Happy Birthday, John!

First, thank you all so much for your support of my work blog!  I felt so special, and I really do get super-dorktastic-ly excited every time one of you leaves a comment.  Kind of like this:

Me:  John!  John!  So-and-so just left a comment on my blog!  They said---

John:  Wait.  Do you actually know this person?

Me:  Um, well, I mean, I read their blog and I know that she has a husband, a dog, and her favorite color is pink. 

John:  (Under his breath) Creeper. 

He is slightly to very weirded out by all this blogging stuff, but he IS THIRTY-THREE today, so he's in a much older generation.  I guess it's understandable.

(Two years DOES equal a different generation, right?  Clearly I'm so young compared to him.  Even though he can kick my tail in sprints.  And may or may not know the lyrics to more rap songs than I do.  And be generally cooler than me.)

Since I'm pretty sure I can't top last year's birthday list, let me just say this:

Happy Birthday, babe!  I literally can't even put  into words how much I love you, and I'm pretty sure all my blog readers would vomit on their keyboards if I tried.  So, just know that it's much more than any description I could come up with.  I can't wait to celebrate with you.  You make 33 look like the new 25.

(Also, please don't get mad when I give you your present.  It's awesome, and I know you'll want me to take it back and get you something super boring like dress socks, but I'm sorry.  I can't do it.)

(Also, I'm actually 3 years younger than you.  For the next 3 months.  And you'd better believe I'm gonna milk that for all it's worth.  Enjoy).

(That is all.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BJP! 

(Nope.  Still too embarrassing to explain.  We'll just leave it at that.)

Makeover and Giveaway!

Sadly, the makeover's not for me......it's for my real estate blog, Brookhaven and Beyond! (Let's call her BB, shall we?) And trust me when I tell you she looks fierce. 

(Because clearly my blog's a girl.)

(And clearly I should never say things like "fierce.")

Anyway, BB was looking a little dated.  A little less than fresh.  Also, I was getting lots of creepy spam comments, and was tired of deleting them.  Needless to say, it was time for a change.

Once again, I worked with my friend Melanie of Elegant Custom Blogs.  Y'all, she may or may not be a mind-reader, because she pretty much instantly knew what I wanted.  She also taught me what a "favicon" is. Plus, she's the sweetest person on the planet, and could not be easier to work with.  I've said it once, and I'll say it again--if you need a new blog design, contact her immediately!  Or if you just want to be her friend.  She's awesome!

Now, as I mentioned in the title, I'm combining a girl's two favorite things:  A makeover and a giveaway!  I already told you about the makeover, so on to the giveaway.  I'm giving away a $100 VISA gift card......yes, you read that correctly.  $100 cash money.   (In the gift card form, of course.)

You can use it for gas.  (Boring)

You can use it to pay bills.  (Snooze)

You can use it for a shopping spree at Anthropologie (Well, that would be more like 1 shirt, or 1/2 of a dress.....)

You get my drift......you can use it for whatever you want!!  All you have to do is head over to Brookhaven and Beyond, and become a follower.  And if you're an overachiever like me, I'll give you a second entry just for leaving me a comment!  Tell me what real estate question or topic you want to know more about.  And boom!  Two entries.

(Plus, you'll make me feel really loved, and if you think I'm not above bribing people to love me.....obviously I just proved you wrong.)

Easter pictures coming! (At my current rate of blogging about holidays, probably somewhere around November, but that's okay. I'm sure you understand.)

Angry Dads and One-Way Streets (It's good to avoid both)

Okay, I've been debating on whether I should post this story.  I mean, it really doesn't make me look great, and may possibly lead you to judge me.....BUT on other hand, it's probably too good not to share.

Hmmm, looking bad vs. good story?  Since we're all about keeping it real around here, let's go with the story. 

Disclaimer:  I love Jesus.  I want to be more like Him.  There are, however, many, many, many times a day where I fall short, and my pride/impatience/general road-rage-y-ness gets the best of me.  Especially the road-rage-y-ness. 

