Category Archives: My Sweet Babboo

I am woman. Hear me roar.

I have updates for you, on things like cooking projects and shoe choices for business trips (I know, you can’t wait, try to contain yourselves) but first I need to mention that if one more thing in our household breaks, I am going to lose my damn mind. Also, if I were living in the 18th century (I think that’s the right century) I would totally be worrying about things like debtors’ prison right now, because if I were living in the 18th century and things in my house continued to break, I would very likely end up in debtors prison. Please ignore the fact that there probably weren’t a whole lot of things to break in the 18th century since there weren’t things like irons and dishwashers, but I guess maybe your cow could break (or die, since cows don’t really break, per se) and then you could go into debt buying a new cow, and then if you didn’t pay your Cow Debt, you might go to debtors’ prison.

Also, to use Emily’s phrase, the List of Things That Adults Have To Pay For That Suck is REALLY TOO LONG. Specifically, the List of Things That THIS Semi-Adult Has To Pay For That Suck is getting too long.

All of this is to set the stage so that you will realize exactly how I felt yesterday morning when I hit the start button on the dryer and it made some very pathetic whining noises.

I will back up for one moment and tell you that we bought this washer and dryer when we moved into our house, and we bought them for a total price of $150 for the pair. When we first hooked up the washer we had a problem where the washer would spew water out of the back of it whenever the pump turned on, and until we figured out that the water spewing could be fixed with a 99 cent part from Home Depot, I would do laundry while sitting next to the washing machine with a large cup and a bucket, so that I could bail out my washing machine. We haven’t had a problem with the washer since then though KNOCK ON WOOD.

The dryer, however, has always had its little ticks and funny noises. One time last summer it decided to fake death temporarily, resulting in a charge from the repair guy that was more than what we had paid for the thing. A charge which was a complete RIP-OFF, by the way, since it turned out that the problem was that a few golf pencils had made their way through the wash and the dryer and ended up stuck in a vent somewhere. All the guy had to do was take the back off of the machine and the pencils fell out. So, RIP-OFF.

So, when the dryer began its complaints of a slow and painful death yesterday, I was determined to 1) not spend my hard-earned money on a new dryer, and 2) not spend my hard-earned money on paying some fool to come fix my dryer. I walked out of the laundry room and looked expectantly at Matt:

Me: The dryer is broken.

Matt: *Looks at me blankly.*

Me: Money does not grow on trees.

Matt: *Is really good at looking at me blankly.*

Me: How about we try to fix it?

Matt: *Is either in a coma or has mastered the blank look.*

Me: And by we I mean how about YOU try to fix it.

Now, I would to point out that my reason for suggesting that Matt be the one to fix the dryer has very little to do with the fact that he is the man in the house and a WHOLE LOT to do with the fact that there is only one of us in the house with AN ENGINEERING DEGREE.

(Hint: I do not have an engineering degree.)

Also, while I realize that a major in computer engineering and fixing a dryer are not the absolute most related thing on the planet, I contend that the general principle of How Things Work and the joy of Taking Things Apart should not be lost on an engineer. The Item To Be Taken Apart is not of chief importance, and the Tinkering and Using of Tools should outweigh any reluctance to take Said Item apart.

After finally diverting Matt’s attention from the football game and explaining these sound, logic-filled evaluations of the situation, it was still clear that I wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Fine!” I said in exasperation. “I will fix it by MYSELF. And I will USE YOUR TOOLS TO DO IT.”

I thought the threat of me using his tools might encourage some action, but it was clear that I was on my own. First stop, Google:

“fix whirlpool dryer”

“fix whirlpool electric dryer”

“fix whirlpool electric dryer won’t spin”

(Getting warmer)

“fix whirlpool electric dryer won’t spin belt replacement”

I finally found a site that seemed to confirm my suspicion that a belt had either fallen off its track or broken. (Don’t need to be an engineer to know that if your first car spat out belts like nobody’s business and made a noise similar to the dryer.) (Also, common sense says that if the motor will turn on but the drum won’t spin, it’s probably a belt since that’s what makes the drum spin.)

