Honeymooners & Babies

22 Mar
“It just needs to be popped back in,” MarMar from the bathroom, commenting on the closet door that I just broke.
“Thats what she said.” Laughter.
I couldn’t help it! But really, I did just break the closet door in the condo that MarMar has taken me too. In Florida. In the sun. Away from all heart-ache and possible worrisome and confusing thoughts. Really, what do you have to complain about down here? Other than too many young men on the beach trying desperately to look like Jersey Shore spike-heads, and old men almost running you over by their golf carts while you jog on the sidewalk (THEY SHOULD GET A SPECAIL LICSENSE TO DRIVE MINI-VEHICLES), and massive amounts of children/babies eating sand, throwing sand, crying in the sand…
But, this trip, started not off as blissful.
In fact, within 5 minutes of boarding the plane, I really thought “Well, the shit is going to hit the fan and I am going to have to be sedated on the plane.”
It all started with a baby. Marmar and I did not have seats next to each other, but both agreed that once we were seated we would try to convice our stranger-seat partners (simply by batting our eyelashes and flashing a toothy-grin) that we have a friend we would like to sit by and could really use the seat. This would work, of course, assuming this person was male. If female, then we would just have to explain that it is like girl-code not to split of friends on plane rides. And if she didn’t switch, we would sass her.
So ANYWAYS, I am getting all settled in a window seat. “Fantastic!” I think to myself, “I love, absolutely adore, window seats.” Then I hear a gurgle sound and look up. Peering over the seat in front of me is the tiny little head of a something-month old baby. And boy, is he cute. Adorable. Drooling fabulously. He has got big brown eyes and a full-head of sandy-brown hair and is completely covering the top of the seat in drool. He really has a lot of drool. Should the mother be concerned? Should I tell her? Naw, he probably is just salvating over thoughts of going to Florida and being in a warm climate. I am probably doing the same, just hiding it better. (Please let me know if I do this. Thanks)
This baby clearly is a show-stealer. He has my full and undivided attention and I keep making monkey faces at him and he just keeps giggling and drooling. Mostly drooling. Maybe this is a real issue? Whatever, if my day consisted of eating mush, being cradled in big arms, and wearing onesies I would probably drool constantly. (I really hope this is not foreshadowing my elder years…)
THEN all of a sudden my crush on this adorable little man is interruped when a buttocks is thrust into my side. Oh, I think, the strange sitting
parner has arrived! And has a big butt, ew. All the more reason to get the seat change.
I turn away from cute baby face and am about to say hello as friendly as possible to Mr. Buttocks but to my horror, it is probably the worst thing I could be stuck next to on a plane. Let me rephrase that- be stuck on a plane right now at this moment in my life when I am trying not to think about love or a loved one or kissing or muslces or blue eyes.
To my horror, a rather sturdy and husky build couple- clearly HONEYMOONERS- are shoving their over-sized butts (WITH MATCHING PLAID SHORTS I MIGHT ADD) into the two seats next to me.
My row has turned into a third-wheel, and I am a the BIGGEST-MOST-AKWARD-ANGRY third wheel ever known to man kind.
These two troll-lovers (they kinda looked like trools, very pale and hairy, curls everywhere) are totally, utterly oblivious to me. And are kissing. Groping. They have no problem letting everyone know that they are happily married, blissfully each others, and just want to… well, they really just look like they want to go back to their honeymoon-suite. Wherever that is. Under a bridge probably, since they are troll-like.
Or maybe they should go on “What Not To Wear” because these shorts are just not doing it. Don’t get me wrong, I like matching my outfit with my parner. I think it shows that you are confident and care what each other is wearing, enough to let everyone else know in the room “Hey, we match because we love each other and want everyone to know that. And plus, now if we are in lost in a crowd, we can find each other easily.” Maybe they are going to a theme-park and thinking ahead in case they do get separated.
Anyways, I collect myself and decided to ask them anyways. You know, if one of them would be willing to switch so my friend can sit next to me and keep me from yelling some sort of horrible thing like “Don’t make lifetime promises because you might ruin it! He might break your heart or steal your ovary for drug-money! And she might leave you because you look really bad in plaid shorts!”
I say “Excuse me,” forcing the most I-am-trying-to-look-very-happy-and-calm smile, “But, are you two planning to sit together for the whole flight? I mean, are you two…. together?”
That was lame, L, I think. I’m such a clutz. Of course, they are together!
Literally, peeling her flushed-face away from her husband, Bride-troll answers “Mhmmm, yeah…. yeah we are together alright.” She murmurs
it and licks her lips, diving in for more sloppy kisses from her husband.
Oh dear. OH-DEAR. I can feel it starting to bubble up now, a little eruption has started in my gut, clenchign around my heart and my throat is beginning to close up. Where is the baby? What happend to the baby? I smile weakly back at Bride-troll and try to keep myself from feeling utterly annoyed and devasted all at once. And try not to think about honeymooners. And blissful happiness with another. And love. I need to find the baby, he is the only one that can save me now!
He is still there, head peering over the seat, drooling. I look at him. His eyes meet mine and I decide that he must understand how I feel. I try to speak to him, telepathy (you know, whatever it is called when you speak through minds), telling him to fall over and fall into my lap and distract me. Or drool all over the couple and keep them from making out. Please, baby boy, just fall over. I’ll catch you. I’ll even drool with you if you want!
“L! Get up here! I got the guy sitting next to me to switch!” Marmar yells from up the plane.
What? I can move? I don’t have to sit next to honeymooner-troll-couple-that-are-eating-each-other’s-faces? Praise the Lord. Thank you baby,
that drools and blesses the plane.
I grab my carryon, somehow get out of the seat successfully without the couple noticing. Really, they are are intertwined and connected. They should really just tape themselves together.
Settled into my new seat, window on one side and girlfriend on the other, I feel calm and happy. Excited. Off to warm weather! I avoided a total eruption of emotions! The only bad thing about my new seat is that I no longer can stare at my new crush, drool baby. Oh well.
The drink cart comes and looking at Marmar, we think the same thing instantly.

