Journey To the Finish Line

PR's, 4 children, hopes and dreams; I'm always running after something



Contact Paper and Adventures in Graduation

I have this vague memory when I was smaller of adults cooing over how old I was getting, how tiny I used to be, and how they just remember me as a certain age.

I always found that annoying. Like, how? Do you not see me standing here now, clearly older? I was especially weirded out by people who exclaimed  how big I’d grown from when they used to babysit me, because I had no memory of any of that. Then they’d all wonder aloud where the time went and everyone else would nod in unison and agreement. I’d run away and play the first chance I had, wondering why all adults were so strange.

Then I watched my sister walk across the stage at her college graduation, the proud new owner of a Bachelor’s degree holder (they send it in the mail later which I’ve always thought was strange. Congratulations on your brand new degree….holder!) , and wondered to myself where the time went.

Confession: that’s not the first time that thought had crossed my mind.

And I already know I’m strange, so don’t bother telling me.

To backtrack a bit, I boarded a plane on Thursday headed for the mediocre  great and boring exciting state of Ohio. After a small freak out on Wednesday night about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to carry on my hairspray or mousse (see fear: pouf hair) and a perhaps-a-bit-too-frantic text to my mom and sister about the existence of said items at the house, I boarded the plane confident that I’d be able to keep my hair under control for the weekend.

If you had my hair, you’d understand.

Natalie had three main goals for the weekend:

1. Graduate

2. Move from apartment A to apartment B

3. Hang out with cool sister

Ok, I may have made that last one up.

Day One of “Operation Move Apartment” went fairly smoothly. No one broke any bones or threw any items across the room, which to me counts as a victory. I almost threw a do-it-yourself bench across the room when I couldn’t get the pieces to fit into the pre- measured holes, and found myself repeatedly sitting on them in my attempts to get the legs all the way into the seat. I was especially annoyed (albeit appreciative) after one of her guy friends managed to get them to fit in about 2 minutes.(Apparently all 128 pounds of my body just wasn’t good enough.) What was supposed to be a half day task naturally ended up taking all day, because the apartment hadn’t been cleaned very well after the previous person had moved out. Seriously, the dirt on the shelves? Gross. And in desperate need of a good scrub and some contact paper.

Contact paper and I have a love-hate relationship after spending several hours in a tiny kitchen (standing on the previously mentioned stool) covering shelves. Measure, cut, peel, unstick paper that stuck to itself or myself, press. Unpeel, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Unpeel, fix corner, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Cut excess with razor blade. Flatten. Rinse, repeat. I did it so many times that each time I peeled the paper from the backing I sang a two word song to myself titled simply “Contact Paper”,  which naturally became the joke of the weekend and was something I started singing at random times to amuse myself. I declared to anyone who would listen that I was 29 going on 18. Until that evening anyway when Natalie and her friend decided they wanted to go out to the bars….at midnight. It was already, like, 2 hours past my bedtime.

Is it bedtime yet?

At 2am, I pulled the “old” card and declared it was time to head back  because I wanted to go to bed.

I am so lame.

Also, on a totally unrelated note, double fudge cookie dough blizzards with peanut butter cups? Fabulous.

Saturday I got my happy butt out of bed and dragged it and Natalie’s butt running. We showered, ran a couple errands, grabbed breakfast and then I attacked contact paper: part 2. (Measure, cut, peel, unstick paper that stuck to itself or myself, press. Unpeel, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Unpeel, fix corner, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Cut excess with razor blade. Flatten. Rinse, repeat.)

After that, it was off to graduation:

Hi, we are with the graduate

I look nice now….

but I’ll totally steal your dollar when you aren’t looking

21 and 29 respectively, going on 5. We ranged many ages this weekend

Congratulations, Natalie.

FINALLY after all of that it was time for operation contact paper: part 3. (Measure, cut, peel, unstick paper that stuck to itself or myself, press. Unpeel, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Unpeel, fix corner, repress. Flatten out bubbles. Cut excess with razor blade. Flatten. Rinse, repeat.)

And you thought I was going to say dinner.

After another late night the whole family went to church the next morning. My aunt, who suffers from arthritis, asked me if I wouldn’t mind rubbing a couple of knots out of her shoulders. Afterwards, she told me she caught herself starting to ask me if, and I quote “did han.d jobs”. (i.e. would I massage her hands?)