Now I had to figure out how to get to the belt in question.

“open whirlpool dryer”

“remove back of whirlpool electric dryer”

(OK, that was helpful, but it turns out that you can’t see the belt by removing the back. Luckily there was a helpful picture on the site so I figured this out before I took the back off.)

“take apart whirlpool electric dryer to see belt”

BINGO

I printed my little step-by-step instructions and went back downstairs. First I gathered the tools that I needed from the little tool/storage room downstairs, making as much noise as possible to show my displeasure with the situation.

Next I went into the laundry room armed with my tools. It’s much easier to make noise in the laundry room because metal appliances create such a nice echo and clang. Score.

But. Huh. This is not as easy as it looks. In fact, this is kind of complicated. I mean, you’d practically need an ENGINEERING DEGREE to get this thing apart. (Ha. Oh, I kill myself.)

At this point, I decided to go take a shower. This was because I really NEEDED a shower because I SMELLED, and NOT IN ANY WAY because I was admitting defeat re: the dryer. I could TOTALLY do it. In fact, I bet it was because I had the wrong tools, because clearly we do not have good tools and that is totally, completely the reason that things were not going well.

Well. I came back from taking a shower to find that the man of the house had finally risen from the couch to attend to the dryer. After much cursing, the losing (and finding) of a screw, and the slicing open of someone’s hand (not mine) on a piece of metal that someone else (totally me) warned was probably sharp, we have a working dryer.

Operation I’ll Show Him: FAIL

Operation Feminism: FAIL

Operation Not Have To Do It Myself: SUCCESS – I WIN.

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Filed under Home Sweet Home, My Sweet Babboo

Funny Ha Ha

The scene: I have just come home from work and am trying to find Matt so that I can ask him what he’s making me for dinner. (Although usually I try to frame the question a little bit differently so that he doesn’t realize he’s being tricked into making me dinner.) I hear some noise from downstairs so I yell down the stairs to him.

Matt: Don’t come down here!

Me: Why? What did you do? Did you break something?

Matt: Can you throw me down a towel?

Me: What did you spill? WHAT IS GOING ON?

Matt: Just throw me a towel, please, and don’t come down here.

Me: *Runs to the kitchen and grabs a rag; throws it downstairs.* Here you go!

Matt: No, I meant a real towel. Like a bath towel.

Me: Good god, what did you spill down there?

Matt: Nothing! Just throw me a towel.

Me: *Throws a bath towel downstairs and waits at the top of the stairs. About 2 seconds later Matt comes charging up the stairs with the towel around his waist, a cordless drill in one hand, and assorted other tools in the other hand.*

Me: *Giggles uncontrollably.* What the HELL?

Matt: Well, see I came home, and then I did a work out, and then I was all sweaty so I went to take a shower. And I got into the shower, and then when I went to adjust the water the thing came off in my hand!

Me: I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.

Matt: Nope, definitely not. Anyway, I thought if I could just grab a screwdriver I could fix it pretty fast, so I hopped out of the shower and grabbed the screwdriver that I knew was in the office.

Me: I’m following so far.

Matt: But then that wasn’t the right kind of screwdriver, and so I ran downstairs to get the right kind, but then that didn’t fit the thing either, so I was finding some other tools. And then you came home.

Me: And that’s when you realized that in your haste, you hadn’t grabbed a towel?

Matt: Yes! Because I thought I was just running down the hall to get the screwdriver from the office, see? But then I had to go downstairs. And then when you came home I thought if you saw me running around the house naked with a drill in my hand, well, you might think less of me.

Me: HA. How do you know that I wouldn’t find the sight of you running around naked with a drill in your hand appealing? Maybe that would turn me on?

Matt: If THAT were true, I think I might think a LOT less of you.

Me: Hmph. So did you at least fix the shower?

Matt: Not yet. I have to run to the hardware store.

