ohhhh, the fall shoes are starting to come out

I'm too tired to post about BlogHer. I was up at 6am and ran all over the Country Club for many hours. The good news is that the Golf Tournament was a success and I get to keep my job. The bad news is that my calves are rebelling against me and aching in a way I never knew they could.

Since I'm exhausted beyond the point of making sense I thought I would just post a picture of some shoes that I really realllllly love. I know there is nothing overly special about these shoes, but damn, they complete me in a way I never knew could happen. In the past I thought other shoes completed me, but I see that that was false. And unpure. These shoes are the real thing.




They are the perfect: sensible and fashionable. They had me at hello.

But I might consider cheating on them with these:



wait, wait, wait! I just found these:


too many shoes to choose from...brain in overload...need to get a second job

someday tivos shall take over the world...

...and us humans will be forced to watch hours upon hours of 8 Simple Rules.

I have a lot to tell you about BlogHer but right now it's after midnight and I have to be for a March of Dimes Golf Tournament at 6am. So instead of telling you about the people I met, or the interesting topics I heard discussions about, or the pretty necklace I bought, I think I'll tell you all about how my tivo is conspiring against me.

Lately the damn thing has insisted that I watch 8 Simple Rules. Why? I don't know. I think it hates me, I mean there is no other reason it would record this everyday, no matter what I tell it. I would love to know how tivo logic works "Oh, she's got a season pass to Project Runway she would loooove 8 Simple Rules!!" "The man-child of the house has a season pass to Stargate he simply must watch 8 Simple Rules, it'll change his life."

I have now started to obsessively fret over the fact that the tivo records so many episodes of 8 Simple Rules. I worry it might choose to delete something worthwhile to keep as many episodes of its favorite show as possible. I'm going to start making ceremonial sacrifices to it, begging it to hold onto yesterday's Gilmore Girls just one more day so I have the chance to watch it. Perhaps a virgin shall make the tivo rethink its recording agenda.

shoes really can be an all consuming decision

Last night I asked Jason "what shoes should I wear to the Blogher Conference?" His answer was simply "comfortable ones". I should have known better than to ask a man for his opinion over something as important as shoes. I decided that rather than stress over such a life altering decision, I would wait until the following morning to see what shoes fit best with my mood.

When I woke up this morning it was definitely feeling like a sneaker day, but what sneakers?!? I have my trusty old Chucks that are starting to fall apart, but are so comfortable and have character. I love my Chucks but I did vow recently to retire them gracefully before they completely die.

My other option is my brand new, khaki and green Reeboks, which are patiently awaiting the retirement of my Chucks so they can have their time in the sun. I love them and think they are brilliant, but am having trouble making the big switch. Perhaps today would be their day, maybe they will finally make it out of the closet.

I know by now you're on the edge of your seat wondering which shoes made it to the Conference. The suspense is consuming you much the same way that the decision consumed me.

Well, I'm happy to announce that my Chucks made one more outing and went to BlogHer. And they did just fine, perhaps this is the right send off they needed.

And in a weird twist of fate, this is the girl I latched on to for dear life at BlogHer.

did I even have a point to begin with?

hmmmm, for the life of me I can't remember what the point of my childbearing post was except that I want a kid (not necessarily kids) but not the whole pregnancy thing. Maybe by the time I'm ready scientists will have figured out how to make men pregnant and Jason can end up with the swollen feet and huge boobs.

A few people emailed me and mentioned maybe adoption would be a better route for me. And I wholeheartedly agree. But at the same time I think I should try the whole pregnancy thing at least once. But I'm not making any promises past that one time.

If my mom weren't in Mexico, drinking tequila right now, she would be so upset. Her dreams of Piper and Pippin (yeah, she has already named my kids for me, and if you're wondering what sex she wants Piper and Pippin to be she really doesn't care. The names are unisex, otherwise known as "getting your ass kicked on the playground names") are being crushed right here in plain sight.

in case you were wondering, I do need therapy for this

Recently having kids has been on my mind quite a bit. Not that I'm going to have kids anytime soon, it's just that more and more of my friends are popping out kids or are announcing they will be working on creating kids to pop out and I guess that I've just been a bit preoccupied with not full blown baby fever, but some mild, low temperature, baby fever. And it's honestly not even baby fever as much as "oh my god I'm older than my mom was when she had me, should I have a kid by now, am I going to be too old to have kids by the time I'm ready" fever.

