Silly Putty

I have this cabinet above my desk. It's basically where lots of documents, binders, handouts of a business related meeting or event go to die. It's pretty much the equivilant to under my bed. If it's put there, it's not a mess, I don't see it, it's forgotten about, it doesn't exist.

So I had to go digging through this cabinet today to find an old binder from ages ago that I never did find, not because it's not in there, I'm sure it is, but because I stumbled on a precious gem instead. A small yellow box with the "Windows" logo on it. Something we handed out at the Microsoft PR booth at some trade show. Inside...Silly Putty.

Here's what I've made today:
19 Pretzels
A finger trap
A wicker basket (stamped the wicker with my diamond setting from my wedding ring)
6 roses
A fossil print of my eyelashes
a pair of lips
a braid
a thimble
a pinocchio nose

Here's what I do know about my random Friday gem. I've lost 6 hours of productivity today, I still need to find that binder, and I'm pretty sure I need to throw away the putty, it's filthy.

Family, isn't it about time?

My church has commercials. Not infomercials. There's no 2 for 1 baptize in the next 53 minutes special offer. (although it's not a bad idea) They're commericials that are usually of a young ethnic family, (to prove that mormons aren't just a bunch of whities) and they typically go something like this...

It's a beautiful day out and son wants to play catch

Dad is very busy with work, tells son no

Mom gives dad "look" (one one with arms folded and eyebrows raised)

Dad has mild inner-struggle

Music swells...

Dad makes the right choice, dad and son play catch

strong finish...

The whole family is sitting on the couch laughing and eating popcorn.

tag line...

Family...isn't it about time?

I think they're great. Ok, sliiiiightly cheesy, but really...a great message.

But what happens when the family grows up? When the parents are empty-nesters, The kids get married, have kids of their own, and the nuclear family is now the extended family? While the easy answer is that the message now applies to their young families, what's the message for the grown up family?

I have 6 siblings, 6 grown-up siblings. 6 individual personalities, priorities and problems. I don't really remember sitting around, all 7 of us, laughing while eating popcorn - but I'm pretty sure we did. Now we're spread all over the US and Puerto Rico, far away and quite frankly, out of touch.

They way I see it, the message is good when the families are young and the relationships aren't complicated...the message is even better when that family has grown up.

Family, isn't it about time? Yes, it's time. And dad, let's play catch.

Pain in the Gas

I'm getting a new laptop at work, as such I'm forced to dig into all my folders on my old computer and do some major deleting. This isn't a quick task people, I have worked here for 7 years.

Once upon a time, when I found myself more amusing and with more time on my hands I was really into having a funny picture on my IM with some kind of witty caption. For an entire month I posted pictures with captions that cleverly tied into my last name, Riggs. Riggatoni, Rigganator, Riggy Bank, Riggermortis, Riggy Smalls, Rigsaw Puzzle, Oil Rig, Little Miss Riggy, Riglet, Rigganometry, Rigabyte, RigFoot, Riggie Fry, Rigley Field....anyway, what was my point?

Oh, right...deleting folders on my work computer.

So I came across this picture in my IM picture folder. It's a picture of gas that costs $2.33. An arm. And a leg.

I would kill to pay $2.33 again.

So long outrageous gas prices that sadly don't feel so outrageous anymore....

So long "month of Riggs" IM picture folder....

Home Loanership

We bought a house. No, no. Correction. We signed papers that increased our debt to the multiple six zeros and as such, we now reside in the indebted dwelling responsible. While it's much more spacious with it's bigger rooms, tall ceilings, wide staircases and double occupancy showers(hee, hee)... it's slightly suffocating at times. Exit fractional rent payments, shoe sales, Nordstrom lunch breaks, international vacations...vacations in general, and enter Ramen Noodles. No seriously. Hadn't touched the stuff in years, and just last month, a 150 count economy crate of half beef/half chicken ramen noodles was purchased for $6.99 at Costco. In 150 days, we could consume enough sodium for 15 lifetimes.

