The story behind the name:

One evening, at the Old Broadway Grill in Fargo, North Dakota, my brother caught the end of a Mountain Dew commercial. In the commercial, a Mountain Dew drinker was riding a shark in the ocean. My brother exclaimed in surprise, not realizing that it was a commercial. When I told him he declared "All I saw was a guy coming out of the shower with a shark." Of course, he meant water, but the idea of showering with sharks has been with me ever since.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Some Funnies

As Mark and I were driving home on Friday Mark turned to me and said, "What do you put in eggnog? Vodka?"

"Oh God! Gross!" I said. "No, it's rum, honey."

Later, Annie and I were at the liquor store. There was a bottle of eggnog with the liquor already mixed in at the cash register. I related the story to the two ladies behind the counter.

"So, husband thought that you put vodka in eggnog," I said.

"OH GOD! GROSS!" They both said. We all laughed.

Later, I told Mark about this. "Geez," he said. "I just didn't know what it was!"


Ang, Annie, Kate, Izzi and I were having lunch at Spasso's. Annie noticed that they serve gelato there for lunch.

Ang, prompted by this discovery, began talking about "the best place to get gelato in Iowa City. It's in this place downtown," she said, "where they guy... the gelato is made from this actual Italian guy." She was very enthused.

I turned to her. "They make the gelato from an Italian guy?" I asked. In my mind, I had many questions: how much gelato can you make from one Italian guy? Do they keep needing to import them? Does this Italian guy object being made into gelato. Visions of Simpson's Treehouse of Horror dance in my head.

"Gross," Kate said.


On the way home from Target we were talking about pregnancy. My friend Anna Kudak is pregnant and adorable.

"She looks like she has a basketball down her shirt," I said to Ang.

"Oh!" Ang exclaimed, "I wish I looked like that pregnant! I was as big as a HORSE!"

The word horse surprised me. I didn't not anticipate that noun.

Laughing, I turned to her. "I didn't expect you to say horse there," I said.

Ang laughed, too. "Me neither! I'm not sure where that came from!"


My brother and his wife were staying with us this weekend. Saturday morning Jared was sitting on the love seat. I was on the couch and Ang was in the chair. Annie, who had already showered and dressed for the day, came to sit on Jared's lap. Jared had not showered yet (in fact, he did not shower that day until almost 5 p.m., Annie thought this was gross). Jared was wearing his Spiderman pajama pants and a zip up sweatshirt. Annie sat on his lap and in a few moments we heard:


It sounded like a big piece of velcro. Annie gasped. "I think my dress just ripped!" she said, her hands flying around to her bottom.

"No," said Jared. "I think it was my pants."

It was, in fact, Jared pants. GIANT rip in the crotch of his pants. This was very funny.

"It's a good thing you're wearing underwear," said Ang.

"Oh, honey," said Annie. "I'll get you some new sleep pants at Target."

"But," said Jared, "can't you fix these?" Then, in a little-boy voice: "They're my favorite..."

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Wish You Were Here

So, periodically Mark and I get it in our heads to try to discipline Quinn. One of the things that we have been told to do is to establish that Quinn is the dog and we are the people. One of the ways you can do this is by not allowing him on the furniture or the bed.

Quinn is a half-sheltie, half American Eskimo. When we got him, we were told he'd get to be about 15 lbs. He's 25 lbs of barking fur. But he's awesome. He's the cuddliest dog I've ever met. Also he LOVES Mark. He likes me alot, but he LOVES Mark. Probably because Mark often forgets that we are supposed to be disciplining Quinn.

I will be strictly enforcing the "not on the furniture" policy only to look over to see Mark cuddling Quinn on the loveseat. So, we are currently on a discipline break. I know, I know, this is confusing for Quinn. But, see, what happens is this: It starts getting really cold (as it often does in winter) and Quinn turns into a 25 lb, triple-coated, cuddly dog-shaped warmer. He's wonderful to have by your side as you relax on the couch.

I suppose we'll eventually go back to the discipline... Fortunately, Quinn seems to adapt to these changes in rules with equanimity.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Taxi Driver

So, I drove the Taurus to work this morning. The Taurus is a shitty car. I apologize for the language. I tried to think of another word that would accurately describe the Taurus, but shitty was really the only word that fit. We got the Taurus for free from Mark's grandma. I am very thankful that we got the car when we did, but that doesn't change the fact that it is unreliable and prone to malfunctioning. One summer we had to replace the transmission and the engine within four weeks of each other. Later, Mark had the Taurus taken to a dealership so that they could do an inspection. When he got back after the inspection with all the paper work his comment was, "My car is awesome. It's missin' some parts."

