Optimistic with a Real Truth Flavor

Before Henry

2012-01-04T10:20:00.000-05:00

During the months between my September blog post and Henry's birth, we all did a lot of growing. Daphne continued her rapid ascent from a baby to a little girl, Erik's hair is a reflection of his personality (I'll let everyone interpret that how they will), and I went from having a baby bump to experiencing what I imagine carrying twins would be like.

We ended September with a visit from Erik's parents, who joined us on a road trip to Traverse City, Michigan. By the time we spent a weekend there, we resolved to one day have a vacation home in the area, or at least to return there for future vacations. It's on Lake Michigan, so it feels like a beach town, but it's close to forests and even sand dunes. We loved visiting all of the local shops in downtown traverse city, and driving to (and climbing) the huge sand dunes nearby. We stumbled upon the Cherry Republic, where everything on the menu incorporates cherries in some form. In a word: stupendous. Having four extra hands to entertain Daphne and two neutral referees to weigh in on mine and Erik's "discussions," was wonderful.

The bump begins to get unruly, as does Erik's hair.

I don't let a thing like pregnancy prevent me from climbing a huge mountain of sand.

Daphne decided she didn't like sand, so she was content as long as she had a human island on which to avoid it.

In October, we returned to the Gust Brothers Pumpkin farm and tried out MacQueen's Orchard. Daphne loved all of the animals and got to pick out her own mini pumpkin.

Sheeeeeep!

We always try to coordinate our ensembles.

For Halloween, Daphne was the animal she's always had a fondness for: a kitty cat. She never has to be convinced to wear a "swimsuit" and we convinced her to wear her tail for the 20 minutes she walked around collecting candy.

Daphne has Erik's signature picture pose down.

Erik arrived home just in time to stay dressed as a doctor and to take Daphne to the neighborhood houses.

I'm not going to make any radical statements about my plans to blog more, so this will at least serve as a record that we had a family trip, visits to the pumpkin farm, and Halloween.

Henry

2011-12-16T23:53:00.001-05:00

Henry David Peterson entered the world two weeks early on November 17, 2011. Those of you privy to my Facebook ~~complaints~~ status updates know that it wasn't a moment too soon. I'd begun an unsustainable growth trend at 32 weeks pregnant, which resulted in my measuring eight weeks ahead (45 weeks pregnant?) when they last measured me at 37 weeks.

Throughout his birth day, Henry seemed to be reluctant to leave his spacious accommodations. After awakening to painful contractions in the middle of the night, and summoning our on-call angel (Beth) to watch Daphne, we arrived at the hospital at 4 am, only to receive the disappointing news that I hadn't progressed far enough to convince anyone that I was truly in labor. I continued in that state until making rapid progress between the hours of 7 and 8 a.m., at which point I demanded to see the nearest available anesthesiologist.

Despite the nurses' predictions that he'd be there "before noon," "no later than 5 p.m.," and "within the hour," Henry was not born until 6:50 p.m., albeit after only about 15 minutes of pushing, during which I confirmed that apparently epidurals do not work for me during the final (and the most crucial) portion of the process. The nurses were also unfortunately incorrect in their predictions that Henry's head would be cone-shaped to accommodate the birth process. He was born with a rather large, perfectly round head, which makes for better post-birth pictures, but does nothing for my body. He weighed a hefty 9 pounds, 2 ounces, which was vindicating, given that my OB not so subtly suggested that my rapid weight gain during my third trimester could be due to my over-consumption of juice or ice cream. Don't worry, it didn't slow me down.

Henry has been a squeaky, squirmy, sweet little man to have around. Daphne has not only accepted that he's here to stay, but also says a loud "HI BABY!" every time she enters the room he's in and gives him rather passionate kisses on the head. We're coming out of a month long of blissful visits from both my mom and Erik's parents, so now the real test begins.

Grandparents

2011-09-21T16:01:00.000-04:00

I haven't yet been able to nail down why we can't get anyone to move out to Toledo to be with us, but we're doing our best to lure the grandparents here, using Daphne as bait. I was fortunate to grow up next door to one set of grandparents and five minutes away from my other set, so these biannual visits are just not going to meet my expectations.

We tried to pack in as much fun as we could into our short time with "Nanna" and "Bompa." We started off with Daphne's first visit to the zoo. If I had known how happy seeing animals would make her, we'd have been there every day for the past six months:

My mom is famous for being able to "whip" anything up without a pattern and it's always totally fashion forward. I had premeditated this trip's project: curtains for our dining room and living room. In mere hours she'd magically transformed a stack of fabric into modern drapes.

(I'll post finished pics once we repaint).

We took many walks, most to the neighborhood playground where Daphne tirelessly swung on swings and slid down slides. I'm not sure how he does it, but my Dad can effortlessly entertain Daphne for hours on end--and he did.

My parents gave us some false hope when they picked out a house to buy across the street--the same house that Erik and I have been eying since we moved into the neighborhood. Sadly, the house is not for sale, but with the amount of time Erik spends watching people from our living room window, we'll know the second it's on the market.
We miss my parents dearly, but luckily I have figured out that all I have to do to get my parents to visit is to routinely endure the pains of childbirth to produce more and more grandchildren. It's the least I can do. See you again in November!

Things that Bothered Me About My Trip to Nebraska with the In-laws

2011-08-05T23:51:00.000-04:00

Daphne and I just returned from a trip to Wahoo, Nebraska, where we met up with Erik's parents, four sisters, one brother in law, and many nieces and nephews, ages 10 and under--all while Erik lived the bachelor life in Chicago. So, as you can imagine, I have all sorts of complaints attendant to spending five days with my in-laws.

1. Every time I turned around, a sister or my mother-in-law were asking to take Daphne! One time they took her to the park and I was forced to lie on a couch and read for like two hours. So rude! Every morning my mother-in-law took Daphne on walks while I got ready for the day. Who did she think would dump out my make-up bag if Daphne wasn't there?

(pictured: me, left, with my "vacation pigtails" and Erik, right, in his lucky tank top)

2. They chose a hotel within easy walking distance to Dairy Queen. It's not hard to see the designs behind this plot. Yeah, no one held a gun to my head and forced me to buy refreshing ice cream treats on a whim, but they made it too easy. You'd think they'd be satisfied with my starting out a foot taller and ~~75 pounds~~ significantly heavier than all of Erik's sisters.

3. Making me visit Wahoo made me homesick. Daphne waved and blew kisses at a total stranger in a cowboy hat, assuming it was my dad driving by (she's never been very discriminate with her displays of affection). The 4-H animals at the county fair took me right back to the good old days. The only saving grace was the sole stoplight in town. Let's hope Castle Dale never becomes that kind of metropolis.

4. For some, it might be flattering to have a group of kids argue about who got to ride in our car with Daphne, but sometimes we get sick of being adored. James wouldn't stop kissing her. Zach wouldn't stop packing her wherever she wanted to go. Emilie never tired of picking up Daphne's binky for her. Ella provided endless entertainment for her in the car. Charlotte shared all sorts of treats with her. Set some limits on your kids, guys!

Despite all of that, Daphne and I had a wonderful time in Nebraska and hope to return with Erik someday. Now that Daphne's without petting zoos, huge kid-friendly swimming pools, and cousins, we don't know what to do with ourselves. Please send help.

Things Making our Summer Better

2011-07-22T06:00:00.020-04:00

1. Inflatable swimming pool

When Daphne's not spending hours in the ice cold [hose] waters of her swimming pool, she's looking longingly out of her bedroom window asking if she can swim. It's the best $7 I've spent in a long time. Sadly, a recent wrinkle in the excitement is her inexplicable aversion to swimsuits. Skinny dipping it is.

2. Piano.

Although Daphne flips out whenever I play, the purchase was worth it just to be treated to Erik's playing nearly every chance he gets. It's a marital bonus that I wasn't fully aware of until after I had committed to Erik.

3. Cozy Cruiser.

An early "incident" (wherein I turned around to find the car tipped over on top of Daphne and her chubby little legs kicking out from underneath it) soon after Nona sent Daphne her personal car hasn't deterred her from wanting to drive it whenever she's not in her pool. She only operates the car in reverse, a skill that will serve her well if it continues through adulthood.

4. Rain gutter covers.

After a visit from Dave confirmed (repeatedly) that we had to get a handle on our gutter situation, I called up the Gutter Doctor (it seemed appropriate) and we have forever said goodbye to risking a ladder/leaf-related injury every fall and spring.

5. Central Air
Seriously, how did we go this long without it? Those are the stories I'll tell my grandkids about life in the early 2000s.

6. Homemade Ice Cream
We don't make it very often because we know how shamelessly fast we'll devour it, but Kathy's burnt almond fudge recipe is unrivaled. If you're coming for a visit, twist our arm and we'll make it for you (and hide the second half of the double batch in the back of our freezer for later).

*The swimsuit modeled above is by Circo, a special delivery from Aunt Jessica.

Oh Boy.

2011-07-21T15:11:00.002-04:00

While in Utah among her many cousins, Daphne developed a coping technique. The process began simply with Daphne tightly shutting her eyes whenever she wanted to shut out her surroundings, leaving me with a little Helen Keller on my hands. In fact, on our shuttle ride to the Detroit airport, she implemented the technique in response to strangers smiling at her while I was feeding her fruit snacks. The result was not unlike the water pump scene as I imagine it took place between Helen and Anne. Daphne later upped the ante by sticking her fingers in her ears to shut out any offending sounds, which in Utah included such noises as yelling/crying cousins, any amateur singing, and heavy farm equipment.

It’s a technique that will suit her well in the impending months, particularly in November, when she will be joined by a baby brother. Many of you have had questions about this new development. Unfortunately, due to the volume of questions and comments we receive on a daily basis, it’s simply not possible to respond to each one individually, but as responsive, caring bloggers, we’ve tried to include a representative sample.

How do you feel about having a boy baby?

We were ecstatic to learn this baby would be a boy. While I have some misgivings about switching gears (so to speak) from the girl-world, we’re excited to enter this new territory. Also, given that Erik is the only boy in his family, I’m happy to be the Jane Seymour in this scenario rather than the Anne Boleyn.

What will you name him?

If the tenseness surrounding choosing the baby’s in-utero name is any indication, it will be a fight to the end. I’ve been deferential to Erik’s names in the past (if you recall, Daphne’s in-utero name was Hannah), but calling this baby “Little Larry” is a blasphemous way to start this young life.

How does Daphne feel about having a baby brother?

She hasn’t seemed to grasp the concept yet, but she does love babies. By love, I mean, she forcefully shares/[shoves] heavy objects with/[at] them or points at/[in] their eyes.

How are you feeling?

Thank you for asking! I've been smart enough during this go-around to fully enjoy the solace of the second trimester. The complaints of the first trimester are in the distant past and I'm sure the third trimester will bring with it plenty of new complaints. Right now I just want to nap. And eat.

Well, folks, that's all we have time for now. Some potential future posts I have bouncing around my head are 1) the highlights of my Communication Skillz for Women seminar; 2) our two visits to Utah; 3) our upcoming visit to Nebraska (because I'm realistic about how long it takes me to write about things after they happen). Stay tuned.

Chicago

2011-06-29T10:30:00.000-04:00

[For the record, when I wrote this it was only a month late.]

In yet another attempt to escape Toledo's gray skies (in April), we decided to venture even deeper into the midwest to Chicago, Illinois. After the fact, I'd be hard-pressed to explain my logic in assuming that we'd be escaping dreary weather, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Some things we accomplished in the Windy City:

1. Braved conditions similar to that of the Chilean miners each night after 6:30 pm when Daphne fell asleep in our [tiny] hotel room. It was dark, we had limited food access, and the only escape was through a narrow corridor (between the wall and the pack n' play). So we were practically Chilean, minus all of the fame after our ordeal.

2. Visited the Shedd Acquarium. Daphne was initially enthralled by the huge fish tank near the entrance to the aquarium. She would shriek loudly at the fish and point as they swam by. Conditions later deteriorated during a 4-D showing of Happy Feet. Apparently the fourth dimension is fear that one will be eaten by a killer whale, complete with rumbling seats, a 3-D/life-sized whale coming at you from the screen, and loud shrieks everywhere.

3. Visited the Art Institute of Chicago. Daphne predictably slept through this one, but it left a bad taste in our [collective] mouths when later in the trip when a fully supervised Daphne was banned from the stairs by a museum employee "due to safety reasons."

4. Were beaned by the Bean. Apologies to Daphne, who will later realize that her mom's first reaction to her injury was laughter.

5. Shopped 'til we dropped. We came away from the Penguin store emptyhanded, but it wasn't due to lack of effort. We were more successful at Nordstrom Rack and Baby Gap.

6. Enjoyed the views from the top of the Sear's/Willis Tower. By "enjoyed" I mean that Daphne and I hung out for extended periods of time in the glass ledges while Erik hugged the inner perimeter of the building, saying "I'll be right here when you come to your senses." Our fearlessness was aided by the 0% visibility, so at least Daphne was under the impression that we were just hanging out in the fog, perfectly safe.

Arizona

2011-04-27T23:04:00.002-04:00

After living in Ohio for nearly five years, we have learned how to survive the interminable winters here: we leave.
This year our sunshine tour began in Glendale, Arizona. It was a whirlwind trip and it made me want to buddy-up with some blue-hairs to join their annual migration to the Grand Canyon state. Here's a breakdown of some of the things Daphne and I did.

1. Celebrated four birthdays, including my mom's, sister Jessica's (although she was absent), my dad's and my own. I think we were all thankful for some help blowing out the candles on our joint cake. (I realize the pic of Daphne is unrelated, but I don't have a picture of the birthday festivities without me making some obscene facial expression).

2. Shopped til we dropped. You really have to witness it firsthand to fully appreciate what occurs when you get my mom, sisters and me in a mall with a time deadline. I went from frumpy to fashion-forward in a matter of minutes...and having the opinion of those closest to you when trying on clothes is priceless. Who else can tell you when a cardigan makes you look like a linebacker or that you need to take a step back from your ruffle obsession? If my mom were available, I'd hire her out at an hourly rate reflecting how invaluable she is. Thankfully, no one tried to stand in the way of me buying more heels--and I came home with four new pair, much to Erik's dismay.
I was accompanied by the inimitable Krista for round two of shopping at Last Chance. She knows the ropes and we didn't let the three kids following us around the store (they were ours) keep us from scoring some amazing deals on shoes.

3. Attended Baby N.'s baby blessing. Maybe I should have put this first, since it was, ostensibly, the reason for our trip to Arizona. We instantly fell in love Baby N. and his tinyness/portability. I'm also proud to point out that I'm 11 of 14 for Johansen grandchildren baby blessings.

