The First Great American Hotdog Launch was created and hosted by my fabulous friend Erin. Unfortunately, Marc & I were unable to attend this competition of ingenuity and might, and were forced to hold our own tournament.
The same guy that once said to me: "You're really pretty, but it's because of your personality," also once told me: "You know, you really could afford to talk more." I wanted to tell him that he really could afford to talk less. But he was my boyfriend's best friend, and I didn't want to start a fight, even though that boy was the King of back-handed compliments. Nevertheless, that comment has always stayed with me.
To this day, I often wonder if I'm expressing myself enough, or if I really could "afford" to say more. I used to be a shy kid, but I'm pleased to say that the more life I've experienced, the more confident and emboldened I've become. These days when I have something to say in a social or classroom setting, I generally say it. I have even reached a certain level of confidence where, although I'm not clever enough to do this often, I'll say something slightly off - that will, at the very least, make one person in the room smile to themselves while purposely avoiding eye contact. It feels good.
I am very aware that on occasion, things I say aren't always as hilarious to other people as they are in my head. But that awareness, I've decided, is just the price of individuality. I've discovered that it's extremely satisfying to knock my own socks off - everyone else is just a bonus. I also seem to have unconsciously made it a goal to become really good at witty banter. I'm still working on it, but paired up with the core personal belief that I'm actually really quite hilarious, I'm sure I'll go far.
The fact of the matter is, if you think I'm less than mildly entertaining, then it just means you don't know me very well. I am most definitely more than mildly entertaining. In fact, I constantly remind my husband that he is severely missing out by not staying abreast on every word I type on my various stay-at-home-mom social outlets such as Facebook, Google Talk and Twitter (follow me, if you dare: melbohn). When he finally catches up, I do declare he is never disappointed. Neither am I.
I just love the little surprises Erich leaves for me. For example, last year, a week before Valentines Day, he made a little heart shaped poo in his diaper. (Naturally we used the photo for E-valentines to our closest friends.) He's also been known to store his little toy treasures behind the sugar or inside the pots and pans. And today, he left me a slug in his apple. 
Even though things didn't turn out so great for Marius and the revolutionaries, I couldn't resist posting this. (Thanks, Annie! :) )
Just in case anyone hasn't seen this SNL clip of Poehler/Fey as Clinton/Palin, I'm posting it here for your amusement. It's absolutely hilarious - Tina Fey nailed it!
And was I the only one convinced that Amy Poehler was pregnant after she covered her belly with a pillow in that "ugly children" sketch (and during her closeups on the Weekend Update)?! (Her face looks smooshed - I wonder if it'll be a girl!). Hubs confirmed my suspicions this morning, and apparently she's 8 months along. She didn't look THAT pregnant, but I defintely think she carried the weight better in Baby Mama. That's some pretty dang good breeding though, and you gotta admit with Poehler and "Gob" Bluth as parents, this kid is going to be pretty rockin'.
(I should probably just go ahead and rename this blog to "The Erich Days" since that's all I write about lately...)
To track Erich's progress in learning German (and hopefully to translate at least a little bit of his gibberish for everyone else), I've documented all of his current vocabulary. As you can see a few English words have slipped in there - 'no' being his favorite. I only wish I could include some recording of him saying these words, but this kid simply refuses to be a trained monkey. So I just wrote the phonetically spelled version of how Erich says the word, then the correct German word and the English translation in parenthesis.
Have you ever thought to yourself:
1) This is not how I want my child to act in public, and
2) Maybe he's getting mixed messages when I tell him to stop from behind the camera?
For me, this was one of those moments.
If you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that I have been stalking you for the past 6 months. In January, I began shaping my thoughts: what to say and how to say it. In February, I sent you the first email. The first of many, many, many emails. I begged and pleaded with you to send me something, anything, about my husband's younger days. I compiled all of these entries and created a 100 page book and an hour long video; my goal: sum up Marc's 30 years on this planet. And, if you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that this is no light task.
"Now that my mission is accomplished, I'm entirely resolved on two things:
1) I could never be a double agent. Leading a double life is absolutely miserable, and
2) I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world. . ."
The project turned out amazing, and each story and picture I surfed through gave me a deeper understanding of Marc and the experiences that shaped him. And when I finally presented the masterpiece, he was blown away. He loved it, and I was even able to throw him a little surprise party/movie screening (even though I got lazy in the end and he sensed something was up). He was also pretty surprised that I was able to find the doll he had as a boy that his parents threw away, "Penny" - a 40-year old antique that I've already had to give stitches to twice. (She's still wet in the picture from her 10 hour Oxy Clean bath.)
... for my new diaper bag!
I really like these Reese Li bags, but my husband is NO help. (He hates them both.) Help me!
If you know me at all, you probably know that I have something of a poop obsession. So you understand why I have to share this post with you from my sister's blog. I've also decided that poop is funniest when it doesn't happen to you. I'm still rolling on the floor on this one!! (My sympathies are with you, C.)
p.s. - "Poopsucka" is an endearing term we call each other, created by my nephew (to the great delight of his aunts and mother) when he was learning his first words. The child is a comedic genius!
"We have a little tradition of doing something special for Palm Sunday and we thought it would be fun to gather with all of you at the same time. If you can make it, come with some kind of tree branch in hand. We lay down the palm fronds and then read a few scriptures and then sing Easter songs mixed with Christmas songs (so O little Town of Bethlehem sung to the tune of O Savior thou who Wearest, etc) and then we end with a wild rendition of Popcorn popping and gorge ourselves on popcorn and fruit and other beautiful growing things to usher in spring. It goes along with our traditional merging of pagan festivals with holy Christian/Jewish/Muslim holidays."Well, they were telling the truth, that's exactly what happened, with the exception of an Easter egg hunt. It was great!! I stumbled through the first couple of hymns, but once I got the hang of it, the change of pace was oddly refreshing. The children all participated with the singing and waving of branches-my favorite being the giant IKEA leaf. Erich had a great time and certainly accepted the invitation of gorging himself on the delicious berries (we are definitely going berry picking this summer!). Hopefully this will be the first of many pagan rituals we are invited to blend with our dear friends. Thank you for the great evening, Olsen's!!
While working at the spa a couple weeks ago, I made a quick stop at the front desk. Suddenly one of my coworkers turned to me and spa-screamed “That’s Ozzy Osborne!” I quickly scanned the lobby but I only saw a large black man in street clothes and a lady with long black hair wearing a robe.
Assuming the girl didn’t know what she was talking about (seriously, not to stereotype, but do Hispanics even listen to heavy metal?), I told her that’s not Ozzy, that’s a big black guy! On second glance, however, I realized that standing next to him wasn’t just an ugly old lady, that was the Prince of Darkness himself! He looked just like himself, too, glasses and all. I think it was the robe that threw me off at first – the reason why I diverted my eyes so quickly. If I could choose which celebrity I would like to have standing 15 feet from me in a bathrobe, it probably wouldn’t be Ozzy, but heck, it’s still cool!
Apparently his highness performed at the
