Tis the Season for Chicken Pox

Fortunately, that ship sailed through my life about 20 years ago.

And after re-reading that, I feel incredibly old, as I now have the legit ability to reminice about events that happened almost a quarter-century ago.

Questioning my own mortality: just the way I wanted to start my Tuesday morning.

My manager came in this morning, and gave the lovely news that her adorable 2 year old daughter was exposed to the chicken pox this weekend (by a 4 year old granola child, who has chest-length blonde hair and wears dresses...and is a boy. Um, okay.) Now my manager is wondering if she's going to have a spotty, itchy, miserable daughter in about a week. As an individual who has suffered through the chicken pox not once, but twice in my lifetime, I can totally feel her pain.

And don't tell me that "you can't get the chicken pox twice!" Let me guarantee you, IT CAN BE DONE.

(My sister, on the other hand, has made it through 26 years of life without getting it even once, after being exposed multiple times. Including the Christmas my cousin had it and my mom did her darndest to expose K - she still didn't get it. Lucky bugger.)

The thing I remember most about having the chicken pox, besides getting yelled at for scratching, are the oatmeal baths. I didn't really understand their significance at the time, but a sock full of mushy oatmeal? BEST. BATHTIME. TOY. EVER. Oh sure, it helped with the itching and all, but frankly, getting to spend an hour at a time in the tub for the sake of my health? It was a dream come true! I'm sure that the experiences were much less fun for my parents, but at least they weren't the ones "suffering."

While I now have a greatly reduced risk of getting the chicken pox as an adult, I just found out that there is a correlation between having chicken pox as a young child, and the odds of getting shingles as an adult. Great - not only did I suffer twice as a kid, but I get higher odds of getting an even more painful virus as an adult?

Thanks, Universe.

Doodles

...because he taught me to make pancakes as a kid, and that undercooked pancakes drenched in maple syrup rightfully belong on any breakfast plate,

...because he had the patience to teach me how to drive,

...because he would come to watch my volleyball games and spend endless hours every weekend at my volleyball tournaments, cheering me on,

...because he gets annoyed if my mom hangs up the phone after talking to me and he didn't get a chance to talk, too,

...because every time I would mow the lawn, he would go out and check my work. And if I didn't do it right, he'd drag me out to show me the spots I missed and make me do it again. Thereby teaching me work ethic and accountability,

...because he used to buy me donuts when I'd go to work with him on Saturdays,

...because he puts up with 3 females ganging up on him and teasing him mercilessly,

...because he is the calm voice of reason I can turn to in any situation,

...because he lets me borrow his Jeep whenever I go home to visit,

...because he is the best bar-b-que-r in the world, and cooks salmon that will melt in your mouth,

...and because he knows he can bribe me into coming home with promises of said bbq,

...because his hugs make me feel safe,

...because he loves my mom and treats all of us like his princesses,

...because he works so hard to provide the best he can for his family,

...because we share a "secret handshake" that I'll probably make him perform after he walks me down the aisle [someday],

...because he paid for my college education, years of private school tuition, piano lessons, doctor bills, braces, vacations, and sports fees,

...because he is the best man I know,

...he is the best Dad in the world, and I can't imagine a better father.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you (more!)

doom and gloom in the month of june

-sigh-

Life isn't fair sometimes.

It's June. In my mind, I'm picturing end-of-the-school-year picnics. Squirt guns. Shorts. Air conditioning and/or rotating fans. Lemonade. Green grass. Bike rides.

You get the picture.

But noooooooo. That's not the view from where I'm sitting. I wore my NorthFace jacket to work today, for cryin' out loud. When I see people on the street walking by the summer collection clothing displays at the mall, I see them gaze longingly at the shorts and tank tops, look a the grey, raincloud-filled skies, scoff, and then trudge along to the nearest heated location in their rainboots.

I'm trying to be optimistic, here. I know that most of the state is worried about an impending drought for the summer, so each extra inch of rain helps delay it another day. We're saving money on water since we're not water the lawn and our flower beds. But when you've just lived through the wettest month of May in the past 50-60 years, you know that you have some justification for hating the weather.

'Hate' is a strong word, but totally justified. I'M READY FOR SUMMER, DANG IT!

Car Maintenance? What's that?

This awesomely hilarious post basically sums up my philosophy on car maintenance (...cough, cough...or lack thereof). Only instead of '911', I use 1-800-CALL-DAD, or my expired AAA membership. And if you replace the parking tickets with Glee soundtrack CD cases and other random crap, you should have a pretty accurate view of my glove box.