Did we fall into the trap of being completely phased out of the growing housing market in Portland? Maybe. Do we regret our decision? Yes, from time to time. (mostly in the throws of a repressed retail therapy meltdown) Do we really really enjoy the double occupancy shower?...Don't be a pre-vert!

We met, we fell in love, we got married, we've settled in Portland by buying a home, this I'm sure raises the obvious next question...yes, there will be two new additions soon. A boob job for Lindsey is next on the list.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye

Like a big Pizza Pie.

At first, it makes no sense. No sense at all. When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie?

Dean Martin you old flirt, whatever could that mean?

It was 3p on this sedetary Tuesday, I had eaten the entire contents of my lunch bag by 11:30a and I was on my way to the kitchen to sneak just a few saltines to see me through the rest of the day when...the moon hit my eye. Congealed cheese, withered pepperoni, crust on the south side of soggy from it's own sweat and grease. There it was, a half-eaten, pizza pie.

I can only imagine how my eyes lit up the sight.

Dean, you are a poet and a gentleman. And that's amore.

'Taint MisBehavin'

My husband has what he calls a "taint" - I actually won't go into any graphic description of what he's referring to. But the basic idea is, "it taint this and it taint that"

Twelll.....

It taint Oscar season no more, and it taint Blockbuster summer yet. Which translates too...MOVIES SUCK RIGHT NOW!

Visiting http://www.rottentomatoes.com/ (website that posts movie reviews from a mass variety of critics that accumulate to deem them either "fresh" or "rotten") you'll find that 9 out of 10 movies, 5 which are currently topping the charts and 5 which are set to open this week, are all ROTTEN. And I'm not talking teetering the fence rotten, like truly and almost unanimously ROTTEN. In fact, #2 and #3 on the top charts don't even break through to the double digits.

"Because I said so?" - negatory
"Epic Movie?" - nine
"Norbit?" - wait, another multi-character, fat suit, Eddie Murphy film?!?!! - NICHE.

I suppose film makers have one very small window in which to release a piece of crap film that won't premiere defenseless against an Oscar buzzing masterpiece or a mega-hit summer blockbuster. And yes please, keep the small window cracked, because it stinks in here!

Harry Potter and Spidy better be worth this agony. My Netflix is burnin' up.

And whilst I'm foamy with suds on my soapbox - Oscar season was a bit of a yawn. Except The Departed and Blood Diamond, those movies were siiiiick. And the Academy would like to thank, Leo.

The Garden of Eatin'

Two chicken salad wraps
Two peanut butter and freezer jam sandwiches
3 hard boiled eggs
2 string cheese
1 bowl of cottage cheese + peach yogurt
1 apple
1 cup of applesauce
1 diet cherry vanilla coke

This isn't the contents in their entirety of the fridge in the office break room. This is what I fixed for my husband to eat for his lunch today. Not for him and the other full-size man in his shirt pocket. Just for him.

I didn't marry a binge eater...I married a personal trainer. I married the guy who weighs himself first thing in the morning as naked as he came and prays that the day prior didn't leave him in a calorie deficit causing him to lose weight and fall under 190.

Exit that world, and please enter mine. Hello. Welcome. I'm the girl who is meant (and lawfully bound) to spend the rest of her life cohabiting with the irrational fears of a boy who doesn't want to lose weight. His loss is my gain. I mean that literally.

Case Study #1
Josh and I went on a road trip where we were away from our routines of eating regularly and excercising daily. Upon our return, he was down 3 lbs, I was up 3 lbs. He lost it, I found it.

This is one example of many where I'm convinced that God has a very ironic sense of humor. Original sin suggests that Eve tempted Adam, but let it be written and recorded...Adam took over from there.

