Too Many Books

Yeah, so this past weekend, Stella spent the night at my mom and dad's house for the first time. Hubs (and I) were so looking forward to a little alone time -- but a wrench was thrown into the best laid plans. Saturday, hubs had to attend a funeral. His uncle passed away unexpectedly early last week. Heart attack. He was only 48 years old. I had to work Saturday morning, so hubs dropped Stella off at my parents' house early. After work, I went over to my Mom and Dad's for a little while to hang out with Stella while m&d did their grocery shopping and a few other errands (ones they planned on doing before Stella came to their house, since to watch her ALL day Saturday was not the original plan.) Yeah, are you following? So, it's Saturday afternoon. Hubs is funeral-ing, and I'm at my Mom and Dad's house getting ready to leave Stella (see: Raspberries vid I posted on facebook!) there for the night. I called hubs to let him know I was on the way back hom...

In late May, we attended another graduation party. Damn Murphy cousins finishing high school and costing me money! Jussst kidding. I didn't mention yesterday, but I am proud that both cousins are amazingly brillant and one will be attending Ohio State while the other will (blech) attend The University of Kentuky. I don't hold it against him, though. Many of the Murphy's are UK fans. I just pretend I'm down. So, some other cousins came to this second shin-dig, which was super exciting because they have a little baby boy who was born December 16th, just TWO days after my Stella. Caleb has the prettiest eyes, and I'm not jealous that he is soooo much longer than Stella, because she might be peanutty, but I like her like that. (Also, she rolls over way more than he does.) On Memorial Day, otherwise known as Hotter than Hades Day, we took Stella downtown for the first time. We attended this annual music festival called "Abbey Road on the River," in which a b...

oh, the humanity. Several months ago Close to a year ago, I had a bloggy birthday giveaway -- and was so excited to award Tina Sandoval with the prize package -- there was a $25 VISA gift card, a love quote frame, and a few other lovely items which I sent her way. Howevs, there was one item I could not ship via US Mail. See, I (ridiculously) promised that I would vlog a karaoke dedication to my giveaway winner. And how hard could that be? I'd have some drinks, get a friend to hit record on a digi camera, and sing my little heart out to some Lisa Loeb or something. Yeaaah... and then I got preggers. And there was no way I was doing that shit stone-cold-sober. So, sadly, I'm yet to make good on the karaoke promise. Until now. Kinda. See, I couldn't bring myself to show my own face on the video. (You didn't want to see me anyway. New baby + maternity leave does not equal a shower every day. Trust .) Here are more reasons that said sing-song is highly humiliati...

I think I need to re-name TMI Thursday, because my weekly overshare often gets posted late or not at all. Hmm... I've been using TMI Thursday: Friday Morning Edition. Does this suffice? Discuss in the comments section. I'm opening to suggestions... perhaps I need a catchy title for each day of the week, just in case the mood strikes. I'm thinking: Way Too Much Info on Wednesday More than You Needed to Know Monday Forgot my Filter Friday Soooo Didn't Need to Go There Saturday Oooh, I like those! Confessional I was all set to write a TMI post yesterday, but I liked the 2010 Meme so much that I didn't want to have a newer post in front of it, shoving said meme to the back burner. Do you ever do that -- like your current post enough to put off publishing another? Er, maybe it's just me. Inappropes This is my bossman. He. is. hilarious. However... I think he lacks a paternal gene. (No, in real life I truly think he will be a supe...

(Preface: I didn't think I was going to have the strength to blog about this, but since what doesn't kill our babies makes them stronger...) Two weeks have slipped by since our first day home with Stella. A couple of hours ago, hubs headed back to his job. (My mom took this week off from her job and is coming over to help me -- I think the plan is that she will entertain Stella while I clean up around the house. Part of me wishes she would do the cleaning up while I do the baby-holding, but it's her birthday today so I guess I'll let it slidespice.) Um, anyway... I digress. (I'm stalling.) So, I have one of those super-stylin' My Brest Friend pillows, which straps around me like a fanny pack slash inner-tube... I just lay the babe on it and whip out the boobage... It pretty much rocks. Well, I'd gotten kind of confident using that pillow because I had it with me in the hospital. So, for instance, if I... say, dropped the remote or something, I woul...

