i'm the...

This picture has been floating around the internet lately:

You may have seen it. You may have not. You may have thought Ohmigawd that is so true. You may have thought Mmm nope, wrong. 

I thought the latter. You see, my mother sent this picture to me and my siblings and asked if we thought it was true. It took me all of half a second to type my response. 

Totally applies to my sister, the youngest, and is complete opposite of me (the poor, lonely middle child) and my brother (the oldest). 

Why is it oh-so-true of Ann you ask? Examples A & B:

A

Mom: Well it's Friday that means it's cleaning day! Hooray, now go clean your assigned bathrooms. 

Joseph and Emily: Yes, mother (big, happy, agreeable smiles).

Mom: Oh Ann, not you honey! You can go to a friend's house and play. Have some fun!

B

Dad: Children, it sure does look as if there are still quite of lot of sticks and pinecones in the front yard. Rawwwwwwr. RAWWWWWWWWR, grrrrr sticks and pinecones. Don't come back inside until they are all gone this time. 

...

Oh Ann, sweetie! No, you don't have to. Go back to the TV. I meant the teenage children. 

Now let's move on to those other two children. The two who cleaned bathrooms, and vacuumed floors, and picked up sticks and pinecones. Those precious angels. 

Joseph, the oldest. He did not make any rules.  Because Joseph is very complacent and okay with whatever. Oh, my sister just slapped me with a soft taco? Eh, I won't move or say anything. Oh, my sister just finished hysterically yelling at me? Maybe I'll grunt. Maybe I'll just continue to sit here in silence. <<<you see how hard my childhood was?! No one ever would fight back with me! #hardlife #whineandcheeseplease

And we'll finish up with moi, the monkey in the middle. There were rules, yes. But I'm the reason my mother wished rules had been broken. I never ever ever broke (or break) the rules. In home life or real life. It's my lil ole quirk. I'm absolutely terrified of breaking the rules. Terrified.

So let's go with something along the lines of I'm in the middle. I'm the best.

friday five

As I sat down to write this Friday Five post I requested help from Freddie. 

Me: I need a topic for a Friday Five post. It can be anything. Literally anything.

Freddie: I don't understand.

Me: Any topic. That I can write 5 things about. Anything.

And now may I present to you, 

5 Potential Bog Posts Thanks To FreddieFriendHusband

one // Top 5 Favorite Lists of Top 100 Favorite Things about Freddie

two // 5 Favorite TV Shows

three // 5 Favorite Blogs

four // 5 Favorite Fingers (In No Particular Order)

five // Top 5 Michael Scott quotes

There ya go, Friday Five, there you go.

Speaking of TV shows, I need this ballerina blouse April wore this week on Parks and Rec. Need. Neeeeeeeed. 

And as far as idea #4 goes... ring finger (duhz, so shiny), pointer, thumb, pinky, middle finger. 

Happy Friday!
Linking up with Karli.

smoothie king

Once upon a time I claimed Sperry's were the dumbest shoes ever. Then suddenly I had to have a pair. Had to. 

Once upon a time I claimed I would never get married outside. In a strapless dress. With my hair up. Then once upon a time I did get married outside. In a strapless dress. With my hair up.

Once upon a time I laughed at people making and drinking smoothies like they had just made an entirely new discovery. Then on this past Sunday I decided that I needed to be making and drinking at least one smoothie or else I would never be cool or healthy again. 

See a pattern? I eat my words a lot. Okay, I eat my words 90% of the time.

Speaking of eating, let's go back and talk about the non-eating task of smoothie making. 

There I was on Sunday, in the kitchen (as all women should be) and determined to make a mean smoothie. As I told Freddie my plan to add in water and spinach and such, he looked at me like I was nuts. 

He continued to look at me like I was nuts as my smoothie kind of turned into a sludge. I assured him I knew what I was doing and that it was totally supposed to look like that. I said a quick Please Dear Lord, help this smoothie not to taste like sludge prayer before I sipped it and lo and freaking behold, it didn't taste half bad.

Ha! Take that, Mr. Judgey Eyes Weiss. I was successful in the kitchen. No one can stop me now! I'll be a smoothie maker for the stars. My sludge will be famous worldwide. Everyone will be healthy and toned and lean all thanks to my smoothies that taste only not half bad. 