Bloody Marys, anyone?

I think I deserve one of these. Plus, I am getting a full-serving of veggies. All the more justifable.
And 30 minutes later, the infant across the aisle way, puked everywhere and it smelt of baby-spitup. Go figure.

Scandalous Shakers

18 Mar

I’m busy- running around (literally and figuratively), packing my bikinis up, drinking lots of tea, and job hunting like the Russian spy that I am. Scratch that last thought. And I may or may not be wearing a bikini right now and listening to “When Doves Cry” by Prince, because this song always makes me want to dance and shake it.

Anyways, I’m busy but I just had to post this today.

I was debating about what to post because so far in my day, several strange things have happened.

And I have taken pictures of them. I have evidence of my day and I bet it has been weirder than yours. Is this good? Are you jealous?

Anyways, I think this one is the most entertaining, and frankly, I think J & A will get a kick out of it. And whoever else reads this.

It all started when I realized I needed to take my vitamin – Viactiv Caramel Calcium Plus D Soft Chews to be exact.

They are really yummy and like candy, I swear! I pass them out as treats!Now, I know what you are thinking. “Oh geez, L is such an old lady! She is only 20-something years old and is taking carmel chews! Her and my grandma with no teeth should hang out!”

But they are really really really x 9823598235 tasty. And I need my bones to be strong.

So I went in the cupboard in our kitchen to take one:

Cupboard with nothing crazy, just some calcium chews and kitchen things

Here is a closer look – and look closely….. do you notice ANYTHING strange? Weird? Inappropriate, perhaps?

Anything strange?

Let me give you a hint, if you have not noticed it yet. Look in the little white cup:


Sorry for making that so large. But I am shocked. I mean, they are…. being frisky inside a cup, and not just any cup, it is the cup from my youth.

The cup that when I was just a wittle wiggly girl I was able to learn my farm animals and drink apple juice.

But alas, I am scarred for life.

But these do get an A+ for cuteness factor. They are quite adorable, the way they are just begging to be put together and hug and love each other.

However, since the man shaker was being inappropriate (and because I am feeling a little cynical towards love these days), I did this:

She beat him up due to being disrespectful child-sippy cup

Then I put them back that way. Really, you shakers don’t need to always be together. Live on your own for a while. And stay out of the farm animal cup for small children!

(oh dear, I’m talking to shakers)



Sporty Spice?