The other day, John took AG to the park for me, while I ran to Target.  We were leaving town the next day, and I had fallen into Sherri-super-stress mode, as I had procrastinated everything I needed to do until the very last minute.  (Also known as, having a toddler and never having any time to get things done). 

I realized right before leaving the house that John left the diaper bag at home.  "OH NO!"  I thought to myself.  "What if he has a diaper "situation" on the swing set?"  (I mean, AG, not John.  He doesn't have diaper situations. Anymore. Don't worry). 

I decided to run the diaper bag over to the park, and then be on my merry little way to Target.  I dropped off the bag, and then, in an effort to save time "failed to notice" a one-way street sign on a little side street near my house.  Thinking I would just cut through, and get up to the main road more quickly. 

(I may or may not have a slight tendency to think road signs/rules don't apply to me. It is a problem, and I'm working on it.  Kinda.)

I turn onto the one-way street, and immediately notice a dad walking towards the middle of the road.  So he can block my car.  He looks angry. 

Did I mention that I hate confrontation? 

I roll down my window and prepare to tell him, I'm so sorry, I wasn't really paying attention, it will never happen again, etc.   And this happens:

Angry Dad:  Are you kidding me?!  Did you really just do that?!

Me:  Um, uh, s-s-sorry...I mean, uh....you're scary.

Angry Dad:  You clearly don't have children, because if you did, you would never endanger kids like this! 

Me (did he just question my parenting?  OH NO HE DIDN'T!):  Well, sir, your children are still about 100 yards away, and I believe I was going approximately 4 miles an hour making the turn.  So.........

Angry Dad:  Just get out of here!

Me:  (While bravely rolling up my window at the same time), IDIOT. 

Disclaimer:  Again, I am not proud of my response.  NOT at all what Jesus would do.  It was in fact, what worldly-minded Sherri would do.  I do not recommend this response to anyone.  And I cannot condone turning onto one-way streets to save time.

Even if you're in a hurry.

Even if everyone else in the neighborhood uses the very same street as a cut-through.
 
Ahem.

Anyway, about 10 minutes later, I'm still ticked.  Having conversations in my head with Angry Dad.  Thanking the Lord that I was in John's car and without AG--maybe if I see this guy around the neighborhood, he won't recognize me with my clever "different car and baby disguise." 

I call John to rant about it.  A few minutes into my story, he's all:  OH MY GOSH, Sherri!  NO YOU DIDN'T!

And I'm like, HEY!  You're supposed to be on my side!  Andy by the way, you cut through there all the time! 

Why yes.  Yes he does.  And JUST did.  About, oh, 5 minutes after I did. 

And this is what happened:

John sees Angry Dad come into the middle of the street to block him.  John politely veers around him to keep going.  Angry Dad BANGS ON THE SIDE WINDOW OF MY CAR.  John stops the car.

John:  DUDE!  What are you doing?!

Angry Dad:  Blah, blah, blah, kids, danger, blah, irresponsible, look at your baby in the backseat, how could you, guilt trip, blah.

John:  (While totally keeping his cool) Calm down, man.  You're embarrassing yourself. 

Drives away.  Oh how I love my husband.

Disclaimer:  Neither one of us is proud of having turned the wrong-way down a one-way street.  We promise we will not do it again.  At least for a few weeks. 

KIDDING.

(Although did I mention that now, Angry Dad knows both of our cars, AND our baby. Way to go, Dickens family).


Finally, in a third (and final) twist, I happened to tell my friend, Marie, this story.  A few days later, she emails me.  "Hey Sherri, remember Angry Dad?  Turns out that's my friend Bob."

Oops. 

Disclaimer:  Don't be like us.  We are impatient, rule-breaking drivers, not to mention very imperfect Christians.  I hope you'll cut us some slack.  Unless you're Angry Dad.  Who, hopefully, does not read this blog.

