Monsters

As I'm sitting here watching Project Runway reruns (say that three times fast) waiting for Hugs to come home, a commercial comes on with Noah Wyle (do y'all remember him from ER...Dr. Carter, was it? aww...such a cutie) and a chattie chat about saving the polar bears...yeah, the polar bears...I thought it was weird, too. I don't know what's up with the bears, cuz I wasn't really watching the commercial...I was too busy giggling every time he gave the camera a super serious glare as he said "You, too, can help save the polar bears." And hear me out, I think it's great to do what we can to help endangered species, but I mean, you had to see it. Go youtube it. It was just SO. SERIOUS. And I didn't know polar bears were in trouble. ANYWAY. The white polar bears reminded me of this preview I saw for this movie when I was yahooing stuff earlier (yes, I have done absolutely nothing productive all day today. I have been sitting on this couch since about 10:03 am and I've gotten up twice to potty and once to feed myself...oh, and once to let the dog out...oh, and once to help the dog because the cat cornered him in the office and wouldn't let him out...so, it's not been entirely unproductive. I have spent the past three days completely organizing and cleaning my house. It's been better than a month-long vacation. If you know me, cleaning and organizing are like cocaine-cleaning and cocaine-organizing to me...I love to do both. Not drugs...just cleaning and organizing. I talk about drugs a lot, don't I? Moving on. So, I wanted to take today and wrap it up and slap a big bow on it and give it to myself as a present...so, back to me sitting on the couch all day.) 

What was my reason for writing this post???......oh yeah!! Monsters. Okay, so the polar bear commercial came on and it reminded me of this preview for a movie I saw...for the life of me, I can't remember the name of the movie, but it comes out in January...hang on, let me google it...Unborn! That's the name of it. It's about these twins...one wasn't born...monsters...a creepy white dog thing with its head upside down...people walking around weird...yeah, sounds like a good movie. Don't go watch the preview if you get scared easily like me. I'll have nightmares for about three days just cuz of the preview. The dog thing really creeped me out, but I couldn't stop watching it. I don't do horror movies...at all. The last horror movie I saw was Amittyville Horror, I think. I don't even like realistic crime/murder movies...those are the worst cuz it's stuff that can actually happen. I don't pay $9/person to be scared and have crazy dreams for days. I want to see the stereotypical chick flick where the guy and the girl hate each other, then love each other and then something happens and she won't forgive him, but then at the very end, they get together, of course. I want to laugh and go "awwww" and maybe shed a tiny tear or two. 

I've been afraid of monsters my entire life. I'm 26 years old and yes, I take a leaping jump to get into the bed, so the octopus monster that's always been under there can't grab me with his sucker-riddled tentacle arms. After I turn my lamp off and give sweet David a hug and kiss goodnight, I pull the covers over my head and refuse to open my eyes because I know that the ambient light coming off the alarm clock will show that the ghost girl from the Grudge is actually in my ceiling...her long, black hair snaking its way through through the crown-molded corners of our bedroom. Even if it's 1,206 degrees inside, I always always always have to have a sheet and comforter protecting my body from the sharp claws of the red-cladded Village monster...fake or not, that thing was SCARY. A simple sheet won't protect me, but the addition of the feather-stuffed comforter makes all the difference in the world. I pull the sheets closest to the open side of the bed tight tight tight to my body so nothing can come by stealth up that way. 

I credit my irrational fear of things that don't exist to my sister...yes you, Sara. Thanks, ole buddy. When I was a little girl, she would tell me stories of It the Clown (who's not afraid of that guy) and Mike, the Unconnected Hand (yes, his name was Mike). I swear I could hear the pitter patter of fingertips on my bedroom floor at night. For about three years, I slept in the incandescent bask of every single light in my room turned on, sitting straight up, propped up by pillows...just in case I needed to react to something quickly. I had/still have an escape route for any situation. I've heard every single ghost story ever created and I believed all of them...I also believed all of the ghosts or monsters in the stories hid in various places in my room. For years I thought the distance dong ching ding was an old witch playing our piano at night...tapping one key at a time...slowly...monotonously...with one, shriveled finger...until I realized it was the medals from horse shows, Bible drills, and piano recitals clanking together against my wall as the breeze from the fan disturbed their slumber. Of course, I never told my parents because Sara said that ghosts "don't like tattle tails." Eventually, I did tell my parents, risking the wrath of the banshees...Sara got into loads of trouble...and I grew out of my ridiculously imaginative childhood ways...and this was all last month. My family does still give me a hard time about the Unconnected Hand...as shown by a Christmas gift a few years ago...a green glass ring holder...a single hand reaching skyward...ghostly fingers outstretched...awaiting precious metals and stones...and your souls...wah ha haaaa...ack...cough cough...anyways. 