17 Mar

Let me be clear:  I hated the Spice Girls.  You want me to tell you what I want, what I really really want?  To reclaim the years of my adolescence when I actually listened to the Spice Girls. And boy bands.  Ohh the boy bands. The music I remember at middle school dances is quite possibly some of the worst ever produced.  I know it’s out-of-tune and lyrically equivalent to the back of a cereal box — and yet I sit here, listening to a Sugar Ray song on Pandora. Then Barenaked Ladies. Then (GASP) Britney Spears. Sigh. It’s unfortunate to have great memories tied to crappy songs.

And I’m already super-offtrack for my first posting!  Be warned … I’m a rambler. I like dashes and ellipses.  I was an English major and I know how to properly use punctuation marks. I just chose not to.

So anyways. My initial purpose was to say that, out of the three of us, I’m the sporty one.  I don’t play sports as I did in high school, since I love sports that require at least a dozen people.  But I do love sports. LOVE. Hockey and soccer and baseball and volleyball and softball.  That’s right. Basketball and football be damned.  And liking sports is pretty rare quality in a librarian, I’ve found.  Especially hockey.  Trying to get library people excited about Stanley Cup Playoffs was like trying to get students to write English papers over Spring break.  Getting librarians excited about a ridiculous piece of vampire teen lit  — well, that’s another story.

Last night my amazing boyfriend took me to a Red Wings game after work.  The Detroit Red Wings, for those of you who aren’t familiar, have been and always will be the BEST hockey team of all time.  Hands down.  And the Joe is the best place to watch hockey.  I pray they never try to expand the arena; they’ ruin it.

Also, Sydney Crosby can suck it. Real men can grow beards and don’t cry every time they hit the ice.

Last night the Wings played the Washington Capitals, and my bf and I were pretty stinking excited to see Ovechkin in person.  He didn’t disappoint.  Every time he touched the puck, you felt the entire arena holding its breath.  Well, booing actually.  But he had such smooth puck-handling! Such dangerously accurate shots! That’s how hockey should be played. And the Wings totally rose to his level.  A small part of me was anxious before the game because lately they’d lost some momentum lately. And the Capitals were on a 9-game winning streak.  And Ovechkin seems unstoppable.  But the Wings pulled it together and really dominated this game 3 to 2.  They contained Ovechkin.  Howard made some stellar saves. Zetterberg hit some gorgeous shots and Rafalski was the king of assists. It was a thing of beauty.

Did I mention that all night long I had a throbbing migraine and blurry vision?  No?  Probably because it didn’t matter — nothing could keep me from enjoying such an incredible game, with my bf at my side.  I wish all nights could be that awesome!

It also made me super jealous of L for living in D-City. And super happy that my momma raised me to appreciate a great game of hockey.

Pirate appreciates hockey.  And that’s one of many reasons why pirate is AMAZING.

The End


ps: The only things that could have made my night sweeter are a good on-the-ice brawl and having L and J at my side.  There were three crazy middle-aged ladies all decked out in Red Wings jerseys and St. Patty’s day gear — glowing necklaces, hats with pigtails, the works.  I saw our future in those ladies, and it was GLORIOUS!

Runs, Books, & Tea– Oh my!

17 Mar

Do you get the title reference? Wizard of Oz anyone?

Pssshh….. over here. I have something to tell you– I have had a realization on the past 30 hours. Do you want to know what it is? The secret to life? The way to live your life richly and with happiness, honesty, and love?

Here it is:

Recipe for Happy Days  🙂

  • Do what makes you happy. And then– DO IT. Are you doing it? Make time in your day and go do it NOW! (I’m sassyin’ and pointin’ my finger). For me, this is running. I loooooove running.

My running shoes and sport bra are by far, the best and most loyal objects in my life. If I could marry them, I would do it in a heartbeat. They are always there when I need them, want them. They never waver or falter.       Even when you run 15 miles, and get really sweaty, and get pooped on by a bird, and almost trip on a branch (::me, yesterday::)

Speaking of sport bra, this is the best one in the world:

Champion Dri Fit, T Back sport bra (available here)

Really it is. I own three and MarMar (my gorgeous red-headed Nurse friend) just bestowed another one on me last night.

Anyways, next step:

  • READ.Books, and books, and magazines, but mostly books. Now, I am not just putting this in here because I am a) a big nerd, b) a librarian, c) did I mention nerd? Reading, even if you don’t practice it regularily, is good for you. It feeds your mind, soothes the soul, and makes you look pretty damn studious when near others (seriously, they will look at you with curiousity and think– oh, what is SHE reading? I just MUST know, she looks so engrossed and carefree with her day! And she looks smart, and I like the way she holds the book.