I never really planned on having kids before 30. Actually let's start a step before that. I never planned on having more than one kid. And in my head that one kid magically appeared in my life, fully formed without any of the pregnancy silliness. Truly I thought the stork was going to bring me a child, because obviously I am not built for pregnancy. Why obviously? Because the thought of swollen feet make my stomach churn. The thought of stretch marks makes my head hurt. And the big swollen food-providing boobs? I don't even know the right word to describe how they make me squirmy and scared and dizzy and flabbergasted all at the same time. Big swollen food providing boobs make me sqarezzgasted. See, I have to create a word just to describe how I feel. I am not meant to give birth.

Not that I think there is anything at all wrong with swollen feet, stretch marks, or breastfeeding. I fully understand how they are part of the miracle of life and how they are each beautiful because of the larger picture that they are part of, but so help me god, I don't think I can handle it. In fact, I saw this website: Shape of a Mother and I freaked out a bit. And had nightmares. And decided to keep my legs firmly together. And I'm currently searching for chastity belts online. It's not that I think I have a perfect body and am worried about losing it. I have my fair share of stretch marks and I'm not nearly the size I would like to be but the thought that it can, and most definitely will, get worse and I will have no control over it really (please pardon my language) freaks me the fuck out. Plus I worry about how long it would take for me to feel attractive again, much less how long it would take for jparks ever to find me attractive again.

And it's not just the hell that a woman's body looks like after that creeps me out. What about having an epidural? That's a big ass needle that they are going to stick right into my spine and I don't even like getting a flu shot. Or what if the doctor does an episiotomy? Holy hell, the thought of that makes me want to cry. I'm so scared of episiotomies that I can't even link the word to its definition for fear that I might learn something else about them that I don't need to know. Honestly I can't even give blood because I get such a panic attack my blood pressure rises and they won't let me donate. Can you image how I'm going to be during labor?!? And c-sections! Holy crap, I had a friend that had one and I had to help her pack gauze into it when her husband couldn't be at home. She was fine with it, but I wanted to die.

See, I. Am. Not. Built. For. Pregnancy.

You know I've gotten myself all worked up with my pregnancy fears that I can't even remember what the point of this post is. Oh well, I'm off to bed to have nightmares of big boobs and freakishly swollen feet. And evil doctors that are crazy about cutting. Maybe tomorrow I'll remember what I wanted to say.

And rest assured, this in totally and positively not a post to announce I'm knocked up. Because I'm not, thank you chastity belt!

on my way to becoming a real blogger

Next weekend is the Blogher convention in San Jose and, seeing as that's basically my backyard, I'll be attending the 2nd day of girly blogging festivities. I'll be there, rubbing elbows with some of the world's most vocal female bloggers, or (what's more likely to happen) hanging around the edges of the room that contain some of the world's most vocal female bloggers.

While Day 1 has a couple of panel discussions I'm interested in, it's on a Friday and I have that silly little thing called work. So I'll be attending Day 2, which has its fair share of interesting panel discussions.

And since I'm going to the conference I also decided to add my humble little domain to Blogher's blogroll. By registering it I have the option to add a description about my blog, which has just left me completly frozen with writer's block. It seems like the most impossible thing in the world to write about myself and while I understand that keeping a blog is writing about myself, this little description seems impossible. I mean, how can I describe me and my life in a few paragraphs? How does one portray an obsession with the world's cutest dog without sounding crazy? How can I explain that my lust for books is so strong that the list of books to be read is forever growing and slowly taking over the house? How can I explain that I'm fighting to keep me sanity while living with jparks?

This "about me" blurb has been something I've worked on since I started Formation of Me and it's something I still haven't finished. Actually, I'm not sure when I'll finish, or if I'll ever finish. I guess people that stumble here will just have to read the posts and figure me out for themselves. Sorry. I wish I could help you decipher me, but I can't.

contacting me just became easier

I can't remember if I ever mentioned that you could contact me by clicking on the link near the top of my blog or not, but if I did, I was lying. For some reason the link wasn't forwarding the emails to me, they were slowly disappearing into the great abyss known as the internets.

But Jason has finally fixed it and the emails will actually make it to my inbox. So if you have a burning desire to contact me please feel free to do so. Yay for having a working blog. Being functional rules!

who needs children when you can have pets?