Lost my mucus plug yesterday. Word. (If you know about those, then you know how TMI that is. If you don't know, then google it.) (Hubs came up with a pretty decent descrption of it, though... "It looks like you blew your nose after you had a bloody nose.") (I'll pause for regurgitationspice.) Still no baby, though. I'm six measley days from my due date on December 16th, and I'm starting to feel like a beached whale. No, not just a beached whale: an impatient beached whale. I'm 1 cm dialated/ 50% effaced as of my last appointment. What is she waiting on?! Christmas?!

Did I ever tell you about my bachelorette party? It was THE best night. First, I looked hotspice. Ohhh, I miss skinny Amber! Circa 2008. Secondly, there was this: I love how it looks like I'm in an empty room. There were PLENTY of other ladies there who, I might add, ALSO got flipped around. Okay, so, obvi... my bachelorette party was second to none. There are no words. It was an amazing night. (I credit the dress.) Simultaneously, hubs was embarking on his bachelor party. The boys were on the way to play paintball in an RV... on loan from the parents of one of the guys. They stopped for gas, and the guy in question filled up the tank. With diesel. The RV didn't take diesel. The guys were stuck there for quite some time, in the July heat, waiting on a ride... Long story short, they FINALLY got to play paintball, then went to Diesel-boys house and cleaned up and cooked out, and then ended the night at the Casino Boat across the river from us in Indiana. No strip...

The first thing you should know is that I'm getting my air ducts and carpets cleaned today. So, as I sit here and write this, there is a Sears man running around my house. I keep wondering if he's going to sneak up behind me and see the words "preggers or porn." Anywaddle. I've been promising to explain  Preggers or Porn?  for, like, a week and a half now. It was a super-fun baby shower game. A few weeks before the event, my shower hosts chose pictures of women from various websites of ill-repute and inter-mixed those with pictures of women in labor... there was a ton of cutting and pasting and cropping of photos involved to turn this fantastic idea into a semi-classy baby shower game. The host -- my good friend and also a 7th grade Math teacher -- put it all together in a professional-looking power point presentation. At the shower, she handed out dry erase boards (ones she uses in her classroom, actually...) and powered up her lap top, and the guests had...

I love my mother. I do. She has her little quirks, though. For instance, she "doesn't know how" to pump gas. Literally, she doesn't ever do it. My dad takes her and fills her car up weekly... or as needed. Obviously, we give her a little hell for it on the regular. So, while my mom and I were in Bloomington visiting my rehab-ridden-grandma, I knew I would be on tank duty. My mom pulled into a gas station and tried to nagivate her way up to the pump, totes preoccupied with the task at hand. ("Is my gas tank on this side, Amber?!") Well, I wasn't paying attention, because I was in hysterics when I saw  this place of business: Doggie Styles: A Canine Salon. So, I was all, "Mom... do you see that?! That is so funny !!" And she wasn't really paying attention, because it's "hard" to pull up to a gas pump. So, she giggled in agreement... and I still couldn't stop howling. "Mom, that pet groomer is called Dog...

Ahh... the bliss of having TMI to tell. Especially when the overshare relates to someone other than me. See, Sunday afternoon hubs and I went traveled to Lexington for my niece's birthday party. (Happy 5th!) After, we joined the immediate family for dinner at TGI Fridays (where I went a bit preggers-hormonal on the waiter, who really did suck at his job. But that's neither here nor there.) After a round of good-byes, hubs and I got settled into the car, happy to head back to Louisville -- we're always ready to get away from those Kentucky-Wildcat-loving Lexingtinians. Plus, hubs is a niners fan, so he was excited to get home and watch a bit of the Favre- vs.-49'ers preseason game. Anywhoddle, hubs was in the drivers seat and Lexington was hardly in his rearview when he said the unthinkable... "Um, I'm going to have to pull over. I think I pooped my pants a little." I wanted to burst into immediate hysterical laughter, but then I realized we were ...

