Now that's what I call a grocery list.

Yes, I just blogged an hour or so ago.

After I finished my last post, I took to my next task at hand, making our Schwan's list.

For those who don't know, my husband is a "Schwan's Man." Yes, that's right, I have the priviledge of being married to one of those fellows who, in the summer, wears those sexy tan shorts with reflective tape on them and a blue and white table-cloth-like shirt. He drives a big yellow truck with frozen food on it.

(I love Jake.)

Anyway, although my husband is a Schwan's man, we have another Schwan's man stop by our house every other Thursday. This happens to be the "every" Thursday he stops on. So, I needed to make a shopping list.

Since I throw out the catalogs I find lying around the house, I found myself without one this particular evening. Thus, I decided to make my list online.

I went about my business, opening up a new tab for every item I desired for my initial wish-list, and then added each item to the cart for review. I was about to go through and purge things I didn't really want/need this time around and then ask Jake for his thoughts, when I suddenly noticed my grand total...

$58,324.49

Well, what the heck, right?

I had to do a double take, and then I realized this is what my final cart ended up looking like:
4096 - Sweet Cream Cheese Pretzel Poppers $26,583.04
2048 - SCHWAN'S SNACK ROLLS® Buffalo Chicken $18,411.52

1024 - SPECIAL RECIPE™ Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza $5,109.76

512 - Tomato Basil Soup $4,602.88
256 - Loaded Baked Potato Soup $2,301.44
128 - Chicken Tortilla Soup $1,150.72
64 - Macaroni & Cheese - Limited Availability $447.36
32 - Fiesta Lime Chicken Meal for Two $319.68
16 - Chicken Enchilada $159.84
8 - Tuscan Vegetable Soup $28.72
4 - Pepperoni and Three Cheese Calzone $35.96
2 - Classic Club Oven Baked Sandwiches $17.98
1 - Italian Melt Oven Baked Sandwiches $8.99

Apparently, every time I added a new item, it doubled the quantity of the item I added before!

I about peed my pants laughing, and then of course, had to share my amusement with others. The visualization of all of those items had me in a fit of uncontrollable giggles when my husband called me on the phone to laugh about it with me. Can you imagine all that pizza?! I wonder how many guys in shorts it would take to carry them all here. Heck, I wonder how many big yellow trucks it would take? I'd need a meat locker to store all the pretzels in. I'd share though, that's for sure. I mean, we could have a pretzel-popper-palooza every day for at least a week! Yay!

For the record, our new list is much smaller, and much more affordable!

Yeah, it's wet out.

I like the rain.

I mean, it's dreary and wet and such, but I love the sound of it. I like how it looks when it's splashing on windshields and in puddles. I used to take photos of it any chance I had (I've been lazy about photographing anything since February 22, 2010 though).

When we lived in the other place, though, rain was not my friend. It flooded the basement nearly every time, soaking the carpet and growing mold in random places (and of course, our shitty rental company, A+ Rental Realty in Sioux Falls, refused to do much of anything about it (but I'll get into all that another time, of course)), and causing tons of stress.

Here, not so much a problem, so I'm back to enjoying it.

I like how it is a lullaby that sings me to sleep as I snuggle up with a blanket in the middle of the day. Though, that's not always a possibility, like.. when I'm at work. (I envy the babies instead.)

I don't much care for, of course, my hair getting all frizzy and six inches high off my head, but hey, whatever.

I feel bad, though, because my husband has to work in the rain, and that's just miserable. Especially when it's chilly out. I guess when he gets home tonight I'll have to wrap my arms around him and give him a big warm hug.

Wendell... doesn't so much like the rain. I think it's actually driving him crazy. It's been raining fairly steadily since yesterday. This morning, I went into the living room, and he's going balls-up-berserk-tastic as he ran from the kitchen to the chair, scooting the chair back a few inches at a time as he bounced against it and back to the kitchen and to the hall and around me and to the chair and running into me and... you get the hint. I think he lost it. Though, he seems pretty content next to me right now, lying comfortably on the floor.

When I got into my car and turned on my iPod this morning, in an ironic twist of melody, the first three songs that played, in shuffle mode even were "Rain" by Creed, "Please Don't Stop the Rain" by James Morrison, and "Rain King," by the Counting Crows. (No joke.)

A few months ago, the week of our anniversary, Jake and I got caught in a torrential downpour as we ran into Starbucks to beat the closing time. It was awesome. I laughed so hard. It was like something just out of a romantic comedy.

Not so fun, however, was the point at which I was driving down Cliff on the way to work and a pick-up truck comes up benext to (haha, I can't believe I just typed that) me and moved, barely quicker than I was, through gigantic puddles. It sprayed my car and windshield so badly I couldn't see for about 15 seconds. I was having a miniature panic attack thinking for sure the person behind me was either going to hit me, or I'd accidentally swerve into him or the lane next to me. Ack.

So, there you have it, a random, out-of-sequence posting about various rain topics.

Resituated.

Well, it's official. We've moved. (If you want my new mailing address (and I would love to receive mail), send me a text or a facebook message and I'll get it to you ASAP.)

We moved 9.5ish (almost 10, but hey, I didn't count actual footage) away. We're living in the main floor level of a two-story duplex. It's small, but quaint. It's not as small as we thought it would be, seeing as how the furniture we really need and use all fits and there is still room to move around, but it's smaller than most places we've lived. It's a short-term (6 month, then month-to-month) lease, and it saves us one of my entire paychecks a month in rent, which will be wonderful once Spencer is born.