4. Dined with the glamorous Brennans. While we were absent a key member (Erik), Jonny, Krista, and I enjoyed a child-free night reminiscent of the many hours we spent in Toledo practicing Guitar Hero. Now I'm desperate to rid the Brennans of their anti-Toledo attitudes so we can once again live in the same town (since heaven knows we'll never leave). It's hard to believe that we've gone from Erik saying "we'll have to do this again sometime" after our first "date" with the Brennans, to them moving across the country just to be somewhere a little warmer...and economically sound. I've now turned my efforts to convincing Erik that he can in fact handle the bugs and reptiles of Arizona. Apologies in advance for violating Jonny's privacy policy by posting his likeness on a public blog. Also, please email me if you'd like his home address, SSN, or credit card number.

5. Went swimming and played with cousins. It's completely bizarre to go from freezing, snowy weather to a swimming pool with a sandy beach, but Daphne and I did our best to keep our glowing skin from blinding the natives. Also, while Daphne had taken her first steps prior to our trip, watching her cousins' mobility gave her the motivation she needed to start walking/running like a [drunk] adult. We are completely jealous of their dedicated play-room and we also loved having a Grandpa around who was always willing to take the kids to the park to run around. G-man even allowed me some games on the iPad at a 5 G-man turns to 1 Lyndsay turn ratio.

6. Went for a photo shoot. Proving that there's no creative talent she doesn't, possess, Michelle has an amazing eye as a photographer. Daphne was not particularly happy with me, but you wouldn't know it based on how well the pictures turned out. Here's a sampling:

It's been nearly two months since we returned from our trip and we're already itching to see our favorite Arizonians again. While we can't promise anyone good weather or entertainment, we are hoping to lure anyone and everyone here before we leave. You only have four more years, so book your tickets NOW.

One.

2011-03-02T23:12:00.000-05:00

Some things that you should know about baby Daphne at one year(ish)

nicknames: The Daphster, Doozer, Daphne Doo, Baby Daphne

palate: loves pizza, peas, bananas and about anything else we feed her. When she's done eating, she'll let us know by rapidly sweeping all remaining food off of her tray. She has a sensitive palate when it comes to dairy, which made weaning her a month-long process (boo!). And don't try to give her the cheap yogurt.

vocabulary: rawr! (lion), rrrwr (bear), wow!, mama/ma, dadda/dadee, mao (chinese leader/cat sound), kitty. Despite her obviously knowing who we are, she refuses to address us directly in any form.

hobbies: reading without assistance, climbing dangerously situated stairs, climbing, dancing, emptying (drawers, bags, refrigerators), pointing, sumo stomps in the bathtub, self-applause

social development: typical behaviors include pointing, pointing into kids' foreheads with her finger, and long soliloquies upon meeting someone new.

favorite songs to dance to: Mack the Knife (performed by Kevin Spacey), Summertime Blues, Peanuts theme, Clumsy (Fergie), Baby (Justin Beiber)--she loves a good beat.

Torn

2011-02-07T23:24:00.001-05:00

Today we watched a Gilmore Girls episode wherein Lorelai asks Rory to call upon her daily journal to see if it reveals any information about Luke's Dark Day. Luckily, I will be able to use this blog if I wonder about something that happened quarterly. You're witnessing why I'm an unsuccessful scrapbooker/journaler. Here are the highlights of last quarter:

December
Erik and I celebrated five years together by getting our first non-family/non-Jennie babysitter and hitting the town. After being rejected at Mancy's Steakhouse, I mistakenly called in our phone reservations at what very well could be a strip club (Rumors). When we arrived at the restaurant I thought I had called, we realized it had been closed down, allegedly due to the owner's recurrent drug problem--I don't know what the man does in his personal life, but I do know he made good food, including a molten chocolate cake with the most heavenly powdered substance atop it. After spending money on electronics we didn't know we needed at Best Buy, J. Alexander's took us in and we had a perfect night.

Erik the intern was required to work on Christmas Day, so we all opened our presents and Daphne and I reluctantly hopped on a plane to be with our families. We were spoiled by everyone, but I'm loooving: a new camera lens, an 18 nail polish set, a 1" Chi, new boots, a ruffly coat. . .and I'll stop now before you realize just how much everyone spoils us.

January:

Daphne deserves her own birthday post, but if I don't end up writing it--she turned one! There was cake, messiness, and a much needed bath.

I can't believe that we live so close to Detroit and had never been to the auto show. Wait, I can believe it. It's in downtown Detroit. We braved both the weather and the warfare and once again engaged in risky parking practices in downtown Detroit. While this time Erik didn't hand over our car keys to a complete stranger, I was still skeptical that our car would be waiting for us when we got back. Spoiler: it was. We were all fascinated by the new cars, but Daphne was more interested in getting a look under the hood (so to speak) via crawling and was not content in being strolled or carried around the show. Still, everything was going great until Erik emerged from a Passat with a significant chink in his armor, if you will. And by that I mean he had a five inch tear next to the back pocket of his pants. As the day wore on, so did Erik's pants, until he had this:

As you can see, not only was he forced to tie his jacket around his waist ala a 1990s cheerleader, his ability to do Rodin poses was severely limited. But luckily, the Fiat lady really captured the essence of the show including my shapeless sweater, Daphne's distraction, and Erik's exhibition (plus the crowd of paparazzi that is constantly following us)

Until the next update, think of us digging ourselves out (sometimes literally) of these multiple snowstorms that just won't stop. February in Toledo is the worst.

2010 Gamechangers

2010-12-31T11:59:00.000-05:00

Some trivial things that have changed my life in 2010:

1. Free two-day shipping via Amazon Mom. Now I have unreasonable expectations for every online retailer and even in-person transactions. I let this sort of cockiness go to my head as I procrastinated my packing for our return trip from Utah, figuring that if I left anything behind, Kathy or Laurel would have it sent to me stat. Reality has hit now that it's Friday and I'm still without my new laminator or Daphne's black tights. I've been home for almost three days, people!

2. Egyptian Cotton Fabric and Room Freshener (Kohl's). Admittedly, I'm addicted to clean scents. I'll go out of my way to walk down the detergent aisle at the grocery store with no intention of buying. Erik has caught me sniffing freshly-washed clothing and loitering in bleached-clean bathrooms. After picking up a consistently delicious smelling Daphne from her babysitter one day, I demanded that Jennie tell me her secret. And now I pass it along to you. Resist the urge to guzzle it.

3. Secret Flawless Touch Deodorant. This one's for the ladies, although what man can't use softer armpits? No one will judge. Michelle alerted me to this life-changing product last year right before I went into labor and it gave me the confidence to hold up the newly-born Daphne in a Lion King/Simba sort of scene in the hospital. Now Erik can't keep his hands off of my underarms.

4. Free downloadable audio books from the Toledo Public Library and the "Conversations" podcast on the Mormon Channel. I hate waiting for new episodes of "Conversations," but last week Kristin Chenoweth kept me entertained with a reading of her book "A Little Bit Wicked." Even more magical is that I'm able to listen to them in double speed. This too has changed my expectations for those around me. Talk faster! We'll get twice the amount of information into the same amount of time!

5. Haagen Dazs Dark Chocolate Mint Ice Cream. I haven't turned my back on Ben and Jerry, but I'm enjoying the excitement of a new love that tastes like spoonfuls of mint truffles.

Honorable mentions: working part time, blow-drying my hair from the top down (instead of from the bottom up), and Ugg moccasins.

Things You Should (have) Know(n) About our November.

2010-12-16T15:19:00.000-05:00

1. First things first. Daphne was in fact a ballerina for Halloween.

2. Daphne added leg crossing to her repertoire of constant ladylike behavior.

3. Erik's totally paranoid. When he saw this picture, he asked me if the truck was moving when this picture was taken. (It was, but I had my foot on the wheel, so I had the situation under control).

4. In a moment of overwhelming love, Daphne bit Nona (Erik's mom), leaving two large gashes on her chin. Kathy says that it's a fond reminder of Daphne every time she looks in the mirror. Despite her assurances, we are not publishing any photographic evidence--at least until the statute of limitations runs.

5. Daphne's on track to inherit her father's (and grandfather's) addiction to Apple devices. Her favorite app is the interactive alphabet and she's in fact already emailed the app creators to let them know how she feels.

6. Daphne's getting good use out of her winter coat and was indifferent about the Lights at the Toledo Zoo. Maybe next year.

An Early Christmas Card Update

2010-11-09T14:06:00.004-05:00

Don't let this update ruin the surprise if we get around to sending out Christmas cards.

Erik has given us our first taste of intern year. We've been introduced to zombie Erik, who appears (almost) every Sunday morning after being on call the previous 26 hours. He usually gives staying awake the ol' college try, but inevitably ends up falling asleep mid-conversation, although it varies whether he continues to talk or just suddenly becomes silent. We're keeping in touch via pager, and although I'm limited to calculator language (80085 ("boobs") or 7734 ("hell")), he usually catches my drift. Luckily for all of us, he's liking orthopedics and he's your man if you have the type of injury that would make a normal person cringe to even think about. So far, trampolines, ATVs, motorcycles, ladders and alcohol are banned from our household. We expect that list to grow.

Daphne learned to crawl this weekend while at the Watkins' house in Columbus at exactly ten months old. We've considered bestowing on Kendall and Ryan some sort of honorary godparent status, with an honorable mention to the Snows, who didn't produce the same results when we visited their house earlier in the day. Daph's new mobility has made her completely unwilling to sit through meetings, a development that is severely cramping my style.
As predicted, Daphne made a perfect ballerina for Halloween. In a test run of her secondary Halloween costume (a ladybug), audiences were consistently under the impression that she was "such a cute little boy," so we were forced to take the costume out of rotation. She's adamantly opposed to head-wear, outerwear, and footwear, which isn't helping with our efforts to differentiate her as a girl.

Lyndsay would like to give you the impression that she is Wonder Woman, so she won't mention that she's a) locked herself (and Daphne) out of the house twice in the last month; b) been told by a partner this morning that she's looking worn out; c) gotten up to report to a group with cheese hidden (by Daphne) in the folds of her skirt.
I am working three days a week, traveling to the far reaches of Northwestern Ohio for my stake calling, and weakening my stance on unwillingness to do yardwork, since Erik isn't home during daylight hours.

We have an exciting November and December planned, so stay tuned for more timely updates on the Peterson crew.

Empire State of Mind

2010-11-07T21:46:00.001-05:00

I always feel so much pressure about post-vacation blogging, so usually I just avoid it. Here goes, only 1.5 months later.

Things Daphne Did in New York:

1. Admired breastfeeding art.

2. Distracted the panhandlers from asking her parents for money. She even got a gratis version of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" from a dirty man with a violin. We hope it's not her last. (This picture doesn't relate, but it's cute and there were panhandlers nearby).

3. Almost learned to crawl in Chelsea.

4. Missed the Statue of Liberty:

5. Was mesmerized by Times Square, which was right out our hotel window.

6. Rode the New York subway for the first time.

7. Helped Nona pick out buttons at the button store.

Things Erik Did in New York City:

1. Turned 30.

2. Spent most of his birthday money at the Penguin store near Bryant Park. Here he is, still riding high on the Penguin spree:

3. Spotted a guy with white hair, "either Ted Turner or Dick Van Dyke" walking casually down broadway. (It was Ted).

4. Got a rosy view of life in the navy on the Intrepid (theaters, air conditioning, a rock climbing wall, and the Concord nearby).

Things Lyndsay Did in New York City:

1. Spotted Tyra Banks shopping in SoHo. She has amazing skin.

2. Sang a "Feliz Navidad" duet with a man on the subway. What a catchy tune!

3. Visited Laner-J, best friend, successor SB Pres., and hair/teeth model.

Things We All Did in New York City.

1. Learned how to tour New York like insiders from Dave and Kathy.

2. Got some inspiration for our next family picture. Erik has the least work to do to get ready for our picture.

3. Almost circled the island by ferry but were stopped by U.N. security.

4. Saw Obama's motorcade.

5. Saw Joaquin Phoenix. This is the best evidence we have. Erik's not so great at spotting the celeb.

6. Wished we had another week with Nona and Pops!

7. People watched in Central Park.

8. Celebrated Nona's birthday with gourmet cupcakes.

9. Almost got to see Sofia from Modern Family on Letterman.

10. Ate way too much.

11. Vowed to return.

Why Daphne will be a ballerina for Halloween.

2010-08-31T15:13:00.000-04:00

(constantly pointed toes)

Confessions via iPhone Camera

2010-08-05T14:03:00.000-04:00

While I was flipping through my camera roll this morning, I realized my pictures are quite revealing of some developing problems:

1. Daphne slept in her bassinet long after she had outgrown it.

2. While I'm morally opposed to what constitutes a "female" exer-saucer (faux credit cards, tea pots, purses), Daphne spends a ton of time being influenced by its pink stereotyping.

3. Speaking of influencing, Daphne's being swayed by the liberal media.

4. We spend way too much time in Target trying out things we have no intention of buying.

5. I'm feeding Erik's Penguin addiction by buying baby Penguin items.

6. I judge people I see, take pictures of them, then email the pictures to others and encourage them to do the same.

Like this couple, who spent their entire meal reading separate books. I believe that the fact that this woman brought a stand for her Kindle indicates premeditation.

Or these people who spent some serious cash on not only a vanity "Rozwel" license plate, but also a kitty-painted tire cover.

And finally, this disturbing scene of a little boy carrying an infant in a precarious manner while their grandma/caretaker looked on (from a distance) unconcerned. After my attempts to help the boy were rejected, I did the only thing I could do--take a picture and email it to Erik with "Tsk tsk" as the subject.

July.

2010-08-05T12:46:00.002-04:00

Work. Erik started his full-time gig as a resident in a vascular surgery rotation. We quickly learned that being on call means that he's not only out of commission for the 36 hours he's on duty, but also for the 12 hours following while he recovers from working without sleep. Erik admits that during one such post-call period he was watching the tv, angry that the channel wasn't changing, only to look down and realize that while he had a remote in his hand, he was not pushing any buttons. In stark contrast, I am now working three days a week and rediscovering how it feels to work a normal eight hour work day.

Play. Daphne started out being watched by Kim and got a taste of what it'd be like to have three older brothers. Owen had a particular affinity for Daphne, and would often ask if they could keep her, or in the alternative, arrange a trade for his younger brother, Noah. When we couldn't convince Kim to move her family across the river and closer to us, Daphne switched to Miss Jennie, who happens to be the woman from whom we bought our current house. Daph's completely spoiled by the other kids (see her pillow throne below) and I get frequent updates from Jennie telling me that she's having "another wonderful day!" Jennie also happens to be very effusive and I always feel like a million bucks after she reviews my work outfits every morning.

Photo-shoots. Daphne had her first professional photo op with Angela Gerber at the 577 Foundation in Perrysburg. She has already booked a second gig with all of her Peterson cousins in a week, so she's on a strict liquid/pureed foods diet in preparation.

Decorating/Renovation.
We eventually decided on a new couch to replace our current couch that we both loathe and abuse. After lengthy negotiations over hundreds of fabrics, we opted for the Dune sofa in "douglas peat." The tropical plants are not included.