Hubs is out golfing, so this evening I'm planted in front of the television all set to watch my DVR-ed The-President-Visits-The-View and tonight's eviction episode of Big Brother . First, though, I thought I might regale you with an unprecendented TMI Thursday topic. Last night, I let my dog out for a routine pre-bedtime potty break. Ever the rebellious little hellion, she escaped from the back yard and set out to do some sniffing in someone else's territory. Hubs went out to rein her in, and as soon as he opened the front door, I started gagging. "Ew, hubs. It smells like a skunk died in our driveway!" Suddenly, Carson appeared on the front porch stoop and bolted into the house. She was obviously in the midst of some hyperactive moment or  experiencing some sort of post traumatic stress. She bounded down the hallway and into our bed , and then back up the hall and into the living room. Then, I noticed that her doggy hair looked pretty greasy. Then ...

TMI Thursday is becoming a chore. As much as I love to regale you with my tales of woespice and irresponsibility, these moments of insanity are now fewer and farther between as I can no longer use alcohol as fodder for my blog-worthy behavior. This morning I was all, Aw, man: it's Thursday. What do I have for my TMI post? Nothing. So, perhaps I'll just post TMI's sporatically for the next few. Sorry to disappoint. *hangs head.* In normal news, my vacation starts as soon as I leave the bank tomorrow evening! Hoorayyyyyspice. I'm so ready for fun in the sun. I need a break, and I can't wait to arrive in Destin early Sunday morning. My niece and I have plans for lots of pool time. We even practiced on Memorial Day weekend. Please review: always pose by the pool in a cute dress. hold on to aunt amber for dear life. remove mascara before getting in next time. (applies to aunt amber only. obvi.) Wear bikini to infuriate daddy, pappaw, and uncle murph! (on...

But, I'll do my best. In truth, I have exhausted so many of my best stories, and I haven't given myself much to work with these past few months: no moments of drunken shennanigans, no wild nights. Still, there has to be something. Right? Oh, god. Wait. Am I boring now?  Well, there's this nugget: I watched myself take a dump at work the other day. There's a full length mirror on the back of the one-seater restroom door, and I lifted my little large rump off the toilet seat to watch the log make its appearance and inevitable descent. Kids dropped off at pool. I know, I know. Completely disgusting, random and unnecessary. (Welcome to TMI Thursday: in which I get my shit together.) In other news, hubs went golfing yesterday evening and it was nearly 11:00 at night when he got back home. I was reading in bed, and he came to kiss me. His mouth tasted all beer-y. "Did you and your brother stop for a drink after or something?" I asked. I eyed the clock....

Well, it's a two-fer this week! You get your usual dose of TMI Thursday and a pearl of wisdom from my husband... all in one fail swoop. (I am the queen of cliche, today, apparently. By the way.) Also, for the second week in a row, hubs humor will come from a reality tv anecdote! (On the couch during prime time is really the only point in the day that we communicate with one another. You understand.) So, I was getting my guilty-pleasure-sized dose of American's Got Talent last night, and these adorable sisters auditioned -- they sang a moving rendition of Miley Cyrus' It's the Climb . (Yes, I teared up a little. I'm pregnant. And therefore allowed.) See, these sisters (along with their two other siblings) suffer from Cystic Fibrosis. The were never supposed to be able to sing well -- and their life expectancy is only 35-40 years. So sad. It was heart-wrenching to watch them overcome all odds, musically speaking, and the standing ovation from the crowd just ...

This one time, when I was twelve or something, I called in to the local version of the Delilah-love-song radio request and dedication show and requested Bryan Adams' Heaven. It went out to Kevin from Jennifer. I didn't have the guts to dedicate a song to the boy I really liked, nor did I even use his name or my own name. (I mean, I doubt he was listening to the sappy-80's-love-song station anyway. Also, I used to pretend I was dating the white guy from the band All-4-One. No, I mean, I would sit outside on the steps of the deck at my parents' house and have full on conversations with him. I remember making a video tape recording of them singing I Swear on some talk show (pretty sure it was Regis and Kathy Lee) and watching it over and over and over again. Who were your TMI childhood crushes? What lies did you dream up as a child?

