1. We are going on vacation in 3 weeks and 2 days, and I am really freakin’ excited. Yes, I know I have nearly a month to wait still, but I can’t help but to look at the calendar every day or two and think to myself, is it July 17th YET??
2. You think I am antsy now? When we were growing up, my sister Brittney and I would have our bags packed and ready for the annual lake trip by this point. And we would pack WAY more than we could possibly need in the one week we would be there. So, for the last month before we would leave, Brittney and I would be stuck wearing the dregs of our wardrobes because we just HAD to be super-duper ready for the lake.
3. I am beginning to think Brittney and I should have tried harder to have lives when we were younger. I mean, the lake is great and all (who am I kidding? It is like the greatest thing ever!), but really? Packing a month early? Lame. I will be lucky to be done packing the night before we leave this year.
4. Okay, enough about the lake (’cause, yeah…I’m totally not as obsessed as I was when I used to pack so early, right?). What else? Today I had to go to the post office to mail off a couple of books. I was packing them up because, being the slacker that I am, I didn’t do it before I went. So there I am, standing at the long counter, addressing my envelopes. Now, this is one of those super long Post Office counters. You know–the ones that usually have 20 people next to them waiting their turn. Pretty much a REALLY long counter. But, this is Montana, so instead of 20 people waiting in line, there was one lady at the register and me–all alone–finishing things up at the counter. Then another woman walks in. She needs to put together a box to pack up, so she comes up to the counter as well (side note–I love that our post office is slow enough during the day that I can take my sweet time packaging things and nobody gets flustered)–and stands right next to me. I am talking almost on top of me. I could hear her breathing as she put her box together, bumping into my arm every time she turned it over. Now, I am not one who has personal space issues and needs people to stay out of my bubble at all times, but seriously? There was like 20 feet of empty counter space. Was it really necessary for her to stand that close?
5. I bought a new swimsuit last weekend. I was lucky enough to find one pretty quick–mostly because I only had one stipulation and wasn’t picky beyond that point. But now I shall vent: I had to get a plus-sized top. Which isn’t a problem in and of itself. The plus-sized tops are actually quite cute, and it’s about time clothing companies started giving bigger women stylish clothes. But, I am not plus-sized. I wear a size 6 pant, and medium top. I know it doesn’t matter what the tag says, but here’s the problem: I had to find a plus-sized swim top because the regular sizes aren’t big enough for my boobs (unless I want to look like Pamela Anderson, with a strip of fabric covering almost nothing, and flesh–er, silicone–spilling out the sides. No, thank you). But, the plus-sized top, while it fits my chest, is loose around my stomach. Last I checked, swimsuits were fitted, not baggy. Oh well, it is still cute, and really, really comfortable. And it is easily the most supportive swim top I have ever worn, so that says something. Mostly I am just frustrated that swimsuit designers think that in order to have a big chest, one has to be a big person (or, I guess, that if a smaller person has a big chest, it is automatically fake and therefore does not need silly things like support or coverage). Grrr. That is all.
4 Comments
Holy cow, your #5 has me in stitches. It is funny to think about what women have to worry about compared to men. My problem is always in the shoulders. I have yet to find a suit coat (outside of tailored, which I can only dream of affording) that actually fit my shoulders. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my stature 99% of the time, but fabric stretched to breaking point and seams screaming from stress are so very tacky. But enough…
1. I start planning for the next Squires family reunion (which happen every 2 years) the day after the most recent one has ended. I AM OBSESSIVE ABOUT THIS REUNION. It is killing me that I won’t get to go this year. Just too many miles and too few dollars. *Sigh*
2. When I was younger, well…even now, actually, I never really planned ahead for anything but the travel snacks. We started a tradition of making and packing homemade sweet treats for long road trips. Peanut Caramel Bars. Enough Said.
3. Mmmmmmmmmm. Peanut Caramel Bars. Though I am going up to Lancaster Pennsylvania this weekend to party with family for the annual Allen Jam Session (as in we make ridiculous quantities of homemade jam), and just got done making dirty rice crispy treats. Wonderful.
4. So, I got a CIA polo shirt from a friend who did some training at Langley. I was wearing the other day while schmoozing at Barnes and Nobles. A fellow happens to stop me, asking if I played college football (pretty usual occurence), then seeing my shirt, and assuming I hence worked for the CIA, proceeds to spend an hour talking to me about the CIA, the conspiracies he was currently investigating, US outer space defense systems, and whether or not I could put a good word in for him. I am sad, but only a little so, to admit that I led him on and played the secret agent.
5. So, remember those vietnamese fisherman’s pants that ‘someone’ was going to sew for another ‘someone’? Yeah, I was just thinking about the awesome pants that never were. Yet again…*sigh*
Ah man! I suck! I totally forgot about those pants!!! I am now looking into making them with renewed vigor. I can’t believe I strung you along for so long without ever giving you the pants.
Also, SAD story that you can’t go the reunion this year. I know how much you love those reunions. But the Jam Fest should be fun! Make some yummy jam for me.
I have a great picture in my head of this guy at Barnes and Nobel. I love that you just let him think you work for the CIA. That is pretty epic, buddy, pretty epic.
I’m kind of awesome that way. Hey! You do not suck….unless it involves some delicious beverage and a straw. I had honestly forgotten about the pants until the very moment I posted numero cinco up there. It was just funny at the time.
Yes, I am sad about the reunion. It just means the next one will be that much dearer to me. Oh, and the jam is amazing. I think I may just mail you some blueberry preserved joy. Can I mail jam?
I *think* you can mail jam….I don’t see why not!