lynsey vs. the garbage bags.

ugh.

i've been at our apartment for about 3.5 hours now, cleaning.

i've filled 5 garbage bags so far, mostly of food from the fridge & freezer that i don't care to bring along to the house.  it's kind of nice to start out with a fresh bag of frozen berries instead of a 3/4 used one, you know?

so anyway.

ben is home with the kids, so i'm flying solo on this final cleaning business.

i had been stacking garbage bags outside, and decided once the pile started taking on a mind of its own that maybe i should take them to the dumpster.

thinking i was maybe superwoman, i grabbed two full garbage bags and hefted them up, only to realize that they were both crazy heavy.  but to try to limit my trips back & forth to the dumpster since it's hotter than you know what outside, i decided to drag them both.  saving not only a round trip, but also my back.

i am so smart.

except.

i'm really not.

because i had filled these babies to the brim with pickle jars, mayo jars, ketchup and teriyaki sauce bottles.  so as i made my way over to the dumpster, unbeknownst to little ol' me, one of the bottoms of the bags split open.  i was feeling like i was such a tough piece of work until i finally realized as i reached the dumpster that i had been littering the parking lot with random glass jars.

i wanted to curse.

but, i didn't.

the bag that had split open was heavy, but luckily i was able to grab the bottom and arch it over the side without dropping anything else.  i then walked around the parking lot, picking up the remains of what i had littered.

and went back for another round.

this time, i tried to carry the next bag, thinking that me dragging the last one on the ground was what had weakened the so-called "hefty" plastic & splitting it.  but unfortunately, the powers that be were really out to humiliate a short, sweating & frustrated girl such as myself today.  

the bag split apart about halfway to the dumpster, again dropping random nasty food all over the parking lot.  i caught on quickly this time, but couldn't stop in the middle of the street because there were some oncoming cars.  so i tried over and over again to grip the bottom of the bag and lift it up with the top.  

unfortunately my technique didn't turn out so well the second time around.  each time that i repeatedly grabbed the bottom of the bag, it continued to shred.  no matter how hard i tried i could not get it to hold together.

so, i did what any girl in my situation would do.

i panicked, and started running.

well the term "running" is used loosely here because i was carrying about 60 lbs of food.  but i sure used all of my efforts to put a good hustle in.  i made it to the dumpster basically carrying the bag in my arms and let out a good, "AAAARGGGHH!" as i threw it over.  i felt like i was channeling either venus or serena williams when they smack that tennis ball as hard as they can during a serve.

and then spent the next 5 minutes again picking up all that had been lost along the way.

as i walked back to the apartment i avoided eye contact with the remaining bags of trash, opened the door and then closed it behind me.

i've got to work up the willpower to finish that job.

anyone wanna come help?

ugh.

a night to remember, and not in a good way.

when it came to the drive home from our trip to utah, ben and i had different ideas of how things should go down.  

he wanted to power it out, driving the12 hours {at least} straight through.  i wanted to split up the time, driving 5 or 6 one day and the rest of the time the next day.  a 12 to 14 hour car ride is pretty miserable when you have to get out about every 2 hours so that the beast inside of leah isn't woken up.

so, we compromised.

we decided to drive the majority of our trip the first day, then find a place to sleep and then just have about 4 hours left the second day. 

we were looking at hotel costs in page, arizona and not only were the prices out of CONTROL {even through the discount websites we usually used} but they were all completely booked up.  we asked one motel owner if he knew of any recommendations for other places to stay since his was full, and he had one.  he mentioned a "great little bed & breakfast" that might have a room, and gave us their number.

we called and success!  they had one open room left, at a better rate than any room we had found in that city and luckily it had one double bed, a twin, and a pack & play for a baby.  perfecto!

or so we thought.

we drove past the house several times because i was a little thrown off.  probably because in my mind, i had a dream.

a dream of what a bed & breakfast should look like.  you see, staying at a b&b was a longtime desire i have had.  a quaint, cozy house.  a four poster, fluffy bed with warm colors and soft sheets.  feasting on croissants and cheeses and fresh fruit in the morning.  talking with the owners as we sat by a crackling fire,  who would tell us tales of travelers that had come and gone

of course, that's because i had pictured our b&b to look something like this:

or this:

{okay, so sometimes i live in a land that is the love child of anne of green gables and pride & prejudice.}

so you can imagine my disappointment when we drove up to this:

not awful, but still.  not quite what my vivid imagination had conjured up.

on the corner of the house was a sign to let us know we had arrived at the right place.

on the garage was a taped sign that read "guest parking" which i wish i had taken a picture of, but missed the opportunity.

when we pulled up, ben immediately looked at me and said in a low tone, 

"we should just keep driving."

but i had already given them my credit card number...and we were already there.....

i was full of excuses, but let's just be honest.  i should have listened to him.  for the third time in our marriage,  i was wrong.  he was right.  {isn't he lucky that i admit it?}

but in the back of my mind, i was hoping that the inside was better than the outside.

we pulled our cranky kids out of the car and knocked on the front door.  we were greeted by a nice enough looking lady, who welcomed us in and upstairs.  there we met two families who each had two kids that were running around the house creating a lot of noise.

we introduced ourselves, were told that the other guests who were staying were all out to dinner and were led downstairs.

immediately we noticed that something was "off" when our room was the only one that wasn't numbered.  the other doors had #1, #2 and #3 on them.  ours was blank.  hmmm.

as our host opened the door, my hopes of our bedrooms looking anything like these:

were dashed.

unfortunately, our bedroom was actually extremely tiny and came with lovely bed accessories:

 did you catch that corner bedknob?  here's a close-up, just in case you missed it:

that's right, 3 of the bedknobs were tennis balls.  

the room was stiflingly hot, though we were provided with some air conditioning:

and when i looked underneath our beds, we found some childrens' toys.  

after realizing that neither mr. darcy nor gilbert blythe were anywhere to be found and i was more likely to run into a fellow who has just been released from prison, i was a little disappointed.

here is my i've-been-in-a-car-for-8-hours-and-now-have-to-stay-in-these-cramped-quarters-with-my-screeching-toddler face:

 

half of my face is already fed up, the other is still trying to think positively.  sort of.

we were also informed that we were sharing a bathroom with 4 other people.  ugh.  that night i learned the hard way about sharing bathrooms.  the trick is to get in there with the first announcement from your bladder that it needs relief.  i made the mistake of waiting until i was good and ready, but unfortunately was met with a locked door.  someone else was in there.

after waiting for almost 45 minutes for one of our bath-roomies to finish doing whatever it was he was doing, i walked upstairs to ask if there was another bathroom.

as i got to the top of the stairs, i noticed something strange.

there were about 6 people sleeping on the floor of the living room including the children who had been running around earlier, packed in tightly like sardines.  

the husband of the hostess who had showed us our room was awake, and greeted me.  i tried not to stare at the crowd on the floor as i asked where the other restroom was.  he pointed down the hallway, and i walked away, trying to figure out why there was a group slumberparty going on.

when it hit me.

we were sleeping in their room!  that's why there was no number on our door... and why there were toys under the bed...

it made sense now.  i just couldn't believe that they had rented out their actual bedroom.  

i tried to use the upstairs bathroom, but the sliding door wouldn't lock and i wasn't about to let whatever scary larry could be creeping around the corner to get a peek at me, so i let out a big sigh and went back downstairs.

after telling ben my discovery, it just reaffirmed to him that i should have listened to him in the first place.  whatever, it was too late now.

to top it off, leah was having a rough time. we were so worried that she was going to bother our neighbors that we kept her up for a little while, hoping she would wear herself out.

 

but clearly she had other plans.

luckily, caleb was fast asleep.

 

however i was getting fed up.

see how both sides of my face are matching now?  yep, any hope of a first magical bed & breakfast experience had been dashed.

ben tried to relax in the tiny corner, or what my vivid imagination would title "the sitting area."

