ask the rat

THE THING ABOUT BUSES IN NYC {giveaway closed}

2011-06-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

so, the thing about buses in new york city is, while nowhere does it specifically say, "you can't bring an electric blue cooler on wheels on the bus," generally speaking, you can't bring an electric blue cooler on wheels on the bus. somehow i feel like i should have known this going in, and surely if i had, i never would have ended my morning by shouting at the bus driver as i pushed my electric blue cooler on wheels down the street.

all of this to say, on saturday i went to the new homegoods on columbus avenue on the upper west side. i went up there as part of a blogher reveiw of the new store, where they gave us breakfast (rugelach! where have you been all of my life!) and gift cards and set us loose to do all the damage we could.

living as i do in 300 square feet of space, i knew that a shopping spree to homegoods would be sad making. because at this point, for anything to come in, something else must first go out, blah blah blah, and tchotchkes are generally a no-go.

all of my precious tchotchkes are still boxed up in utah . . . oh my precious tchotchkes how i miss you!

in fact, as i left the door that morning (at 7:30 am--which is my only negative review of this experience. really? 7:30 am???) my dear sweet (not so very) patient husband reminded me kindly that, hey, don't go bringing home anything bulky. but maybe some kitchen storage?

and anyway, imagine a world where kitchen storage could be not bulky, and you have just discovered the manful thinking world where my husband lives.

(this is the same world where women only need one dress and one pair of shoes with heels. i digress.)

at the homegoods i very nearly but didn't buy an entire new set of bedding (when in lack of space, change your duvet! why hadn't this occurred to me before?). i very closely but then didn't buy an apple green vintage looking fan to blow cool air on my chubby baby at night while he slept.

i saw this one rug and i really wanted it, only the ribbon starbursts looked like possibly they could double as vaccuum cleaner poison, and so i opted out.

and then i saw it.

i pictured the storage it could provide.

i pictured the hilarious face i'd get to see on my husband when i walked in the door with it.

but i was a terrible spectacle to the other reviewing bloggers while i waited on line to buy it.

"you're getting that?"

"wait, you're really getting that?"

"was that the only one?"

"um, how are you getting that home?!"

rats! this is the part of living in the city that i'm always forgetting about, the 'how are you getting it home?!' part of living in the city.

you buy it, you lug it. this concerns both home decor and a heavy dinner followed by dessert. sometimes the lugging home is not worth the purchase. in this case, the lugging was worth it.

hello, this cooler is effectively doubling my counter space! and think of all the baking supplies i can stash in there! possibly being able to reach my knives means that there will be vegetables purchased in their natural state! i'm beginning to forget what an actual stalk of celery looks like! exclamation point!

anyway. the dude at the bus wouldn't let me on. i argued with him about it even though i was perfectly fine catching a cab. he argued back with me even though he was perfectly aware that i wasn't really arguing with him out of anger, but more out of sport.

and i discovered something that day about the mind of a new yorker. new yorkers don't get in fights with bus drivers on the street because they really think they should get to take their electric blue cooler onto the bus. no, new yorkers get in fights with bus drivers on the streets because sometimes a little unnecessary shouting just feels dang good.

i could tell, he was enjoying it, because he was smiling the whole time he was shouting at me. and you know what? i was too.

and my electric blue cooler is RAD.

and my cab home was only six bucks.

thanks homegoods!

SO.
blogher is giving away ten $25 gift cards to homegoods
on their prizes & promotions page,
open through june 30.

and me
yours truly
i am giving away one $100 gift card to homegoods provided by blogher.
right here!

to enter, leave a comment on this post telling me what you would buy at homegoods
(pillows? rug? uhh . . . bedding?)
be sure to include your email address in your comment.

a winner will be chosen june 30th.

RULES!
(as copied directly from the nice blogher email)

No duplicate comments.

You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:

a) Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post

b) Tweet about this promotion and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post

c) Blog about this promotion and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post

d) For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry.

This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older.

Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail.

You have 72 hours to get back to me, otherwise a new winner will be selected.

The Official Rules are available here.

UPDATE: we have a winner!

congratulations!

stuff!

2011-06-07T10:24:00.000-07:00

dudes, what are you doing this week?

good, good, that sounds like fun.

oh me?

shoot. i'll probably be changing diapers, hitting the grocery store, doin the laundry . . . i'm going to this bg baby shower thing going on in midtown (i get to meet dr. sears. that's weird, right?) and i might check out the new alexander mcqueen exhibit going on at the met, have you heard about it? i've heard it's really cool.

oh! and this weekend i'm going to check out the new homegoods store on the upper west side, followed by the nyc big apple bbq at washington square park. yeah, that's gonna be a lot of bbq. and don't you love homegoods? when you're shopping for your apartment in the city you're sort of limited to the online stores, there aren't really a lot of options that are affordable around town, so that'll be super fun, am i right? i got to invite ten friends, and i was super proud of myself when i realized i actually had ten friends to invite. ten friends, that's a lot of friends! made me all misty in my eyes, if you know what i mean.

oh yeah, you want me to tell you more about it later? hey, i can do that!

peace out, cute people.

blogher is giving away ten $25 gift certificates to homegoods. go here to enter by june 30th. (and here for the rules)
here is the homegoods facebook
and here is the homegoods blog

::mod-tots giveaway::

2011-03-05T17:15:00.000-08:00

we have a really fun giveaway this weekend from mod-tots.com! mod-tots is giving away a $100 gift certificate, good for any original, hand-painted item from the shop!

to enter, go to mod-tots.com and leave a comment below by wednesday, march 9th.

mod-tots is also on facebook and twitter. and from now until march 16th, readers of nat the fat rat will get a 10% discount by using the code NATTHEFATRAT at checkout!

open to residents of the us and canada.

good luck!