We reluctantly got rid of our "vintage" shower fixtures one morning after Erik was forced into taking a scalding shower when one of the knobs malfunctioned.

I finally hung up this map from falldowntree documenting Daphne's travels with a heart in all of the places she's been.

We also got "updated appliances" (which means stainless steel if you don't speak House Hunters), so we now have a broiler in our oven, a top rack in our dishwasher that isn't in danger of collapsing, and refrigerator door shelves that aren't being assisted by duct tape. We also replaced the blue carpet in the master bedroom and installed central air. When I say "we" I mean various contractors. And lest you think that we're splurging out of any self-interest, our story is that we're doing it all for the Daphster.

The Graduate

2010-07-04T23:16:00.002-04:00

Erik has now become Dr. Peterson. Daphne was completely unimpressed by the pomp and circumstance of graduation day. Since she won't remember the details, here are a few things I think she should know about the event:

1.    Your dad really wanted to speak at graduation but forgot to campaign for the honor. In lieu of a formal speech, he commented about every aspect of the ceremony for the benefit of anyone in earshot.

2.    I got to dress up in a cap and gown to hood your dad. You felt awkward being the only one in the fam without a tassel.

3.    During the ceremony, your Grandpa Johansen regaled your Peterson grandparents with many stories, including the one about how your great great great uncle shot the sheriff (but he didn't shoot the deputy).

4.    To celebrate after graduation, we went to our favorite restaurant, Revolver. The owner was dismayed that we hadn't been there since before you were born. You loved the orange bathroom and the crazy food presentation.

While I'm at it, Daphne came pretty late in the med school game, so here's a window into her dad's med school years:

1.    Your dad's med school career is ending how it began: sitting at home waiting for A/C.

2.    Your dad once yawned so audibly during class that the professor stopped teaching (and laughed).

3.    His least favorite rotation was pediatrics, although ever since you came along he's very susceptible to tears whenever he sees a child in pain.

4.    He named his cadavers Hank and Harriet. He surmised that the abnormal formation on Hank's sternum was the result of Hank's wrecking an old army jeep in the Korean War.

5.    He became addicted to Spider Solitaire during his first and second years of medical school and took his win/loss stats very seriously.

6.    During his family medicine rotation he stayed in a spider-infested dorm room.

7.    The morning before every test would find your father searching frantically for a mechanical pencil.

8.    He missed some of the first few days of your life driving through Pennsylvania. Incidentally, Pennsylvania was the first state you visited (when you were just 10 days old).

9.     Before med school he struggled to get up before 8 am. At some points during med school 6 am was considered sleeping in.

10.    One summer before I met him, your dad worked for a total of 40 hours for Arby's. He got $280. During his obstetrics, vascular, and orthopedics rotations he put in as much as 85 hours per week. He got $0.

11.    One of your dad's best friends from med school is Kevin. When Kevin met your dad he thought he was a Jew from New York (not a Mormon from Utah).

12.    Your dad finds the time to watch each season of the Bachelor/Bachelorette and actually got to meet Andy Baldwin: an Officer and a Gentleman.

13.    A psychotic woman once hit on your dad during his psychiatry rotation through a journal entry. Many patients tried to set him up with their granddaughters, nieces, and sisters.

14.    Your dad practiced his surgical skills at home by sewing his favorite University of Utah blanket shut. He practiced tying surgical knots with my hair during church.

15.    His surgery career nearly ended before it started when he cut his pinky with a mandolin on Christmas Day 2009.

Congrats, ep!

Grammy

2010-06-14T23:49:00.000-04:00

When my Grammy died on a Friday just over 24 hours after breaking her hip, we decided to fly to Utah the next morning so we could spend our Memorial Day weekend with family while remembering our Grammy. Funerals are never fun, but we're optimistic 'round here so we'll focus on the good:

*Grandma Bernice's Birthday. We started off our trip by celebrating with the living for Erik's grandma's 70-something birthday. The Peterson/Roberson clan knows how to throw a party. It was my first parking lot party, but I hope it's not my last.

* Jinx Averted. After taunting the jinx gods by loudly proclaiming that he'd never been pulled over on Highway 6, Erik drove our (borrowed) bright red car 15 miles over the speed limit on our way home. Sure enough, a highway patrolman pulled him over about halfway through the trip. I vacillated about whether to throw him under the bus or to do my damndest to get him out of the ticket, finally opting for putting Grammy's funeral program on the dash and letting things take their course. Erik can thank Grammy for his record-setting 4th warning in a row (making his record 12 pull-overs, 6 warnings, 6 tickets).

*Golf. Erik spent two days at the renowned Millsite Golf course golfing with Uncle Terry and Robby. Luckily he read the fine print before leaving the house: one of the six rules on the scorecard is that golfers are not allowed to wear boots on the course. Erik went for the loophole--they didn't say anything about chaps.

*Cafe Rio salad (twice). Erik wasn't happy about it, but we squeezed it in twice on our trip, despite staying in the middle of nowhere for the majority of the trip.

*Animal, Vegetable, Mineral on the way to Joe's Valley. We learned a whole new strategy to the game with Adri's questions: "is it a color of the rainbow?" "is it pretty or cool?" "would I love it?" Or Erik's confident guesses: "I know. I know. It's a jumpsuit!"

*Jewelry. We laughed and we cried as the six granddaughters split up my Grammy's massive collection of jewelry. The finds ranged from perfectly 80s to sentimental, Alaskan whale bone to Chinese Onyx. I've worn something of Grammy's every day since.

*Family. The best part about the funeral was getting to see long-lost cousins, to meet the new great-grands, and to reminisce about our lovely Grammy.

Overheard in Maui

2010-06-07T10:40:00.009-04:00

In early May we embarked on the 11 hour flight from Detroit to Maui, excited for a long-awaited beach get-away. The trip was everything we needed to unwind after a long year of school and work. It was also a chance for some much-needed cousin/grandparent time for Daphne. Here's a summary of our trip via quotes and pictures:

"We’d like to welcome everyone aboard this flight, particularly beautiful little Daphne."
Delta Pilot, in his welcome message on our flight from Detroit to Maui.

"The pork sandwich covered in [Velveeta] cheese and with a side of brown gravy [from a packet]."
Waitress at Aloha Mixed Plate, after being asked by Katy what she’d eat if she were to take a break and have something from the menu. Katy responded by saying “I’ll take it.” The sandwich was as good as it sounds.

"I need some mirror time."

Erik and Lyndsay, gearing up to wear our swimwear to the beach by looking into the skinny mirror in the condo.

"What’s the worst they could see?"
Katy to Cory after he resisted taking the kids to Little Beach (a known clothing-optional beach).

"Look at the view!"

Various Petersons, after arriving at our home for the week.

"Let us all join hands."
Mourners at Big Beach, carrying a large bag of ashes, preparing to dump them right where we were boogie boarding. We initially thought the bag was full of prime hash.

"Would you like some weed?"
Beach bums to Katy and Cory, twice.

"I don’t waaaaaaaant any indigo! What’s a commander card?"
Erik to Lizzy, Sam, Amanda and Lyndsay soon before refusing to play Puerto Rico.

"Do you want your usual?"
Local Boy Shaved Ice Stand worker, after serving us our sixth shaved ice in a little over 24 hours.

"So that’s $2,000 for the ice shaver, $200 for syrup. All we need now is a shed."
Erik and Lyndsay, contemplating opening up a Hawaiian-style shaved ice stand in Toledo.

"If you think about it, $1.50 per stroke isn’t such a bad deal."
Erik, trying to justify his greens and cart fee at the Kapalua Plantation golf course.

"Bring in a copy of the contract and come see me in my office."
Lyndsay’s boss, (via email) four days into our vacation.

"It’s 5:30 a.m.? How about a walk on the beach?"
Daphne each morning, like clockwork (as interpreted by her parents).

"Now that’s phallic."
Andrew, at the Iao Valley State Monument.

"Mahalo."
Various Peterson party members, in response to just about any situation. It meant "thanks," "hello," "idiot," and "after you," among other things.
A big MAHALO to Dave and Kathy for a perfect vacation!

A Changed Man

2010-04-30T14:28:00.003-04:00

I knew staying at home to watch Daphne would change me. It had to. That much silence day in and day out changes people. Look at the Buddhist monks. Silence changes people. But I wasn't sure what that change would be. To this date, Lyndsay would tell you that I've only changed by becoming more of a nag. Which is actually saying quite a bit. Our typical lunch time conversation:

Lyndsay: How's it going?
Erik: Fine. I'm just cleaning the house.
L: I'm on my way to lunch.
E: Good for you. I'm starving
L: You can come if you really want to.
E: The baby's sleeping and then we have to go to the store. It'll probably take up the rest of my afternoon. And, if I get a chance, I have to study.
L: Okay then. Bye.
E: Enjoy your lunch with all your friends.

With the close of the conversation, I go back to the silence that is stay at home parenting. The silence has changed me primarily because it has driven me to two new forms of "entertainment." And I use quotation mark because CSPAN is one of those forms of "entertainment."

CSPAN is the greatest. When you have no one to talk to other than a non-responsive baby (and Daphne is just that. She gets it from her mother who, when I drove 3 hours to give her flowers on Valentine's Day, didn't get up from the table, said thank you, and continued her story about some dead horse.) CSPAN is the station for you. CSPAN has no commercials. It deals with important issues. It's like reading the unabridged newspaper one day before it comes out. But most importantly, the speakers seem to be talking right to you. Actually, they are, because no one else is actually watching. It's just me and them. They are the friends I never thought I would have. Also of importance, they actually give you facts and avoid rhetoric (at least what I've seen so far), so you can make your own decisions about what you think. A novel thought.

Second is Ellen. I don't know what it is, but around 4 in the afternoon, I need to watch someone dance up and down the stairs to a big group of women. It's uplifting. It gives me energy like drinking a can of Jolt, but without the sugar letdown. I never could figure out the dancing on that show until these past few weeks. Now I get it. I'm tired when I watch the baby, but at the same time I have pent up energy. Through Ellen I dance out the energy and I'm less tired.

So there you have it, the killer trio of people changing my life: A 4 month old baby, a group of staunch politicians, and daytime dancing comedian.

In the Line of Fire

2010-04-22T14:03:00.001-04:00

To all the mothers out there that wear the same thing every day unless forced to leave the house/apartment, I feel your pain. Over the last 3 weeks of being the exclusive daytime provider for little Daphne, on the days that I don’t leave the house, I think I have changed my outerwear maybe 3 times. Sick, I know. My shorts have stains around the pockets that I got a few days ago, though I’m not sure when. I’m pretty sure it isn’t anything serious or dangerous. My shirt has all sorts of little spit up stains on it, but as long as I don’t get another shirt dirty, I really don’t care.

The first day was the most intimidating, but that was only because of my first duty of the day: diaper change. Not that I haven’t done that before, but since Lyndsay must have been nervous that first day, with good reason, she called just to make sure everything was okay. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t even arrived at work yet, she was that nervous. I happened to be changing the kid. Diaper was off and she starts peeing. Phone in hand, I save the day. But only momentarily. Still on the phone, urine controlled, she farts. But it wasn’t just a fart. She was shooting at me! Luckily, the diaper was in the right position and everything remained clean. I couldn’t help but think this was going to be a long three months.

Since then, most things have been fine. Though Daphne knows that she can get anything she wants from me just by smiling. I’ve also joined the “I can hold a baby, talk on the phone, and cook dinner all at the same time club,” though we are thinking about shortening the club’s name. Perhaps it should just be the “Mother’s Club, some men allowed.”

Spring Break 2010: Washington D.C.

2010-04-09T16:00:00.006-04:00

Our next stop was our nation's capital. We started the trip off by buying the most expensive metro tickets we could manage and loading Daph into her new stroller. Feeding Daphne was a challenge, but I decided to sit on a secluded park bench to feed my young whilst Erik foraged for food--just as it should be. Soon after Erik departed, a massive tour group stopped right in front of me as the wind foiled my attempts at modesty. I like to spread the love of frontal nudity one tour group at a time. Erik returned with Oreos and Goldfish in hand (what a hunter!) and we continued our tour.
We've accepted that we're officially Ohioans (at the WWII memorial)

Daph can proudly say her diaper was changed on these very steps:

I surreptitiously took this pic of these senior citz dancing to some awesome (and patriotic!) lyrics:

And she said hey boy, do you mind takin' me home tonight?

'cuz I ain't never seen a country boy with tires on his truck this high

I said climb on up but watch the cup that I spit my dip inside

and hold on tight cuz its gonna be wilder than any 8 second ride

It was everything I imagined the Cherry Blossom Festival to be.

Daphne slept through a lot of the sights and missed her namesake plant (the laurel tree) and the orchids exhibit at the U.S. Botanic Garden:

She later woke up to pose for her "Daphne Goes to Washington" photo:

She was fascinated by the lights on the Rosslyn metro station escalator and repeated this pattern as we rode it to the top until we were forced to move her aside for some businessmen: see light, widen eyes in surprise, follow light with head/eyes, relax eyes in the darkness, aaaand repeat.

Our trip was full of reunions. We got to see:

Erik's high school classmate (Leslie) straight from the Capitol, who joined us for an expensive but yummy lunch at the National Museum for the American Indian. Erik was thisclose to ordering the $25 (lunch!) salmon.

Three law school classmates, including Alexandra & Brigham, who met us for dinner. I stole this pic from their blog, but it's pretty much what we saw across the restaurant table from them. You can picture Thai food if you feel bad about the lack of photographic evidence of our meeting.

*Not pictured: Catherine, who will remain anonymous in her snooty penthouse

Uncle Terry, who always shows us which ethnic foods we have been missing out on:

And my former roomate, Lindsay, who joined us at the Arlington Cemetery. Apologies to Lindsay's nephew, with whom Erik got in a fight about park rules. Zing! You really outwitted the 10 year-old, ep!

This candid shot from the Arlington Cemetery is revelatory of how many scenes played out during our trip. Somehow my very possession of an iPhone designated me as the navigator and responsible party whenever we got lost (which was frequently).

Erik continued to champion Women's Rights as we went to the neglected (note the use of the sign as a coat rack) Women in Military Service for America Memorial. Erik loves a girl in uniform . . .

Finally, we woke up on Friday morning naively optimistic about being able to take some pics of cherry blossoms and see the remaining monuments. But instead of this:

Or this:

We got this, after following the "Cherry Blossom Festival Parking and Shuttle Ahead" signs around an entire island without seeing a single parking spot.

Stay tuned for good times in Pittsburgh . . .

Spring Break 2010: Punxsutawney

2010-04-08T22:28:00.000-04:00

Erik's Spring Break and my final week of maternity leave happened to land on the same week, so we decided to add another leg to the Tour of Daphne 2010.

Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania
We hold a special place in our heart for the movie Groundhog Day. It's Erik's favorite movie/litmus test, so we designated it our first stop on our road trip. It was only after we'd booked our hotel room that we learned (via a google search on my iPhone) the the movie was actually filmed in Illinois. It was the first of many disappointments.
We saw many groundhog figurines:

But the Dairy Queen was closed:

And just because a hotel room was good enough for Bill Murray, doesn't mean it was good enough for the Petersons. We both refused to take showers or to place Daphne on any surface without a sterile blanket or parent underneath her.