 

here he is stretching, feet propped up on the pack & play.  looks comfy, yes?

no.

ben tried again to convince me to pack everything back up and get in the car, but this was now a matter of pride.

we.  will.  stick.  this.  out.  if. it. kills. us, dang it!

after a lot of begging, bribing and finally ignoring, leah finally fell asleep.

an exhausted mr. strader and i lay down on the bed and closed our eyes. 

but it was so.  darn.  HOT.

we had our tiny fan on "high" and pointed to blow directly on our faces, but over and over again i woke up with sweat dripping down my neck.

there are few things in this world that i dislike more than having to sleep when i am hot.  i won't bother to name them right now, but will instead let you know how i felt continually waking up feeling like i was on fire with a picture:

not pretty.

it was a miserable night that seemed to go on and on and on.

and we were even dumb enough to ask for breakfast {which was going to be pancakes, not croissants} at 8:00, assuming that our kids would sleep in.

but oh no, leah was up bright and early at 6 a.m.  yelling, throwing things, and within arm's reach of my hair.  so that ended any sleep i was hoping to get.

that was it.

i was mad, and sweaty, and finished with our first {and last} bed & breakfast experience.

we packed up, left without breakfast, and got in the car.

but before we drove off, i took one last picture.

here i am, at 6:30 in the morning.  ticked off.

rough.

but i looked up in the sky, saw the sunshine and left with the realization that i would be home in just a few short hours, in my own bed.  without the tennis balls.  with the air conditioning.  

i swallowed my pride, apologized to ben for my complete error in judgement,

and we drove away.

we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming....

to write a note
to paul, the concierge at our hotel.




dear paul,

you may think that your poofy hair
makes up for the fact

that we reserved and paid for
a king-sized bed

when instead you informed us
that "someone" made a mistake

and all that you had left was a room
with two double beds.

you also may think that giving us a 50% off coupon for breakfast tomorrow
might make you less of a douche

but

unfortunately for you,
it does not.

and,

your snide comment
made with your condescending eyebrows

when i explained to you that
it was our first night alone in over 5 years

and we probably wouldn't have another night away
for 5 years from now

and that a king-sized bed
is a luxury to us,

your snotty-toned reply was
"just push your beds together then. call it a superbed."

was not appreciated.

however,

we straders know how to make lemonade
out of your lemon-esque rudeness

and decided to take your advice.

so we present to you,

the superbed.



and paul, the adventures that ensued
you can take complete credit for.












thank you for your fabulous idea
though we must admit

that we still don't like you very much.

love,

L&B



p.s. just try that insensitive tone on us again and i will karate chop you like this



right on your poofy-haired head.

{i am taking a pause from the lies that bind us series while we are on a vacation in utah for a week. but rest assured, it will be finished.}

california day #7, also known as a dedicatory post to the ultrasound tech who earned himself a cold fold-out chair for his eternity in the fiery place

i realize that i'm pretty much all over the place with my postings, but what can i say? i'm a random gal.

i wrote earlier about one story about our trip in december to california, and i figured i'd share another, mainly because i can now find the humor in it.

but at the time it happened? not so much.

it was the day before we were leaving, and what should have been my 3rd day in disneyland. we had also made a little baby-sitting swaparoo deal with carrie & troy:

(a visual for your pleasure. they are even less normal than they look in this picture.)

where one couple would put all of the kids to bed while the other couple was able to go back to the park and actually ride some adult rides. (not that the 20 times on the "bug's life" slower-than-molasses toddler train isn't a blast.)

on the first night, we had watched carrie & troy's kiddos & the 3rd night they were planning on taking care of our hooligans.

but unfortunately, i woke up on disney-day#3 with some pain in my stomach. i got up and got ready anyway, and ate a little breakfast.

big mistake.

as soon as i put something in my stomach it was rejected and i ran for the bathroom. the sharp, upper abdomen pains didn't go away after the food found its way back out of my esophagus. in fact they increased.

i came out of the bathroom, told ben that i wasn't feeling well and he should take the kids without me, and hopefully i would be able to meet up with them later. i was bummed, and hoped it would pass.

but 7 hours later, i was still in a crazy amount of pain and running to the bathroom about every 20-40 minutes. there was nothing i could do once the stabbing pain would start and i had experienced this same illness right before thanksgiving. same pains, in the same place. and they were only getting worse.

so when ben called in the afternoon, i asked him to call our insurance to see if we had out of state coverage. i didn't go to the dr. the first time i had gotten sick in november, but was starting to wonder if these were gallstones or something.

unfortunately the only thing our insurance covered was an out of state ER visit. well i felt that was a bit dramatic, so i decided to just wait it out.

