Warning Label

You'd think this seemingly harmless bottle of air/fabric re-freshener would be easy to safely use. I did.

I had a friend coming over and I had forgotten to take out the trash. Rather than risk the smells from last night's dinner in the air, I thought I would use my trusty febreze and freshen up the kitchen. I went onto the living room and entrance way while I was at it.

I went back to the kitchen to give a quick smell test to the room - only to find that I must have gone a little crazy with the air freshener and the cheap, linoleum, slanted floor of my kitchen had turned into a febreze ice rink. I slipped a few times (very gracefully, I'm sure) before taking the final plunge to the floor, taking down the entire trash can with me.  My knee was a little sore, but the worst part was picking back up all the trash that had spilled everywhere.

Febreze with caution, my friends.

Material Girl

I have wanted Hunter Boots for quite some time.

Exhibit A:

However, these boots are pretty pricey. Since I get a Nordstrom gift card now and then, I decided I would save them up until I had enough for the purchase. One Christmas and two birthdays later, I was ready to make these boots mine! I purchased the boots with an almost embarrassing amount of gift cards. Unfortunately, after only four blissful days with my new boots the buckle on the side broke. So lame. Of course I am returning them for a new pair, but still, how disappointing.

I was telling this story to my sister JoAnna, who is very out-doorsy and not too into fashion trends and what is "in" (although this is not to say she isn't beautiful and fabulous). She asked me about the price of the boots, getting them at Nordstrom, where and how I was wearing them, blah, blah, blah and then suddenly stopped me.
"Wait a minute, you mean these are rain boots? Just rubber boots?"
"Yes."
Silence . . . "Ok."

I mean, when you put it like that, it is does sound a little silly to be paying so much for "just" rubber boots.

But I still want them.

Realization

Yesterday I went out with some girlfriends to dinner. It was a hip, delicious Indian restaurant and a fun night away from cooking, dishes and my sweet little baby (who I love, but also enjoy a few hours to myself, away  from diapers and spit up). Dinner was at 7:30, and I came back around 10:00 or so, feeling pretty good about  myself and my night on the town. As I was coming in for the night, I passed three girls in my building's hallway headed out for the night out. Okay, I get it. I have passed from the realm of cool and young, into maturity. Not that I'm so "mature", but upon completing my 28th year (today!) I realize that I'm on the other side of young and wild.


And I'm fine with that. :)

Angels and Demons

A couple days ago Jacob and I walked the four blocks to Jimmy Johns to get Robbie a gift card for Valentines Day (I am a hopeless romantic). The entrance had two doors, an outer and inner. The inner door opened toward the outer door, making it very hard for me and the stroller to come inside out of the cold. I had to basically do a split to keep the front door open and half of my stroller hanging out of it, while I held open the inner door and tried to push the stroller part way through to hold it open. I'm sure I looked a mess. It took me about three tries maneuvering the doors before I could get inside.

And meanwhile all three workers of the Jimmy Johns were just standing inside. Seriously? I don't need the red carpet rolled out for me and Baby Jacob, but can't you just help us in your stupid, counter-intuitive entry system? Ugh. I was so annoyed. There weren't even any customers. I know they were busy chopping lettuce or arranging mayonnaise packets or something, but really, you couldn't help me for 5 seconds? Rude.

Then on the way home, I was doing my best to choose my crosswalks carefully to avoid the crazy snow puddles (pictured right) which are everywhere. Some just couldn't be avoided, and with the snow piled up on all sides, sometimes you just have to figure out a way across the three feet deep, mini-lake. I had three people on two separate occasions help me across the monster puddles, including picking up my stroller and lifting it across. SO NICE!

It just goes to show you, when you think everyone in the world is an butt head, just wait a second, and someone nice is bound to come along.

PS If you think the title of this post is a bit dramatic, well, you may be right - BUT if you are watching a lady with a stroller struggle to get through a door for more than 10 seconds and just stand there . . . you are a demon. And if you randomly help someone carry their stroller across the Atlantic Ocean of puddles - you are my angel. Thank you, my sweet, sweet puddle angel.

Robert Culp

My husband's name is Robert Culp, but so is this man's:

This shared name has only peaked mild interest at best over the course of our marriage. A lot of people our age don't even know who he is. Most notably, he was on a TV show called "I Spy" with Bill Cosby where is was a secret agent. (So he and Robbie not only share a name, but a love of acting and espionage.)

I probably wouldn't even know who this actor is, besides the fact that he and Robbie have the same name. Which is why I sometimes forget that people may be intrigued by my Robert Culp for this very reason . . . which is why this happened a few years ago:

I called the academic records at BYU to get some information, and of course gave the man on the other end of the phone my name, "Sarah Culp".

"Sarah Culp? . . . Are you related to Robert Culp by chance?"

"Yes, he's my husband!" (how fun! someone who knows Robbie)

"You are married to Robert Culp?"

"Yes." (why is this guy so skeptical?)

"You're married to Robert Culp?"

"Yeah." (seriously? what is his problem?)

"Really? You're really married to Robert Culp?"

"Yyyesss."

"Really??"

(the bells begin to ring) "Oh-- do you mean the actor Robert Culp? No. Not him. Sorry."

"Oh . . ."

"But my husband's name is Robert Culp. Just a different one."

"Uh-huh . . . okay . . . let me put you on hold."

Robert Culp (not Robbie) has since passed away. God rest his soul.

And thanks for the memories.

Half Birthday

Jacob turned 6 months old yesterday. 

He has developed many skills and talents - we are extremely proud.

He is very studious and loves to read.

The classic, Discovery Farms, is one of his favorites.

 He is quite the little model, as well. What a looker!

Jacob loves to be naked and would make a great nudist - if only his Mom and Dad would let him live his dream . . . to his great dismay, we often require him to wear clothes.

He can reach his foot to his mouth . . . and chew on his big toe.

Can you do that? Didn't think so. 

This boy can sit up - on HIS OWN! (pause for "oos" and "awws")

Sure he topples over now and then, but he is one strong little guy!

Jacob can also sit in a high chair and eat mashed peas. Mashed Peas, people!

He is a super star!

And of course, this little man knows how to cheer on his team!

I love this little dude. Love him.

Proof

If I didn't live it - I may not believe it. The snow was wild here during our Blizzard! I don't mean to be dramatic, but serisouly, it was a lot of snow!

Sure the whole world was cancelled and closed down, but we still wanted to explore a little . . . and THEN we found out that the diner a block away was still open. 

We ordered Blizzard Breakfast Take-out of course!

Walking out of our apartment . . .

Down our street . . .

A lot of other people had the same idea, and I walked right down the road since there were no cars to be found, except the odd emergency vehicle. 

And I came back from the snow victorious!

Here We GO . . .

The week has been crazy and busy. But nothing can get me down tomorrow - not a thing.

We are The Steelers and we are going to the Super Bowl!!

Buried Alive

Yes, this is our street.
We narrowly survived the Chicago Blizzard of 2011.

Yes, our car got stuck when we tried to venture out the day after the big storm.

And yes, we learned our lesson. We finally got the car back in the garage and safely stowed away
until the snow melts or a plow decides to visit our street. 

We are not holding our breath. 

To be continued . . .