For the record, the answer is yes, I do massage hands. Get your mind out of the gutter.

We took a trip in my mom’s convertible, where my mom and sister shared their incredible “cool-ness”

Suddenly, I had blinked and the weekend was over. And I found myself asking the question that I found so strange before: where did the time go? In fact, even with this incredibly long drawn out fertility journey, I ask myself that. It was nice to spend a weekend not worried, focused or even caring about fertility.

It’s time for more weekends like that. Ones that involve living and enjoying life.

Thanks for the awesome weekend, family.

You might be from Ohio

To supplement my previous Ohio post, a Facebook friend posted the following and it was too funny to not share:

Here is what Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Ohio..
~If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you may live in Ohio.
~If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don’t even work there, you may live in Ohio.
~If you’ve worn shorts and a jacket at the same time, you may live in Ohio. (yay! Its 50 degrees! Time for shorts!)
~If you’ve had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Ohio. (I have never done this)
~If “vacation” means going anywhere south of Dayton for the weekend, you may live in Ohio. (yup)
~If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Ohio. (Cincinnati is about 4 hours from my parents house)
~If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, you may live in Ohio.(no)
~If you have switched from ‘heat’ to ‘A/C’ in the same day and back again, you may live in Ohio.(oh yes)
~If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Ohio. (could have before, probably not anymore)
~If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both doors unlocked, you may live in Ohio. (uh….)
~If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Ohio.(well, I AM the wife, and I know how to use them, but only since I moved to SC…. thanks Megan!)
~If you design your kid’s Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Ohio. (I was one of those kids)
~If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -you’re going 80 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Ohio. (yup)
~If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Ohio.
~If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you may live in Ohio. (and why I moved to SC!)
~If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Ohio.
~If you find 10 degrees “a little chilly”, you may live in Ohio. (now I consider 60 degrees chilly – oh how the blood thins)


Ohio: The Worst State Ever?

I grew up in the great Buckeye state. And by Buckeye I’m personally referring to the yummy mixture of chocolate and peanut butter. I could care less about football or the Ohio State Buckeyes, nor do I have a particular fondness for the tree.

What I didn’t realize until I moved here, is that for some reason that I have yet to understand, alot of people really HATE Ohio.

The first I heard of this was The Riverdogs’ Go Back to Ohio night , where, residents of Charleston vote on which visitors they would like to send back, and not only did Ohio win easily, but was apparently also the winner for the 3rd straight year. The idea was the best dressed Ohioian won a one way bus ticket back to Ohio.


There’s even an I Hate Ohio Facebook page.

Granted, every state has one. The difference is, though, that the other random states I tried (Idaho, South Carolina and Texas) have a few hundred likes a best. The Ohio page has over 4,000.

(Yes, I laughed.)

Apparently a poll was also taken of 127 million people in October 2010 that deemed Ohio the worst state ever. I’d supply the link but it was broken. Maybe one of the Ohioans rioted.

(I laughed at that, too.)

I even found this classy joke:

What’s round at both ends and high in the middle?

Hell on earth.

(I’ll be retelling THAT one)

Now granted I didn’t do any extensive research but from what I did do, I couldn’t find one legit reason to hate Ohio. Other than the fact that its boring. And cold. And depressing.

But it has Cedar Point and Amish country, so there’s that.

I have to admit though, I’m surprised at how many people I’ve met here who have moved from Ohio. What I don’t get is why its such an issue. But if we’re going to make fun of Ohio for no real good reason, let’s pick on some other states, shall we?

How about the fact that Missouri sounds alot like misery? I’d rather live in Ohio.

Or the fact that Idaho, if sounded out the right sounds like I – da (the) ho. Yup- Ohio.

Lets not forget Hawaii. Its in the middle of the ocean! And its tropical. And warm year round. And lots of beaches…..yeah that one doesn’t work. I’d definitely leave Ohio for that.

North and South Dakota? Middle of nowhere. I’ll take Ohio.

Oklahoma is tornado alley. Bring on Ohio.

I moved and stayed out because I hate snow. But other than that, Ohio isn’t so bad. Besides, what other state has cool enough letters to be able to do this:

Rock on, Ohio.


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