I can eat my egg-white omlet for breakfast, my garden salad for lunch, and my chicken breast with steamed vegetables for dinner which fit nicely into my daily caloric intake needs. But what about the other 3500 calories that Josh is supposed to eat? What about the large tub of hot buttered popcorn at the movie theater that fits nicely into HIS diet? What about the ice cream, the french fries, the pizza, the hamburgers and the various other salty and sugary bits that still don't seem to add up to all the calories that Josh is supposed to eat in a day?? How do I tell myself to stop...and just watch him go, go, go??

I will give him this much credit and then I'll stand my ground on the injustices in this world...Josh has worked VERY hard to turn his body into a thermal calorie destroyer. He works out almost every day, and he works out very hard. In additon to this, Josh is a man who saves all of his feelings, emotions, stresses and injustices for the gym. He keeps them stored in his head until it's time to pound them out with mind-numbing music and let them drip down his forehead and off his nose into a puddle of other lost and forgotten annoyances.

I don't exercise my emotions, feelings, or injustices. I eat them. And if you're my good friend, I'll eat yours too. I don't go to the gym to make myself or my girlfriends feel better. I take them to the Mio Gelato in the Pearl. Sweeten that bad taste in my mouth with a little Italian hot chocolate or a couple scoops of Marzcapone. There's something a little more instant gratifying about a dessert that makes you feel good, then a workout that makes you tired, then full of lactic acid which reminds you that you're sore the next day when you go to sit down on the toliet. Good morning hamstrings!

I suppose I'll just keep up with the quiet struggle of trying to fit in my fig leaves.

And Wedding Makes Two...more.

Isn't this how it goes? You start a blog, blog dies. You start a blog, blog hybernates. You write in April, abbrakadabra, it's October. Come on, did you really expect me to write in the months leading up to my wedding?! Probably, and so did I. But yadda yadda.

Josh and I were married! August 10th. Yes, on a Thursday. Is that random? No that's not the word, the words are "less expensive." I won't say "cheap" because we most certainly still paid for the "wedding sticker". Let me give one more sentance to the phrase, "wedding sticker", then I'll be done. Call up a reception site and tell them you would like to host a corporate event, your charge will be $300, call up same reception site and tell them you would like to host a wedding reception, your charge will be $3000. And oh how the prices climb from there. If there was ever sticker shock, I would say the word wedding has earned its sticker. (ok, that was 3 sentances, but I really am done now.)

If it weren't cliche and and lame to cash in on the success of someone's already brilliant and executed idea, I would be knocking down the door of Tom and Rita giving them little other reason then the FACTS that speak for themselves of why they should produce "My Big Fat Mormon Wedding." I have 6 married siblings, each sibling and their spouse averaging 3.3 children and several more on the way. That's just immediate family. This immediate family is scattered from sea to shining sea. Literally. I'm in Portland, OR, I have a sister in Williamsburg, VA, my parents are in Baton Rouge, LA, and all others are scattered in between. Given that this was an "offsite" wedding, there were hotels to find, rentals cars and rides to coordinate, 3 meals a day to prepare for 20 children, 15 adults...and a wedding to pull off on the side. Somewhere in the lingering future were the words "peace" and "quiet" but that kind of perspective is only realized hindsight. 35 immediate family members with 35 ranging personalities and temperments was only half the fun for the week of family and wedding bliss. The actual day itself to others with less of a sense of humor then me might call it an omen.

