What would be worse…?

About a week ago, Will and I drove to the Sweeney household in Woodstock, IL for their annual Groundhog Day party, two weeks after the actual occurrence of Groundhog Day. (When people lead busy lives, sometimes you have to improvise.)

A grand time was had by all. Drinks were imbibed. Roasted red pepper hummus was consumed. Beer pong was played. And the cinematic Bill Murray classic Groundhog Day (filmed in Woodstock!) was played. And re-played. And re-played again. (Fitting, right?)

Is it me, or does Bill Murray's face look kind of weird and photoshopped here?

Since boys smell bad and have cooties, the group became segregated. The men were relegated to the basement to grunt, scratch and watch sporting events and the women gathered upstairs around the wine and food.

In a group of about eight women, one was pregnant, one was a labor and delivery nurse, and one was pregnant and a labor and delivery nurse. So naturally, the conversation turned to mucus plugs.

What??

Yeah, that was my reaction too.

Or mine was more like, “EWWW!! Wait. What’s a mucus plug?”

Response from my (apparently more knowledgeable) friends:

“Haha Carlie you’re hilarious, the way you know absolutely nothing about anything medical or baby-related!”

“You’re going to be such a cute, clueless mom!”

“Your strong aversion to bodily fluids is precious!”

“It’s funny how you call yourself a woman and you don’t know about these things!”

“I’m concerned for your future children…”

Silence.

Ok, they weren’t that harsh. I’m friends with very nice people. But laughing and labeling me as “cute” was involved. Which I didn’t mind at all.

They also successfully avoided answering my question.

Seriously, what is a mucus plug? My own mother wouldn’t even tell me when I asked her the next day, since we were in “mixed company.” She needs to learn the earmuffs trick.

I know I could very easily Google the term and have an answer, but I think what’s stopping me is that I actually DO NOT want to know what a mucus plug is. I don’t like to think about mucus at all, let alone an excess of mucus so great as to necessitate a plug.

I’m sorry, is this post as painful for you to read as it is for me to write? Let’s bond in our suffering.

On a related note, Will and I came up with a fun and horrifying game the other day.

It started when I asked the question:

“What would be worse: getting brutally ravaged by machine gun fire like Sonny in The Godfather, or giving birth?”

“Easy,” replied my always practical, sometimes unsympathetic husband. “Giving birth would be worse. With the machine guns, it’s over so quickly, you probably don’t feel much pain. Birth goes on for a long time and you’re well aware of the intense pain and suffering you’re going through.”

Valid point.

This went on for a little while.

What would be worse:

  • Dropping a refrigerator on your foot or giving birth?
  • Stapling your eyeball or giving birth?
  • Being attacked by a shark or giving birth?
  • Removing your skin with a vegetable peeler or giving birth?
  • Amputating your own arm because it’s stuck under a rock and you’re in a deserted canyon or giving birth?
  • Being a character in one of those Saw movies or giving birth?
  • Just watching one of those Saw movies or giving birth?
  • Getting your face chewed off by a monkey or giving birth?

It gives one a lot to think about…

(Namely – just how bad do we really want to have kids??)

I missed my blog’s 1st birthday!

Yes, this blog turned one year old on Feb. 15 and I didn’t post about it because I am officially a neglectful blogger.

Eh, I’m not too broken up about it. But it is weird to think that I’ve been doing this for a whole year already.

Last year, Feb. 15 was President’s Day, so Will and I both had the day off. I was still stewing about the fact that the day before (Valentine’s Day), Will was in recovery mode from the festivities of the previous night (I have no clue what those were), so we spent V-day laying on the couch and I drank a bottle of champagne by myself. I woke up on the 15th determined to do something productive with my day off so I got dressed, went to Borders and wrote my very first blog post. Then Will took me out to dinner, thanks to guilt. And the fact that he was hungry.

Feb. 15 one year later was a bit different. I woke up in Chicago, NOT St. Louis, hopped on a bus to work, spent my day writing and reviewing copy, went to Chipotle to grab dinner, got a pretty decent haircut, walked home, greeted Gatsby, worked on a freelance job, watched Gossip Girl and went to bed.

Reading between the lines of those descriptions, it’s pretty clear to me that a lot has changed in a year. President’s Day is falling a whole week later, for one thing. And my hair is shorter.