The only monster that still gives me a little jump is the werewolf. I can't stand werewolves. Odd, because my dog looks just like one...  

and he's just as sweet and cuddly as can be...I think. He may transform during a full moon...I dunno. But, I can't do werewolf movies...vampires, no problem. Regular ghosts...piece of cake. Little girl ghosts...negative. Swamp things...maybe. 

So, I don't believe in ghosts or monsters anymore. But I mean, come on...who doesn't pick up a little speed when walking from the garage to the bedroom in the pitch blackness in the dead of night...just in case something creepy is watching you through the window...nobody? Just me? You're all liars. 

Anyways. My puddin bear just got home early! Woot! So, we're gonna make some supper and head to see a movie...Bedtime Stories...shouldn't be too scary. Adam Sandler is a little weird...but I think it'll be fine.

Applesauce

I brought applesauce for breakfast. Why? I don't know. Am I a four year old? That's debatable. It sounded good at 6:00 this morning. But I'm really mad about it because I finished it ten minutes ago and now I'm starving. Oh, Chick-fil-A, why can't you be next door? 

Work

As I sit here contemplating that this is my last day of work in an office...ever...I muse over the jobs I've had that have led me here. I've had a lot. Not because I'm a job jumper, but because a better opportunity presented itself. I haven't loved all of my jobs, but I've definitely learned something from each of them and some of my favorite memories come from those places. 

When I was 15 - 17,  I worked at my Dad's office as a medical records transcriptionist. I love to say that...it's totally a fancy way of saying I typed up his dictation, filled out the patients' medical report for their visit, and occasionally took some blood pressures, weight and temperatures. It's absolutely amazing to me how many articles of clothing people will take off just to weigh a pound less. I was like, "you realize it's illegal to remove any more clothing than that. I don't want to have to have you arrested, and I will if you take that off." Also, kids are scared of anything! I would walk into the room and they'd start crying. I'm like, "Kid, I'm here to take your temperature." 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" 

"Look, it won't each touch you. I'm gonna scan your forehead."(That was a really neat device...kinda Star Trekky)

"MOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!"

They acted like I had a chainsaw in my hand. ha...that would've been kinda funny actually...

Anyways. It was a good job and I am very appreciative to have had it. 

In college, I worked as an Resident Assistant my senior year. It was wonderful. I got a dorm room all to myself and I got paid to let girls into their rooms when they locked themselves out. I was supposed to charge them $5, but I never did. Shhhhhhh, don't tell. Who doesn't lock themselves out...I mean, come on! And I worked in the administrative office for one hour every two weeks as part of the RA deal. Man, that was an easy job. David and I also worked as lifeguards for two summers during college at a Christian retreat center nearby. That was a lot of fun. I love bossing people around. No running! No diving in the shallow end! No throwing golf balls into the pool! No breathing! haa, just kidding, kids. You can breathe. 

After college, I worked as the graphic designer for a large church here in town for a year. It was interesting working "behind the scenes" for a church. I learned a lot and I loved my friends there, but I definitely did not miss the dress code. 

After the church, I worked as a designer for a direct mail company for a year and a half. The office was about 7 minutes from my house....which was awwweeessssoooommmmmeeeee. The dress code was waaaay more my style and the people there were super great. I took with me some of the most incredible friendships and I was definitely sad to leave. 