Me: Don’t forget to put some clothes on first. If you run around the hardware store naked with a drill in your hand, they will not only think less of you, but they will probably arrest you.

Matt: Thanks so much for your valuable input.

Me: I think you meant to say, thanks for the towel.

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Filed under Home Sweet Home, My Sweet Babboo

Blinded by the Light

Believe it or not, this week’s sucktitude(I’ll get to that in a minute) is actually made WORSE by the fact that this past weekend was so nice. On Saturday, Matt and I went on our first mini-golf adventure of the season, complete witha lunch made entirely of ice cream (all lunches should be this good). Matt also wanted to use the batting cages that the mini-golf place had, because he just joined his company’s softball team and he didn’t want to embarrass himself at his first game. (To this I say, Dear, you work at a software company, and I’m fairly certain that most software developers aren’t known for their software prowess. Now, if you found yourself competing at Dungeons and Dragons, that might be a different story. Oh, but I kid!)

Anyway, Matt somehow convinced me to try the batting cages, and I really don’t know how I let myself get talked into this. Sure, it was slow pitch softball, but please remember that I have never played an organized sport in my life. My parents enrolled me in the science club and Girl Scouts instead of t-ball and soccer, because they clearly wanted a little nerdlingas a daughter. But I tried the batting cages anyway, and I am proud to say that I hit 3 balls out of the 30 that were pitched to me. I consider this to be a rousing success.

On our way home from this outing, we drove past a driving range. Matt asked to stop, and since I had a book with me I figured, sure, I’d just sit on the bench and read while he hit a bucket of balls. (Bucket of balls! Heh!) So I sat on my bench reading, and kind of watching the people, and I thought, “Hey, that looks kind of fun.” It didn’t hurt that the girl using the tee directly in front of the bench I was sitting on was really (REALLY!) awful, so I figured if I sucked at it, at least I wouldn’t be worse than her.

So I asked Matt if I could use his clubs. And I didn’t suck! I didn’t suck at all! I could hit the ball straight, and by the end I could actually hit it pretty far. I don’t think I’d really like to play a round of golf (I’d get bored by the 4th hole and end up sitting under a tree reading a book) but it was pretty satisfying to hit a bucket of balls (Heh!).

As you might have guessed from all of the weekend activities, it seems that Spring has finally arrived here in New England. The weather has been pretty awesome, and the only cloudy day was Monday, and since that was Marathon Monday and I don’t imagine it’s very pleasant to run 26.2 miles AT ALL, let alone in the blazing sun, I was willing to let that one slide. I was not, however, willing to let it slide when the police were puttingup barricades at the end of my street a full hour before they were supposed to start closing the roads. The marathon runs down the road that our street emptys onto, and while there are many ways out of my neighborhood, all of them involve getting onto this road at some point (or else going about 15 miles out of my way). So I made sure to check when the roads were being shut down. Luckily they took pity on me and let me out. Which, really, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, since if I couldn’t get out of my neighborhood I certainly couldn’t be expected to go to work!

Work has been the source of this week’s sucktitude, as you might have guessed. It’s been very busy, meaning that I have come in to the office at around 7am each morning, and I have not left at a time before 7pm. Twelve+ hour days do not make a girl happy, especially when the weather is so nice and the sun is shining, and I have books waiting to be read while sitting in my Adirondack chair on the patio. Perhaps while sipping a glass of wine. And eating some of the delicious pasta salad that I made last weekend. But alas, it is not to be, the sitting and the reading and the sipping and the eating. Instead, I am here in my cubicle.

It’s OK though. Today it is supposed to get up to eighty degrees, so I have decreed it to be the first skirt-wearing day of the season. And so, if anyone annoys me today, I’ll just flash them a little leg. The light glaring off of my pasty whiteness is sure to make anyone run for cover.

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Filed under Life in New England, My Sweet Babboo

Oh Sunny Day

So I guess the boy has sufficiently redeemed himself by apologizing profusely and proclaiming that he had every intention of cleaning it up, but was then distracted by the fact that our stupid upstairs toilet wouldn’t stop running again. So he fixed that but forgot to clean up the spilled water. I suppose that in boyfriend points that leaves him about even.

