Hooray!

This morning didn’t start out so great. I sat down to work and couldn’t find my SecureID. What is a SecureID, and why is that important? In order to log onto my work’s network and actually do any work, I use the SecureID to create a password that changes every 2 minutes or so. Without this, I’m sort of sunk.

It looks sorta like this:


I knew I had it yesterday, since I worked at home yesterday, too. Little Miss being the clean freak she is – really, I have no idea where she gets it from – sometimes sees it on the end table and puts it away where it belongs. Nope, not there.

For anyone who remembers my Monday a week and a half ago, this was not looking good. Well, I knew I’d been working on the couch (I prefer working in the family room, and it works – no pun intended – well for me), so just like that Monday, I started out by lifting up the couch cushion where I’d been sitting.

And found this:


Wait! I found this?

Yay! I swear I pulled out, not just lifted up, every cushion on both couches twice when I was looking for them the first time. They quite simply weren't there. I even felt around and put my hands in the seams, and they weren't there. My husband looked for them there. The keys were not there. But they are now, and I'm going with it!

Hmmm… And I also found my SecureID card. Phew!

I finally got my work in, and once my husband got home, I went shopping.

I came home with this box. Any guesses what’s inside?

It’s my new running shoes!

My Monday yoga instructor referring me to Running Unlimited where they watch you walk, find shoes that specifically address whatever your inclination is. Then you get to run up and down a nice (private) hallway to try them out.

I felt like Goldilocks. This pair was too squishy. That pair wiggled in my heels. The purple pair was too wide (really a bummer since my favorite color is purple). The issues went on and on. Considering that I haven’t bought running shoes on purpose ever, it was pretty cool to see all the advances they’ve made since I bought my last pair of shoes because they were cute. Eight years ago.

After an hour and a half, I finally found a pair that was a strong maybe. Then I tried on one last pair. Also a strong maybe. I spent the next fifteen minutes wearing one of each shoe trying to figure out which one felt better. I finally made a choice, and – amazing for me – the one I chose was on clearance! Less than half the cost of the one I passed up. Yay, me! The only thing that made me feel better was the knowledge (courtesy my yoga instructor -- yes, she's freakily fit and flexible; I've learned to accept that) that people spend hours in there trying on every shoe in the store. I didn’t quite break the two hour mark, so totally acceptable, right?

Tomorrow? Two eight minute runs. Sunday? A twenty minute run. I’m going to pretend like my new shoes will make this palatable.

Ever Been Dumpster Diving?

Well, I still haven’t found my car keys. I swear I’ve checked all the usual suspect kinds of locations. Since I’ve never lost my keys or (knock on wood) my cell phone or anything else somewhat critical like that before – unlike my husband who recently lost my credit card – I probably don’t know all the good places to look.

I keep coming up with new places to look – actually, as I typed this I realized I hadn’t looked in the heat vents – but so far, no dice.

I also realized that my purse, which ostensibly is where my keys should be, lives on top of the microwave in the kitchen. Which is at the end of the counter. Which is next to where the garbage can is. And my purse sometimes falls sideways. And when I’m at home, I frequently am lazy about zipping it up since I’ll just need to get my car keys out again (anyone want to take a guess as to whether or not I make my bed in the morning?).

So this morning, I started thinking: What if my keys fell out of my purse at the same time that someone was putting something into the garbage can. And maybe that person didn’t notice. And maybe the keys are sitting in the bottom of a garbage bag in the big garbage bag in the garage just waiting to take it away to the landfill forever this morning.

Unfortunately, keys to my screen door and bike rack are also with my car keys. And so is the remote unlocker thing. (But as someone once taught me, don’t put lots of things on your car key rings because the weight of them over time damages ummm the starter, I think? Someone help me out here!) So I really can’t lose them permanently.

What’s a girl to do?

Yep, this morning after Mister Man got on the bus, Little Miss and I played "garbage man" outside. Please, stop snickering at me.

I brought the kitchen garbage can into the garage and got the big garbage can up from the curb. I rolled my sleeves up as high as they went, took a deep breath, opened the top and peeked in. At least we don’t accumulate much trash. Even though we have an 80-gallon drum for our garbage, there were only two garbage bags inside for the whole week. Thank God for small favors.

Then I had to figure out how to get a garbage bag out from the bottom of the giant garbage can without touching anything. Yoga comes in handy once more, and I managed to pull out the first one.

