Friday Top 20: Random Things

Becky tagged me for this a couple of weeks ago. I thought it would be hard, but turns out I'm pretty random. So here goes, twenty random things about myself:

1. I can juggle and ride a unicycle. But not at the same time. What am I? A circus performer?

2. I am incredibly indecisive. It took me a half an hour to pick out one tube of lipstick at Sephora. Imagine what it is like for me trying to decide on an item from the catalog-sized menu at Cheesecake Factory!

3. While I have now lived in Maryland almost longer than I lived in Kansas, I will always be a Kansas girl at heart.

4. I hate being hot. You can always add more clothes or blankets to get warm, however when it's hot, you can only go so far. At some point you're naked and still hot.

5. My daughter has the same name as one of my childhood pets.

6. Grape gum turns my stomach.

7. At least one foot has to be uncovered when I sleep. But it absolutely, positively can NOT hang over the edge.

8. Every night, as I head up to bed, I have to check that all the doors are locked. Even if I have just walked in one of them, locking it behind me, I will come back and pull it to make sure.

9. I am a phone-phobic. I get super nervous whenever I call someone, even someone as benign as pizza delivery. I'm sure it dates back to my short-lived telemarketing career. Never yell at telemarketers, it may scar them for life.

10. I love Coca-Cola, but only over ice or in a can. I can't drink it from a plastic bottle. It just tastes wrong.

11. Against all odds, I'm actually not hating working out every day. Who'd a thunk it?

12. I can't stand country music, but I love me some Patsy Cline.

13. I was crazy about Star Wars as a kid. I wanted to be Princess Leia so bad I could taste it.

14. I am pretty sure I am the reincarnation of someone rich and famous, otherwise how do you explain this imperious attitude?

15. I have visited New York City more times than I can count and have never been to the Statue of Liberty.

16. I was not given a middle name at birth. It's something of a family tradition that girls are not given middle names with the expectation that when we marry we will make our maiden name our middle name. And so I have. We didn't give Sophie a middle name, either.

17. I have three first cousins, total, all only children.

18. I sleep on the left side of the bed, which according to some theories means I am in the driver's seat of our marriage. That sounds about right. (I love you, Neil! :))

19. When I was a kid, I had a pet turtle we found on the side of the road. We kept it in a kiddie pool and I made grasshopper soup for it by mashing up live grasshoppers. Yeah, that's not gruesome at all.

20. About once a week, I actually try to move things with my mind. Someday it's going to work.

So there you go, more Cara quirks. I'm not going to tag anyone, but feel free to do this if you'd like.

Have a great weekend!

The Great Hunter

He stalks his prey with stealth and grace. Poor things, they never even see it coming.

Tiny Town

I visited the tot lot at one of the area malls yesterday. I hadn't been there before and I wanted to check it out. Okay, really I was there to pick up some lipstick at Sephora, but I legitimized my trip by spending some time in Tiny Town. I've never been to one of these mall play areas before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. I've heard some not so great stuff, but this one is in a nice mall in a nice area, so I figured what the heck.

What the heck, indeed.

When we walked in, there weren't that many kids, so Sophie was able to cavort without too much trouble. However, I must have landed on exactly the wrong time because within minutes the place totally filled up. There were a few kids the same age as Sophie, but most of them were between 3 and 5. Kids between 3 and 5 are WAY rougher than 16 month olds. Where at first I was able to watch her from the sidelines, after the mass arrival I had to stay right next to her because it was like an NFL game out there. Between the steamrolling and clotheslining, it was pretty rough. Luckily, the whole room was padded, so there was little danger of injury, but for this overprotective mama, it was a tad nerve racking.

There was a little person there with her daughter. She was laughing and chasing after her daughter who was giving her as much a run for her money as Sophie was me. We exchanged smiles a number of times. After a little while she asked me how old Sophie was. I told her she was 16 months old. She said "My daughter is the same age!" To which I replied, "Oh, yeah they're about the same size, I mean, height, I mean, ha...ha." And then I ran off.

Why did I have to bring up size when talking to a little person? I don't think I offended her, but let's just say we didn't make plans to meet there next week.

There was a little girl humping the slide. I'm absolutely not kidding. There was a wide padded rail and the girl was straddling it laying down, grinding up against it. She was 3, maybe 4 years old. I am pretty sure she was old enough to know better than to do this in public. I know that some little girls (and maybe little boys, god knows they do when they get older) enjoy rubbing up against things, but isn't one of our jobs as mothers to help them understand that this is not acceptable outside behavior. I wanted to stop her myself and kept looking around for her mama, but couldn't figure out which one she was among the crowd of kids and parents. Yeah, it was uncomfortable.

So there you go. Makeup, midgets and masturbation*. This is how I spent my birthday afternoon. Does it get any better than that?

*Have I just set myself up for some crazy search results or what?

Fat Tuesday

I'm getting ready to go meet with the personal trainer for my strength building session. I'm more than a little nervous. He said I would be sore afterward. I just have to keep telling myself that this* is my goal:















PS. Happy Birthday to me! And Happy Mardi Gras!

Update: My butt is so sore.

*That's me about 10 years ago. I know, right? Look at that stomach! And those thighs!
I want them back!

All The Glitz And Glamour

I have kind of lost interest in the Oscars in recent years. I feel like when I was younger, you know, like 30, it was something that I really looked forward to. I never went to any Oscar parties but I watched hours of pre-show and I certainly stayed up late to watch the ending. Maybe I'm out of touch with Hollywood these days. Maybe Hollywood is out of touch with me. I don't know. I do know that I haven't seen the majority of the movies that were nominated and it sounds like neither have most of the people that voted for them. Which means that I'm just not as interested in the outcomes. There were a few things that compelled me to tune in this year, though.