These two could not be any cuter:





If you want to have a good time put a collar with a bell on a cat. Good times.

the number one reason why I love going to the movies with Jason

I know I have many reasons why I love going to the movies by myself but the number one reason I love going with Jason is:

When I accidently drink the guy sitting next to me's drink, Jason only laughs a little bit before he tells me that it's okay and that I'm not a moron.

P.S. I did offer to buy the guy another drink to make up for it.

I talk real purdy

While living in New Orleans I was often asked where I grew up. Apparently most locals didn't think I sounded Southern enough to claim New Orleans as my home. I never minded not having the typical southern drawl that makes folks think your IQ is about 63 points less than it really is, I like people to base their low IQ assumptions on what I say, not how I say it. But since moving to California I've been asked almost weekly if I'm from the South. Which makes me wonder if my accent that I thought never existed, actually is very present and influences how people perceive me. I also wonder if this new found accent requires me to go out and get a banjo, sleep with relatives and skin me a 'coon because them be some good eats.

Shaler and Oscar are going to be so sad

It's official: This weekend Jason's boobs were upgraded to pecs. Rock climbing can perform miracles.

fueling the fire for many arguements

Jason and I regularly fight over my vacation time. Or as he sees it, my lack of vacation time.

Jason feels that employees should be allowed to take vacation time whenever they feel it's needed. Note I said take, not ask for vacation time, because asking should not be necessary, one should be able to approach their boss and say "Hey Bob, I'm going to be gone on the third Friday in November" and the only acceptable answer from Boss Bob is "Whatever you say Jimbo!" complete with a smile full of sparkly white teeth and a wink of the eye.

My theory on vacation time runs a little more conservation than his. I feel I should be able to approach Boss Bob and ask if I may have the third Friday in November off, and if Boss Bob says no, we're too busy that day, then I should see about rescheduling my trip. Now if Boss Bob says no for some reason that makes no sense, I might plead my case, but if it's an honest reason why I can't go (i.e. There are only two people in my office and we are really busy that darn third Friday of November) then I'm really sorry, but I can't go.

I think our views on vacation time come from working in two very different worlds. Jason's being the tech world and mine being the nonprofit and retail world. In the tech world the employees are put on gold-leafed pedestals and presented with sweaters made out of unicorn hair. My world looks at its employees and sees people that can be replaced pretty easily and probably for less money than the current person is making. I'm a dime a dozen, Jason is scarcer than pictures of Suri Cruise (you know, Tom Cruise's kid? I don't really think she exists)

I can understand why Jason thinks having to ask for vacation time is crazy. Tech companies have spolied him, seeing as they are one of the few industries that fully embrace the idea that happy employees produce better. If taking vacation whenever makes employees happy, then that's how tech companies are going to roll.

Am I upset by that I have to request vacation time? No, it makes sense to me. I work in a small office. If everyone took vacation whenever they wanted we could get really screwed. I have a good work ethic and wouldn't take vacation during a busy time but you can't guarantee that every employee will, and this is why it's important to have to make a request.

Anyway, as I mentioned this is a constant arguement in our household. I don't think I'm wrong and Jason doesn't think he's wrong. This fight will never end. At least not until I retire.

Jason must really love chewing on his foot because he's always got it in his mouth

As you all know, Jason and I have been going to the climbing gym very regularly and I've been trying to do weights and cardio when I don't have a partner to climb with. All of this hard work is starting to pay off as my muscles are becoming more defined and I'm getting more toned all over. Jason noticed this and was kind enough to pay me a compliment:

jparks: "Wow, you're starting to get sexy"
me: no words, just a look of awe at how utterly wrong that compliment was
jparks: "umm, shit, I mean you're looking sexier..."

Seriously, the boy is just brilliant. It's a wonder no woman has killed him yet.

reasons why I love going to the movies by myself

1. I have total say over the movie. No making compromises and seeing some movie that really doesn't interest me.
2. I can get nachos and a large diet coke and I don't have to share. And I can put tons of jalapenos on the nachos and not have to hear about how they make peoples' butts burn later.
3. I can arrive at the theatre as ridiculously early as I want.
4. I get total say over where I sit. This is an especially great perk if the theatre's full and there aren't 2 seats open together.
5. I can stay and watch the credits if I want.

hmph, I miss Jason though.