But, an opportunity to work with a large magazine production company came along and I couldn't not see what that was all about. The company produced several magazines, including Cooking with Paula Deen, and I designed all of the ads for the magazines and directed the photo shoots that went along with them. I also cloned out Paula's neck fat and made sure her face was as porcelain and her eyes as blue as possible. It was a great experience, but gyaaaah...the environment was so completely different than anything I've ever been a part of. We had to dress up super nice, which, as you know, is NOT an easy thing for me. I have to sit with my feet in my chair or swirl around while I'm thinking or manipulate my legs into bending into ridiculous positions so I can brainstorm. And I can't do that in a business suit. I DON'T DO BUSINESS SUITS. Why would anybody think designers can function in business suits? That's just nonsense. I don't know what they were smoking, but I was dying a little more every day. I was gonna tough it out, but the Lord sent a ray of hope one morning when I got a phone call from a hiring agency. They had my resume from three years previously when I was first looking for a job and they said they had a position they thought I might be interested in. When he told me the name of the company, I was like "SHUT UP!" And the guy was like, "Excuse me?" I quickly recovered and told him I'd wanted to work with this place for like...well, forever. So, I interviewed and got the job (praise the Lord!). I was with the magazine place for a grand total of....three months. 

Therefore, my next job was working as a designer with a Christian camp/Bible study/missions organization. Sigh. I loved that job. Best. Job. Ever. I loved every single day. Even if I had a "bad" day, it was wonderful in comparison to the best day at my business suit job. I never ever ever thought I'd leave there, but lo and behold, I got an email from the owner of a Christian marketing company asking if I'd be interested in the Creative Director position. After considering it for about four months, I accepted. It was such a tough decision, but to have that experience was worth it to me. 

And that's where I am now. I've been here for four months...yeah, a long time, I know. I've had a really good time here and met some cool folks and it's in a neato part of town with cute boutique stores and fun restaurants, which David and our bank account were thrilled about.

But, I've been doing freelance work for about 7 years now and the Lord has blessed me with some incredible clients...and because of them, I was able to start my own design company (Bogue and Weejer, Inc.) and will be working full-time from home in January. It's always been my dream to work from home and I am sososososososososososo thankful. 

Oh, I forgot to mention my other jobs...I've had them for forever...ha, how could I forget these...

Super Wife, Super Housecleaner, Adoptive Mom to Seumas the dog and Blue the cat, World's Most Cool _________ (fill in blank), Empress Extraordinaire, Free Haircutter, Champion Balderdasher and Tabooer, Rock Star, and Chocolate Expertess. 

I Heart the Dentist...kinda

Actually, I hate dentists, but I do like mine. I tolerate going there...barely. I just got back from my 6-month cleaning. Yes, I'm blogging during work, but I'm finishing up my last three days (woot woot!) and I've just done eleven month's worth of work in a month in a half, so I'm gonna take 10 minutes to write this. Anyways. Dentists have always always always freaked me out. I hated going when I was a kid and I hate going now. It wasn't until the past two times that I actually didn't freak out when I got the appointment reminder call. I've seen too many horror movies where the evil dentist would yank a person's tooth out and laugh menacingly whilst holding up a molar with a pair of pliers. Chills. And I never actually thought that would happen to me, but I have a low tolerance for pain and I have a personal space issue...especially around my face. Also, I'm always afraid when I go that they're gonna tell me all of my teeth are falling out (I dream that happens all the time) or that they found a big tumor in my face...which just so happened to have happened (is that right?) to a guy I worked with. Yeah...found a tumor in his jaw...thankfully, it was benign and they removed it no problem, but still. Tumor in the face found at the dentist. Scary. So, when I got a reminder about my appointment today, my hands got all sweaty and I tried to think of an excuse to not go. Nothing came to mind and I know you shouldn't neglect your dental hygiene, so I was like, whatever. 

My parents were drill sergeants when it came to teeth. Something about which I am very thankful (thanks, Mom!), because none of us have ever had any teeth problems...knock on wood (that would be someone at the door [only two people will get that joke]). One of the best feelings in the world to me is leaving the dentist's office knowing my face is okay. And I turn into a 4-year old when they say "Pretty teeth. Keep up the good work." Gold star for me! Tee! 