God, I suck at blogging lately. Anyway. A few things: Preggo-vision I've got to stop watching those baby shows on the Discovery Health Channel. Most episodes are graphic, stress-inducing, and wrap up with happy endings that make me cry. Baby Dreams I had a dream last night that my baby was born, like, yesterday. He was a boy, but he was the size of a toddler and could pretty much walk and talk. I was like, "What do you want your name to be?" He had a big nose. He looked a lot like hubs side of the family. I sort of woke up in a cold sweat. Number Two For the first time in two days... this morning... It was heavenspice. o-face Hubs and I got busy a couple of nights ago. The reason I was willing is because he bribed me with the last ice cream drumstick. I'm like a chocolate prostitute. He paid me in the form of a frozen treat for sex. Yes, that is hillarious. However, the official TMI part is that the sexy-time was even more enjoyable than usual. May...

Hubs and I have only gotten jiggy with it twice since I found out I have a bun in the oven. I mean, my libido hasn't really gone down much -- twice in six weeks was pretty much par for our course lately. How I got pregnant at all is still a complete and utter mystery (or at least a warning signal to all those occasional unprotected-sex-havers out there.) (And, I guess, excuses hubs from having asked, "Is it mine?" when I initially told him that I was knocked up.) Anycum, the reason we haven't had much sexy-time is because 1) I can no longer be taken advantage of in drunken moments of "let's get it on, wife" in which I am the wife and I am the drunk... and 2) It makes me uncomfortable. Let's explore number two. I know, I know. It's really ridiculous. But, seriously. I mean, there's a fetus in there listening to mommy's "o-voice" in what I can only assume is like the most serious surround-sound system ever. (You know: ...

Have I mentioned that a loving frighteningly territorial mamma bird must have smelled the maternity around here? Said bird constructed a nest atop our front porch light, and has now given birth to some tweety little babies. (Hubs was going to move the nest before she laid eggs; he decided against it at my bidding.) (The more I think about it, the more convined I am that Ms. Mamma Bird should be sending me a thank you card.) So, you know, I took a picture of the nest before the eggs hatched. There might not even have been any eggs in there at that point. It's just a little too high up for me to see inside, and though I considered getting a chair to stand on for a better shot, I thought no... don't push it, Amber. Give Mamma Bird a little privacy and respect. Photo 1 did not seem to ruffle any feathers. Anywaddle, the other day I came home from lunch and saw Mamma Bird perched up there, and noticed the cutest little baby birdie face poking out from under her ...

I have sucked balls lately. Oh, wait. Not that way. I have sucked at blogging with regularity this week. I mean, jeezel peets! Not once in the twenty-nine weeks since my maiden TMI post (which was about how I simulatenously pooed and puked and since God loves me there was NO cleanup invovled!) (I mean, seriously, it was a miracle) have I  ever missed a TMI Thursday post! (I mean, I even found time to post on Thanksgiving Thursday. That one is a favorite of mine -- it was about the time I gave my number to a hot guy at a bar -- in front of my husband -- because a) I was drunk and he asked for it and b) he looked like that teacher from GLEE. Mr. Shu. Swoonspice.) So, point being, I'm sorry that I have a been such a fair-weathered bloggy friend this week. I'll make it up to you today. Here's a snippet of a conversation I had with my girlfriends at dinner on Tuesday: Amber: "God, it would be so awesome if I was still a slut. I could have sex with whoever I w...

You probably thought this post was going to be about pregnant hanky-panky. It's so not about that. So, you know how hubs is in the dark about my addiction to blogging? I think he is thisclose to discovering my blog, if he hasn't already discovered it. See, when hubs navigates the internet, he always goes to "favorites" and then "history" to load up his desired website. So, after I've had my way with my reader, several of your blogs show up right there in the history feed on our adorable lap-top built for two. The other night, I walked into the room and noticed hubs had a window open -- it had a pink-y background. I recognized the site immediately. It was Fiction Groupie's blog. "Are you reading one of mine?" I asked him, scared to actually utter the word "blog." "No," he responded lied. (I love catching hubs in lies. It's so empowering.) He closed the window and right behind it was Vita Brevis...