We've Met Our Match

2010-03-19T13:28:00.000-04:00

After a long interview trail, hours of debate about Erik's rank list, and many sleepless nights worrying about the match, Erik, Daphne and I attended the Match Day ceremony yesterday.
At the front of the room was a table full of envelopes containing our fate for the next five years:

At the stroke of noon, the fourth years were allowed to rush to the front of the room to get their envelopes. Daphne seemed nervous:

Erik (rather inefficiently) opened his envelope and discovered. . .

We're staying put!
Daphne seems relieved:

We spent the next while roaming the hall learning everyone's matching news and congratulating each other on new adventures:

Some fellow med school wives: Brittani, Sherri and Lindsay

Erik, Meghan and their little family

Erik, Meg, Kevin, Andy

Erik and Eric (our med school twins--both Eriks, both going into orthopedics and both married to Lyndsays)

After sufficient congratulations, letting strangers hold our baby, and getting the wait staff to wrap us up a dessert tray to go, we headed home to daydream about the future, starting with some home renovations. More to come. . .

**Thanks Lindsay and Brittani for letting me steal some pics!

Tour of Daphne 2010

2010-03-12T11:53:00.001-05:00

We've had a busy couple of months. Here's a list of highlights from the tour of Daphne:

Spending a lot of time in the carseat, visiting Erie, Cleveland, Castle Dale, Columbus, Detroit, Farmington, and Salt Lake City.

Posing for various photo shoots.

Riding a very trustworthy horse named Jack with Grandpa, Mom, and all by herself.

Being swayed to the dark (red) side by Nona at a U of U basketball game.

Meeting cousins.

Completing four generations.

Hanging out with Nona and Pops.

Helping Bompa on the bench.

Celebrating Valentine's Day.

Being blessed.

Getting vaccinated, growing out of diapers and hitting the 95th percentile for weight.

And He Doesn't Suspect a Thing.

2010-02-07T20:59:00.000-05:00

The evidence continues to mount in the case that I’m sabotaging Erik’s happiness.

Exhibit A: Bloody Mandolin Food Slicer

For Christmas I gave Erik the mandolin slicer he’s been eyeing for months now. If you think it’s weird that he asked for cooking accessories for Christmas, you haven’t eaten any of his specialties (e.g. Pommes Anna or glazed carrots). After opening the mandolin, he sliced a pear for me and was rather enthusiastically slicing an apple for himself when he yelped in pain.

The result: Having to find someone to stitch up Erik’s pinkie finger on Christmas Day.

Exhibit B: Prescription Allergy Medications

I finally made Erik an appointment with a doctor for a condition that has been bothering him since I’ve known him. His symptoms include being unable to breathe at night and always being congested.

Doctor: How long have you had these problems?

ep: For the last four years.

Doctor: So you’ve been sick since you began living with your wife?

And with that, the genius doctor diagnosed Erik with being allergic to me and the loads of scents I wear.

The result: I live under a cloud of suspicion while Erik takes this course of medicine. I anticipate being exonerated once it’s proven my use of Cetaphil and Dove soap probably aren’t the source of Erik’s issues.

Exhibit C: Delta Passenger Records for Friday, February 5

As Erik’s travel agent for his residency interviews, I’ve been in charge of ensuring he’s staying in luxurious hotels, driving roomy cars, and that he flies out in time for mandatory events. On Thursday Erik asked when his flight was scheduled to leave on Friday and I confidently told him his departure time was 12:42. So when I awoke him Friday morning at 9:15 am, I was looking forward to getting Erik’s help packing up Daphne and then having a tender send-off at the airport. He got online to check in and said “Lyndsay, my flight leaves at 9:57 a.m.!” Whoops. But I had his flight number right. . . (DL 1242)

The result: Erik’s flight time increasing from three to eight hours.

Daphne's Birth Day

2010-01-24T23:56:00.003-05:00

Below is my version of Daphne's birth day events in timeline form. I was scheduled to be induced on Wednesday, January 6th at noon, so we spent the night of the 5th making preparations for Daphne's arrival.

11 p.m. An episode of back pain didn't arouse any suspicions of labor. I had gotten used to pretty constant discomfort during the final stages of pregnancy.

1 a.m. Although I awakened with more back pain, I remained reluctant to accept them as a sign of labor, mostly because my contractions (as I later came to know them) were right on top of each other, not intermittent as I thought they would be.

2 a.m. Erik finally insists that we drive to the hospital.

2:30 a.m. We begin answering admission questions, one of which was what the hospital could do to provide me with Very Good Care--part of what I consider to be an ill-advised new slogan (why not aim for "great" or even "excellent?"). I decided not to comment on their marketing strategy and instead simply said "give me an epidural." In retrospect, I should have said "give me an epidural, and continue to supply me with the medicine that makes an epidural feel so good."

4 a.m. I was no longer feeling contractions and life was grand. We sat back and answered questions from the parade of residents, medical students, nurses, and doctors throughout the early morning hours as I continued to progress sans pain.

11 a.m. The on-call obstetrician breaks my water. Her policy of referring to me as "boss" and giving the unborn Daphne some stern orders immediately establishes her as spectacular replacement for my regular doctor. Our spirits are high as everyone predicted that my labor would likely progress quickly from that point on.

1 p.m. I begin to once again feel my contractions. I notify the nurse and she claims that my epidural has not run out. I can see the IV bag and feel the pain, so I vehemently disagree. She tells me it's too late to get more meds and suggests pushing as a solution to contraction pain.

2:20 p.m. I begin pushing. It's not a reprieve from contractions. The doctor tells me to keep my eyes open whilst pushing, which feels nearly impossible after being awake for 31+ hours.

3:30 p.m. I start an interrogation of the nurse, resident and Erik, demanding to know exactly how much progress I've made. Their vague reassurances anger me, as does the ER resident who pops in every once in a while and asks "How are you feeling?" in a cheery tone. I ignore him and resist the urge to throw the contents of my liquids-only food tray.

The nurse tells me to push until the baby crowns, and then the OB will come in to actually deliver the baby.

4:53 p.m. The baby crowns. In the immortal words of Lorelei Gilmore, it feels "akin to doing the splits on a crate of dynamite." I therefore opt not to wait for the OB to don her gown and gloves (she's had ample warning, after all), and decide to make the final push.

4:55 p.m. A surprised doctor catches the babe just in time.

4:56 p.m. Erik and I immediately fall in love with baby Daphne.

She's Here!

2010-01-14T14:04:00.000-05:00

Daphne Lea Peterson

January 6, 2010

4:55 p.m.

7 pounds 14 ounces

20.5 inches long

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T22:39:00.002-05:00

The annual Peterson family letter, if there were one, might look something like this:

The major difference between last year's Petersons and this year's Petersons is that we are warmer people now. And I'm not talking about warm in a personality sense, that would take a miracle. The biggest change this year was when the third furnace inspector in as many days finally found the vent that provides heat to the upstairs bedroom (it had been closed for 2 years!). We are literally warmer this year and it makes our house seem 50% bigger.

Speaking of 50% growth, Lyndsay's ankles, I mean, belly has swollen over the past year. She tried to keep it a secret for many, many months, but eventually she had to reveal that she was pregnant. And what a great pregnancy it has been! I am convinced that no pregnant woman has ever been yelled at as much as poor Lyndsay was at work, but that's a different story for a different Christmas letter. We are anxiously awaiting a January 12 delivery date, gory details to follow in the monthly newsletter. (Funny story, the first person to correctly predict Lyndsay's pregnancy was our friend MZ, who noted that Lyndsay was "holding her belly" more than usual.)

If you notice Erik holding his belly, don't worry, that's just anxiety over residency interviews and matching. As anyone knows, interviews are all about first impressions, and can you imagine a better person for first impressions? Big pooffy hair, weird penguin shirt, pants, hat and shoes, and a general disdain for insincerity. If only phone interviews were an option. The residency match takes place in March, so everyone say a little prayer for us and hope that Erik doesn't accidentally get matched into OB/GYN. (Not that it's a possibility, but can you imagine all the dissatisfied women out there?)

And who could forget baby, or I guess, fetus Hannah*? We have tried to imagine the best traits we could pass on to our little angel. Lyndsay desires to pass on her sense of humor and intelligence, while Erik wishes to pass on his above-average legs (calves, not thighs) and his patience, which he got from his dad. Either way, what better Christmas present, or maybe MLK Jr. Day present could there be than a new baby in the house?

So, from our house to yours, we wish you a very warm and Merry Christmas!

*We reserve the right to change Hannah's name to any other name without reason or warning.

What You've Missed

2009-12-07T22:41:00.002-05:00

It's been a busy couple of months around here. Here are a few highlights:

1. Hannah being completely spoiled by friends and family.

For those of you who aren’t in the know, Erik bequeathed the name “Hannah” upon our unborn daughter. He has no intention of calling her that once she’s born and I’ve also adopted the name for our daughter in utero. I cannot explain anything more than that.

We’ve been steadily acquiring the baby essentials--mostly through the generosity of friends and family. Hannah will join many female cousins on both sides of the fam so she has a lot of people to show her the ropes…and to give her their barely-used hand-me-downs.

We have also been preparing a nursery, at Erik’s insistence. My reluctance to sacrifice our current office/vanity room to an unborn child was trumped by Erik’s planning instincts. His exasperation peaked one night when he asked “Why am I nesting and you’re not?” Pictures to come.

2. A trip to Nashville for Thanksgiving with the Watsons.

Our 7+ hour car ride began with conversations shaped by google searches about the respective states we passed through—just ask if you’d like to hear about the Carrollton, Kentucky bus crash of ’88, the Hatfield-McCoy feud, or what Grob is.

The Watsons were kind enough to allow us to crash their first ever Thanksgiving meal and all we had to contribute were mushy carrots and snarky remarks. Dusty showed us just how bad intern year can be, Cortnee put everyone else’s hosting skills to shame, and baby Kenzlee gave us a crash course in parenting that neither Erik or I were ready for.

3. The second annual outing to A Christmas Carol.

This one happened only after Erik confiscated my blackberry for the entire event and assured me that I wouldn’t be missed for two hours on a weekend. With logic like that, and my phone buried deep in Erik’s too-tight pants pocket (his description, not mine), I couldn’t argue. We enjoyed the Ricky Gervias-like narrator, the message of generosity and Christmas spirit, and making fun of the chubby dancer who used a violin as a dancing prop.

4. Our first Christmas tree.

We don’t have ornaments or a tree skirt, but we have our first real Christmas tree. We selected our tree after a brisk walk through the outdoor Christmas tree lot. Erik was unimpressed by the lot attendant’s inability to tie surgical-level knots or to consider aerodynamics when strapping the tree to our car, but we made it home.

Stay tuned for what promises to be a happenin' December!

Three Things I Didn't Expect to See While in Utah

2009-10-28T21:25:00.007-04:00

1. My mom getting a pedicure. (This from the lady who's not a fan of any form of light touches)2. My dad signing a search warrant on the hood of a deputy's vehicle whilst wearing chaps and holding the reigns to his horse. (All in a day's work, folks)3. My law school classmates at our class reunion while I'm pregnant and husbandless. (I graduated as a single gal)
Honorable Mentions:
- parking a bright red (Peterson) vehicle in the BYU law school parking lot with a big fat U on the back.
-unsuccessfully using my sister's minivan to tail the officer who was looking for my dad behind the cowherd.

Cincy

2009-10-19T16:49:00.013-04:00

I made it a point to bring our brand new camera along on my trip to visit Erik in Cincinnati last weekend but failed to pack the fully charged battery, so you'll have to witness our tour of the city using only google images and the few pictures we took with my phone. Here are the highlights:

*enjoying hot chocolate and a Belgian waffle at the Findlay Market in downtown Cincinnati. Our trip to the market ended with Erik paying a toothless man $1 to let us walk away from our compulsory astrological reading.[the fortuneteller had less eyeliner, was a he, and was most definitely not Amy Whinehouse, but isn't it crazy that a someone this famous has missing teeth?]

*walking to Kentucky on the Purple People Bridge. The bridge required some bravery: it had an astounding lack of barriers to people or things jumping/falling from the bridge.
*climbing the steps of the Mt. Adams Church and picking out a lovely townhome. We were surprised to learn that most of the quaint houses came with million dollar price tags, but we're not discouraged.*finding an entire section of Penguin clothing at the Saks Fifth Avenue outlet store. Erik became so attached to the red Penguin Earl shirt that several workers offered to get him (and the shirt) a room.
*Sunday dinner with the Walquists, who have been kind enough to let Erik camp out in their basement for a month. This is especially surprising, given that Erik's very presence in their house seems to set one or more children into a frenzy.
*a driving tour of the UC medical campus.*coming to a decision on a baby stroller after the fastest stroller test drive in the history of stroller test drives at Babies R' Us.
[What? I didn't have time for makeup or a shirt.]

Stay tuned for my picture tour of Utah sans Erik.

October

2009-10-09T10:38:00.005-04:00

Some things you’ve missed in our blogging absence:

1. A visit from the Peterson parents, including fine dining at Chez Francois in Vermillion (two enthusiastic thumbs up), Great Lakes Popcorn in Sandusky (one thumb up—my penalty imposed for overstating their fame/rank among popcorn makers), various beaches of Lake Erie (two dry thumbs up—we make no warranty about water quality), brunch at La Scola (two thumbs waaay down and perhaps inside of fists that are punching the responsible party in the nose) and many of our other Toledo Haunts. Visits from the Petersons are always entertaining and too short.

2. A visit from Erik’s long-time friend, Brian, “The Wizard,” or “B-Fred.” Brian flew in just for Erik’s birthday and the party never ended. Erik and I huddled under our $7 garbage bags at our first Ohio State football game while Brian looked on, unaffected. Erik and Brian did a brief golf tour of the region (again, Brian demonstrated he was not affected by the weather by sticking with shorts for a brisk fall Toledo afternoon at the links), and had a perfect day at Cedar Point (despite B-Fred’s fear of roller coasters). The fellas also painted our office a more neutral color (“Smoked Oyster”) and had dinner waiting when I came home on most evenings.

3. The beginning of Erik's tour of orthopedic surgery programs. His travels mean that I'm left alone (except for our pit bull, expensive alarm system, and weapons arsenal) to fend for myself most nights.

4. A reminder that I still have it: after completing a grocery shopping trip, I exited the store and passed a man in a molester-van with his windows rolled down. He gave me a “woo-woooo!” as I passed and I obliged him with a half-smile. He continued his loop around the parking lot and waited for me to load up my trunk with the groceries, all the while letting out intermittent “woooot-wooo” sounds. Who can blame him—and who can’t admire that sort of boldness?