Growing up, the dentist we went to was a fun guy. Kinda old...cigar smoker...raspy voice...grandpa-ish. But he was still a dentist, so I didn't like him. And he'd always pat our faces as he was finishing checking our pearly whites. The hygienists there were sweeter than sugar. They would dote on every tooth, using pillows and feathers to clean each one. It took forfreakingever. So, when you get Broomhilda the Toothinator like I had today, it's quite a surprise. She was a nice gal, just...a tad scary. She used jackhammers and ice picks instead of pillows and feathers. But, it was a good hurt. You know what I mean? Like when you get a massage for that knot that never goes away in your left shoulder and they just dig and dig and it's like "Stop, no wait, don't stop!" It's a good hurt. That's the way Broomhilda was. It was a good, deep cleaning. At least that's what I told myself to keep from crying. And when she polished them, it was like "let me shovel this paste into your mouth and sandpaper those suckers clean." They do feel super smooth now, though, so I guess I can't complain. It's like my own personal floor waxer for my teeth. She was pretty quiet...and she wouldn't use words to tell me what to do and where to turn my head...just noises. Like, she'd grab my chin and pull it towards her and utter "myuh myeh." I'm assuming she meant, "Please turn your head towards me so as I can peer into your wide open trap." (btw, while I was in the chair, I was thinking about blogging about this and how I would describe how she talked with the "muh muhs" and "myuh myehs" and it made me giggle and she thought I was choking on the fire hydrant stream of water blasting into my mouth and was all like "Sorry sorry, there there." Yes, I did formulate my blog ahead of time whilst in Broomhilda's torture throne.)  

After B'hilda finished up and the skin on my face situated back into its normal position, Dr. Gentry came in to check everything over. Now, Dr. Gentry is a good looking dentist. He's no sweetie pie David, but at least he's something pretty to look at when a big noggin is picking all around at your teeth. He gave me an A+ and sent me on my way. In and out of there in 22 minutes. No face tumor, my teeth are all still there, best dentist office ever. Now I get six months of worry-free-edness. Hurrah for teeth! Now I'm gonna go put my chompers to work and eat some lunch. 

Don't You Hate It When...

...you're saying something or telling a joke or asking a question to a room full of people or just one person with other people standing around and nobody responds. Like, dead silence. And either the person/people didn't hear you (headphones, etc.) or they all thought you were talking to somebody else and didn't listen. And then it's awkward because everybody knows somebody said something, but nobody gave an answer and you're like "Umm...uh...so....okay." And then ten minutes go by and finally someone says,"Did you say something?" And then it's like, "Nevermind." 

...you think you're about to drink water, but it's actually Sprite and GAG! I love water and I love Sprite, but when you're about to drink water and you get a swig of Sprite instead or vice versa, you die a little inside.

...you drink a sip of your hot chocolate that you so dearly love and it's gone cold because you waited too long and well, you die a little inside then, too. 

...you look awesome when you leave the house for work, but around 3:00 pm, you go and do a mirror check and see your reflection and think "I didn't know they were hiring trolls." 

...you can sing better than Beyoncé and Christina put together while you're in the shower or car, but when you sing for a human audience, a chorus of dying cats emanates from your throat instead. 

...you greet a woman's baby with a "hey, buddy" and are quickly reprimanded with an "It's a GIRL!" Well, you know what, lady, stop dressing your daughter in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that says "Li'l Slugger." And put a bow in her hair for goodness' sake. 

...you are commenting on a friend's cute dress but realize the back zipper is a little bit crooked and you say something about it so she can fix it to which she replies, "Maybe you're a little bit crooked." To which you reply, "Maybe your mom is a little bit crooked." To which she replies, "Maybe your face is a little bit crooked." To which you reply, "Maybe your back is a little bit crooked." And then you find out that she had scoliosis as a child and had to wear a body brace. (M, I'm so sorry about that, btw.) 

...you think it's 4:24 p.m. and look up at the clock and see that it's actually only 8:03 a.m. 

...you don't go potty before the movie and, during the best part when you just can't get up and leave, your bladder screams in your ear..."I can't take much more of this, Captain! You've got to go now!" 

...you don't save room for dessert. 

...you haven't had a chance to write a real post with pictures in forever and you resort to creating lists of random things to yammer on about. 

Winter = Brrrrr! = Ruth not happy

Reasons I don't like winter:

It's cold. 

Fall paints the trees with beautiful colors and fills the air with the aroma of home, candy corn, hot chocolate and cute scarves and winter says NOOooo!!! as she forcefully snatches the leaves from their branches with her cold, icy fingers....leaving behind the nakedness of skinny branches and yards filled with the brown, leafy carnage of her cruel blow...a massacre...while she smirks and chuckles in raspy mirth.