The Underdog. Like a lot of people, I wanted Mickey Rourke to win. He's been about as down as you can get and somehow found his way back. Plus, I was dying to see what he would say for his acceptance speech. Dude was way cute back in the day.



And now he looks like this:



I know that time marches on, but YIKES!

AND I kind of wanted Meryl Streep to win, because I think she's a cool lady. My best friend, Aparna, and I have been compiling a list for about 15 years of people that must come to our backyard barbecue party. Meryl is definitely on it. Despite being a mega star for longer than I've been alive, she still seems to be very down to earth. Plus, we could sing Abba songs all night!

AND I was kind of rooting for Slumdog Millionaire because it is the quintessential Cinderella story.

AND I adore Hugh Jackman, so I was interested to see how he would do.



I am happy to say that I thought his performance was above par. I loved the opening sequence where he pulled Anne Hathaway on stage. Did you see him on Barbara Walters? Hot, hot, hot!

AND I love the quirky things that people say in their speeches: Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto! Anyone?

BUT, my daughter was sick. So when she woke up about half way through the show, I had to go. I set the DVR to record, knowing that watching it later just wouldn't be the same, but my little bean comes first.

I was up half the night cuddling or rocking my poor sick baby, but when she finally went down for a nap this morning, I raced in to watch the show. Wouldn't you know, the show ran long (big surprise, that one) and all of the good stuff came AFTER it was scheduled to end. Which is when our stupid DVR stopped recording. So I didn't get to watch the last half of the show and although I thought I would be, I'm not really that sad about it.

Maybe next year I'll care.

The Treadmill Gives Me Gas

Actually I don't think it gives me gas so much as just wakes it up. And it's not like you can let one go when you're surrounded by strangers. When Aparna and I went to Paris for my 30th birthday, a great trip worthy of more discussion on another day, we visited the Musee National du Moyen Age (Museum of the Middle Ages). If you're ever in Paris, I definitely recommend it, that and the catacombs. As we traversed the galleries, I noticed an older gentleman, probably a security guard, sitting in a chair in the arch between two rooms. Just as I passed him, no more than a few feet away, he lifted one cheek and let out the loudest fart I have heard outside of my home. Although it was probably accentuated by the acoustics of the room, it would have done my husband proud. He then settled his butt back down, did a little frenchy teeth suck, and went back to staring at nothing in particular. Aparna and I were DYING.

So I am terrified to try to sneak one out because what if it is not so quiet? I mean, maybe that crusty old french dude thought he was being discreet? Although, given the fact that he elevated his posterior to make for the most effective flatulence, I don't think so. The flip side, what if it IS silent, but deadly? The treadmills are pretty close together and I'm betting a real douzy could not be ignored by my excercising neighbors. I don't want to be forever known as the lady who farted, stinky or not. Holding it in is really the only option. You better believe the drive home is a fireworks extravaganza.

Am I alone in this? Is this an exercising phenomena or is it just me?

On a lighter note, Sophie loves going to the childcare section. She cries for about two seconds when I leave but then she's like, "Ooo, something shiny!" and runs off. It warms my heart. The absolute best part is when I come to pick her up and she is happily playing with the toys and other kids. I like to watch her for a minute, because, you know, she's just so darn cute, before I call out her name. When she sees me, her whole face lights up and she runs over to me, arms and legs flailing, a la Phoebe.



I love having that hour or so to myself, but coming back to her sweet, smiling face is just the best!

My Boobs Are Bigger

I met with the trainer at the gym for my orientation session yesterday. We spent about an hour together talking about my fitness and weight goals, going over my current lifestyle and health. I told him I wanted to lose forty pounds and that I wanted to be healthier, blah, blah, blah. And then he weighed me. I thought it was going to be bad (Remember the Valentine's cake? So do I and it's gone now.), but actually, the number was 5 pounds lower than what I weighed at the doctor the other day. I was in lightweight workout clothes and had taken my shoes off, though.

He typed a bunch of information into the computer and came up with the information sheet above. Turns out I'm 43. The good news is that if I actually lose 40 pounds, my fitness age will go down to 31. However, based on the images, 40 pounds won't make much different in the way I look. The big ass picture on the left is me before* and the slightly smaller but still big ass picture on the right is me after. Do they look much different to you? Not really, right? That's motivation. Not. I mean it does get smaller, but it's hardly the same as watching Oprah pull 40 pounds of chicken in a wagon. We're talking about 40 pounds, that's 25%(ish) of my current weight, shouldn't it have a greater effect?

So after spending almost an hour talking, we finally got to the exercise stuff. Guess where he took me? That's right, the bloody elliptical. Which as it turns out is not an elliptical but an Arc Trainer. I don't know what the difference is, something about how the pedals move. Whatever, it's hard. He started to program it for 15 minutes but I tsktsked him and he lowered it to 10 minutes. We can't go whole hog on the first day.

He left me saying that we should get together again next Tuesday and we would do strength training. What I didn't realize until forty-two seconds ago was that next Tuesday is my birthday (mark your calendars!) and I have now set myself up for what is sure to be a pain-inducing session on MY day. Yay.

I'll keep you posted on my progress.

*Not an actual picture of me. A computer representation of me based on the information we put in. And for the record, I'm pear shaped, but not that pear shaped. I'd like to think my body is a little more evenly distributed. My arms aren't so spindly and my boobs are way bigger. The hair is about right, though.