Anyway, in light of all this, one of my favorite past times when driving the Taurus (other than praying fervently that it doesn't break down on a major artery) is looking for cars that are shittier than the Taurus. This morning, I noticed a taxi on hwy 55 as I approached I94. A) The taxi was, in fact, a shittier car than the Taurus. B) But what really caught my eye was how the taxi was fishtailing all over two lanes. This made me wonder about the state of the tires on the taxi. No one else on the road was fishtailing, yet this taxi couldn't adjust its course at all without it's back end whipping from one side to the other.

As if the condition of the car weren't bad enough, I shortly realized that the person driving the taxi was contributing to the overall disaster. First, the taxi decided not to get into the lane that turns onto I94 until it was actually stopped at the light. I magnanimously let the taxi into the correct lane in front of me (although, I have to say that one of the side effects of driving the Taurus is that I get a bit more belligerent behind the wheel because I really don't care if anyone hits me). The taxi driver continued to be obnoxious as we merged with traffic. Instead of zipping into traffic, which is the appropriate merging procedure, the taxi passed the car that had zipped in front of it and then tried to merge into traffic after cutting that car off.

It offends me when people don't follow the rules of the zip (think zipper). The zip is what allows people on the road to coexist happily and without accident. When people disregard appropriate zip protocol, I almost take it as a personal insult. As a side note, people in Fargo do not understand how to zip. It is one of the reasons that, even though traffic is worse in Mpls, it is actually more dangerous to take the interstate in Fargo.

Thursday, December 10, 2009


I'm sitting on my couch watching the Office. Mark is sleeping. Harper is sleeping. Millie is sleeping. Quinn is sleeping. Mark and the two dogs are in our bed. Harper is, of course, in her crib. It's just me and Ziggy... sitting on the couch... my life is one major event after another...

And you know what? I'm going to stay on this couch, laptop on my lap, watching TV, until the Mentalist is over. Then I'm going to bed. My life is awesome.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Some Quality Time

Many of you either know of or are experiencing the winter weather we are having in the Midwest right now. I wanted to post a breakdown of our morning commute in the spirit of ridiculous traffic everywhere!

We left the house this morning at 7:20 a.m. Two blocks after leaving our house I turn to Mark.

"Well, don't try to call me today because I forgot my phone at home."

Mark laughs. "Ok."

Halfway to daycare, I jokingly say to Mark "So, what funny thing are you going to do today that I can blog about?"

He says, "I don't know," just as I shout out "Diapers!"

Harper was out of diapers at daycare. We got a note about it last week saying we needed them by Wednesday. It's Wednesday.

"Crap!" And some other bad words. And yes, I did feel guilty about saying them with Harper in the car.

"So, I guess we go back?" says Mark.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Well, at least you'll be able to get your phone."


It has taken us longer than normal to even get halfway to daycare because of the snow AND because we were following a firetruck for awhile. But, we head back to the homestead.

Mark pulls into the garage and jump out to retrieve my phone and diapers. I notice that Quinn has somehow pulled a manual for a baby monitor off the bookcase and has began chewing it to bits. I pick it up and then pull all the paper stuff off the bookcase so that he can't eat anything else. I grab my phone and the diapers and head back out the door. We pull out of the garage and head towards daycare. Again. It's 7:40.

We get to daycare about 7:50 and drop off Harper. One of her teachers mentions that she is such a happy baby all day. As we pull out of the parking lot I tell Mark that Harper is probably the best baby at the daycare.

Traffic on 55 wasn't the worst I've ever seen it. But it wasn't awesome. We get onto 100 south and then into the carpool lane (thank God). The radio mentions that a semi has jack-knifed on 94 east bound. I suggested we could go through downtown or we could go across on Franklin. Mark, who is always up for trying a new route, decided to take Franklin.

We took Lyndale to Hennenpin to Franklin. There was all sorts of crazy traffic and bad driving. Then we discovered that you can't make a left turn from Hennepin to Franklin. So we had to keep going south. After two blocks we decided to swing into a parking lot to get turned around. It happened to be a Caribou parking lot. So we got coffee. It was approaching 8:30. While in the Caribou waiting for our beverages I turned to Mark.