ben and the kids came home that evening, the kids ate dinner and went to bed. i was still sick. and by this point, add a bit teary to the story because it had taken MONTHS to save up for this dang trip and i had missed out on an entire day of fun, not to mention what should have been a date night with ben.

at about 8:30, i couldn't stand it any longer. it wasn't just the pain and the barfing, but also the knowledge that we were leaving first thing in the morning for a 6 hour ride home. so if there was something that i could do to feel better before hopping in that car, i wanted to do it. and take 10 of them.

finally at 9pm, i had had enough. the kids were asleep, we left the adjoining door of our hotel room open for carrie & troy and left for the ER.

i have been a part of many an ER visit and i know that the term "emergency" is used loosely around there.

about 2 hours later, i was finally seen by a doctor who said that i needed to get an ultrasound done to see if there were any gallstones or kidney stones.

and this is where our story begins. (all of that rambling was just backstory info. bet you're wishing i had told you that sooner, huh?)

the ultrasound tech came sauntering up with a wheelchair, looking a lot like this guy:



mustache included.

i got in the wheelchair and we took off! meaning he went fast. a little too fast, because one of the wheels caught mid-spin and the wheelchair lurched forward, almost dumping me out of it.

ultrasound tech dropped the F-bomb and slowed down. at this point i realized that i had more to fear then the stomach pains i had been enduring.

i lay down on the bed, and since i was merely clothed in a hospital gown & my birthday suit, ultrasound tech put a blanket over my legs so i could expose my stomach without exposing the rest of my goods.

as he went to squirt the freezing cold ultrasound jelly on my stomach he looked down and said, and i quote:

"woah! just had a baby, huh?"

ummmm.

huh?

it took me a minute to figure out what he was implying.


i looked around like this:




and then like this:




and when i realized that he was referring to my stretch marks, looked like this:



and this:




{ now here's the deal on stretch marks. i think they are totally lame. not in the fact that when we as women get pregnant, get them, but more in the fact that it seems like there is such a stigma attached to them.

the women who get them (myself included) seem to just want to DIE the minute they see one forming. not all women, i'm generalizing here. we pull out our cocoa butter and oils and lather ourselves up in hopes of stopping the metaphorical tear in our nylons.

and the women who don't get them seem wear it like a badge of honor that their skin is still unscathed and they are just born blessed, lucky and chosen. (again, generalization.)

and some women? they. just. don't. care. and these my friends, are the women to be jealous of.

here is how i feel about stretch marks in general, and mine in particular.

when i was pregnant with caleb, i didn't get one stretch mark until the day he was born. then i think because he hadn't dropped at all and my body just went from:

hey! i'm carrying 17 extra pounds around! no big deal!

to:

holy mother of pearl! there is something inside of me and moving very quickly in the southern direction and i have no control over this! let's stretch out to make room for the party going on!

i remember the utter and sheer disappointment i felt when i came home from the hospital with four small stretch marks on my lower abdomen.

when i was pregnant with leah, i vowed to not have the same thing happen. but right around 8 1/2 mos along, my body disagreed. i ended up with about 6 more stretch marks, all again on my lower abdomen. none of them even reaching my belly button. i realized i was still disappointed about getting them, and decided to change my frame of mind.

so. now how do i feel about them?

well in my quest to figure out why we as women judge each other so harshly, and hold each other up to an insanely high standard...

i own my stretch marks.

i'd like to say i love them, but i haven't quite gotten there yet.

however, i love my children, and they are the cause of the map on my skin and if i had to trade the smoothness of yore for the silvery lines of today i wouldn't.

they signify the journey. so i own them. and quite frankly, if you have them, i think you should too! }

back to the story. there was a purpose for telling you that.

so when ultrasound tech said,

"woah! just had a baby, huh?"

all of that "i own my stretch marks" stuff flew out the window. i became completely and utterly self-conscious.

"well, uh, yeah, uh, a while ago, uh," i stammered.

AND THEN HE SAYS,

"jeez. must have been some baby." emphasis on the some.




HUH?

excuse me?


he did NOT just say that to me!


so i had gone to flustered and self-conscious to ticked off and indignant.


"what is that supposed to mean?" i asked him. with a tone.

even though he was an idiot, he realized his mistake.