Okay, well I really don’t know if anyone is thinking that when they see me read, but that is what I feel like is happening in the mind’s of others and that is all that matters- what I’m feeling. Books, specifically ones that you enjoy, can clear your mind and light up the side of your brain that is not logical or responsible- your go-with-the-flow-imagination-creative part in particular. And this is excellent news! Especially if you are suffering from any sort of over-thinking/over-analyzing (raises hand) and are trying to start your career (hand still raised) and have a bit of a heavy heart  (seriously, when can I put my hand down?)

Right now, I am savory a juicy book about a young woman who leads an extremely dramtic life due to her inability to stop shopping.

It is HILARIOUS. LOVABLE. DRAMA-FILLED. And it makes me want to go out and buy rugs, pens, shoes (lots), pots/pans, purses, spatulas, and some really, expensive stationary.

Really, I am shocked at how dramatic her life is- every purchase ignites some kind of primal flame in her and makes her feel like she is on top of the world. And, okay, the descriptions of all the yummy latte drinks, delictable chocolate, and really chic dresses and fabulou shoes– that makes it enjoyable book too. Espeically if you lack this in your own life (hand shoots up).

There is also a hunky character, Luke, and I am just dying to know what happens between those two (I just read he has a girlfriend after taking the main character shopping for luggage– really. And he didn’t think to mention he was involved with someone else… Men, just tell us up front, thanks). I haven’t quite decided if I like him or not yet.

Anyways, the point is that YOU SHOULD READ. Doesn’t have to be a novel. A newspaper. A quote. A letter that once made you smile. Anyways, just let your mind focus on the words that string together that sentence and be glad. Because some people can’t read- like infants. And really really really anciently-old people.

  • T-E-A. Ich möchte einen Tee bitte!

Ohhh, doesn’t that look good? Doesn’t your tummy do a little flip of happiness with the thought of some nice, warm tea on the horizon? Or maybe it is doing a little flip because of these little tasty boogers:

Fried banana and cocunut. This is from my Bali trip-

WAIT! I’m talking bout Bali now! TEA, back to tea L!

Seriously, how do I get so off-track?

The point is- drink some tea. Actually, I think that I enjoy the whole pre-drinking process than the actual consumption action. I love heating up water in my lovely electric tea kettle (do you have one? Nooo?? Stop reading now, get your wallet, and go buy one. It will change your life, I promise. It is like the sport bra, you will want to marry it after using it a few times) I love picking out what little tea bag to use, and then dunking it in the hot water and watching the transformation of clear water to rose-petal-orange or dark-blue-green. I love tea pots. They have handles and spouts.

They don’t shout, annd if they did, that would be weird. And creepy.

Anyways, follow these three steps and you will feel wonderful. If you don’t run- scrapbook, volunteer, bike, shop (but not too much!). If you don’t read books, you should start. Read something, anything.

And tea- doesn’t everyone drink tea????


Another Pirate Story

16 Mar

When L mentioned making a blog for the three of us, I didn’t think she was serious. I mean, blogs are a dime a dozen now and I don’t always see the point in them. Then I read L’s first post and I soon realized what this blog could offer: stories about Pirate, L’s father. Pirate is probably one of the nicest, most caring fathers I have ever met – and he’s also probably the most hilarious.

Before meeting him, I had always heard Pirate stories from L and didn’t think such a person could actually exist. Turns out, they can. The first time I met Pirate, he was not at all what I expected. When you only hear a person referred to as a pirate, it’s hard to imagine a swashbuckling, eye patched fellow. Pirate looks like your ordinary hockey loving father of four, but once you get to know him, you quickly realize he’s unlike any other person you’ve met. For example, L is completely out of the loop on pop music – and to be fair, I am as well. But as soon as we got in to Pirate’s car, he started speak-singing “Don’t Trust Me” by 3OH!3. Now, I will admit I had to look up what song that was because I didn’t know – but just imagine a 40 something year old father saying in a monotone voice “hush girl, shut – your – lips.” A and I about died laughing, and L just rolled her eyes.