Some things we’re looking forward to:

1. My law school reunion and visit to see family.

2. Erik’s return.

3. Baby Jo, due to arrive in Hong Kong any day now to my brother Dane and his wife, April.

4. A Christmas Carol—we just bought tickets and plan on making this a Christmas tradition.

And the Lord said to Erik and Lyndsay . . .buy a house?

2009-09-07T22:57:00.005-04:00

It has been well documented that though animals flock to our house like Noah’s Ark, they are not welcome.

Lyndsay guided a bird out of the house with more than a little nudge. Our last centipede was killed with more force than semi truck colliding with a train, leaving a small nick in the wood floor. When Lyndsay killed those condor eggs, she made sure to throw them down to the ground, not just loft them. And when we discovered bumblebees in the basement, yes, bees, they were all destroyed beyond physical recognition.

So, it should come as no surprise that this is yet another animal post. They just love us. This time, they came in the form of fly larvae that found something disgusting at the bottom of our garbage can and decided to form a little colony that would one day take over the world. Imagine my surprise when I discovered them by accident right before eating dinner one night: THOUSANDS of larvae crawling all over the garbage can and lid. The worst part was that garbage day was 4 days away, meaning we couldn’t just toss these critters out on the curb and let someone else deal with the problem. If only a man had been around.

I would go into the details on the clean up, but I can’t afford to throw up on this keyboard. Let’s just hope that no larva ended up on the garbage man. That’s one guy that I want on my side.

Sugar and Spice

2009-09-06T23:16:00.003-04:00

I woke Erik up on the morning of my 20-week ultrasound 4 minutes before we needed to leave the house (whoops!), leaving him just enough time to throw on his lucky Franz Ferdinand shirt—the one with the hole in the armpit and which he’d worn the day before for his Step 2 exam.

At the hospital, Erik got to witness the rigmarole that I have come to expect monthly (weighing in, providing urine, and having my blood pressure taken), all the while commenting on each stage:

“It took you THAT long to produce that much urine?”

“Have you been eating lately?”

“Why are we here at 7:30 am again?”

Finally, the moment of truth arrived, I exposed my belly and the technician began her exploration. Erik’s commentary continued, disrupting the ultrasound due both to mine and the technician's belly laughs.

As the technician measured our baby’s femur, we both knew the truth—the absence of any protrusion meant that, as predicted, we’re having a girl. There was a moment of disbelief—after all, Erik had worn his lucky shirt! Luckily, we had brought reinforcements. The Peterson grandparents were ushered into the ultrasound room and brought with them plenty of enthusiasm plus a gift for baby girl Peterson.

Sorry, we're too lazy and it's too cliche to post ultrasound pics, so you'll have to take our word for it. So, bring on the baby name suggestions, commenters. For naming purposes, we were unwisely planning on a burrito instead of a taco, so we're back at square one.

...And We Just Can't Hide It

2009-08-15T21:05:00.006-04:00

We’re pleased to announce the anticipated arrival of a new member of the Peterson family. As this may impact the flavor of OWRTF, we are providing our responses to some FAQs in order to get our readers up to speed on this new development.

When are you due?
January 11, 2010 or 01/11/10. We’re very happy about the symmetry of the date.

Wait a second, you haven’t shown us a pregnancy test or an ultrasound pic. How do we know you’re actually pregnant?
Erik knew when he happened upon Lyndsay sobbing during the “Donna Martin graduates!” demonstration on a vintage Beverly Hills 90210 episode. For a girl who remained stone faced during Steele Magnolias and Where the Red Fern Grows, I’m sure you’ll need no further evidence.

Was this planned?
What’s wrong with you?

Do you have a preference as to gender?
Yes. We’re hoping for a boy—which means we will welcome a baby girl in January. We’ll find out for sure later this month.

How have people reacted to the news?
Thanks for asking! Here are some of our favorites:

“Do you know whether you’re having multiples yet?” Laurel (grandmother of twins and triplets)
“So are your boobs, like, huge?” Krista
“Congratulations. Can you have this draft brief finished tonight?” Anonymous Colleague
“What?” (3 times) Katy

Are you sure you're ready for this?
We'll get back to you on that.

Snowballed

2009-08-04T14:10:00.004-04:00

Warren’s smug little mug has been taunting me for the last seven (yes, seven) months as I’ve tried to conquer his 900 page biography. I’m happy to announce that I’ve done it! The gentle nudge I needed to buckle down and finish came from the Toledo Public Library. Apparently even they have a limit to their generosity—they politely requested that I return their book or be subject to their hefty five cent per day fine.

I offer you this summary to save you the pain of reading the book yourself:

-Ms. Schroeder (the author) is a huge fan of similes. I’m not.

-Warren didn’t get where he is now without being a tight-fisted, savvy, eccentric guy.

-Warren had a pseudo polygamous arrangement with his now deceased wife and his current wife that I found fascinating.

-Once, a very wealthy Katharine Graham asked Warren for a dime to use a payphone. He only had a quarter so he went in search of someone who could give him change. In the end, she convinced him to cough up the entire 25 cents.

-Warren Buffett is conservative with his money and liberal with his politics.

-Susie Buffett was pretty tight with Bono.

-Warren Buffett is fascinated by Bill Gates.

-You should have acquired some Berkshire Hathaway stock a long time ago.

See? I just saved you 7 months and at least 25 cents in late fees.

Things that Bother Me about Erik: Installment One

2009-07-21T15:10:00.003-04:00

At the risk of offending Erik or his allies, I've decided to create a new series on our blog called: Things that Bother Me About Erik. Erik's welcome to do the same. Perhaps by airing our marital dirty laundry we can obtain a closure which is unavailable except through public exposure of each others' shortcomings. Plus, who can deny its entertainment value?

I realize that by traditional measures of husbandly contribution, I shouldn't discourage any inclination Erik may have to straighten up or clean our house. However, a startling trend has arisen. I present to you two exhibits:

Exhibit 1: Blackberry Pearl ($200 value) At the termination of our two year cell phone contract, Erik and I were eligible for two free brand new phones. A partner in my firm had generously offered me his iPhone free of charge, but I figured I would still get the Blackberry Pearl and either sell it or keep it as a back-up in the event of an iPhone malfunction. The Pearl arrived in its box and I didn't even bother to open it. I left it with the paperwork and Erik's phone on our dining room table--an action not uncommon for either of us. Two weeks later, and suspiciously after Erik had done a quick clean-up/purging of the dining room area, the cell phone was nowhere to be found. Erik admitted that he had "straightened up" the table and had no concrete alibi, but denied any involvement in the disappearance of the phone.

Exhibit 2: $1,500 Check* Last Saturday was a busy day. Erik and I planned on attending a wedding in Cleveland (more on this later?) and we divied up the pre-trip tasks. Erik's plan was to do our bank transactions, including depositing a $1,500 refund check that resulted from refinancing our house. After a search in all of the usual locations, the check was nowhere to be found. My veiled suggestion that Erik may have once again thrown the check away in one of his cleaning rampages was met with defensiveness. As a last resort before calling the company and asking them to reissue the check, we decided to look in our respective cars. As I sifted through the contents of my trunk, I heard a quiet, "I found it," then "I think I might have a problem." As I suspected, the check had been in the garbage the whole time. This time Erik could not deny his culpability.

So we'll put it at the top of the list of Things that Bother Me About Erik:

1. He throws away items of increasing value without any recollection of doing so.

*actual check not pictured.

Are you going to eat that?

2009-06-24T14:34:00.004-04:00

Usually when I’m walking around downtown Toledo, I’m hit with at least one request:

Will you give me some money for gas?

Can I have some spare cash?

Will you look at them shoes! (my own)

Lift up your skirt! (more demand than request)

As a result of their frequency, I’ve become jaded towards such requests and my instinctual response is to politely decline. Yesterday I attended a work-related event at the Mud Hens game and left carrying a hamburger for Erik. I decided to call Erik during my three block walk back to my car in order to dissuade any requestors. No such luck.

I sat in the driver’s seat of my car, put the plate with the hamburger on it in the passenger seat and was closing my door when I heard “HEY!” A lady then approached me and indicated that she is pregnant, had been sick all day, was hungry and then asked if I have any food she could have. Erik’s hamburger was in plain sight so there was no polite way to say no—but my various stashes of candy throughout the car remained safe. I obtained Erik’s consent and handed the hamburger over to the woman.

After I had a chance to reflect on it, the incident disturbed me in more ways than one. First, how hungry do you have to be to chase someone down and ask for the food they’re holding in their hands? What kind of life will the woman’s unborn child have? Most importantly, why did I even hesitate to give my food to her? Worst case scenario, she’s not really hungry or pregnant, and she’s tricked me into feeding her dinner for the night. That’s a risk I can take.

Ultimately Erik, the woman, and I all enjoyed burgers by the end of the night (Erik’s was a replacement burger from Wendy’s). In the future, maybe I’ll think twice before refusing the requests of those I encounter on the street. Indecency laws be damned.

An Eventful Morning

2009-06-21T12:25:00.000-04:00

We haven’t had great experiences with animals in this house. It all started with a ROUS in the backyard that I spied within a month of moving in. Since that day, I haven’t wandered out back in the dark. I know, pretty manly. Lately, birds that inhabit the neighbor’s birdhouse directly outside our bedroom window have been waking us up at 5:30 every morning. I’ve considered buying a gun and taking care of the problem, but Toledo has enough guns as it is, so I’ve deferred.

The latest encounter happened just as I was getting out of the shower, which, for me, is usually a pretty uneventful process. But when I saw this enormous centipede running down the shower curtain less than 1 foot from my bare skin, I had to do something. So I screamed. I’m not proud of it, but I screamed and I ran out of the bathroom with my towel barely covering parts of my body. Lyndsay, previously resting at the computer, sensed something was wrong and started screaming too. It was at this point that we formulated our plan: We would continue screaming until a neighbor would come kill the centipede.

If only it had been that easy. We were going to have to do this ourselves. First, I had to get dressed. I’m not going to kill anything naked. Then I had to find a shoe. But not my shoe. That would be disgusting. So I found one of Lyndsay’s. Once we were ready, we set off on the hunt, me with my shoe and Lyndsay with a bottle of bleach.

Sure enough, he hadn’t moved. My scream must have shocked him like a taser. Unfortunately, a hanging curtain isn’t the best target for smashing a bug, but I tried anyway. After I hit him though, I had no idea where he went. But Lyndsay had started screaming again, so I figured he was on me. That lead to an episode of rolling around in the bed to make sure he wasn’t on me. Luckily, Lyndsay, ready with the bleach, saw the bugger in the bathtub, and zapped him. Once we noticed that he wasn’t moving, we opened up the floodgates and drowned him in the tub where he will remain until one of us musters up the courage to shower again.

So, if Lyndsay and I seem a little jumpy the next time you see us, rest assured that it isn’t anything medical. Rather, we have experienced yet another case of animal-induced post-traumatic stress disorder, previously thought to be extraordinarily rare. And, yes, we are seeking treatment.

(I couldn’t bring myself to post a picture of the bug, but here’s the name: Scutigera coleoptrata)

Breaking Bread

2009-06-01T14:18:00.003-04:00

I didn’t show my cards in my previous post regarding a single ant in the cereal, but I’m kind of a “it won’t kill you” kind of gal when it comes to the occasional ant sighting. But I have my limit.

Today I was invited to be the [associate attorney] face of the firm at a lunch welcoming one of our new summer associates. We selected one of Toledo’s finest establishments. First up was the bread basket—a wicker basket, generously lined with parchment paper, then topped off with fresh, hot bread. Next came our side salads, and soon after, I received my order, a lobster sandwich. I had just begun eating my fries when I noticed movement on the piece of parchment paper overhanging my plate. Normally I pride myself on my performance under pressure, but all I could muster was “Um! Um!” as I pointed at the cockroach crawling on the precipice of the bread bowl, overlooking my plate.

A heroic partner flung the roach to the floor, stomped it, then quietly notified our horrified server. Is this karmic payback for the bird-killing? Does anyone want my leftover lobster sandwich?

Vote for Stacey

2009-05-28T12:36:00.002-04:00

You'll be seriously so blessed if you vote for my nominee, Stacey:

http://seriouslysoblessed.blogspot.com/2009/05/momatchelor-micah.html

Also, would the mystery voter who skewed our blog polls in the past please step up with some similar trickery to put Stacey in the lead?

Sex Appeal

2009-05-26T21:13:00.006-04:00

It's tough being married. Not only do I have to combat meddling nurses and patients who scramble to find Erik a date despite his marital status, I have to compete with psych patients who lust over my husband in their journals and to his face. I'm pretty self-assured despite such vicarious come-ons--I mean I have admirers of my own, thankyouverymuch. In fact, I don't think that the prison transport bus occupants driving through downtown Toledo last Thursday yelled at just anyone to lift up their skirt. I like to think their request, yelled in my direction as I walked on an otherwise empty sidewalk, was sincerely meant just for me. Despite my own successes with strangers, I have encountered a new threat to my marital stability.
At first, I wrote it off as a fluke. In April, Erik and I were walking arm-in-arm in Columbus's German village when we passed a well-dressed man walking the opposite direction on the sidewalk. As he passed, the man looked Erik up and down--and apparently liked what he saw. When I informed Erik of this, he first denied what I'd seen, then became flattered that his Penguin ensemble had an even broader appeal than he'd first anticipated.
Fast forward to our leisurely Sunday stroll through our Toledo neighborhood last week. In the distance I spotted an attractive, shirtless man jogging toward us with his leashed dog running close behind him. "No complaints here," I thought. However, as we passed the man, I was slightly ahead of Erik, giving me a clear view of the guy's huge grin, pectoral flexing and 180 degree neck rotation as he kept his eyes fixed on Erik. This time, apparently Erik's attractiveness was not diminished by the oversized blue sweats he wore or his disheveled hair.
If Jon and Kate can't make it with eight kids, constant nagging, and newfound fame, what makes us think we can overcome the odds?

Spring, Spring, Spring

2009-05-11T20:25:00.013-04:00

As predicted, Spring has been a time of change and renewal. First up, the ivy on our chimney. Ivy is beautiful. It also breaks down brick mortar, creeps beneath our siding, and houses unwelcome guests like ants, spiders, chipmunks, birds and who knows what else.

Erik prepared for this day by cutting the ivy weeks before. The actual removal of the ivy took place in a few steps:

Step 1: Shimmy out of the master bedroom window onto the sunroom roof.

Step 2: Receive the ladder from Erik, standing below.

Step 3: Laugh as Erik shimmies out the same window.

Step 4: Hope Erik doesn't hold the laughter against you--he's the one who will be anchoring the ladder as you ascend the chimney.

Step 5: Clear the ivy.

Step 6: Upon reaching the top of the chimney (approximately 30 feet above the ground), encounter a birds nest (and 5 eggs) obstructing the chimney.

Step 7: Panic

Step 8: In one sweeping motion, clear the contents of the chimney, pelting the house and ground below with eggs.