New Office Mate

Did I mention that I have a new office mate?

(He's kind of weird, but he's also pretty cute, so I guess he can stay.)



Clearly, I am so busy and important, with many files to staple.
While my arm is at a really awkward angle.

Of course.

When we found out in December that John was going to be working from home, people immediately started asking me things like:

"Oh, won't that be AWFUL?"  

"But he'll be around ALL DAY!"

"He'll be watching everything you're doing.!"  (WHAT?!  You mean he'll know that I'm in sweats all day?! He'll see that I eat a mid-morning breakfast of brownies?!  He'll know that I watch episodes of Teen Mom 2 during lunch?!?)

But you know what?  I married a guy that I LOVE to be around.  As much as possible.  So it's literally been awesome.

(Despite the fact that he asks me to dial phone numbers for him about 97 times a day.)

(Or the fact that, since the trashcan is on my side of the office, he asks me to throw things away for him about 97 times a day.)

(Does that make me a secretary/janitor?  I may need a raise.)

(Or the fact that we actually fought over the tape dispenser's placement in the room last week.)

(Or the fact that I just noticed that said tape dispenser has magically made it's way onto my desk......hmmmmmmm.) 

But still.  Mostly awesome.  On a different note, Ally Grace is going to fly on an airplane for the very first time tomorrow morning!  I'm pretty sure it's a toss-up over who's going to freak out more:  me or her. 

(Never mind, that's easy.  It's definitely going to be me. John may or may not have his hands full.)

Feel free to pray for us. 

Brownies, Pinkeye, and Toddlers in Tiaras

What is it about a certain week during every month that makes me want to eat all the chocolate I can get my hands on?


(Including 2 brownies, right before going to work out, no less.)

(WHY do I think this is okay?!)

(Um, I don't.  But somehow I manage to do it anyway.)


So, last week was crazy, folks. For realz. AG, John, and I went to Panama City with my parents. And as per usual, I did not post my whereabouts on the blog, because I’m a paranoid psycho careful like that.

Btw, do you know when it’s really fun to go to Panama City?
NOT when it’s Spring Break.


And (while we’re on the subject) do you know what’s really fun about Spring Break?
NOT being called “ma’am” in the elevator by some high school girl.


Finally, do you know where it’s super fun to have pinkeye?
NOT AT THE BEACH.

Now, I’m not sure how many of you have ever had pinkeye, but let me tell you the worst part about it:

(Besides the part where no one wants to hug you and people avoid you like the plague because they don’t want to get it)

NOT WEARING CONTACTS.

And guess where it’s fun to wear your glasses constantly? Again, NOT AT THE BEACH. Or anywhere, for that matter.

(Although I may have started a super stylish fashion trend by wearing my sunglasses on TOP of my real glasses, while laying out.)

(NO.)

We had a great time, although AG still hates the sand. Which actually worked in my favor for getting her to stay on the blanket while mommy got her tan on.


In other news from last week, Ally Grace officially booked her first modeling job! It’s kind of a random story.

(Then again, what else is new around here?)

My friend Jessica’s dad works for a company that manufactures baby products. They were doing a casting call, so Jessica told me to submit some pics of AG. Unfortunately, the most recent pictures I have of her include the many masterpieces that I have taken on my iphone, and then posted on this blog. Oh well.

I sent a few in, and then promptly forgot all about it. A few weeks later, I get this rather urgent text and voicemail from the casting director, asking me to PLEASE bring AG in for a test shoot the next day. I’m all, okay, I guess we can. We’re not really doing anything else tomorrow morning. Should be fun.

(Or frightening, in the way of Toddlers and Tiaras.  We shall see.)

The next day, my friend Kristin and I head to the test shoot. We walk in, and immediately are faced with a kind of scary intense mom.

Scary Stage Mom: Oh, what has your daughter been featured on?


Me: Um, my iphone, her grandmother’s fridge, and my facebook page.