It always lasts for a really long time, no matter what the groundhog says. 

Going to the bathroom at work is like going potty at the North Pole. 

My hands, especially my knuckles, turn into an extension of the Sahara desert, no matter how much Glove Me Tender or Look Ma, New Hands I put on them. 

My lips are inevitably always chapped...although, they do turn a cute pink, which makes me less horrid-looking in the morning, so one point for winter.  

The hair on my legs grows 2.7 inches per day because of the incessant chill bumps. 

I feel like old granny Ruth in my car on the way to work because I'm hunched over, with my scarf, hat and gloves, trying to retain any tiny bit of body warmth I might have left. 

I have frostbite on my toes right now. 

It's cold. 

It makes me want to exercise less...which makes me feel like a slob...which makes me mad...which makes me hate winter more...which makes me want to curl up on the couch and eat/drink something warm...which makes me feel more like a slob...which makes me want to exercise, but then I remember I don't want to exercise...and the cycle continues. 

I don't care what anybody says...yes, yes, I love scarves and sweaters and my FANTASTIC NEW BOOTS! but nothing in this world compares to a cute sundress or flip flops or terry cloth shorts or a good-ole t-shirt. 

Ohhh...oooh great...now my fingers have frostbite. 

Speaking of, winter makes my fingers shrivel up to the size of toothpicks and my rings get loose and swirl around my finger and that's just plain obnoxious. 

It gets dark at like 2:11 pm and I feel like I have no day left when I get home. 

It makes coming home from tropical vacations November through March depressing because hey, it's balmy and wonderful and then REJECTED! it's winter in America. 

It smells like cold and dumb and the bodies of dead leaves outside. 

Awesome, my nose just surrendered to Mr. Frostbite. Way to give in, nose. 

It makes me sleepy. 

It's cold. 

I DO have a few, tiny reasons why I tolerate winter:

Family!! I get to see my family a lot more during winter than any other time of year. 

Christmas and Thanksgiving...love 'em!

I don't have to shave my legs as much (see 2.7 inch comment above) because nobody sees my legs, which is a good thing because I don't shave as much. I'll totally take a picture for you later. David doesn't mind. He says at night when I'm sleeping and my legs rub together, I sound like a cricket. 

I like winter accessories. 

I know that in March...the trees will wake up and stretch and start pushing and pushing and pushing and out pop the buds! And then the leaves will peak their tiny green heads out of the buds and say 'allo! (We have British trees.) And then, in an explosion of green and warmth and smell goodiness, WHAM! winter is gone. Spring has banished her dreary presence to the underworld of Seasonland. It's totally Aslan vs. the White Witch. 

Why?

Why does my neighbor down the road, who has no business being shirtless, stand in his driveway, shirtless, and just watch the cars going by at the same time every day? It's 49 degrees out and put on a shirt! 

Why do people not use their blinkers? I mean...that's what they're there for. Use them! 

Why do girls try to look like movie stars? They're robots. They're not real, ladies! It's gross. Eat a sandwich. 

Along with that, why do girls wear clothing that's obviously way too tight? I mean, it's uncomfortable for you, it's comfortable for those of us who have to look at you...why do it? It's like my grandfather always says, "It's two tons of lard in a one-ton sack." 

Why would anybody like winter more than spring? Cold and stupid outside vs. pleasantness and perfection outside. I mean...the choice is obvious. 

Why do people think cats are evil? Just because they eat people alive and pee on visitors' belongings and prowl on your face at night does not mean they're evil. Gracious.

Why do some people not like chocolate? That, is like...I mean, I-I can't even comprehend that...I'm going to cry...moving on. 

Why do people like horror movies? Is it fun to jump a mile out of your seat every 10 minutes for 2 hours and then have nightmares for a week? Is that the cool thing to do? 

Why, why, WHY??!! must men ask "Is it that time of the month?" to a woman who is experiencing that time of the month? I mean, do they want to die? 

Why do I always get behind Pokey McSlow on my way home? I just want to get hoooooome! If you're not going to go the speed limit, stay home or wait until 3 am when you won't bother anybody. 

Why do people love football so much? (Ah, I'm gonna get a lot of flak for that one.) But seriously, it's much too much pretty to stay inside and watch TV. 