The reason we were in the car is that we were about to go water tubing on a lake in Michigan. I had never been water tubing before and was excited, but also a little nervous because I don’t really know how to swim. I let L and her brothers go first, and then decided to go on the tube with L. Apparently no one gave the memo to Pirate that I have a fear of water, because as soon as he took off our tube hit a HUGE wake and my little 4’10” body flew off the tube, SPIRALED in the air and landed smack on the water. Most fathers might be worried that they had just killed their daughter’s friend, but not Pirate. Sure that I was fine, he could only exclaim how impressed he was with how high he had made me fly off the water tube! That was all I heard about the rest of the time I was visiting.

Cut to graduation, almost a year later. L and I decide our families should have a joint post-graduation dinner. We’re outside a nice, fancy restaurant and the first thing Pirate says to my mother is this:

Pirate: “Hello, I’m D – I almost drowned your daughter last year!”

My mother: “Oh ….”

Pirate: “Her little body just FLEW off that tube!”

My mother: “Ohh … my! You know she doesn’t know how to swim.”

Pirate: “I think she said that, but she’s tough. Tiny and resilient. Let’s get a beer!”

My mother: “I don’t drink.”

Don’t worry, by the end of the dinner they were almost as good of friends as L, A and I and now every time I talk to anyone in my family they all ask about Pirate.

Should you ever get the chance, always let Pirate take you out water tubing, it’s a lot of fun and you get a lot of funny/embarrassing pictures like this one:

We're both trying to hold on, but about to fail miserably and fly in to the air

But, you also get really nice ones like this:

That’s enough Pirate talk for one day, next time I’ll try and think of a more creative post 🙂


Dinner conversation at Hergott house

15 Mar

I cannot even begin to explain the strangeness and obscurity that I am surrounded by living back home, in my childhood home, with my family, who are sometimes smelly (brothers- two), or just wearing their underwear because they own the house and have a right (pirate father), or always want me to rub their feet and take them on walks (mother). Or who bake weird vegan meatless dishes and force me to practice yoga with them (hippie sister).


I am not making any of this up. On a daily basis, I am bugged and bombarded with weird requests but sometimes- once in a blue moon– I am asked really wonderful things. For example, just last week, the pirate asked me if I wanted an hour-long massage because he had an extra one and didn’t mind giving it up. Immediately, I shrieked “yes, of course!” And began to fantasize that I was asked because I am lucky and should probably go play the lottery….. but then, after the massage we had lunch together.

And pirate tried to offer advice on dating (never a good idea), saying “You should probably date more than one guy at a time, because that seems to make sense… I mean, I don’t understand why you are only with one guy! Back in my day-”

“Dad, that is called a slut. Or a whore. Or cheating. How is that a good idea? And I don’t know if I really want to hear what you did back in your day,” I snapped back.

Then we finished our meal and that was that.


ANYWAYS, BACK TO DINNER CONVERSATION. (Clearly, I can stay on topic and never get sidetracked… nope, not me)


Here it goes:

Pirate: Father, Al: Brother 1, Lou: Brother 2, Mother: Mother, L: Me/confused offspring

Pirate: So Al, I think your butt is getting big. You got that Hergott butt. Did you work out today?

Mother: Oh, leave him alone!

Al: Ya, I did work out.

Pirate: Well, listen- I have a plan.

L: Great, a plan. Never a good idea.

Pirate: ::glares at me:: ANYWAYS, here is the plan: For the next two months, I am going to make a bet with you. Whoever loses more weight, gets $300. So if you lose more (talking to Al) then you get the money. If I lose more, then you work for me, $300 worth of work.

L: ::jaw drops open, speechless::

Mother: Ohh, I think that is a grand idea!

Lou: I want to do it!

L: WHAAAAAT? If he loses weight, he gets PAYED?? You do realize that is totally unfair considering he does not work and has no job or motivation to get one and earn money the normal, correct way. What the hell, may I try to compete for this said $300?

Mother: Oh, L, you are so thin! You can’t lose anymore weight!

Pirate: Yay, but if you gain 30 lbs. you can win!

L: How the hell am I suppose to gain 30 lbs. in two months?

::Long pause, everyone is thinking and chewing the frozen lasagna that actualy tastes quite decent::

Lou: Just get pregnant. You will gain weight really fast then.

Mother: Ohh, I love my family. I love coming home to them. L, want some more lasagna???



Just another night in the Hergott household. And apparently, I should get pregnant immediately.