Too Bad I Wasn't Also Wearing a Scrunchie

Do you ever have one of those days where you're just going about your average hum-drum life, never suspecting your life is about to be altered in ways you could never suspect, and BAM!, your past comes dancing back into your life, painting everything around it with the awesomesauce that you once were?

That's exactly what happened to me on Saturday while doing a deep clean. During my diligent efforts to keep our official "dumping ground," the office, from reaching Hoarders-worthy levels of clutter, I unearthed a treasure trove of photo randomness.  In one envelope, there were about a hundred or so pictures that I had forgotten even existed.  Amongst them ... well, I'm not quite sure how to describe this tableau of my former self.  Except, that it is MORE AWESOME than one Polaroid can handle.

Brace yourselves for teenage Veronica:

KAPOW!  Jealous?  I knew you would be, yet I still feel I should honor myself by breaking down each moment of awesomeness, one-by-one. Because, honestly, look at all of the amazing contained within:

That's a lot, so let's start with the obvious:  the hair.

Spiral perm, scrunched to perfection, WITH bangs that had been curled under with my trusty curling iron.  Ugh, the layers of dried gel, mousse, and hairspray on that thing.  The SMELL when I turned it on and it began burning ... nothing like it.

The face framed by that hair?  Even better.  What is this face?  Honestly, I have a strong suspicion that this photo is staged.  

Beyond my pose on the bed ("Oh, I'm just lounging on the phone, as always!"), the tiny smirk in the corner of my mouth leads me to believe there was someone standing in the middle of my room saying, "Okay!  Pretend you're talking to someone on the phone!  One, two three!"  What possible reason would there be for me to need a picture of this?  What does it MEAN?

Next up: t-shirt.

Didn't EVERYONE wear their volleyball uniforms on a casual Saturday spent chatting on the phone?  No?  Just me?  Moving along ...


and stopping at my fancy jeans.

The wash.  The cut.  I even remember the brand -- Arizona jeans, available exclusively at JCPenney.  Hotness.

What?  You were distracted by that neon yellow phone cord?  Me too.  Let's follow it down to ...

An awesome see-through phone with neon-colored parts!!  I loved this phone so much I cannot even express it in words.

UPDATE: FINALLY found a picture of it online! Here it is in all its glory.

Perfection.

But what's that behind my head, you ask?  

Why, it's what all cool teenagers hang above their beds.  Yes, a map of the world.  With flags from every country making up the border.  


At the time, I secretly believed my mom's claim that if I slept with a textbook under my pillow, the material would seep into my brain through "osmosis." Perhaps I thought there would be a trickle-down affect.  The moral of the story?  My mom is a cruel woman.  She also told me that any sweets bought at a church bake sale were devoid of fat and calories.


Tangent over.  What else do cool teens keep close to their heads at night?

Rainbow Bright's horse, Starlite, of course.  To be fair, he is the "most magnificent horse in the universe."

That might be trumped by a GRADED ASSIGNMENT I HUNG ON MY WALL.  

I wish the quality were a little better so you could see that I had to describe a type of architecture and then make a 3-D example of it.  And then I hung it on my wall.  The shame.


And finally, what teenager's room would be complete without a copy of the junior high's logo, trimmed from a sporting event roster? ...

... and a picture of a white cat ...

... which used to be a page in a calendar ... from 1985.

If only I could have maintained such a dangerously high level of coolness over the years.  The burden must have been too much to carry.  

Chill. Chill. Double Chill.

For the LOVE OF BUDDHA, if I read one more tweet or facebook status about people having self-identity crises over the change in their zodiac sign ...


Okay, I actually love some of those people who have tweeted or face-placed about it, but CHILLAX.  Because guess what?  YOUR SIGN HAS NOT CHANGED.  


Why the Minneapolis Star Tribune felt the need to shake up the world over nothing is beyond me.  People have been trying to calm the masses ever since.


Astrologer Jeff Jawer explains, "the tropical zodiac – which is fixed to seasons, and which Western astrology adheres to – differs from the sidereal zodiac – which is fixed to constellations and is followed more in the East, and is the type of zodiac to which the Star Tribune article ultimately refers."


He also explains that this whole "two zodiac" thing is no news, and periodically someone will publish something about it and act like it is newsworthy, but it does nothing to change astrology as Westerns know it.


"When we look at the astrology used in the Western world, the seasonally based astrology has not changed, was never oriented to the constellations, and stands as … has been stated for two millenniums," Jawer said.


Plus, most scientists think you are lame for believing in the zodiac anyway. (Then explain why I am a stubborn creature of comfort if not for the fact that I was born under the sign of the Taurus!)


The Minneapolis Star Tribune also wrote an article today that basically said "Oh, sorry we wrote that." and, interestingly, the original article is no longer available online.  How queer.


Whatevs.  Once a Taurus, always a Taurus.  Rock on, fellow bulls!

At this point, I'm pretty sure if you google "Constant Vigilance," you get a picture of me looking crazy

In some ways, becoming a mom has calmed me down.  I realize that some things are just not as important as I thought they were.  Like, my floors do not need to be cleaned EVERY DAY.  (Pretend you didn't read that if you are someone who cleans your floors every day.)  And sometimes if you aren't leaving the house, make-up is a luxury, and what I've come to lovingly refer as "outdoor" pants aren't necessary for days at a time.  And that's okay, because I get to see this smile:

But in other ways, becoming a mother has actually made me even MORE neurotic than I was before procreating.  I really didn't think it was possible.