My mind continued to wander as Freddie shooed me out of his room the kitchen explaining that he was going to fix my mess. 

4 minutes and a lot of Ninja-ing later Freds turned the corner with a better looking, smelling, and tasting smoothie. It was delicious. Period. No further explanation needed. 

I did what any proud woman would do. I threw my smoothie creation down the drain and filled up my cup with his smoothie. 

Once upon a time I said I should marry a man who was good in the kitchen. And I did.

The End. 

on being 3

Growing up is fun. Suddenly you can wear fun clothes. And text on your new cell phone. And drive and stay out late at cool places like parking lots. And oh my god, the first time you get to wear a bra is like...whoa, huge deal (and then becomes the worst thing in the world every day after that first day). 

But sometimes not all of us grow up.

Like my wrists, for instance. Let's talk about them.

Okay, Emily!

I've always had baby wrists. It's kind of my thing. Everybody's like Oh, there's baby wrists Emily. Again. (I've also always had a baby width face, and baby fingers, and...well that's just a post for another day).

But my wrists, they are tiny. Abnormally tiny. Don't fit with the rest of my body tiny. Definitely don't go with my birthing hips width tiny. I've always known they were tiny. I've accepted that bracelets will just slide up to or past my elbow so I don't wear them. My tiny, itty, bitty, baby wrists are naked wrists. 

There I was on Tuesday, getting measured for an upcoming show I'm in (yay, dancing! yay, performing!) when the seamstress decided to measure my wrist. As she wrapped 1/10 of her measuring tape around my wrist I made some wise crack (that was obviously super hilarious) about having tiny wrists.

Seamstress: Oh honey, wow, you do have tiny wrists.

Me: I know. I guess they just never grew with the rest of me. Hardy har har. 

Seamstress: Yeah, like that girl in here before you, your wrists are even tinier than hers. You're the tallest one I've measured so far and you've had the tiniest wrists so far. Ha! Barely 5.5 inches. Ha!

I got home and thought to myself, Self, I wonder what the average wrist size of a child is?! Let's look it up.

Guess what? 

My wrists are just barely the size of an average 3-year olds. 

Age: 25

Wrist age: 3

Chest age: ...oh wait, that's right, that's for another post.

Happy Friday!

 From me and my 3-year old size wrists to you and yours

currently: the no resolution edition

New month (erm, and year), new Currently linkup. Because nothing gets you through your Wednesday other than hearing what I'm up to right about now.

Well, what I'm up to other than mourning the end of a very, merry two-week holiday break. And sitting among mounds of dirty laundry that I just kinda don't care about right now (jay kay, I totally care and already started the washing process). Long hair, loves cleanliness, don't care. 

planning

2015 vacas, babays. Freddie and I have big ideas about trips, but somehow our money tree isn't on the same page as we are and has yet to sprout. We might have to go along with some of our smaller ideas for this year. DC, we be coming for ya. I lived in DC one summer while I studied at Washington Ballet and I will forever and always claim it as the best summer of my life. And hey, I got married during the summer months so obviously this means something deep and important about that one, fateful summer in DC. 

hoping

I'm hoping that Netflix realizes what a horrible mistake it was to take off Desperate Housewives when I was 10 episodes away from finishing the series. Netflix, why? Why, why, why?

baking

Good question. If by currently you mean recently then I could say some Christmas goodies. If currently means actually factually currently then I'd have to say nothing. Zilch. Zero. But I am very thankful for those who "bake" Kind bars because those babies are my busy teaching day jam. 

wearing

Holy Cotton/Not Spandex, I got to wear real clothes every day for the past two weeks and my closet was like Whoa, girl, get out. You're not allowed in here so much. Suck it, closet. I enjoyed every stressful second of picking out real clothes for 14 days. And now it's back to the leotard grind. I never realized how many different ways I could wear my 5 chambray shirts. Why explore the world of color when there is chambray in the world?

resolving

I have resolved to make zero specific resolutions this year. Instead I will live my life and have a shiz ton of fun this year. Deal?