But really, my life (and consequently this blog), is a lot different than it was a year ago. Here’s a nice little recap of what’s happened between then and now:

  • I started this blog (obvi)
  • I turned 28
  • The Hurt Locker won Best Picture (I watched it 6 months later)
  • Thanks to the Winter Olympics, I decided that I want to go to Vancouver and Johnny Weir is awesome
  • I got 4 good haircuts and 1 pretty bad one
  • We went to a Bulls game
  • I became addicted to Bethenny Getting Married. Also Giuliana and Bill.
  • I ate fried green tomatoes and learned to decipher weird southern accents in Charleston, SC
  • I was asked to run a promotion on my blog and thought “Yes, I can make big bucks off this thing!” and haven’t been contacted by anyone else since
  • We lost Will’s grandpa (but not in spirit, of course)
  • We bumped into the Jersey Shore cast in Miami
  • I was introduced to a bar video game called Photo Hunt
  • I held a baby
  • We drank margaritas on the San Antonio Riverwalk. That’s also where I got this pesky cold that I’m pretty sure I still have.
  • I watched my first World Cup game in its entirety and may have even cheered at one point (beer makes everything more fun)
  • I made a Baby Bucket List, and have since checked off approximately one item
  • Mel Gibson confirmed that he is, in fact, a racist, violent, alcoholic crazy man
  • We went to several weddings, traveling to exotic places like Iowa and Kankakee, IL
  • The Hills came to an end. However, bad reality TV in general did not (thank God)
  • Gatsby inhaled an unhealthy amount of sand in Michigan
  • We celebrated our 3 year anniversary by spending the day by the rooftop pool at the St. Louis Four Seasons (which has since become my “happy place”)
  • I actually had fun at my 10 year high school reunion
  • I baked
  • Our nephew Levi was born
  • Our niece Bethany was born
  • We decided to move to Chicago. Half of us made it. (But the other half is on the way!)
  • I started a new job and it’s pretty great
  • I moved in with my parents
  • I started a long distance relationship (with my husband, silly!)
  • We became permanent residents of Chicago
  • I survived a major blizzard
  • I got tired of writing this list

Whew! What a year, what a year…

Hopefully in this next year of blogging, I’ll tell you about how Will got an awesome job here in Chicago and we went on amazing vacations to Europe and several tropical islands and we won the lottery and bought a fancy condo and we still don’t have kids. We’ll see…

Gone (ice) fishing

“The eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them; there ought to be as many for love.” ~Margaret Atwood


I’ve got a few choice names for snow right about now.

I’d tell you what they are, but my frost-bitten fingers are struggling to type.

Is it sad that I’m looking forward to 35-degree weather this weekend? Yes. But I really am looking forward to it.

Another bright side: walking around the city is a much better workout when you’re basically walk-running to get to warmth as quickly as possible.

Sorry I’ve been MIA this week. Gatsby puked on my Snuggie and I haven’t had a chance to wash it yet, so in order to type, I would have to pull my arms out from under my blanket and that’s just not happening. But I’ll be back next week!

I hope everyone has a fabulous “Celebrate-Valentine’s-Day-Now-Because-It-Falls-on-a-Monday-This-Year” weekend! I’ll be spending it with my two loves: Gatsby and champagne.

I think Will is going to be there too.

Cheers!

Blizzaster!

If you live in the Midwest, I don’t need to explain to you why I worked from home yesterday and why, since I park on the street, I won’t be able to drive my car anytime in the forseeable future.

If you don’t live in the Midwest, you’re missing out! In case you didn’t hear, us Midwesterners just got dominated by a snowstorm affectionately referred to in the following ways: Blizzaster! Snowmageddon! Snowpocalypse! SnOMG!

Here in Chicago, most places got around 20 inches. That’s like three Gatsbys stacked on top of each other. People are skiing through the streets and Tuesday night Lake Shore Drive became probably the coldest, snowiest version of hell you can think of. Motorists got stranded in their cars, formed primitive tribes to survive and started looting 7-Elevens and eating each other.

Ok, it wasn’t that bad.

But let’s talk about my problems.

Such as:

I know it’s hard to see, but in the center of that photo, between the blue van and the tree, lies my car. Anyone have any thoughts on how I can begin to dig it out?

Oh, and here’s a key bit of information: I do not currently own a shovel. So we have to get creative with this one!

Even though I was supposed to be working at home yesterday, I decided to take a break in the late afternoon to walk around the block and survey the blizzard aftermath (and then write this post). It was quiet and pretty. And cold. And I’m glad I could enjoy it before it all turns into icy, slushy nastiness.

Well grass, it’s been real. I guess we’ll see you again in April.