Step 9: Brace yourself for clean-up and future angry animal encounters. (Bonus points if you can figure what kind of bird family I terminated. The eggs were yellow and were the size of chicken eggs.)

Next up, our annual pilgrimage to the upstairs bedroom. During the wintertime, we move to the main floor of the house to avoid having to heat all three floors. Admittedly, during that time, our master bedroom becomes one big closet for all of my clothes. Springtime is a prime time, therefore, for me to do a clothing assessment. That's how some high school era sweaters bit the dust:

Which brings me to this question: did anyone look good in the 90s? Apparently, the attitude was that, as with hair, heels, and shoulder pads, thicker is better. When I tried on one particularly fluffy wool sweater, Erik became concerned about the number of lambs that had been sheared to make this one (size medium) sweater.

Finally, after an unsuccessfully attempting to dislodge (with a volleyball) the huge loose branch hanging precariously over ours and our neighbor's driveways, we knew we had to get serious. My western background was the ticket: we fashioned a lariat from some string and lassoed the errant branch. Yes, "we." While Erik was the one who actually successfully threaded the needle, so to speak, I was instrumental in the operational strategy.

Franz Freaking Ferdinand

2009-05-03T19:21:00.004-04:00

Whether it be from seeing me in my hot t-shirt, scarf, or wristband, riding with me in my car listening to killer tunes, or just being around me for 10 minutes, you know that I LOVE Franz Ferdinand. (while we are here, let us clarify that Franz Ferdinand the man died in 1914 while the group consists of 4 dapper young men.) So, when it was announced that Franz was going to play in Columbus on May 2nd, Lyndsay and I had to go. Sure we had seen them live twice before. We even drove from SLC to Reno just to see them play 3 years ago. We’ll do almost any thing for our Franz friends.

Just being around me for the past few days, you could tell that the day was getting closer and closer. Last Thursday I started a countdown on my Facebook profile. On Monday, I began inviting everyone in the hospital to the concert. Caught up in the enthusiasm, I even started inviting people to stay in our hotel room. Fortunately and unfortunately, no one accepted the invite. On Friday, I started voicing my concern about how I was going to dance at the concert. Lyndsay assured me that when the time came, I would know what to do. She was right.

When Saturday finally rolled around, I was noticeably giddy. Those who know me might ask if I had consumed large amounts of sugar. Truth be told, I had, but I know the difference between a sugar high and a Franz high. Sugar highs come weekly. Franz highs come but 3 times in 5 years. So when I started doing an awkward arm dance in our hotel room, Lyndsay knew for sure that this was a Franz high.

The concert was surreal. Born Ruffians opened and did a nice job, but they just can’t compare. Just like the guy that opens for Jerry Seinfeld, funny, but when the night is over, you forget about him completely. We tried taking some video of the event, but our camera blows and the bass was a little overpowering for the little thing. The pictures are equally bad. If I had to describe it, I would say it was like taking a ride in the space shuttle for 90 minutes. Trust me, I'd know. I’ve seen Armageddon. The movie, that is, not the biblical event.

In short, for all you that couldn’t see them live, it isn’t the end of the world. They will be back eventually. In the meantime, check them out.

WE LOVE YOU FRANZ!

The calm before the proverbial storm.

Right as they took the stage. Nick to the left. Alex in the middle. Bob on the right. Paul at the drums in the background. As the finger indicates, they are number 1.

People's Court

2009-04-30T08:52:00.004-04:00

Scenario: You have a box of Cocoa Puffs cereal that is 5/6ths full. You pour yourself a bowl, add some milk and eat a spoonful of cereal. As you're bringing the second spoonful to your mouth, you notice an ant struggling in the milk. You dry heave, dump the remaining contents of your bowl down the sink, and face your dilemma. Do you:

a) Throw out the box of Cocoa Puffs--better safe than sorry.

b) Throw out the Cocoa Puffs and every other box of cereal in the cupboard. While you're at it, discard any open box/bag of any food in the kitchen.

c) Remain calm. It's just an ant.

Blossoming

2009-04-18T19:07:00.006-04:00

I’m beginning to think I should save my resolutions for springtime when the promise of warm weather is on the horizon and blossoms are blooming. This morning when Erik returned from helping someone move, he made me get out of bed and insisted that I accompany him to the gym. My excuses fell on deaf ears:

My back hurts! (So it’s the elliptical for you, then, huh?)

My ipod is gone! (Choose another Apple product we have laying around our house.)

My shoes. . .(Here they are!)

After our run, we stayed in our sweaty clothes and tackled our back yard. My poor luck with animal carcass discovery continues—I was the one who noticed the squirrel who died in a remote corner of our yard. We cleared the leaves and ivy, uncovering plants breaking through the soil. Our garage is swept. We’re ready to plant a mini vegetable garden. My favorite magnolia blossoms will be making an appearance any day now.

Michelle and Robby will add another baby boy to their brood on Monday. Does it get any cuter than Gunnar? We're about to find out. Dane and April have announced the upcoming arrival of their first, due this October.

I have new highlights and a haircut. Erik and I are planning where he’ll be doing orthopedic surgery rotations this fall. He could be coming to a city near you! We’re thinking of setting up an Olympic-type bidding system when he's looking at residency programs (but we’ll openly accept bribes).

I have a feeling we’re on the verge of good things.

Facebook Friends?

2009-04-05T22:04:00.002-04:00

As Lyndsay continues to distance herself from me in terms of number of Facebook (fb) friends, I have decided to take a different approach: go after the big fish. Sure Lyndsay has 30 friends from Castle Dale, but is she friends with the most famous Castle Dalean of all-time (Shawn Bradley)? Exactly. She isn’t. So, my new strategy is to find the popular people in the world and lure them in with my online wit and charm.

Take Melissa Rycroft, famous for being cruelly rejected on national tv on ‘The Bachelor.” Melissa was a prime target for my friendship. She was dejected and humiliated in front of millions in one of the “most dramatic moments in Bachelor history.” Surely she needed a friend, someone to lend her a shoulder to cry on. Or, at the very least, someone to throw her a piece of flare, or give her an occasional poke (that’s not dirty, just a fb option).

My strategy was simple: find her profile, add her as a friend, then convince her that I was not a stalker (a tough task) so she would reciprocate the friendship request.

So I found her profile and added her. So far so good. But how to convince her to add me? First, I had to cancel my membership to the fb group, “Melissa Rycroft #1 Official Fan Club.” That would scream stalker. Now for the clincher: status line updates changed every 5 minutes to send the message.

“Erik supports Melissa over Jason. Jason is a dork.”

“Erik thinks Jason is a dork”

“Erik supports Melissa”

“Erik is a normal guy”

“Erik is NOT a creep”

Brilliant, right? Who would reject such a friendship request? Melissa, that’s who. At first I thought it was a mistake, but I went to check the status of the request, and sure enough, it had been removed. So I added her again. Nothing. Third time’s a charm right? Nope. Rejected. Any suggestions? Where did I go wrong? Perhaps more importantly, who should my next target be?

Envy

2009-03-31T17:30:00.014-04:00

A short list of those I envy at the moment:

Those who still have Spring Break. Erik is currently in Utah without me. He calls me nightly with tales of good food, family Rock Band jam sessions, and drives in the mini-cooper as he enjoys the mountain views. Not only that, he's living it up with the latest in public transit via the new FrontRunner line from Salt Lake to Ogden!

Those who are creative geniuses.
I take it in stride that I am the only person in my immediate family who is plagued with cold sores. It’s cool that my sisters and parents recently gathered in Phoenix without me. So what?! I’m trying to maintain my graciousness when I see that Michelle has inherited well more than her share of my mom’s of sewing talents (selfish!):

The birthday girls/boys. While I will have to wait nearly an entire year for my next birthday, my sister Jessica (and others who were also born on March 31) are living it up! Sheesh! Have a little sympathy for the rest of us.

(Happy Birthday, Jess!)

Should I be adding anyone else to my envy list?

Happy Birthday, Kid!

2009-03-22T20:24:00.001-04:00

Today is Lyndsay’s birthday so she asked if I would write a post for today. I asked, “what should I blog about?” the answer came quick: “me!”

I guess I should have seen that coming.

One thing that I admire about Lyndsay is her dedication. I mean, the gal went to undergraduate and law school in a total of 6 years! I hardly made it out of undergrad in six years, let alone graduate school (that’s a bit of hyperbole, but it makes her sound super amazing). If you think that is incredible, you should see her surf the internet. I’ve seen her sit in front of a computer for hours on end without eating, sleeping, or even talking, but that was during a fight. I think it still counts.

The other day, a few hours after taking a long, hot shower, Lyndsay emerged from the computer room and exclaimed, “IT’S FREEZING IN HERE!” Being the ultimate clinician after 4 weeks on family medicine, I quickly evaluated the situation.

Room temperature: approximately 65 degrees (that’s right, we like it cold, but not too cold).

Clothing: one thin, short, cotton robe only partially closed (I was dressed the same, but we won’t go into that).

The diagnosis was clear, Lyndsay was hypothermic from exposure to the elements, but this time the elements were not just the temperature:

Me: What were you doing in there?
Ljo: Watching movies on the internets.
M: What were you watching? And why aren’t you dressed?
Ljo: I was watching those murder shows. You know how I get reeled in by those. I think I have a problem.

She thinks she has a problem?! These are the kinds of shows where the implausible is the norm. You know, where Sally is riding her bike home after softball practice and her brother picks her up and throws her off a cliff. These are the shows she is fascinated with. But maybe she is just trying to prepare herself for some future event where her only protection will be her training from Dateline. After all, we do live in Toledo where strange things are the norm.

Anyway, if she isn’t careful, it won’t be the crazy man down the street that does her in, it will be the internet, just like that Korean kid a few years ago.

I know this wasn’t what you were looking for, Lyndsay, but Happy Birthday.

Entry #5

2009-03-18T22:58:00.003-04:00

I realize that I don't really have to post here anymore to promote my entries on the other blog, but I do it anyway. And feel free to use the link ERIK'S BLOG on the left to get there.

Number 4

2009-03-12T15:37:00.004-04:00

When I'm not womanizing the trailer-trash crowd, I spend some time in the clinics working with the sick (in more than one way) people of this country (and others, now that I think of it). (what my preceptor looks like)

To read about what I do on a typical day, please click here:

realtruthms3.blogspot.com

That’s How Rumors Get Started

2009-03-10T23:47:00.003-04:00

There’s a wonderful lack of privacy in small towns. A citizen of a town like Castle Dale trades in their anonymity and in return receives the protection of an entire community. I’m going to assume for a moment that you haven’t yet bookmarked the Emery County Progress and therefore haven’t heard that there was an attempted robbery at the Maverick (“The Maverick”) in Castle Dale.* The collective knowledge of the neighbors had the crime solved before a ballistic analysis could be completed.

I’ve left Castle Dale cloaked in the anonymity of a big(ger) city, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t gossip to be gossiped:

Rumor: Erik and Lyndsay are separated.

Reality: Erik’s living in a dormitory in Port Clinton for random days during each week (Do you hear that would-be robbers? Erik could be here with me on any given night.)

Rumor: Erik has bulimia/morning sickness.

Reality: While Erik was sleeping at the dorms, he was bitten on the lip by a spider. The next day he kept having phantom sensations of spiders crawling in his throat, thereby inducing repeated gagging episodes.

Rumor: Erik’s enjoying the Port Clinton singles scene—but he’s unavailable on weekends.

Reality: Yet another patient tried to set Erik up on a date.

Patient: You are so cute! You should date my grandniece! She is a student in Columbus.

Erik: Is she ever in Port Clinton?

Patient: Every weekend!

Erik: Oooh. Too bad! I go home to Toledo every weekend--but I'll put my pager number on your chart.

Yes, Erik failed to utilize the more obvious “I’m married” avoidance tactic. Luckily, he’d also forgotten his wedding ring that day—so he was free as a bird to consider his options.

Rumor: Not one to be outdone, Lyndsay is seeing a younger, blonder man.

Reality: Lyndsay attended a seminar in Columbus sans husband, but was approached by a strapping blond man who asked “is this seat taken?” He then continued to be quite familiar as the night wore on, including leaning in to look at the papers in her lap and whispering comments in her ear about the speaker’s antics. A bishop from another ward was seated a few rows back from Lyndsay and reported everything to his fellow ward member. That fellow ward member just so happens to be Lyndsay’s coworker.

*And there's more where that came from: stay tuned for tales of high speed dirt bike chases and learn where to sign up for Evening Adult Art Classes (although I think the classes sound more exciting than they actually are).

Since no one ever writes anything here...

2009-03-05T15:26:00.002-05:00

Maybe one of these days Lyndsay or I will write something here, but it's not going to be today. However, you can find some good reading at realtruthms3.blogspot.com.

Entry #2

2009-02-26T15:44:00.002-05:00

For those who care, the second week's entry is now up.

http://realtruthms3.blogspot.com/

For your viewing pleasure

2009-02-18T19:39:00.003-05:00

As part of the family medicine rotation, I required to maintain a diary chronicling some of my patient encounters and, perhaps, learning experiences. Anyway, since I have to write this stuff anyway, I figured I would make a blog out of it. It will most likely be temporary, and most certainly will not be up to the standards of this blog (or at least what this blog used to be).

Please feel free to read it and comment.

realtruthms3.blogspot.com

As Requested

2009-02-17T21:01:00.005-05:00

Behold, the taste of my childhood holidays:

Laurel's Sugar Cookies

1 ½ c. sugar

1 c. margarine*

2 eggs

2 t. vanilla

4 c. flour

1 t. baking soda

1 t. baking powder

¾ t. salt

¾ t. nutmeg

¾ c. sour cream

Cream the sugar and margarine. Add eggs and vanilla. Alternately add remaining dry ingredients and sour cream.

Refrigerate overnight to make cookies easier to roll.

Roll out on well-floured board. Cut into shapes. Bake at 350º for 10.5 minutes.

*even my butter-snob sister prefers margarine in this recipe

Coming Clean

2009-01-29T17:55:00.005-05:00

Just so we're clear, I have a long history of being pals with the cleaning crews wherever I work. It's a policy of mine. For example, I invited Hassan (from the Federal Defender's Office) to Joe's Valley for a visit and we spent a lot of time discussing his Iraqi heritage. Jose (from my Salt Lake firm) and I communicated congenially despite the language barrier. Sadly, my experience here in Toledo has not been the same.

Last week, I got a new office. As I passed Mandy in the hallway between my old and my new office, she said "I hope that you'll keep your new office cleaner than your last."To which I replied (inaudibly) "That's up to you, Mandy."

Last night, I left at 6:25 p.m. Having arrived at 8 a.m., I felt I'd put in a great day's work by anyone's standards—that is until Mandy issued this parting shot:"Oh so you get a new office and you feel like you can leave early, eh?"

Sadly, all of her comments have a core of truth, which makes them far less funny in my book. Take for example, this conversation, the first time I realized I was being watched:

Mandy: Do you want me to take that Skittles wrapper for you?