The ceremony was to start at 1p. At 1:45 we were finally ushered into the room where we would be married. The delay was due to a computer glitch. I still don't know what that was really all about, all I know was it was the first domino...of many. Initially, this wasn't a huge upset, we had allowed plenty of time for the floral arrangements, the cake, and the bouquets/boutonnières to be crafted between the ceremony and the reception at 6p. After the ceremony, family members went to the hotel to change, Josh and I stayed behind for a photoshoot at the Portland Temple where we were married, and everything still seemed to be going along smoothly (aside from the other minor hiccup where Josh accidently stepped on the bustle of my dress and ripped it). It was around 3p when family members hit the road for the short 20 minute drive into Oregon City...slooooow forward to 5:15p and finally the family started pulling into their destination. Traffic was record breakingly bad, like Seattle operating on one bridge during a snow storm - bad! There was 45 minutes to frost and decorate the 4 wedding cakes, de-leaf and thorn the buckets of flowers, arrange the 12 floral centerpieces, dress the 20 children AND take family photos prior to the arrival of guests. Josh and I had decided to take the back way into Oregon City, as we made our way, slowly but surely, we realized that we had left my bouquet at the temple, and had to back track to go get it. Once we finally made it to my brothers house, I had to very quickly touch-up my make-up and for the first time all day...finally go pee! After a quick 39 second touch-up and hustle out of the bathroom, one of my darling nephews looked at the train of my long white gown and asked "What's that?" After a whiff and sample, we quickly learned that the trane of my dress was covered in...poop. An animal or young child had an accident...it was too late, and too irrelevant to trace it's origin. It very was shortly after this that I allowed myself to look around and accept that this wedding, was falling apart. Guests were to show up at the reception site in 20 mins. My mother-in-law was patiently making careful frosting stokes on the FIRST of the 4 cakes, my brothers who were desperately recruited were hauling buckets of unmanicured flowers downstairs onto the deck to assemble the centerpieces themselves, kids of all ages, some dressed, some not, were running around the house - innocently unaware of any crisis, and there I was standing at the sink with my new handsome groom...as he scrubbed poop off my dress.

I'm going to stop there. I think that's sufficient for the tension of what we were up against on the biggest day of our lives. You ask anyone that finally made it to the reception by their own journey through traffic, and they'll tell you they didn't even notice that there was a mad scramble to throw it all together. In no time at all we we left the devil out of the details and we just had a wonderful time. Lots of hugs, "thank yous", introductions, laughs, pictures, kisses, and in two blinks the evening was over. I guess you could say the day was in sorts an omen, in quiet reflection on our way to the honeymooners lodge (our apartment) we realized that our life together, from that moment on, was going to be a lot of love, and a lot of poop on the dress. Bring it on.

Parental Advisory

Today has been one of those few days at work where just being "reactively available" is all that is required of me. There's a terrific number of things you can do with your time when you have the time. I kept the bed on my back till almost 9am. (with my cell phone handy...no really, his name is handy) I went to the gym for a good long workout. (with my cell phone, handy) I made it into the office just in time to take me and my cell phone handy out for a nice long lunch. Now, handy and I are are back in the office at the near-close of this reactively available Wednesday and it's only right that I tickle the keyboard for atleast a few mins today and post a blog.

Last night as I was toggling between a late night e-mail exchange on the Technical Computing Initiative scope-of-work for fiscal year '07 (yawn) and my 3rd attempt on the trickiest game of free cell ever(#27945), I went on a quick search for a document I thought I needed and stumbled across a word doc I had composed a couple years earlier. I had appropriately titled it: "Probably an ignorant list of things to keep in mind when I have kids" There were a few things on that list that even the two passing years of accrualed wisdom caused me to scoff at but deeper down the lengthy list I began to remember that there was a reason why I was compelled to record such a meandering list of thoughts and suggestions for my distant but all-too soon destination to parenthood. I wrote it because just 6 years fresh from high school I am already losing touch. I remember making a pact with one of my more patient and "born-to-teach-pre-school" friends that she would raise all our booger-nosed, dirty-diapered brats from infancy through grammer school, and I, the more in-touch and terminally cool would swifty see them thru puberty and on to social greatness while keeping them firmly grounded in their morals and academic responsibilities.

I would raise a generation of Lindsey 2.0's.

The upgrade of course being that they will swifty sail through puberty and acheive social greatness while maintaining standards and intelligence, blah, blah blah, blah blah. Just a few of the minor glitches in Lindsey 1.0.

