June 5, 2018 § Leave a comment
Meet Monty Don. My new favorite TV personality and show on Netflix.
Contrary to what the above picture suggests, the show is not about a man that hides or lives in the bushes.
Apparently horticulture plays a different role in England. I learned this because once Netflix decided to point me in the direction of Monty Don (real name), and then took note of the fact that I binged it straight out of the gate, it has since continued to recommend a plethora of other British gardening shows. England even has a world renowned diploma courses in gardening, run by this lady.
It is serious business across the pond.
Monty Don is (arguably) the biggest celebrity horticulturalist in England. (Don’t go around spouting this as fact, there are lots of other British shows with exactly this format starring other A-list horticulturalists, it could be a contentious issue. I don’t know.) And there are some serious fangirl/fanboy moments when he surprises people at the door to tell them that he is there to guide them through the process of re-landscaping their garden. That alone is reason enough to watch.
But Monty Don is great because unlike other shows that bring in teams of landscapers to completely transform a yard, he provides basic tips for how and where to plant, prune, and nurture your garden, but leaves it up to the gardener to build it on their own. It’s very DIY, which means the episodes span over the course of a few months, but there is something refreshing about watching a labor of love that results in the beautification of just a small spot of earth.
I also can’t get over the way that Brits say “oregano”.
May 7, 2018 § Leave a comment
Tonight on Overheard in the Bathtub:
“EDDIE! DRINK THE POTION! TURN INTO A WOMAN!”
May 1, 2018 § Leave a comment
I just want to live a life where I NEED one of these.
April 24, 2018 § Leave a comment
A few years ago I installed some random free meditation app on my phone. It was a stressful time, and I scheduled it to send me a push notification me at the witching hour: 7am. 15 minutes before I was supposed to have everyone fed, dressed, packed, and in the car to make it to school drop off/work on time. A reminder to breathe instead of explode.
It didn’t really work, but I never took it off my phone. So I still get the notifications at 7am.
This morning, as I was in the process of trying to figure out why my foot kept sticking to the bottom of my pant leg (mysterious, still unidentified brown goo, source unknown), while simultaneously yelling instructions across the house at my four year old who was letting me know that “EDDIE IS CUTTING THE BABY AND DADDY’S PHONE WITH HIS (plastic) KNIFE!!!!!!”, my phone dinged on the dresser next to me.
No shit. Thanks for the reminder.
March 15, 2018 § Leave a comment
When you let your 4 year old go on Amazon with you and tell her she can choose the new shower curtain.
Also, unicorns aside, I had no idea that $60 shower curtains were an actual thing.
January 28, 2018 § Leave a comment
Community is one of the best parts about swimming. That is, until you are post-partum.
As referenced in the last post, this guy joined us about four months ago:
I got back in the water as soon as they let me. Which I thought was a great idea until I tried to fit into my swim suit.
After squeezing myself in, and realizing that the tiny health club towels no longer fit around my new body (ego boost), I spent about 5 minutes in the locker room trying to figure out the fastest way to get out on deck and in the water without running into anyone I knew and getting stuck in a conversation out in the open in my speedo.
In the end I decided I just had to suck it up and embrace my new winter bod, because it was either that or not swim.
Getting into a bathing suit in public 6 weeks postpartum is a bold move, I know. But it was necessary.
Because today when I was in the pool I realized it is the one place that I actually have time to myself. Seriously. Life has been so chaotic and sleep-deprived the past few months that even when I am sitting in the quiet by myself (generally at 3am with a baby attached to my nipple) I am in a fog. I can’t think. Kind of like being in a dream…and sometimes you actually are in a dream, and then you jerk your head awake and scare the baby and it loses it’s latch and you have to start all over again.
But there is something about exercising, maybe it’s blood flowing to the brain. I don’t know. But suddenly my mind kicks into some sort of gear. For like at least 25 seconds.
And I get ambitious.
By the time I get out of the pool I have, in my mind, on my post-workout high, overcome my fear of sharks, signed up for a channel swim, made a list of 10 blog posts to write, and qualified for the Boston Marathon.
Unfortunately, once I get out of the pool and sit down to do anything about it this happens:
…and then I either fall asleep or spend the rest of the day obsessing about how exhausted I am.
But you have to start somewhere.