Ljo: Oh sure, thanks.

Mandy: You sure do eat a loooooot of candy. It's amazing you stay as thin as you do.

Yes, I confess, I DO eat a lot of candy. Yes, my level of sugar consumption might put someone with a different metabolism into the obese category. Admittedly, my previous office had boxes of documents stacked to the ceiling. Sometimes I leave "early" when I think I can get away with it.

Can YOU handle the truth?

Giorgi-Oh-No

2009-01-19T16:23:00.013-05:00

Since being burned on Valentine’s Day two years ago, I’ve scoured local newspaper advertisements, read newspaper reviews, and kept my eyes open driving across town for new quality restaurants in the area. I’ve had some luck: Lyndsay found a place where she can go drink bbq sauce, and we know where to go for a good steak. But what about a classy joint for those special occasions like the Saturday before MLKJ Day? You know, when the regular places around town just aren’t enough.

This year, for our pre-MLKJ Day meal we chose Giorgio’s International Cafe'. The online reviews were all good, but they all date back to last century, so I looked for some interactive feedback. However, every person I've asked about Giorgio’s responds the EXACT same way:

Me: Have you eaten at Giorgio’s downtown?
Them: Where?
Me: It’s next to the Valentine Theater
Them: The WHAT?

From the outside, the place looks nice enough, as you can see below with the 1998 Mercedes CLK 320 with stock wheels in front and some other people standing outside contemplating whether or not they should go inside for the food. The food is inside, people!

Inside, as you can see, they have mirrors. We sat in the table in the bottom right hand corner. Yep, it was at that very table where we wasted every last penny my mom gave me for Christmas. We tried to like the meal, we really did. But for what we paid, or what my mom paid, you shouldn't have to try to enjoy a meal. When the bread came out, we ate the whole thing just looking for some flavor in either the bread or the liver pate. When our server gave us the run-down of the specials of the night, I asked her to repeat the list because I didn't understand what she was talking about. But it didn't work.
You see, at Giorgio's International Cafe', every entree comes with red potatoes and fresh vegetables. Every dish comes with those exact side dishes. Do you know what that means? It means that every dish is so bland that the flavor goes perfectly with boiled potatoes and steamed asparagus. You see this guy here? It's George and he's cooking the flavor out of everything we ordered.
What you don't see is the poison that someone slipped into Lyndsay's steak that crippled her while shopping later on at the mall. Can you picture that? Me and Lyndsay shopping for jewelry in Forever 21 in a crowded mall full of gangsters and young boys in brown overalls (don't ask, I have no idea what it means or why they do it). Who do you think looked more sick? Lyndsay with her gastrointestinal illness or Erik with his shopping-induced nausea? Needless to say, the quarter mile walk back to the car was not a pretty picture, and certainly not what a night at Giorgio's International Cafe was supposed to look like (with a bottle of water, of course).

Hey Baby, It's Christmas All Over Again.

2009-01-06T23:40:00.012-05:00

We present to you highlights from Christmas 2008:

1. Eating good food. More specifically: hickory burger (Training Table), two Café Rio salads, ribs (Citris Grill), Red Fish (Red Fish Restaurant, New Orleans), Sausage Po’ Boy (unidentified restaurant, New Orleans), barbecue blue cheese oysters (Red Fish Restaurant), multiple layered jello creation (Aunt Carole), hot cinnamon rolls (Laurel), breakfast casseroles (Johansens), Pears (Harry & David), hot chocolate (Cocoa Cafe). Clearly, we postponed any weight loss goals until 2009.
2. Meeting new nieces. Welcome to Annie, Erin, and Isabel.
3. Brock-y-aoke. Brock’s inaugural song on the new family karaoke machine was Shania Twain’s “Don’t Be Stupid.” Don’t think he skips over the “oooooh….hey!”s and “Yeah”s.
4. Ice Skating. Though I assured Erik that skating on a pond was perfectly safe, it was hard to remain calm when we heard a loud creaking protest from the ice when we gathered together for a family picture. (note Erik's pose in this picture, it is the beginning of the end.)
5. Manly TV Removal. Since I have been in the Peterson family, the legend of the big screen tv in the basement has been told. Standing at 5.5’ tall and 1 cm smaller than an average door frame, many were skeptical the tv would ever leave the Peterson basement intact. Sam and Erik defied conventional wisdom by removing the tv with only some ropes, manly lifting noises, and synchronized pushing/pulling, leaving behind a massive empty space, a sweaty/smelly stairwell and a few scrapes on the walls (now strategically hidden by paintings).
6. Ute Basketball and Football. The Petersons have done their damndest to convert me to the red side. Flying us to see the Utes dominate an overly-arrogant ‘Bama didn’t hurt their cause. (again with the pose)
7. Christmas Parties. Family gift exchanges (thanks for the chocolate bacon bar, Linsey!), attempted Nativity scenes, and good food inevitably brought us [at least physically] closer together.
8. Gaming. We spread our love of Guitar Hero by gifting World Tour to Lizzy/Roland and Guitar Hero III to the Johansen family. Tiger Woods Golf got Erik through his pukiness and revealed my penchant for swearing whilst gaming.
9. Neck Injury. Admittedly, Erik’s previous complaints about his sensitive neck fell on deaf ears. I took notice, however, once Erik was forced to cut his participation in the annual Christmas basketball battle short due to an inability to make quick neck movements. A stiff neck + nausea makes Erik’s appearance in the Johansen family picture heroic—and makes the wait for the proofs even more exciting.
10. Picture Taking. Erik’s protests are rarely subtle. This year, he registered his anti-picture taking stance by posing awkwardly in picture after picture:

Farewell to 2008

2008-12-23T00:54:00.002-05:00

What more is there to say about Erik and Lyndsay than has been said during the 2008 blog season? With the exception of 2 to 4 week spans at a time, we have kept the world current with our adventures, events, and idiosyncrasies, or at least Erik’s, as Lyndsay is self-proclaimed perfect and “normal.” This post will be the final attempt to complete the 2008 account of our lives, especially since our short term memories are quickly deteriorating and being replaced with random facts about the Clean Air Act and obscure diseases.
Much of Erik’s past year has been spent in the hospital interacting with sick people and weirdoes, like pregnant women. So far he has only been excused from a patient’s room once for inappropriate comments. The over/under going into this school year was 5.5, so he is doing better than expected. The “incident” happened when Erik allegedly called a laboring woman “weird.” She didn’t appreciate that. Another highlight came when an orthopedic resident allowed Erik to drill a hole through a gunshot victim’s tibia while he was still plenty awake and feeling plenty of pain. Erik says the key is to ignore the screams, move the drill with the leg, and just focus. It might be a stretch to say he saved the guy’s leg, but we’ll say it anyway.
Most impressive about Erik’s year was that he was pulled over just once and received zero speeding tickets (as opposed to last year, when he was pulled over 0 times and received 1 ticket. Previous years? We’re trying to forgot those sorts of details). That encounter with the friendly highway patrolman improves Erik’s already lofty statistics:
Times pulled over: 9
Tickets issued: 7 (including 1 photo cop)
Warnings issued: 3
About Lyndsay. For the past 2 months, Lyndsay has dedicated her Tuesday nights to the noble cause of dodgeball and buffalo wings. Her lateral movement leaves something to be desired, but when she gets a hold of that ball, WATCH OUT! She can really zing that thing. She does overexert herself at times and never stretches, necessitating more than a few rotator cuff examinations from Erik, but so far she has checked out just fine with good strength and range of motion. As for the buffalo wings, they don’t fair quite so well. She has also attempted to culture herself, having fallen behind somewhere in the mid ‘80s. The first item on the agenda? The Star Wars trilogies. Now, instead of calling him “the-guy-with-the-black-bucket-on-his-head,” she just calls him Darth. Talk about progress. Next thing you know we’ll be having light-saber battles in the living room.
While it has been mentioned before that Lyndsay is the lead guitarist in at least two (fake) bands to date [“JELK” (Jonny, Erik, Lyndsay and Krista) and “ZELK” (Zack, Erik, Lyndsay and Kim)(there’s no off position on the creativity switch in our house! We are currently accepting applications from friends with names starting with vowels)], it has never been acknowledged and cannot be overstated that she rocks on the electric wii guitar. From Barracuda, to Knights of Cydonia, to Blondie’s “One way or another,” Lyndsay plays those catchy riffs and never lets the audience catch their breath until the show is done and our money has been collected. If only her real job were this fun
Here's to continued ticket avoidance, rockin', and blogging in 2009!

Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart. This Year, I Have Nothing

2008-12-10T22:19:00.005-05:00

What do you get for a man who has everything? Thanks to a fortuitous couple of visits to JCrew with a two year-old gift card, Erik and I have stunning new coats with which to weather the Toledo winter. Here we are, enjoying Thanksgiving in Pittsburgh with our new outerwear (sorry, we have no pictures of simultaneous new coat wearing):

[Erik's new coat + the Pittsburgh skyline.]

[My new coat + Catherine]

The downside? Erik’s Christmas wish list was already woefully short, so the removal of “winter coat” as an option was tragic. Here is a sampling of the Christmas list he created during a slow moment at church:

iTunes gift card

Penguin store gift card

Candy

Cash

I stopped him there, before he could add “car wash tokens” or “collector’s coins” to his list of cash or almost-cash items. I'll avoid asking what kind of person asks for $20-30 worth of candy for Christmas.

So I’m looking for some help. What is on your Christmas wish list? What are you giving to the man/woman who has everything? Don’t be shy about spoiling a potential Erik surprise--he's used to my inability to keep things surprising (I gave him an anniversary gift approximately a month ago and our anniversary has not yet occurred). Your budget is $1-$1000.

Tiny Tim and his gimpy leg

2008-12-07T20:00:00.000-05:00

The roads last night were horrible. It had been snowing, or rather, flurrying, all day and bitterly cold. However, the Toledo snowplows apparently had other things to do than drive up and down the streets dropping salt. I’m trying to not be critical, but some people’s Saturday night plans, especially 3rd wedding anniversary plans, are entirely dependant on the lack of black ice on every street.

Luckily, when presented with a three car accident on Heatherdowns and no way of stopping, we threaded our way through unscathed, with some expletives of course. We made our way to dinner where we ate as fast as possible without looking uncouth. Or at least that’s what we thought. The server asked at one point if we were in a hurry to get to the movies. Umm, so much for being couth I guess. The movies?!? We weren’t going to the movies. We were going to the theatre.

The theatre on Saturday night was presenting Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol,” a play that neither Lyndsay nor I had seen in many years. And thank goodness we braved the cold and the ice to see it. Not that the play didn’t have its flaws, it had many (Scrooge’s repeated misuse of the term blind man’s “buff,” for one—or the fact that neither African American in the play seemed to be adequately mic’d, which we agree with) . But the spirit of the play, focusing on the truest meaning of Christmas, was enough to get even the most cynical of people, such as I, in the Christmas mood.

May God bless us, everyone.

Tragedy Strikes

2008-11-16T23:25:00.007-05:00

Francois de la Rochefoucauld once said “the only thing constant in life is change.” Nooo kidding Mssr. Rochefoucauld! As if 2008 hasn’t been hard enough, two things very dear to us have once again been ripped from our grasp. It all happened so suddenly. We had both reached a level of enviable contentment. In fact, our comfort level was so profound that our previous hardships were only detached memories. We started taking things like good hair and good times for granted. Then one day reality slammed us in the face:

*Joel is gone. The very fact that Erik and I have been able to share a stylist is inherently impressive. Joel’s ability to so deftly deal with my ultra-thick hair and Erik’s retro/modern aspirations makes him irreplaceable. As a result, Erik has staged a grow-out (similar to the more familiar “sit in.”). His hair is now going on 12 weeks sans even a trim:
*JELK has disbanded. Even though we had more warning that fellow bandmates Jonny and Krista would be leaving for sunnier skies, their absence is simply devastating. It seems like only yesterday Erik ended our first couple date with J/K by saying “let’s do this again sometime.” After some lengthy discussions, Erik and I have opted not to continue the band as EL.
In happier news, Erik's mom Kathy sent me "just because" flowers. I am considering it after the fact bribery for authorizing Erik's trip to Utah this weekend to watch the BYU v. U of U match up. I learned too late that Kathy went with flowers despite Erik's advice that meat is the way to my heart.

Stranger Danger

2008-11-10T11:47:00.004-05:00

My busyness has never been a deterrent for strangers who have something they want to tell me. It has become apparent to me that I have no ability to exude any aura of inapproachability. On one fateful bus ride home from Salt Lake to Provo, a man I had never met sat next to me and spontaneously detailed his daughter’s struggle with cancer and the resultant strain it had on his marriage. On a plane ride to California, the middle-aged man in the seat next to me interrupted my Trusts & Estates reading to ask my weekend plans. He offered a map of places to visit with my then-boyfriend who I told him I was on my way to see. When I later opened the map he gave me, I found his phone number—a welcome back-up in case my long distance love failed (it ultimately did, but not before I lost my map…). During a cab ride into downtown Chicago I learned the driver’s entire immigration story, the tale of his rise to the top of his cab company and even about his uncertain paternal relationship with his “daughter.”

This weekend was no exception, but the stranger interaction was of an unwelcomed kind:

Scene 1:

Location: Toledo's organic fresh food market

I am wheeling my empty cart back into the “market” because I notice I’ve inadvertently stolen a 12-pack of Cherry Coke Zero (organic blend). A woman alerts me to the fact that I have a 12-pack still on my cart and I turn my head to say “thank you” (and “where were you when I was checking out” under my breath). Another woman who is walking in a perpendicular path says “excuse me” and PUSHES me out of the way. Yes, PHYSICALLY pushes me out of the way.

Scene 2:

Location: Classy Italian eatery located in a strip mall between a bar and a karate club.

As Erik approaches our parking spot, a group of obviously drunk bar patrons dramatically jump out of his way.
Patron: That was a close one! I saved your LIFE! Hey, look at her smooch* me boots!

ep: Maybe you should move the party on back inside, folks.

Scene 3:

Location: Office parking lot.

It’s Monday morning. I pull into my firm’s gated/fenced in parking lot that runs adjacent to a public alleyway. I am wearing some understated pink velvet heels. As I get out of my car and begin walking toward the exit gate, I notice I am walking parallel to a couple who is walking on the outside of the fence, in the alley. She says something about my shoes and it’s unclear whether she’s talking to me or her companion. I say “what?” before I can consider the consequences.

Lady to me: I SAID THEM ARE SOME FIIIIINE SHOES.

Lady to companion: Look at her walk in those shoes!

Me: Thank you?

The lady continues her commentary on my shoes as we walk the 50 remaining yards together: “can you believe those shoes?” “those are the kinds of shoes that….” “pink!” "velvet!” She talks as though I am not in earshot.

Some patterns I’ve noticed:

GOOD: male, middle-aged, public transit

BAD: female, noticeable shoes

* sanitized for our younger/related readers.

