Wednesday, February 2, 2011


I've written for so long about events that it feels almost wrong to just sit and think on paper.
I think that's the one disadvantage of blogging.
Somewhere along the way you internalize the idea that you're writing for everyone else;
you worry more about prose and perfectly constructed sentences and sharing all your latest and greatest adventures than the real reason you started the blog...
remembering the day-to-day and all life's little happenings you'll forget about in one or two or ten years time.

so tonight I want to write about the little things that so often go unrecorded.
feel free to tune out at any time
because tonight,
I'm writing for me.

1. I may not be afflicted with road rage quite like my dear husband.
I'm okay passing clueless people on the right.
I don't come unhinged when there's bumper-to-bumper traffic.
And instead of ranting and raving at a driver who cannot and will not hear my creative name-calling, candid criticisms, or edited expletives,
I simply chalk their careless, inconsiderate, and ofttimes moronic driving maneuvers up to a low I.Q., poor motor skills, senior moments, and/or little-man-syndrome.
I am, however, quite bothered by people who honk just milliseconds after the light has turned green.
Excuse me?
Unless you are a superhero with incomparable and incomprehensible reflexes
there is absolutely no reason you should give me such an infinitesimally small window of time to transition from the brake to the accelerator.  
I've already beat both lanes off the line
and am now THIS close to kicking it into reverse and REALLY laying it on the gas.
so honk again.
I dare you...
I may not be QUITE this passionate, but please, do not mistake.
I do NOT approve of this type of behavior.
Not. At. All.

2. Sunday naps
I've never been one for napping.
In fact, I really hated it.
Miss Lisa used to have to threaten my life before hiding me behind an armchair to keep me quiet and/or quell my distractive behaviors.
I hated the scratchy, plastic blue mat I had to lay on.
I hated being quiet.
I hated being yell-whispered at when I decided to try defiance.
I hated all the other brainwashed obedient children who'd plop their noggins down and enter a solid sixty-minute coma.
I just hated nap time.
And I think those bad feelings lasted WAY past the age of 3,
because I definitely remember resenting even my college roommates for conking out so easily each Sunday afternoon.

It's hard to say what it is that's changed me...
unbearably long work weeks?
nonstop weekends?
gearing up for Sunday game nights?
You betcha!
the coziest of comfy beds?
A contributing factor, for sure.
cold, wintry weather that makes me want to snuggle up in our sheets for hours on end?
Yes, yes.  This too.
noticeable positive effects, including but not limited to, feeling like a brand new being with a fully functional brain?
 Good heavens, yes!
choirs of angels cooing me to sleep with the sweetest of Sunday lullabies?
Oh absolutely!
maybe even my new cuddle buddy?

Whatever it may be, I now have a real testimony of Sunday naps.
They're the best way we keep our Sabbath day holy and one of the reasons Sunday is fast becoming my most favorite day of the week.

3. If there is anything more heavenly than hot chocolate with mini marshmallows,
I have yet to find it. 
 Hot cocoa + Mini marshmallows + Salt Lake's currently sub-zero conditions = 

Note:  This is the instant hot cocoa you mix with water, NOT with milk.
Because milk is "udderly" awful.

4.  Never sneak a peek at the back label while eating Nutella.
The calorie count's not worth knowing,
or noting.
Why make your most scrumptious snack a guilty pleasure when you can just go on thinking it's a plain old pleasure?
Ignorance is bliss here people.
Bliss indeed.

5.  I convinced Parker to take a detour home so I could take a looksie-loo at an accident.
I asked him to double back so I could fully understand the physics of the crash.
He said no.
I pleaded.
He still said no.
I pouted.
No still.
Good husband, bad wife.

My name is Chelsey, and I am a rubber-necker.
(I am NOT the type, however, that slows traffic or causes a post-accident aftershock due to my distracted driving.
Know, too, that I am not so morbid as to be the one to wish these things on people.
I just love puzzling out exactly how it all happened.
I should have my own TV show).

6.  Bank scrabble is the best scrabble.
I love playing iPhone scrabble with our ultra-competitive bankers.
I love beating said bankers by 100+ points at iPhone scrabble matches.
And I love that the now bitter bankers think I cheat to win said scrabble games.
"Slanty is not a word Chelsey."
"Apparently it is."
"Can you use it in a sentence?"
"The roof is slanty."
"You mean the roof is slant-ED."
"Whatever. Suffixes are are just superfluous letters anyhow.  
Scrabble-master's ruling stands.
Your move."

I'm a bank scrabble Bad-A.

truly scrabble with the bankers is the best part of my bank day
every day.

thanks for keeping me sane boys.
the bank wouldn't be the same without you.

or angry birds.
(that's for another day...)

p.s.  Because I don't think I've ever mentioned it...
I LOVE our team at the bank.  
It is by far the most entertaining and delightful posse I've ever played worked with.
I kind of love that we're top dog in the district, area, state, name it...too.
The secret to our success?
and maybe Shauna too... 