You want examples, you say?  Excellent.  Here are some:


1.  Now that the baby is in the car with me, driving is INSANELY HORRIFIC.  I used to be a confident driver.  Now if someone is in the lane next to me and they DARE get one inch closer to the center line (and by extension, putting their thousands of pounds of metal that much closer to my innocent baby), I lose it.  I talk to other drivers so much.  "Really?  REALLY?!?!? You're going to VEER over toward the center line?  Where do you think you're going?  NO, seriously! *HONK*  Get over!  Yeah, you, asshat!  I don't need your incompetence near my child!  *HONK HONK HOOOOOOOOOOONK*.  Yeah, that's right.  You change lanes and get away from me.  Well done."  


I feel like I'm doing a community service, really.  I mean, how will people learn if they aren't corrected, right?


2.  CONSTANT VIGILANCE has taken on a whole new meaning in my life. Remember how strange I was before the baby came?  I'm worse now.  If I hear a sound in the house and I am sure I didn't make it, here is what immediately goes through my mind: INTRUDER!!  MAIM KILL DESTROY! MUST PROTECT YOUNG ONE!!!!


Jeremy has made the mistake of approaching too quietly and I greet him with a fighting stance and a wild, guttural scream of someone who is bent on destruction.  He looks kind of scared when I do this.


3.  My imagination has become even more wild.  The other day I was sitting on the couch with Jeremy, pretending to watch a movie and actually watching Josephine on the baby monitor (sorry, husband) when I thought I saw something by her face.  What was the first thought to enter my mind? Something logical?  No, it was this:  OH MY GOD IT'S A SNAKE! THERE'S A SNAKE BY MY BABY'S FACE AND IT'S GOING TO OPEN ITS EVIL MOUTH AND CLAMP DOWN AND BITE HER AND OHMYGODASNAKEOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!

Then I leaned closer and realized it was just a piece of lint on the screen. Oops.  False alarm.  


Why I immediately assumed it was a snake and could actually visualize the snake biting my precious baby?  No idea.  Even more strange was the fact that I also immediately visualized grabbing the snake with my bare hands and killing it.  Number 1:  I don't kill animals.  Number 2:  I am so terrified of snakes that I seriously just peed my pants thinking about them (I'm not really serious though.)  (Or am I?)

What have we learned here?  Maybe nothing, except that if you don't know me in real life, you don't want to meet me, and if you DO already know me in real life ... maybe wait a few more months before visiting.  I need to get on some better meds.

I Also Managed to Spend Time on Facebook. Commendable.

I love New Year's Eve.  I really do.  And not just because it is my wedding anniversary (it was my husband's idea, and DANG if we didn't have a blast at our reception!).  I was recently reading the first installment of Russell Brand's memoir, and he says he hates holidays because he hates feeling like he is being forced to be happy.  I feel the exact opposite way.  Being forced to be happy is awesome.  Everyone is all cheery on the same day and at the same time, and there is champagne and singing and kissing and reminiscing and all kinds of fab.

But there's also that "fresh start" thing.  This is what I hate.  Oh, super, it's a new year!  Let's think about all the terrible things about ourselves and our lifestyles and make a list of ways we are going to fix those things and be a million times better and be perfect and amazing and ... oops.  It's January 2nd.  And I already messed up and my resolution is RUINED and I am NO GOOD and THE WHOLE YEAR IS WASTED BECAUSE I CAN'T IMPROVE MYSELF!!!

It's why I put off writing a "new year" post.  What the H was I supposed to say?  "Here are my resolutions and I am going to stick to them!"  No way, homies.  I quit making the type of resolutions that can be "broken," like working out a certain hours a week, because the first week I mess up, I am so disappointed with myself that I just freak out and give up.  

So this year I decided to be all clever and choose three "qualities" I wanted to embody in 2011, and that way, as long as I am working on them, I was sticking to my resolution.  Genius!  I decided 2011 was going to be about Patience, Planning, and Productivity.  BAM. Bring on 2011.

Except ... all of a sudden it was, like, January 5th.  And so far 2011 had been all about the fourth "P": Procrastination.

Shit.

It's not too late! I assured myself. Maybe I can think of things I DID do, and just pretend THOSE were my key words, and then I will still be on track! Genius!  AGAIN!

Okay, so there was ... napping.  Not unpacking.  Not grocery shopping. Refusing to put any Christmas stuff away.  Watching Reality TV.  Eating stocking candy.  Refusing to prepare for teaching Winter quarter classes. Holding the baby.  

HOLDING THE BABY!  That is not lazy or foolish!  You HAVE to hold a baby!  If you NEVER hold a baby you get sent to prison for neglect!!  It's official:  2011 is all about holding my baby!  Oh crap ... looks like 2011 is also going to be the year of Not Taking a Shower Unless My Husband Takes the Baby.  

I hope your New Year is less neurotic (and less stinky) than mine! 

Etsy Saturdays: XIII

In support of the handmade revolution, I bring you Etsy Saturdays!  I will highlight a fun new shop every week, and I hope you will stop over to see their merchandise or find something else you love while you're there.  To see all Etsy Saturdays, click here.
*I have not been compensated in any way for this post*

I found these pet beds on Love Nostalgic Whimsy a long time ago, and they are still some of my favorite things on the planet.  


Pet beds, made of vintage luggage, with part of the purchase price going to animal shelters.  How perfect is that?


If my cat actually slept on things I bought specifically designated to be cat beds, I would buy him one ASAP, but his track record is pretty bad in that category.  


On to the beds:

Lovable Luggage Pet Bed Reds and Browns, $65

Lovable Luggage Pet Bed Whites and Pinks, $65

Lovable Luggage Pet Bunk Bed with reclaimed softballs, $120

I mean, come on.  A bunk bed for cats?  Who doesn't think that is fantastic?  Probably just people with stone where their hearts belong.  Just kidding, dog lovers.  (not really)

As usual, head on over to this shop, or any shop at etsy, and enjoy!