***

I just got back from eating lunch outside, and man, was it hard to come back in to work. This is why I say that I could never live somewhere without seasons – because I would miss having this type of appreciation for a nice sunny day. After winter has kicked my ass for like the millionth time, it’s nice to think that nice weather is coming. I think if I lived somewhere that had this type of weather all the time, it would become “Eh. It’s nice out. Again.” instead “OMG I CAN ACTUALLY SEE SUNLIGHT AND I CAN WALK AROUND WITHOUT A PARKA AND SNOW BOOTS YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

***

Speaking of sunlight, does anyone have a recommendation for a good moisturizer that includes SPF? I’m fine with slathering my very fair-skinned face and body with sunscreen (SPF = ONE ZILLION) when I am going for an outing in the sun, but I’d like to eat lunch outside without coming back into work with a nice tinge of pink. I know that I could use some type of sunscreen before putting on lotion/make-up in the morning, but that seems like a lot of work when companies so helpfully combine two products in one for the lazy folks like me.

I’ve tried some drugstore brands in the past with limited success – I guess the best of all of them was Aveeno; I used both the calming and the ‘radiant’ ones. They were, ok, I guess, but then I had a taste of the Sephora Kool-aid and started using the Philosophy line of products. And I love them, and my fickle, blotchy, combination skin has been happier than it’s been in years. Only one problem – my beloved Hope in a Jar doesn’t include SPF.

Philosophy does make a moisturizer with SPF, but it’s for ‘aging skin’ and I don’t think I qualify. I’m especially reluctant to use it in the summer, when I definitely don’t need something heavy clogging my pores. The Sephora ladies tried to convince me that it would be OK, so maybe I’ll ask for a sample, but I’d like to find an alternative if possible. I don’t mind paying a semi-decent amount of money if something can tame my skin into submission AND prevent sun damage. (Semi-decent = about what I would pay for Hope in a Jar, I’m not made of money).

What say you? Any brilliant recommendations?

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Filed under Life in New England, My Sweet Babboo, Retail Therapy

Shit List

Dearest darlingest Matthew,

This morning you woke up when my alarm went off, and immediately freaked out because YOUR alarm had not gone off. You reached over for your phone (which, by the way, is a complete piece of crap but you keep using it because you are simply too lazy to get a new one from Verizon, who will give you a new one FOR FREE) and apparently something was wrong with it because after several attempts at removing the battery and putting it back in, you threw it against the wall.

I do not think that this is appropriate behavior. I do not think it is appropriate behavior AT ALL.

But do you know what I think is even LESS APPROPRIATE? The fact that after you left for work and after I got out of the shower, I discovered the reason for the broken phone. Yes, I figured out that you had spilled a cup of water on your night stand. A night stand that was VERY EXPENSIVE, and that is one of the few pieces of furniture in our house that is not 1) a hand me down from some relative, 2) a Craig’s List find, or 3) from Target. Do you perhaps understand now why I repeatedly ask you not to leave cups of water so close to the edge of your nightstand, where an errant limb or pillow could easily knock it over? This was a long time coming, buster, since you have the sleeping habits of an untamed rhesus monkey on speed.

So, fine, anyway, spills happen, and I’ve spilled things before, and that’s not to mention how many dishes I’ve broken in the last week alone (count: 4) so I can be a little bit understanding. But what I absolutely CANNOT UNDERSTAND is why you thought it was acceptable to leave for work without cleaning up the spill. DId you think that it would be great for our VERY EXPENSIVE NON HAND-ME-DOWN/CRAIG’S LIST/TARGET nightstand to get warped and damaged? Did you think that the cleaning fairies would clean up after you?

I have news for you, buddy. This is NOT. OK. AT. ALL. So, clean up after yourself, go to the Verizon store after work and get a new (FREE) phone, and perhaps consider apologizing to a certain someone. Flowers would work nicely.