7.  Words with Friends with my parents is a HOOT!
I spent an hour-plus of our drive to Rockville doing a how-to-install-an-app tutorial with you over the phone.
I nearly gave up at the start when I told you you'd need to download the app and you responded,
"What's an app?"
Oh good glory!
Luckily we clambered over that hurdle, the guess-at-what-dad's-forgotten-iTunes-password-might-be, and the why-don't-I-try-to-talk-to-you-while-I-mapquest-AND-navigate-AND-drive hurdles too.

You'd just barely touched down in Florida.
You had a day to play before your big cruise.
I never expected you to play.
Not just then at least.

But you played.
And played.
And played.

Played so quickly, in fact, that I couldn't keep up!
I initially thought you both felt as though you needed to entertain me since you'd abandoned me in this snow-ridden state.
But oh boy!  
I was so wrong.

When Mom played a 30+ point word
and Dad made it quite clear he was out to win
(he-who-never-texts shoots me a message to say he "accidentally" skipped his turn by swapping all his tiles and would like me to skip one as make it fair, of course)
I realized these weren't sympathy plays.
You were both hooked.

I couldn't stop laughing when I pictured both of you sitting there at dinner together plinking away scrabble words to your highway-driving daughter,
or when Mom stayed up until 1:30 a.m. Florida time scrabbling away,
or when never-text Dad texted me to ask, "Are you still there?" when I waited more than an hour to make my move,
or when never-text Dad, again, texted me to report, "I'm beating Mom 320-190 and she's calling ME dumb."

Oh I laughed and laughed and laughed at our scrabbling.
I just love you two!

8.  As of February 1st, I will be a banker.
Yes, it's true.
I've sold my soul to the bank.
The part-time teller job I'd intended to abandon at the semester's end has suddenly become my profession.
Is Miss Broadcast taking a break from the broadcast world?
For a moment, yes.
Do you know anything about finance?
You'll have to come visit me and see...

I can't say I love the bank every day.
I can't even say I love it most days.
But there are some days that I definitely do love what I'm doing.

I love solving problems.
I love helping people.
And I love helping people see that my way might be the best way to solve their problems!

i'm kidding.  just kidding.

seriously though.
Is this what I pictured myself doing post-grad?
not so much.

but it's just exactly what I need.
and I'm actually kind of intrigued to see where this all might take me.

My only dilemma:
Is it possible to really love a job just because you've been so successful with it
or does loving it from the start make you more satisfied with your success?

I can't decide.
Maybe it doesn't matter.

I just hope I'm always happy
(because heaven knows I'm never satisfied).

9.  I've recently been overwhelmed by the fact that the words "Thank you," and "I love you," never seem to be enough to say what I mean or let the listener know that I really do mean what I say.
This is so abstract.
Which is likely why I can't quite articulate why it is that this very thought reduces me to a puddle of tears anytime I start to think too much about it.

I just feel like there are so many people in my life right now who have no idea how I really feel.

And let me tell you, it is NOT because I bottle up my feelings.
Because I don't.
I never have.
I never will.
I like to share.
And share I do.
Or moreso spew...

Whatever it is, I do my best to let people know just how I'm feeling...
how much I love them,
how much I appreciate everything they do for me,
how much their friendship means to me,
how grateful I am for their patience
and listening skills
and example,
how very empty my life would be without them in it.

But lately, saying it doesn't seem to be enough.
The words sound hollow and empty.
Maybe I've overused "I love you."
Maybe I've been too loose with my "thank you's".
Whatever it is, words aren't working for me these days.
But because this is a blog, words are all I have.

I could exhaust this post with a list of all the people who I feel need to know this.
But I won't,
(it's too long as is)
and this deserves a full post
(one where I have room to ramble on for pages).

so just keep an eye out...
when I can finally find the words to say what I mean, I'll be saying it.

10.  Parker has finally come to love the bedtime cuddle.
You all know the fight.
The cuddling's-great-but-I-can't-be-touched-or-anywhere-within-10-meters-of-you-if-I'm-attempting-to-fall-asleep husband,
whose syndrome's symptoms are aggravated when placed in direct contact with the if-you-know-what's-good-for-you-you'll-learn-to-live-with-and-maybe-even-love-the-midnight-cuddle wife.

Well I am pleased to announce, 
we did it!
After 8 months of marriage Parker's learned to both live with AND love cuddling me 'til we're both soundly asleep
(in fact, there are many mornings I wake up to find that we've stayed this way the whole night through...).
I never thought this day would come,
but I am oh so happy it has!

Thanks for being the best cuddle-bug sweetie.

Here's to many more nights of snuggly-bug sleep!


  1. Oh, how I love you, sweet Chelsey DeMille! You give such vibrant life, to an empty white screen! *May I say, 'thank-you' & 'I love you'...and have them delivered with such warmth & sincerity...that you'll be able to close your eyes, and feel my arms around you!* Although I oftentimes feel as you do, in that these phrases may not quite convey what I'm truly feeling...I do know, that they can never, never, never, be used TOO MUCH! XOXOXO Aunt Laurie~

  2. Paul's dad and I have Nutella eating contests. I was actally scolded for eating the whole jar I received in my christmas stocking in one sitting.....too good!