Why would you spit out gum right where I'm going to step? Be more considerate of where I walk.

Why would I want to call you "Aunt Miri"? I don't even know you.

Why, oh WHY did they cancel Pushing Daisies?? That was one of the most original and creative and sweet TV shows ever made. Blast you, ABC. 

Why is it not 4:00 pm yet?? 

Seriously though, why do some people not like chocolate? 

Superhero!

So, just a sec ago I was uploading the motorcycle pictures and I thought "I need a picture with my chaps!" So, I ran and grabbed them and put on some jeans and David was like, "You look like a superhero." And I'm like, "What do you mean look like a superhero? I am a superhero." So he told me to do some superhero poses, so my 5 second photoshoot with the chaps turned into a 10 minute superhero glamor shot session...except without the glamor. By the way, I can't "do" faces. When someone says "be serious" or "be mysterious" or "be happy" it's all the same dumb look. I just have one. I'm a Derek Zoolander. I just have one Magnum/Blue Steel. It's either the one look or I'm laughing. For example...

The Ruthinator. Keeping the world safe from...something. (I realize that superheroes wouldn't wear white socks with their superoutfit.)

This is me and my trusty sidekick, The Shamtar, going after the bad guys.

The Shamtar turns against The Ruthinator!

I'll get you, Arthur Petrelli!  

This by itself is something only a superhero could do...hold Blue in one arm and Seumas in the other and live to tell about it. 

Man, I'm cool...

How about I went all day yesterday with my shirt on backwards. It wasn't until about 5:30 pm when I was changing to exercise that I noticed it. I thought that my neckline was mighty tight and kind of choke-y all day. Makes me feel really good about myself. Blast Old Navy and their "no tag" shirts.

First Post!

Hey! I got the first post on this site! Woot! Oh...wait...it's just me. Ah well. It was fun for a second. I used to think blogs were dumb. Like, who sits around and reads other people's random ramblings? Then I thought, "Wait a sec...I like to sit around...I like random things...and I like to ramble. Blogs are for ME!" So, I started reading a friend's blog and then another friend's and then some random strangers' blogs...I was instantly addicted. (I'm seeing someone about it, btw. I've appeared on Intervention...twice. Both episodes will air in June.) I've also realized that soon I'll be at home by myself a lot and I already have a tendency to "save up" the things I want to say throughout the day and since some might say talking to a dog and cat all day is crazy (I'm not going back to BellReve), I sometimes find myself keeping an internal blog. And when my dear husband comes home at night, I explode verbally all over him...literally throwing up entire conversations I had had that day with myself...chunks of complaints and general whinings, streamy globs of excitements and revelations, watery runnings of plans and details...it's disgusting. After David wipes his face clean from the mess I have just spewed all over him, he laughs and asks "Do you miss talking to people?" And I realize...I DO! (It's quiet where I work.) So, I decided to start my own blog...so you guys can hear all of my random ramblings and so I can be a normal person when my hugsy bear comes home. Anyways.

So, this morning we were getting ready to go to church and, even though I hate the cold, I was excited because it was cold outside and I had been waiting to wear this particular sweater alllll year long because it's soft and cute and I like it. I finished my hair and makeup and as I was donning my cutie patootie sweater and zipping up my boots, David comes into the bathroom and says, "I like that sweater. It looks like a Star Trek uniform." After I woke up from my red hot fury blackout, I looked at him and said, "What?!" He repeats, "It looks like a Star Trek uniform." I'm like, "I know what you said! Why would you say it?" He proceeds with, "It looks good! I thought you liked Star Trek uniforms." I follow with, "Yeah, for Halloween!" I turned and looked in the mirror to make sure my moment of wrath had not ruined my makeup and caught myself staring at a white Lieutenant Uhura. It DID look like a Star Trek uniform, made all the more obvious by my front button panel sailor jeans and high-heeled boots. I couldn't help but laugh and since we were running late, I wore my uniform to church proudly. The truth is, I love Star Trek. I blame my dad, who would let us watch reruns with him as we were growing up. So, I guess I'm a little okay with my Star Trek uniform sweater from Old Navy...next year's Halloween for sure.

I even have a Tricorder. If only I could find my Communicator....

Well, I'm going to go exercise. We space travelers have to stay fit.