A typical conversation with my dad:

Dad: "Kourtney, when was the last time you cleaned the inside of your windows?"
Me: "Um, probably the last time you did them."
Dad: "And the last time you waxed your car? You need to make sure it gets waxed at least once a year to protect the paint."
Me: "DAAAAAAAD, you just did it in July! So I'm planning on waiting until it stops raining/hailing/snowing, and then I'll TOTALLY get to it. Probably around July."
Dad: "Isn't that the next time you're coming home to visit?"
Me: "Well, whadya know, isn't that a coincidence!"
Dad: "And have you checked your oil lately? With all that driving, it's bound to be a little low."
Me: -blank stare-
Dad: "We went over this!! Remember, you're supposed to check your oil every few weeks? Otherwise if the oil level gets too low, then the engine could fail. And you don't want to have to buy a whole new car, do you?"
Me: "Of course not! And I just got my oil checked a few weeks ago!"
Dad: -sigh, checks dipstick thingie- "Kourtney, what's your definition of 'a few'?"
Me: "Either the last time you did or the last time I went to Jiffy Lube....-reading sticker- about 4,800 miles ago! I'm totally FINE!"
Dad: -facepalm-

Retail therapy FAIL

Well, today during my lunch break, I had all kinds of plans to go on a walk, stop by the library to catch up on my smarts, and maybe even stop by the Goodwill. [Side note: the Goodwill on SW 10th is AH-MAAAAZING. I'm talkin' designer duds here, folks] But the ever-crazy Oregon weather put a damper (hardy har-har) in my plans, and decided a nice springtime storm system would better suit my day. Instead, I'm going to write a post about a whole lotta NOTHING.

Bear with me, here.

Well, I should probably mention that I have a major bone to pick with whoever designs department store dressing rooms. Honestly, flourescent lighting really does a woman NO favors while trying on clothes, and even worse, bathing suits. It has been proven time and time again that this harsh lighting makes us look worse than we think we do, and therefore, throw a fuming fit in the dressing room, force us to snatch up the offending items and throw them haphazardly onto their hangers, all the while muttering obscenities about the clothing manufacturers and the current state of your thighs, march out of the dressing room and barely acknowledging the chipper dressing-room attendant (who, without fail, ALWAYS cheerfully asks, "So did anything work out for you today?"), throw the offending items on the counter, and storm out of the store.

I mean, doesn't it make more sense to have more flattering light in the dressing rooms? Think about it - if you're in a store where you try on something that you probably don't need in the first place, it looks AMAZING on you, you're going to buy it, right? And then when you get home and face reality, try on the item again only to see how truly awful it looks on you, what are the odds that most people will take the time to go back to the store and return it? I know so many people who have a whole pile of clothes meant for returning, and then they sit there, obviously unreturned, until it's too late and they're stuck with their bad purchase.

Needless to say, I haven't had much luck with clothes shopping lately. Last weekend, I went to the Woodburn Outlet Mall (aka Nirvana), and came out with nothing. Zilch. Nada. Well, that's not technically true. As I got back in my car after failed trips inside Ann Taylor, White House Black Market, Banana Republic, Cole Haan, Gap, AND the Kitchen Outlet, I totally could have seen myself buying a commemorative shirt that said, "I went to the Woodburn Outlet Mall, and all I got was the desire to lose 10 lbs." Yesterday, I wasn't in the best of moods, so I made a collosial mistake: I went to The Rack and had the same feeling of failure and misery. Retail therapy FAIL.

Which really leaves me no choice but to head to the land of no dressing rooms and free return shipping. Oh internet shopping, I have a feeling that we're going to become GREAT friends.

sharing is caring!

When you mix 3/4 c. of this...

...with 1/4 c. (melted) of this...

...and add in 1 jigger of this...

...and blend it for a full minute with this....

...happiness and a larger pants size will ensue. Trust me - I speak from experience.

p.s. it goes quite well with pancakes, apple pie, vanilla ice cream, fruit, or with a spoon.

just one reason why i love the PNW

Sure, they're technically volcanos that could destruct the entire region with one little hiccup (see: Mount St. Helens), but this kind of beauty isn't seen anywhere else in the lower 48 states.

Mt. Adams and Mt. St. Helens.

Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams

Update: I guess you could argue that this little thing called the Rocky Mountains has the same kind of beauty, but I believe that's one of those things where you can lose sight of the forest through all the trees - right?