"oh, um. nothing. so what's going on with you? why are we doing an ultrasound?" he changed the subject.

"well i've been having some really severe sharp stomach pains and the doctor just wanted to check and make sure i didn't have gallstones or something," i answered, just trying to make it through the rest of the ultrasound without taking the jelly out of his lame hands and squirting it into his eyeballs.

he started laughing.

"what's so funny?" i asked.

"gall stones? doubtful. you're caucasian. my guess is that you ate some spicy mexican food last night and can't handle it." and kept laughing.

that was IT.



"you know, it's really going to SUCK to be YOU if these stomach pains turn out to be pancreatic cancer or something and you just sat here laughing at me in pain," i retorted.

he stopped laughing. cleared his throat. ahem. ahem. aheeeem.

"well, no gall stones," he said quietly.

"fabulous."

my tone was icy.

he wheeled me back at a normal pace in silence.



now i ask you.

what kind of an ultrasound tech asks these sort of questions and makes these sort of comments?

that's right. the kind that earns themselves a cold fold-out chair for their eternity in the fiery place.



mmm-hmm.


{ p.s. no, i did not have pancreatic cancer. the doctor had said that when i got back home i needed to be checked for an ulcer or hernia. no i haven't gotten checked for those. because i chalked the experience up to food poisoning (which my bro-in-law also came down with the next day). caused by what? spicy chinese food. take that ultrasound tech! }

the price of freedom, part 2 of 3...

second car, #2:

a.k.a. the "holy shizballs!" night.

when the gremlin was sold for parts, i threw myself a party. let's call it a wake. a celebration of a life (lived poorly, but a life nonetheless), and the fact that it was over. distributed among various people, never to be put back together to torture me for one more second.

i was happy.

nay, elated.

however, at this point in the story we were in the dead of winter (which starts sometime in mid-august and ends the following year at the beginning of july) living in rexburg, idaho. it looked a little like this:



only with much, MUCH more ice.

i consider the temperatures in this small town to be what i imagine the opposite of what hell would feel like. when you would walk outside just to take out the garbage the icy breeze wouldn't just freeze your nose hairs, it was so cold that you actually felt like your nose had completely frozen on your face and had fallen off. there were several times i dropped to my hands and knees in search of my lost nose. only to frantically reach back up to feel for it and hey! it was still there!

basically you would lose all feeling of any uncovered appendage in about 30 seconds flat.

anyone who has lived there can attest to this.

in fact, you could probably spot rexburgians of past and present amid a crowd of strangers because they are most likely sporting some sort of leftover frostbite on the edges of their sniffer. and if you look really closely i bet you can still see ice crystals in their eyebrows.

moving on.

also at this point in the story, ben was teaching seminary out in mud lake, idaho (no, i don't make this stuff up) and left early in the morning while i worked at an eye doctor's office which was about a 10-15 minute walk from where we lived. ben left about 2 hours earlier than i did for work, and got home about 2 hours before me.

now i can guess what you're thinking. can't she just walk to work? and the answer is yes, and i did. many times, in fact. or my lovely friend cindy was kind enough to give me a ride. but aside from the frigid temps and the burning desire to keep my original nose on my face, i was also 4 months pregnant. here's a visual so you don't have to just imagine what i looked like:




i know, i know. pregnancy looks good on me, right? and yes, ben had a different hair cut back in those days. but the rest is the same, thank heavens.

so i ask you.

would you want this beautiful, lithe creature who's with child to have to brave the freezing winds of rexburg and risk tripping on 3 layers of ice on top of ice on top of ice to fall and bruise her amazing backside?

i think not.

the truth is, i was fine with walking to work. by the time i would arrive i couldn't remember who i was or where i was going due to the hypothermia that had set in my brain, but i was happy to do it. but then lady fortune smiled upon me and that same friend (cindy) who would pick me up sometimes decided to upgrade her car. and this was the beaut she was a'partin with:

presenting, second car #2:

1993 honda accord.
color: champagne. condition: mint.

i will call her
"little beauty."

cindy took amazing care of this car and i knew it. so when she had heard of our gremlin circumstance, she offered to sell it to us. we jumped at the chance! we bought it sometime around the beginning of november. we adored little beauty and if you walked down the street by our house you could often overhear us outside whispering sweet nothings to this car and smothering it with slobbery kisses. with our nose muffs on, of course.