"Well, honey, instead of getting mad you could just think of this as more quality time we get to spend together in this busy holiday season."

He replied "I don't know how quality it is with all the bad driving and irritated drivers."

But I still think it was quality time. We got to campus at 8:45. So, it may have taken over an hour for us to get to work, but at least I got to have coffee with my husband as we weaved in and out of traffic on Franklin.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Mark + pills = funny

Two funny things from today:


The first story is culmination of four days of forgetfulness. Last week, on Wednesday, daycare sent a note home that Harper was almost out of formula. On Thursday, the three of us went to Target to get more. On Friday, despite the fact that the formula was sitting in the car, I forgot to bring it in. Because I hate to back-track (those of you who know me know this to be true) I decided I would rather drive around town with the formula in my car than go back inside.

Monday morning, Mark and I are in daycare dropping off Harper. I say: "Formula!" I turn to Mark and ask (OK, order) him to go out to the car to get it.

I wait. And wait. And wait.

Mark returns after several minutes. No formula.

"Where is it?"

"I couldn't find it."

"Did you take it out of the car?"

"I don't think so."

At this point one of Harper's teachers interjects that Harper has enough formula for on more day.

On our way out to the car: "Well, if you didn't take it out and I didn't take it out, then where is it?"

"I don't know."

And then we promptly forgot about it until this morning. Again, we were standing in daycare when I said: "Formula!"

However, I have learned my lesson. I go out to the car to look for it. If living with Mark has taught me anything, it's that I should ALWAYS look for something myself first. He is a bad looker.

I unlock the car and open the back driver-side door. I lean over to look under the seat. I push a box of Kleenex out of the way and, lo and behold, there is the can of formula. I pick it up and head back inside. The entire process has taken 15 seconds.

When I get back inside with the formula Mark says, surprised, "It was in there?!"

"Yes. It was under the seat."

As we are putting our shoes on Mark says,"Well, you ARE shorter than me."


This morning before we left I was looking for some medicine. I asked Mark where it was and he actually knew (surprising... see above story). Of course, Mark had purchased the medicine and so it was in chewable form, not pill form. Mark hates swallowing pills. He buys everything in liquid of chewable form if he can. He even takes gummy vitamins.Watching him try to swallow pills is hilarious and I highly recommend it.

Later that morning, after leaving daycare, the subject of these chewables came up again.

"Aren't they great?" he asks.

"Actually, no. I thought they were gross. They tasted horrible."

"No way," says Mark. "I... I actually dream... dream of, like, a meatloaf that tastes just like that... like a chalky mint... mmmmm..."

I laughed. "No. You have gone too far with that one. TOO FAR."

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

How Embarassing

Yesterday after we dropped Harper off at daycare I asked Mark if we could swing into Rainbow Foods (or Roundy's, as I call it) to pick up some eggnog. I needed to take the eggnog to school with me so that Ali and I could drink it while putting up our office Christmas tree. ANYWAY, Mark said sure, so we cruised across the street and ventured in.

While on my way to the back dairy case, Mark was strolling along behind me, trying to decide if he wanted anything to eat for breakfast. I lost track of him in my quest for nog, and when I returned to the front of the store, he was waiting for me with a cream-filled chocolate-frostinged doughnut. It looked delicious, but my will-power prevailed and didn't buy myself any pastries.

Back in the car, Mark points us back toward school. Stopped at the first light, Mark pulls out his doughnut and takes a few bites. He reaches the cream center. He looks like he is enjoying himself. Then, the light turns green and it's time for us to go again. For those of you who do not know this already, we drive a stick shift. Somehow, in the process of managing the doughnut while shifting gears, said doughnut winds up frosting-side down in his lap (read crotch).

"Yeah, I thought you would have known better than to eat something like that in the car while driving," I say helpfully.

Miraculously, when Mark removes the doughnut from his lap (read crotch) his pants are unscathed. More than he deserves, I think.

I start laughing. It's hilarious now that I know we don't have to stop back at home so that Mark can change pants.

I look at Mark. "I'm going to write about this in my blog."

Mark actually looks horrified. "NOOO!" He practically shouts it.

"Yes," I say. "You have done a stupid thing and the blog is your punishment. My readers will enjoy it."

Mark shakes his head and is quiet for awhile.

"The call of the cream filling was just too strong for me to ignore," he finally says.