Then I began the archaeological dig. Ahh, yes, that is the plastic that encased the NU flag I put out for the first time yesterday. Here comes the mango peels from dinner. There is the ribbon leftover from wrapping the engagement party present. And so on it went. It did help that we don’t tend to throw away a lot of leftover food, since I insist on eating it. As I took out each item, I placed it in what had been a near-empty bag in the kitchen garbage can and took a deep breath to see what was coming up next.

As I got to the bottom of the first bag, I could tell there were no keys. Of course not. That would be far too easy. I peered in the big garbage can again, I envisioned how to pull out the bag. The trick with this one is that it hadn’t been tossed in with the strings facing up. I somehow had to finagle a way to pull it out without dumping the contents into the big can. That would have caused two problems. First, YUCK! I’ll leave it at that. Second, if the keys are in this bag and they fall into the bottom of the can, I’d have to … as this train of thought continued in my mind, I gagged mildly and shuddered. Determination to do this right renewed, I successfully removed bag number two.

The same excavation process continued, and again I found nothing more interesting than an old birthday invitation. No keys, and nothing that even gave me the remotest bit of hope by jingling.

I’m still missing those keys, and now I’m getting more paranoid every day that I’m going to lose my spare set and not be able to go anywhere. In the meantime, I had my first – and hopefully only – dumpster diving experience.

Now Little Miss goes around telling people that we play garbage man. Thank God so far everyone’s just smiled and nodded at that announcement and no one’s inquired further.

Forget Underpants Gnomes! I've Got Bigger Problems

I am so screwed. I lost my car keys.

How, you might ask? Well, if I really knew the answer to that question, I’d know where my keys were.

I had them when I dropped the wee ones at daycare yesterday morning. I had them when I drove home. After that, who knows!

When I went to go to yoga last night, I was in a hurry. I changed from jeans and tee into my yoga clothes. I grabbed the same jacket I’d worn earlier, my purse and walked out the door. Then I walked back in to get my yoga mat. Walked out and searched for the keys in my purse. No dice. I checked the pocket of my jacket, and they weren’t there either. Organized me has my spare key hanging in a tiny cabinet in the kitchen, so I grabbed those so I wouldn’t be too late.

This morning, I checked my jeans pockets. Nope. Hmmm. I checked the floor around my jeans (and other assorted clothes that will be off the floor by Thursday morning when the cleaning ladies arrive, I swear!). Now I’m starting to get frustrated.

I checked the jacket pocket again, then I tried jackets I knew I hadn’t worn yesterday. I checked everywhere in the office. And on the couch, even under the cushions – bummer, as I didn’t find anything there; usually I at least get a quarter or ribbon or something. I crawled around on the floor to no avail.

Then I turned around and looked at my kitchen. The island had once again exerted its magnetic properties and was just about covered in everything from a chocolate fountain to books to Tupperware to school notes and God knows what else. The kitchen was apparently taking note of the magical powers of the island and was doing its best to one up the island.

The good news is that I can honestly now say that the island now has only a crockpot with chocolate in it (that I need for my Friday Girls Night Out) and a jar I need to return to a friend. The kitchen table is completely empty. Unfortunately, while many things were put away, my keys were not amongst the debris.

They have to be somewhere in the house, right? I’m debating whether my dear husband stole them, the wee ones played with them, or the kitty buddies knocked them around. Or whether they apparated somewhere and will reappear sometime soon.

After all, as I was getting gas for my car today, I searched again in the pockets of my jacket and discovered the stem to a red pepper that I had been cutting up at lunch for Little Miss (yeah, I know – she’s weird; even I won’t eat raw red peppers plain). I knew it had disappeared as I was cutting it, but how it got into my pocket….

For now, I’m using my spare keys, but there were other keys on that key ring that I don’t have copies of (because dummy me, all the copies are on the same key ring – duh!). But they’ll have to turn up at some point, right?

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Another nomination for the “too cute” award:

Let me set the stage. Little Miss was all ready for bed, and Daddy was reading her stories from her magazine. I came in to say good night to Little Miss.

Me: Good night, Baby Girl. Who’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world?
Little Miss: (without hesitation) ME!
Me: And who’s the smartest girl in the whole wide world?
Little Miss: YOU! (again, without hesitation and pointing directly at me)

My husband still doesn’t believe I haven’t trained her to say that, but I swear, it shocked me as much as it did him.