Now, as I round another turn in my mid-twenties, I gush at the sighting of a boogered-poopy toddler, and gasp at the sight of teenagers today. I didn't write the list because I thought I would fail at checking the temperature of milk or mastering "the **Shannie Shuffle". I guess I knew enough at that point to think about the many ways my young adult will judge me and look to me for more then just the basics...I'll be forever under the scrutious eye of hypocrasy watch.

I guess in parenthood I should count on many more days and years of being "reactively available." Sleeping in and long lunches may not commonly been on the docket, but I'll always keep my cell phone, handy.


**Shannie Shuffle: This amazing rock, cradle, and bounce that my sister Shannon used to coax any child into a sleepy and/or sedated submission.

Hurricane LaTrina

I should admit that this could be a pre-mature level of depth for this, just a second blog entry. However as I lift from the fog of the last week, I feel I should address a “Lessons Learned” from what could have been and did feel like something of a relative to the Hong Kong Flu and Montezuma’s revenge.

Last Tuesday began as something of a stray from the ordinary. I had occasion to dress somewhat more respectable then my usual jean + top attire and rather then cruise down south into Lake Oswego for a day at the desktop in a cubicle, I was among the under-caffeinated and restless inching their way into downtown. Each year my company hosts an “Agency Business Meeting” It’s something like the state of the union address, rather it’s not president of country to country, it’s president of company to company. Anyhow, as lunch was finishing up and afternoon meetings were getting started I felt the slow creep of a headache and nausea. One hour past that slow creep I was high-tailing it out of the parking lot and rushing home to try a number of things that would hopefully relieve the now pounding headache and fierce cramping in my abdomen. I don’t wish to go too much further into the next 4 days. Not because I can’t color your imagination with visuals, but because eventually I should get to the top 5 lessons learned in my own personal un-natural disaster.

1. Just because you’ve regained an appetite, that doesn’t necessarily mean eat.
2. NEVER treat diarrhea and constipation within 2 days of each other.
a.) While I haven’t done the research, I’m certain that over-correcting either way can be fatal. Or at least feel like it.
3. Violent fits of emesis will cause you to lose muscle control and sometimes that means a change of clothing.
4. Never attempt in a public restroom what you have not yet completed successfully in a private restroom.
5. What does not make a relationship stronger at least opens plenty of space for ridicule and mockery.

While the cause or proper name of un-natural disaster ’06 is TBD. May God be with you and yours.

Like blocks of the Tetris: So are the days of our lives

I was asked in a meeting today to take minutes.
To take minutes.
Do I need a stop watch for this?
A watch with a second hand?
I don't wear a watch.

Now of course, taking minutes means taking "notes"--ofcourse that's what it means, I knew that. (ahem) At any rate it got me thinking down the rabbit hole about minutes, real minutes. Minutes that seem to stack like that of a tetris game. They keep coming in quick 60 second allocations, they keep piling, and if you're spry enough to retrieve them and arrange them in productive order, you win and so it continues...other times they pile at erratic random and game over. You lose.

See that beaming young couple up there in the right corner? That's me and my fiance Josh. He's changing jobs, my job continues to be a spectrum of re-definition, we're trying to sell our cars, apply to schools, we're looking for a place to live, we're juggling financial priorities (do we go on a honeymoon, or get our knees operated on?)...and per the mention of "fiance" and "honeymoon"...we're attempting to organize a wedding that keeps sprouting many new and challeging moving parts. All part of a complete and fulfilled life including other activities such as friends, family, church callings, civic duties, sport and recreation, eating, sleeping, breathing...

In a fit of self-intervention I am telling myself to keep up the daily winning and losing of metaphored Tetris battles. Winning is great because there is no interruption and the game goes on, losing is equally great and equally important because at some point, we all have to stop and exhale between games.

I think I like taking minutes.