We were allowed to choose paint colors and paint it, so the living room is "fresh sawdust," our room "Aegean accent," and Spencer's room "blue sky." Okay, I don't actually think that's the name of his color. I should look at it again. I was wrong, it's "sky watch." Oh, and the bathroom went from a bizarre bumble-bee-esque yellow to "mountain peak." I'll let you decide what you think those colors are.

So, everything is here, except the piano (we still need to find a way to move it), and mostly unpacked, except the random stuff we're storing.

It doesn't quite feel like home yet, but I'm sure we'll get there. It will help once Jake and I have had time to spend together here. We've been so busy that it's been work, and really no leisure. Plus, we weren't here for half the weekend anyway.

I must tell you, though, Jake has been absolutely amazing. He works up to 14 hour days, usually 5 days a week, and somehow, he's found the super-human will-power, strength, and energy, to do almost all of the moving and work by himself. I mean, I helped pack somewhat and I did most of the painting, and a little unpacking so far, but he's taken the brunt of it all upon himself. Not to say we didn't have help. Our friends, Jillian, Robert, and Jake's brother, Jesse, helped too. Jillian helped pack up a bunch of stuff, haul, push furniture, organize the kitchen, keep me company, and let me play with her 4 month-old son, Grayson (I adore him). Robert, her husband, helped with some packing, and hauling the big furniture, along with Jake and Jesse.

But really, Jake... did so much. Not only did he deal with my stress, my freaking out, my random bursts of sobbing, my worry, and my inability to do things, but he packed, he cleaned, he hauled, he unpacked, he organized, he hauled some more, and then he still got up this morning to work another 12-14 hour day. And he will come home tonight and wrap his arms around me and tell me not to worry and that my most important job is just to keep our son safe.

I love that man.

Sorry if I've bored you.

Moving, I despise thee.

Tonight, I'm feeling exceptionally overwhelmed.

I spent the majority of the weekend painting the duplex that we are going to be moving into the middle of this week. It was a long task, and more physically exhausting than I thought it would be (I presume Spencer can be to blame for that, at least partially). The other chunk of the weekend, I spent going through things at our current residence, packing them up, sorting them into piles, trying to savor some energy, as well as spend time with Jake and Wendell.

Tonight, I came home from work, and took a look around, and just burst into tears.

I hate moving.

I don't hate the aspect in which you take up residence in a new place. that part, I actually find to be a somewhat thrilling adventure. The aspects I hate are... packing, transporting, and unpacking. I'm not what you would call "skilled" at packing, and I find it to be tedious and boring under normal circumstances.

But, I've been alone for the majority of it... and I haven't really accomplished much. I'm not blaming anyone, and I'm not trying to complain and whine about it either. I'm just stating.

It's hard to be 33 weeks pregnant, emotional, tired, sore, and then unfocused... and try to pack up a household of things. And then I find myself trying to debate what I can pack up, what I should pack up, and what I should wait to do until right before we move. I mean, come on, let's be practical, I shouldn't pack up and move all of the food and the bathroom supplies... and then not eat or shower for three days. And then there's the focus thing... I get side tracked, or I'd rather have some human contact (because Jake is working to provide for our family, which I appreciate more than I express to him sometimes (I am sorry, babe, for that)) so I check my facebook, or text my friends. I can't stand trying to accomplish this task in utter desolation. (Yes, that's somewhat dramatic, I realize, but like I said, I'm an emotional roller coaster lately, ask Jake.)

And it's really hard to not be able to be carrying and lifting boxes on my own... and furniture, too. I understand it's not really safe for me, nor Spencer to be doing so, but then I just feel so... helpless.

And I feel horrible for my husband. I dread the packing and the small stuff I can do on my own, and then... I think about all that he has to do without my help, and how he has to try to find help to do it. As strong and amazing as he is (which he is, I tell you), he can't exactly carry a piano 10 blocks by himself, as well as up and down stairs.

It's just... a dreadful scenario all around.

But, instead of continuing this ramble... I'm going to work on washing the rest of the laundry and getting ready to move it over there myself (because hey, I can do that!) so that the washer and dryer will be ready to be moved come Wednesday as well. And I will most likely go through the desks as I do the laundry, and de-clutter and pack those up as well.

A Morning with My Mother

I couldn't sleep very well last night, so naturally, as it carried on into the morning, I rose out of bed pretty early (for a Saturday, at least), 8:23 a.m.

Not more than five minutes after, as I was leaving the bathroom, my cell phone started ringing. It was my mom.

I answered, of course, and she said, "I hope I didn't wake you up." I assured her she didn't, and then she told me the basis for this early morning phone call.

"I'm looking at your photos on some... website, where you're 'LadyEmeraldEyes,' and there is this one of snowflakes on your windshield, and it's AMAZING." She continued to rave about the beauty of this particular photograph, and then carry on with the rest of them, telling me that I'm an amazing photographer, along with other various compliments.

Of course, it brought a smile to my face. An unexpected, early-morning phone call from my mom in which the premise was to pay me high compliments? Who wouldn't smile?

Then, she mentioned how she is one of my biggest fans.

Now, my mom and I haven't always gotten along the best, it's true, though I love her dearly and cherish her as a treasure. We have been getting along for over a year now without stress, which is truly a joy.

But, I will be honest, sometimes I forget that she's such a big fan. I feel ashamed to say it, but I must admit it is true.

So, perhaps the best part of the hour-long phone call that began with compliments and continued on with various chatter covering a myriad of topics, was that after we said "I love you," and "talk to you later," I hung up the phone with a renewed sense that my mother is and always has been one of my biggest fans.

Now that I'm off the phone, I went to find the photo she was talking about, and I assumed she meant on flickr, but wouldn't you know, I can't find it there, so I don't know how she did. But, I did find it on my etsy site.

"Pretty Little Things." January 20, 2008. ©Nicole Worthley