XOXO,

Cookie

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Filed under My Sweet Babboo

If you are going to set limits, you should make sure that they are not arbitrary ones.

So Matt got the offer for that new job yesterday but he did not officially accept until this morning. Last night when we were talking it over to make sure that he 100% wanted to accept, I made a comment that this will put us into a new ‘household income’ bracket. This only came up because I was filling out a feedback form/survey thing that asked for this information, and you know those bracket things are pretty much always the same.

At this point, Matt’s face lit up and he leaned forward excitedly. “You know,” he said, “you said that once we made over $X, we could get a dog.”

“I did not say that. You are lying.”

But no – he proceeded to recount every detail of the converstaion, including where I was sitting and what shirt I was wearing when I said it.

This from a guy who can’t remember to pick his damn shoes up off the floor, or that the cabinet needs to be closed after he opens it to get a glass. I guess he really wants a dog.

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Filed under My Sweet Babboo

Blog? What blog?

Look, I know I’ve been really terrible at updating these last few weeks. The truth is, not a lot’s been happening – at least, not a lot that is worthy of an entire blog post. However, maybe some of these little postletts will make up something worthy of the publish button:

Cute dresses: When it rains, it pours

So I went shopping this weekend for the first time in a pretty long time. I mean serious shopping. Not browsing the racks for .2 seconds while Matt taps his foot impatiently. Not trying things on knowing that I have six dollars to my name so there is no chance in hell that I will be buying the item of clothing that is currently adorning my body.

I mean serious. Shopping. I mean hauling my loot into the dressing room and trying on what seems like half the store. I mean trying on 3 different sizes to figure out which one actually fits. (The hell? I mean, I know I shouldn’t expect consistency across different stores, but you’d think that within one store I could find a number and STICK WITH IT.) I mean spending some of my hard-earned cash (along with coupons, of course, because six dollars wasn’t that far off, and lest I wish to be in that situation again I better be careful).

Here is what I ended up with:

br548256-01p01v01.jpeg

From Banana Republic – not linking because they are on sale and the link is sure to be dead soon, so if you want one get it quick!

I also got the following dress at ATL, along with a pair of jeans. I don’t know why I have never considered jeans from ATL before, since so much of their other stuff fits me well, but this was the first time it dawned on me to try them on. It went well. But, on to cute dresses:

213378_6600.jpeg

This one is not available in petite, but it actually worked out very well, considering that I do not need my dresses to be that short. No siree, I will keep my leg showing to the knee and below portion only, please.

And lastly, I got a dress at Express. They don’t seem to have it on their site, but it looks very similar to this one (picture is from ATL):

218478_6600.jpeg

I was also reminded why I rarely, if ever, shop at Express, because OMG THE TWEENS. They are taking over this earth. Save yourself from their glitter lip gloss, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.

Dressing rooms: DO YOU HAVE NO DECENCY?

When I was at the mall on Saturday, Banana Republic was one of the last places I visited. This mall is always crowded, so I wasn’t surprised that I had to wait for a dressing room. I WAS, however, surprised when the door to one of the occupied dressing rooms opened, and the girl inside invitied her boyfriend inside to ‘take a look at her outfit’. As he entered, the room next to that one opened up, so I went in to try on the purple dress.

And I was in there but 15 seconds before I heard, um… sounds. Sounds that should never eminate from the dressing room at Banana Republic, and, I mean, I’m no prude, but my EARS. They will never be the same.

Jobs: New ones – yay!

Matt called me a little while ago to say that he got an offer from this company that he had been interviewing with!! This is great news. He’s been unhappy with his current job for a little while, and then his old boss from his college co-op called him and – bam! New job, closer to our house, better pay, better long term opportunities, etc. It’s all very exciting, and the biggest benefit is to ME in that I won’t have to deal with his post road-rage ‘tude anymore.

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Filed under My Sweet Babboo, Retail Therapy