire month to celebrate, consider this: there are 52 weeks in the year and 1 day to be happy about yourself just isn't enough time to celebrate. A month seems appropriate. Once March begins, I zip my mouth and you won't hear a peep out of me for a long time.
Nick and I had a really nice weekend. It was one of those weekends you'll likely forget once you move into the week, but it was great nonetheless. What made it so great? Well, here are the reasons:
1) MINIMAL MOVEMENT. We stayed in Cleveland. NO TRAVELS.
2) GREAT COMPANY. Friday night we went to a Happy Hour with a group of 20-30 year olds that belong to the parish. Afterward, the few of us left (hard core partiers like me and Nick who rock till 11:15pm) went to a bar SASA where a friend/colleague of Nick's was playing guitar and singing. It was really great company and it is (finally) starting to feel like we are forming a great community here in Cleveland.
3) INDIE BOOK STORES. Saturday we went to an independent book store, Visible Voice, where I curled up into a chair and lost myself in the biography of poet Audre Lorde and Nick immersed himself in the history section. Our geekhood cannot be challenged.
4) CINEMA ENTERTAINMENT. We saw Gran Torino. We both really liked it a lot. Two thumbs up from Borchers/Factora-Borchers. It swings between being a deep movie about generational and racial differences to hilarious un-PC dialogue by Clint Eastwood. Highly recommended.
5) SPORTS. Sunday provided a nice 4th quarter for the Cards, but not enough to put Ben Worthlessburger -- oops -- Ben Roethlisberger away. Still very entertaining though.
6) CANNOLI. As we were exploring Little Italy, we stopped at Corbo's - a lovely bakery that has freshly made cannoli's - and since parking was a bit of a hassle, I asked Nick to drop me and drive around the block. So we did. I ran in, bought a little slice of heaven and waited in the f-f-frigid cold. The traffic was a bit heavy and my fingers were starting to go numb. When I finally spotted our car, I ran into the road, forcing Nick to stop in the dead of traffic. (Hey, I was frickin' freezing.) As my hands defrosted and the sweet bites melted on my face, I barely heard Nick mutter, "Way to illegally cross the street with a cop right in front of you."
Oh Nick - he's so lawful.
We're heading to Russia this coming weekend for Paul Cordonnier's (Nick's maternal grandfather) 80th birthday.
When Nick and I talked about what it might be like to grow old, Nick responded with, "It's gonna be great! Just talk with your friends. You don't have to give a crap what anything thinks about you...well, I'm kinda like that now, but that's how old people are. You get to be in your own world. Then you go to lunch! HA!"
You talk with your friends. You don't give a crap about what people think AND THEN YOU GO TO LUNCH.
For the umpteenth time, we debated the odds of him going deaf in his old age and while this possibility may scare some people, Nick - who is NOT like most people - says he won't mind a bit. "I'll just nod when you're talking to me and I'll get to just wander around in my own happy world." To which, I debate, the likelihood of Nick being so hearing impaired that he can't hear me is slim to none. This is true for two reasons: 1) I refuse to be married to someone who cannot listen to me when I talk and 2) In 40 years or so, when his hearing starts to fade - don't you think medical technology would have advanced so that all the elderly can hear much better than now?
We have an extremely thrilling ride of life unfolding here.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Yes List
January is always a month geared toward self-improvement and in the tradition of setting goals, I decided that I am going to make a YES list. Specific things that I can and will do to make the planet a better place and to simplify our busy lives so we can spend time on the things that truly matter to us. Instead of calling it a TO DO list, I have renamed it The Yes List.
- have Nick post something on our blog once every two months
- load the dishwasher immediately
- send at least a bag of clothes to the Salvation Army every six months
- attend a funeral for whom there will be an expected low attendance
- pray more often
- run more often
- balance out my intake of Propel water with regular tap water
- turn off the porch light each night
- send more handwritten letters
- RSVP to events
- return feedback surveys
- finish our wedding album, give prints to parents & grandparents before 5th anniversary
- write more, blog less
- stop being so hard on the wrong people
- ask the right people to be more accountable
- curb Panera Bread visits
- smile at strangers when I walk in public even if I look psycho
- use what I have, limit what I want, pray for what I need
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
We Fell
There's no story, just a lot of funny instances I forgot to mention.
1) When we were loading up the car to go on our trip to Schellsburg, PA, Nick was walking behind me and as we approached the car, I heard him yelp a bit. I turned and yelped, "OHHHHH!" as I watched him slip and get balance and them slip again on the snow. It was in slow motion, but in classic movie style, he legs went out from underneath him. In the process of his legs flipping out from under him, he kicked me squarely in the gut and I hunched over with a moan while he landed on his back. And while he struggled to get up, I clutched my recently operated stomach and moaned loudly in pain for both of us.
If our neighbors were watching, they got a good 4 second entertainment show.
2) About 28 hours later, Nick and I are playing Tripoly with Vanessa and Tom. Vanessa, asks me to reach down and grab her sweatshirt, or something, off the floor and pass to her. I reach down and lose my balance, so I try to grab onto the table for steadiness. This is when I realize THE TABLE IS ON WHEELS and provides no stability and only further adds to my off balanced state.
I fall 1.5 feet to the ground. Vanessa said my scream sounded like I was falling from a skyscraper. Get this - in the process of that small fall - I PULLED A CALF MUSCLE FROM STRAINING TO HOLD ONTO THE WHEELING TABLE.
I hobbled for the next two days because of that little stunt.
Fully recovered today.
My friends, when you pull a calf muscle after falling off a chair, that is what you call PATHETIC.
1) When we were loading up the car to go on our trip to Schellsburg, PA, Nick was walking behind me and as we approached the car, I heard him yelp a bit. I turned and yelped, "OHHHHH!" as I watched him slip and get balance and them slip again on the snow. It was in slow motion, but in classic movie style, he legs went out from underneath him. In the process of his legs flipping out from under him, he kicked me squarely in the gut and I hunched over with a moan while he landed on his back. And while he struggled to get up, I clutched my recently operated stomach and moaned loudly in pain for both of us.
If our neighbors were watching, they got a good 4 second entertainment show.
2) About 28 hours later, Nick and I are playing Tripoly with Vanessa and Tom. Vanessa, asks me to reach down and grab her sweatshirt, or something, off the floor and pass to her. I reach down and lose my balance, so I try to grab onto the table for steadiness. This is when I realize THE TABLE IS ON WHEELS and provides no stability and only further adds to my off balanced state.
I fall 1.5 feet to the ground. Vanessa said my scream sounded like I was falling from a skyscraper. Get this - in the process of that small fall - I PULLED A CALF MUSCLE FROM STRAINING TO HOLD ONTO THE WHEELING TABLE.
I hobbled for the next two days because of that little stunt.
Fully recovered today.
My friends, when you pull a calf muscle after falling off a chair, that is what you call PATHETIC.
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