Scary Stage Mom: Well, MY SON has been on six boxes AND the website for such and such. He’s a total pro. And your little girl better back OFF b/c he’s got this locked DOWN.

(Okay, maybe I made that last part up, but she totally said it with her eyes.)

The other moms were busy gelling and moussing their kids hair, while I looked in the diaper bag for the hairbrush that, oh yeah, we DON’T HAVE. I got my mom-spit on and made the best of it.

Later, as we were playing with AG and waiting our turn, she runs over to Scary Stage Mom. Now, I’m NOT SAYING SHE TRIPPED HER, but somehow AG lands on the floor.

And starts bawling.


And then they call our name.


Of course.


Somehow, she calms down between the waiting room and the photo shoot, and manages to be all cute little smiles. Later that day, we got a call that she was booked for the actual product shoot on the following Monday. Which basically ended up being kind of like playgroup, except with a baby hairstylist and cameras.

(Never mind, our playgroup totally has cameras.)


Here’s a photo of AG’s baby French twist….I think these are going to be all the rage this summer:

Enjoy it now, girl, because after being in PCB for Spring Break, you're never allowed to go to Prom. Or date.  Or even talk to boys in general.

I'm sure you'll be very popular in high school.

Here's the front view.  Just chillin in her white and khaki.

Okay, this has nothing to do with my story, but I just loved her outfit so much that I secretly wanted a grown-up version for myself.

Happy Tuesday!! (It IS Tuesday, right?)

Let's Get Physical....

(....in the 80's jazzercise way, and not the creeper-ish way I just realized that sounded.) 

Anyway, earlier this week, I had to go to the doctor and get an actual physical.  My first physical since, oh, my pee-wee cheerleading days. 

(And if you don't know what pee-wee cheerleading is, then I feel sad for you.)

Prior to my appointment, I get a phone call from the doctor's office, that goes a little something like this:

Nurse:  You have to fast from midnight until your appointment time, so we can draw blood.
Me:  And by "fast" you mean, I can have some crackers and maybe a bowl of cereal, right? 

Nurse:  Um no.  You cannot have anything to eat. ANYTHING.
Me:  What about my coffee? 

Nurse:  Sure, you can have coffee.....
Me:  Oh good, because I'm seriously addicted and can't live without it--

Nurse:  .....as long as it's black. 
Me:  BLACK COFFEE???  Are you serious!?  WHY would I do that to myself?  Why do you hate me?!?!?!

(Rash).

I arrived at 9:30 with my coffee all made up just the way I like it (or as John says, tasting like a donut), ready to down it, as soon as my bloodwork is over.  I asked the nurse if I could even start chugging while she was taking my blood. 

Nurse's response?  "Girl, that is so SAD." 

No shame here.  At least I'm not addicted to something REALLY bad.  Like reality tv. 

Oh wait.

Anyway, the doctor was great, and everything went well....until he looked in my left ear.  After which he told me that my ear is about 80% blocked with earwax. 

(So THAT must be why I can't hear John when he tells me not to go to Target.  Hmmmmmm......)

I tell the doctor that can't be possible, b/c I use q-tips to clean out my ears every single day.  I am clearly the very picture of perfect ear health.

Well, according to the doctor, q-tips are the devil, b/c they just shove the wax all the way down into your ear canal, permanently blocking things. 

(What's that?  You're gagging on your computer, while being appalled at my oversharing abilities?  Clearly you're new around here.)

The doctor is all, no worries....Nurse Renee here will be your ENT for the day--she'll get it out for you. 

The look on Nurse Renee's face may or may not have been slightly less than thrilled. 

I'll spare you the details of what happened next, because I'm sweet like that.  I DID sneak over to the trashcan after Nurse Renee left, to see if I could snap a photo of my ear trophy for John's viewing enjoyment. 

Or, for the blog's viewing enjoyment......

JUST KIDDING...people, I do have SOME boundaries.  Boundaries that include not digging into a medical waste bin. 

Which is really saying something.