Note: Italics denote exaggeration and/or lying.

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

2008-11-05T11:03:00.005-05:00

Clearly, an endorsement from OWRTF nudged both candidates to victory. Congrats to both my mom and my dad, who will each be serving an additional term in their respective positions.

Whilst perusing the EC Progress for news about the elections, I came across this gem from the opinion section. The letter is about an intruder at Orangeville Elementary school (!!) and describes the skilled janitor's identification of perpetrator's age after only a partial sighting:

On Oct. 15, when the Orangeville Library janitor was finishing up her cleaning, at between 10:30 and 10:45 p.m., someone stuck their bare behind on the back door of the library. She thought they looked to be between eighth and 10th grade.

Apparently the person's behind lacked the seasoned look of an adult and the youthfulness of an elementary schooler, placing the intruder somewhere in the late junior high/high school range.

We will keep you updated as this story develops.

Rock the Vote

2008-11-04T17:31:00.012-05:00

At the beginning of this election season I felt flattered about how invested the presidential candidates and their minions were in my Ohio vote. After living in Utah for a quarter-century, I had become accustomed to being part of a forgone conclusion, electorally speaking. The flattered feeling quickly subsided after weeks of three or four a-day phone calls from the likes of Palin, Biden, Obama, McCain, and their peppy campaign workers/spouses (we're looking at you, Michelle). We even got a phone call from John Glenn, who told us to vote to fund the science museum here in Toledo. He admitted he didn’t grow up near a science museum in his hometown, but he still managed to become a pretty decent astronaut, so I found his plea a little bit unconvincing. The taxes I pay to Toledo city make many of the pleas for increased funding similarly unconvincing.

I promised myself I wouldn’t use my blog as a basis for promulgating my political views, but today I feel that I need to weigh in on two candidates I feel deserve your consideration. They flew all the way to Toledo last weekend to discuss what is weighing on our minds:

Laurel (aka Mom) – School Board President (incumbent)

Scott (aka Dad) – Judge (seeking judicial retention).

If you’re a registered Emery County voter, get to the polls now to re-elect/retain these two excellent candidates. If you’re not lucky enough to vote in a county where a family’s block voting could swing the results in either direction, enjoy some pictures from our weekend with the candidates:

[notice the American flag waving in the background]

My dad is an excellent guitar player:

[he's so in touch with the voters. Note that his rocking avatar is an African American male.]

My mom is also great at Guitar Hero, but she's not so great at allowing pictures of her to be posted publicly. So you'll just have to settle for one of me, the candidate, and the flag:

Oh, and here's a picture of Erik and me, with Erik's not so subtle protest of the picture taking:

Compare Erik's facial expression with my parents' last visit to Toledo and I think you'll find some similarities:

In conclusion, we here at Optimistic with a Real Truth Flavor officially give our full endorsement of Scott & Laurel and encourage you to get out and rock the vote!

Get Well, Get Well Soon, We Want You to get Well

2008-10-29T18:30:00.002-04:00

Due to HIPAA regulations, this post will leave much to be desired in terms of completeness and accuracy. However, I would like to wish a relative of mine between the ages of 10 and 95 good luck tomorrow when he/she goes to the big building with doctors in it. I can't tell you why he/she will be in the cold room with really bright lights and cameras, but I can tell you that he/she will feel much better about 10-20 days after leaving that big building. Good luck to you, relative!

On that note, I would also like to congratulate my sister (I would be ambiguous here, but I have no brothers) who just delivered a big baby last weekend. Nice pushin', kid!

As to not make anyone jealous, I would also like to congratulate another sister who gave birth about 2 months ago. However, I refuse to go any further back than 2 months. Tough luck to anyone that has not heard a shout out from this blog. If it hasn't happened at this point, it just isn't going to happen. Deal with it.

Pain at the Pump

2008-10-27T09:34:00.002-04:00

I enjoy trivia as much as the next guy. Actually, I probably enjoy it more than the next guy, as Lyndsay can attest when I'll open any random source of information, find a number and turn it into a guessing game. However, my years of trivia, including hours of Who Wants to be a Millionaire and Jeopardy, never prepared me for my most recent guessing game with one of my residents:

Resident: Guess how much I got out of one of them?

Me (fully knowing what "them" was): 5 fluid ounces.

R: Nope. 9 ounces! It hadn't been used since last night at 10!

Me: Wow, you must be so proud.

One of "them," in this case, was a milk-producing breast. Since when were breasts the subject of trivia? Not since jr. high for me, but I'm not sure that's the conversation I want to have with my superiors. Actually, now that I think about it, that's not a conversation I want to have with anyone. Unfortunately, this milk guessing game was just the beginning:

"You go eat lunch, I'll go pump, and we'll meet back in the OR"

"I'm going to go pump because I'm getting swollen, you go see the patient in the ER, and I'll meet you there."

"I need to go pump. Page me when the patient is ready to go back."

Maybe I'm different. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe most guys would kill for the chance to openly discuss breasts at all hours of the day. That's what makes me so special--I don't think we have to hear about breast pumping on a semi-daily basis.

On another note, I never thought that this blog would contain breastfeeding anecdotes. May this be the last and only time.

Oktoberfest

2008-10-22T09:30:00.003-04:00

After a strong chiding from several of you about our lack of blogging, I will attempt to summarize our October so far.

Un-Enchanted: If only I could master Giselle's control over the rodents that infest (and clean) her abode. You would think I'd become used to encountering unwelcome animals in our house, but, alas, I was completely blindsided when I saw a chipmunk out of the corner of my eye upon walking into our dining room. As I shrieked and dropped everything I was carrying, I realized that I had, in fact, seen a chipmunk corpse. This unfortunate breach in home security leaves me with two questions: (1) How did the chipmunk get into our house? and (2) Why did the chipmunk die? Once again, Erik was nowhere to be found and I was left to dispose of the body using my trademark triple-grocery-bag-over-the-hand system.

That stings. I was doing my inside cleaning with earphones in while I thought Erik was doing yardwork when I heard Erik frantically yelling for me:

ljo: What's going on?

ep: JUST LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT ME!

It then became quite clear that Erik had been stung on his upper lip by a rather aggressive bee. I later went to the store to get Erik some anti-histamines and called to clarify his medicine order:

ljo: Do you want Benedryl or Value-Brand anti-histamine?

ep: MY LIP HAS PROBABLY DOUBLED IN SIZE.

ljo: Is it worse than when I saw it last?

ep: I don't know. You seemed rather callous about the extent of my injury, so it was hard to tell.

ljo: So….generic works, right?

One night stands/mysterious rashes: Erik has been living in Ann Arbor for a surgery rotation so I only see him on the weekends when he isn't on call. I decided to visit him one Friday night at his apartment in Ann Arbor. Erik had to be at the hospital on Saturday morning at 6 am sharp. I therefore awoke alone and in a ghetto apartment feeling like I'd just been a part of something very very wrong.

In unrelated news, Erik recently noticed a horrible rash on his arm. He was quite convinced the rash was the result of sleeping in a cheap apartment possibly infested with bed bugs, but further inspection revealed he is likely allergic to the solution he's been using to scrub in on surgeries.

Lost cause. I feel like I'm losing my mind. In addition to being unable to find our camera charger, I have also lost the following items immediately after I purchased them:

· Opi nail polish in "I'm Not Really a Waitress" (red)

· Blackberry Pearl (Erik has been named as a person of interest in the investigation into its disappearance)

· Black Strappy Heels (purchased for Amanda's wedding)

If any of you have any information regarding the whereabouts of any of the items, please contact me immediately.

A Changed Man

2008-10-20T19:03:00.002-04:00

I have blogged before how I am a changed man now that I am married to Lyndsay (for example, I am currently watching Wheel of Fortune by myself). However, I continue to change on a daily basis in many ways that I never could have foreseen even a few months ago. Many of the changes are directly attributable to school and have happened within the past few days.

For example, the first two hours of my day, every day, begin by asked two deep and burning questions to nearly every person I see: "Have you been passing gas?" and "Have you had any bowel movements today?" Before third year, I was only asking these questions 2 or 3 times per week.

Further proof: I just cooked a frozen pizza directly on an oven rack! Even worse, the oven is in a rented apartment that is rarely, if ever cleaned. I made sure to cook the pizza at least 10 minutes longer than the expected cooking time just in case some crazy former tenant had put something disgusting on that rack.

Finally, trying to remedy the terrible rash on my arms (sorry no pictures), I decided buy some medication at the closest store by my apartment here in Ypsilanti. The store? Kmart! (again, no pictures) I don't mean to demean any of our readers that may or may not frequent Kmart, but they're going bankrupt for a reason. They were selling Christmas trees for crying out loud! They're skipping at least 4 holidays and going straight for the big one, I guess.

Close, but no Cigar

2008-10-03T10:06:00.005-04:00

As Ohio residents, we've discovered new pronunciations for Oregon (oreGON), Nevada (Ne-vay-duh), documents (dack-u-ments) and a new meaning for ornery (mischievous). We've been able to roll with the punches for the most part.

My personal communication weakness is that I'm horrible (pronounced "harrible" if you'd like to honor the late Grandma Jo) at understanding a speaker who has any trace of an accent. This has required Erik to develop subtlety in translating "ethnic" waiters' questions ("asparagus or broccoli sprouts? GREAT question, sir") or hair stylists' suggestions ("I for one am reallllly interested to hear whether Lyndsay wants a blunt cut or just a trim").

Erik's weakness is understanding and/or replicating idioms. It's hereditary and completely endearing. A few examples I've heard:

"he's not the sharpest stone in the river"
"you can't look at a good horse in the mouth"
"it's the rhinoceros in the room"

Today the tables were turned when I was forced to defend my word choice in a phone call with a partner:

M: I believe I cc'd [copied] you on that email.
LP: I don't think you did. I haven't gotten anything.
M: Yes, I did.
LP: [seeing new email notifier on her screen] Oh, here it is. I just barely received it.
M: Just barely? What does that even mean? You only partially received it?

He called my usage "hilljack" (whatever that means) and I turned to my editor in chief, Jessica, to assist me in defending my syllogistic use of "barely" to mean "only just" or "scarcely." Am I the only one who does this? Is it a Utah thing?

One Year Older and Wiser Too

2008-09-26T15:05:00.005-04:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Here's a little sampling of my main man:
*the post that put us on the reality show message board map
*his first time meeting Caravaggio
*an exploration of the past and present Erik

And, if you missed it the first time around: 27 Reasons I Love Erik (devoid of mushiness)

And while I'm being all vintage:(Erik & Lizzy circa 1983)

The Standoff

2008-09-22T17:19:00.003-04:00

Sometimes Erik makes me so mad.

Like last Friday when he was being completely and inexplicably unreasonable on the phone, resulting in my hanging up in a huff. Later, after letting my anger simmer for a couple of hours, I left work, resolving to hold out for an apology from him. I walked into our house, relieved to see he was not manning his usual post at the kitchen table in front of his Mac. “Let him come to me,” I thought as I stomped upstairs to change out of my work clothes.

After changing clothes, playing a few games of BrickBreaker on my cell phone, trying to take a nap, forming scathing diatribes in my head, and throwing more of my clothes on our bedroom floor (it makes him SO mad), I stomped back downstairs to get some takeout, assuming Erik had been fully entertained for the past hour watching TV in our basement, all while smugly withholding my well-deserved apology. As I reached the main floor, the house phone rang and I heard Erik answer it, then start walking up the stairs from the basement, saying “I think she just walked in.”

We met in the kitchen, me glaring, Erik’s hair askew, and it became clear to me that our standoff had been one-sided--and that I'm suddenly in an O. Henry story.

“Thephoneisforyou—I’msorryabouthowIactedonthephonebefore—Ifellasleep [kiss]. Forgive me?”

I maintained my scowl and snatched the phone from him.

“Hello, I’m calling from the BYU Law School Annual Fund, how are you?”

“You called at the perfect time.” I say.

After making a [relatively] sizable donation to my Alma Mater/Erik’s arch rival I felt considerably better about the situation--and Erik wasn't blindsided. He knows there's nothing passive about my aggression.

Sas--

2008-09-17T17:03:00.004-04:00

Excerpt from my conversation with Lane last night:

Lane: And he stomps around like a freakin’ sass…..sas…..saskatchewan. Sasquatch? No, Saskatchewan. He walks around like a province…a Canadian province.

Seriously?

2008-09-12T13:29:00.006-04:00

Dear Readers:
I need to know who could possibly pull off these leggings (figuratively and literally).
Thank you.

The Good, the Bad and the Geriatric Splits

2008-09-11T00:09:00.003-04:00

Bad News: Erik and I have established a pattern of buying Apple products immediately prior to drastic price reductions or free-iTouch/printer-included-with-your-MacBook-purchase deals.

Good News: I’m not above charity, which means I recently accepted a donated iPhone from a partner in my firm who felt bad after callously mocking my Blackberry.

Bad News: My “Grammy” broke her pelvis.

Good News: Grammy can still do the splits at age 89 (although her doctor has advised against it).

Bad News: Yesterday was a drown-your-sorrows-in-ice-cream kind of day.

Good News: Erik’s charm at the drive-in window resulted in the Baskin Robbins gal giving us our cones for free.

Bad News: Father-in-law Dave made me promise to cheer for the University of Utah if he scored us tickets to the Michigan v. Utah game.

Good News: Utah won (silencing some nearby hecklers) and the only portion of my wardrobe that suggested my affiliation for the day was my red shoes (which were easily removed).

Bad News: Erik nonchalantly announced today that he will be spending his upcoming weeks in Ann Arbor for a surgery rotation, meaning I will only see him on the weekends.

Good News: Erik is almost finished with his OB-GYN rotation, which I’m hoping will drastically reduce the frequent and casual mention of lady-parts around our house.

Bad News: A Sunday of boredom and reckless bidding on the internets resulted in Priceline accepting our bid for a hotel in downtown Chicago later this month.

Good News: We will be celebrating Erik’s birthday in style.

#57

2008-09-01T00:22:00.002-04:00

Signs you attend a quality institution, number 57: No pink water at the drinking fountains.
This is an email I received from my school's administration just today:

University News Update

Drinking water restrictions will remain in effect until further notice. Water clearance samples are being run by a third party sampling firm as of this morning.

If you consumed any pinkish colored water in Block Health Science Building from 12 p.m. on Aug. 26 to 4 p.m. on Aug. 27 and have questions, or feel ill, please contact Safety and Health X5069 for further information.

Safety and Health and Facilities Maintenance will keep you informed through the Office of Communications as to when the water restrictions are lifted.

Just think about how many schools out there have administrations that ignore such tiny occurrences as "pinkish colored water" flowing from their drinking fountains.

I love the fact that students were drinking this water. That there is the scariest part of this story that reflects the quality of the school. Could the thought process have been, "Hmmm, I guess they are adding fluoride to the water in higher concentrations now."

Stay tuned for next week's segment when we highlight the installation of outlets in the library for laptops. How Progressive!