i wish i were joking.

cut to the week before christmas. we had some awesome friends who we are still friends with, who needed some help. i can't remember if their car had broken down or if they didn't think it would make the trek to utah...the details are fuzzy. long story short, we let them borrow our first car, (the nissan altima) to take to utah to visit their family. and we took little beauty to utah for our own holiday visit.

we wrapped up all of the christmas presents, packed up the car and set out for what would become a very memorable night.

as we drove we realized the severity of the weather. again, for your visual pleasure it looked a little something like this:



only worse.

i consider ben to be a very safe driver, sometimes to the point that i look at him and say in a snotty tone, "HEY OLD MAN, ARE YOU WANTING TO GIVE YOUR FRIENDS RIDING THEIR JAZZIES A CHANCE TO CATCH UP?"

but lucky for us both, he doesn't give into peer pressure or wives with a tendency to spew snot every once and a while. we slowed to a snail's pace on the freeway and i settled in for a long drive.

there were barely any other cars out on the road with us, and if ever we saw one it was usually because it had slid off and was now blinking hazard lights to alert the masses.

we were going about 55 mph in a 75 mph zone, singing "DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW..." at the top of our lungs when suddenly, we hit a patch of black ice. (the singing was a detail added for dramatic effect. ahem.)

the little beauty spun counter-clockwise and smacked into a metal pole that looked like a mile marker, only on the opposite side of the road. that pole sent little beauty spinning, orbiting around the icy and dark freeway.

our seat belts locked, my hair flew in my face and christmas presents went everywhere.

and this was it, folks.

it was like everything was in slow motion. i let out a high pitched squeal that i know would have sent dogs running to us from all directions if there had been any in sight. and as i squealed, i looked at ben with my eyes open as wide as my mouth.

and all he could do was yell,

"HOLY SHIIIIIZZZZBBAAAALLLSSSSSSS!!!!"

which still makes me laugh thinking about it. i can laugh because we both survived this basically unharmed.

anyway, as our car careened out of control, we spun down into the snow-covered grassy median. the poor little beauty slammed backwards into a guard rail which luckily stopped us from spinning into oncoming traffic going the opposite direction.

we ended up at an almost 90 degree angle, much like this:



only instead of teetering our back wheels on a motor home, we were teetering on a guard rail. (i get it, this accident looks much worse. let's not compare notes, shall we? it's just to give you the ever-needed visual.)

it was one of those surreal moments where for about 30 seconds, we pretty much hyperventilated because we were breathing so hard. then we just looked at each other, with our mouths still open.

both of us thinking,
did this really just happen?

and then ben got out to survey the damage. he grabbed the camera and snapped pictures of me peeking through the windshield, basically upside down. boy do i wish i had a copy of those pictures. but alas, i do not. just think of a glowing angelina...er, me...looking like a deer in the headlights but still a vision of matronly goddessness.

he came back to report that the little beauty was broken, probably never to be repaired. i have to admit i shed a tear or two (darn that left tear duct again!) over our loss.

we called family who came to our rescue. in the meantime we were met with the biggest DB of a police officer.

he actually gave ben a ticket! for what?

improper lane travel.

so i guess we were supposed to signal as we were spinning from lane to lane?

oops, sorry officer douce bag. next time we'll remember that. our bad.

he yelled at our family members for pulling over to help us out, couldn't give a rats patootie that we were freezing in our no-longer-working car, and gave me the stink eye when he heard me spew some more snotty remarks under my breath at his gall and un-christmasy spirit.

though in the big scheme of things, mr. police-grinch-man was a minor detail. as i mentioned beforehand, luckily we were not harmed. and that was most important.

but unfortunately we could not say the same for little beauty. the insurance company deemed her "totalled" and as we removed the remainder of our belongings before she was towed away, we whispered our love for her for the last time.

she was only with us for about 6 weeks, but we still speak often of little beauty. and when she is mentioned, we bow our heads for a moment of silence.

once again, we became a one car family.

coming up.....

second car, #3

"A GENEROUS GIFT BECOMES A WAY
TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF AN AUTO MECHANIC"