Undertease Giveaway

2010-12-13T08:54:00.000-08:00

Have you heard of Undertease? Undertease provides basic, high quality layering tees in all sorts of colors (you can find them at Nordstrom), and recently they broadened their product line to include pencil skirts. The nice people there sent one my way to review and try on and dance around my apartment in (thanks!).

The skirts run a titch large (size down if you think you're in-between). I think this sparkly little number would make a great starting point for a fun Christmas party outfit, especially if you're running straight from the office. My hot ass shoes are from a Dolce Vita sample sale (twenty bucks, friends!) and my tee shirt is from the Gap, chap! (Boobs brought to you by Henry Holbrook. I am still getting used to them.)

To enter, visit the Undertease skirts in their natural habitat, and then tell me in the comments how I can get my stubborn, straight hair to keep a curl. I'm serious, I need help.

We'll draw a winner at midnight on Wednesday (which is to say, Tuesday night).

Good luck!

Rachel Stratford Portrait GIVEAWAY!

2010-11-28T17:37:00.000-08:00

I am insanely excited about this giveaway. Rachel Stratford is a portrait artist in Provo, Utah and Trumbull, Connecticut (and one of my dearest friends from high school), and this week we are giving away a custom, pencil-drawn pet portrait, an estimated value of $250!

Look at these two knuckleheads! Have they ever looked better?

Rachel would like to draw a portrait of your pet in time for the holidays! Lucky you! (If you don't have a pet of your own, this would make an unbelievable gift for the animal lover in your life.) The winner will need to email Rachel a good-quality photo of their furry (or scaly!) loved one by this Saturday, December 4th so that she can ensure an on-time Christmas delivery. As soon as she is finished, Rachel will email the winner a scan of the portrait for their suggestions and approval. She is quick, she is fun, and she is amazingly good.

Want to see some more of her work?

{pencil sketches}

{watercolor}

Here is how you can win (I kinda made this super complicated on accident) :

For one (1) entry:

Visit Rachel's website, and become a fan of her Facebook page. Then come back here and say you did so in the comments.

For more entries:

Tweet the giveaway by copying and pasting this tweet as many times as you want (one entry per tweet, leave a comment here to let me know each time you've tweeted (doesn't that sound rude?)):

I love Rachel Stratford http://bit.ly/hiwems and @NatTheFatRat http://bit.ly/9a4yS0, and you should too!

For even more entries:

You can blog about this giveaway! Shoot, I think that might be worth five entries. Why not? Comment here with the link, five times! 1-2-3-4-5!

For even more more entries:

Become a follower of Nat The Fat Rat! I mean, don't you want to anyway? You can do that by clicking HERE and then commenting here to let me know.

For another entry, because I like making this fun:

Tell me in the comments the best pet name you've ever heard in your life.

(Did you know I once almost bought a bird just so I could name him Ernest Borgnine? (The Holbs told me I couldn't, because sometimes The Holbs has no heart.))

Our winner will be picked Wednesday night, and you can enter as many times between now and then as you'd like.

(Don't have a pet, or know anybody that does? Hang tight, we'll be giving away a person-version of Rachel's portraits in the Spring!)

Go forth and enter!

Birthday Week Giveaway!

2010-09-26T17:47:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I am having a birthday. (Happy Birthday to me!) It will be my last even birthday before I hit 30. Let's not let that scare us, now, it'll all be okay, I promise. And I've been pondering things, as I am wont to do (what kind of a word is wont anyway?), and I have decided that a good way to kick off your Birthday Week is back tickles during Sacrament Meeting. Indeed! Back tickles make you more spiritual, have I told you that before? Well, it's really true. (Tanks, Holbsy!)

Also a good way to kick off your Birthday Week: your Holbshusband finds a perfectly decent, perfectly working, perfectly perfect flat screen TV with internal DVD player in the garbage, and rescues it for his perfectly pregnant wife, then hauls it up to the ninth floor, plugs it in, only to find that it also comes with a free copy of Jerry Maguire! Not bad, eh?

Okay, but here's a real good way to kick off your Birthday Week:

Ummm, how about a Petunia Picklebottom giveaway?

So, the lovely people at Petunia Picklebottom sent me a Boxy Backpack diaper bag to review and keep and love for forever. Wasn't that nice of them? (In my head they knew it was my Birthday Week and were celebrating accordingly, which is why my head is such a fancy place to be.) Baby Huck isn't going to get here for another couple weeks, but that doesn't really hold us back now, does it? I mean, diaper bags, as much as they claim to be for babies, are really for mommas. They don't tell you this because they want you to be able to convince your husband that you're only getting the best "for the baby." This "for the baby" stuff is nonsense. It's all for you. Hello.

Accordingly, I loaded it up with some momma essentials.

(I made that bedding myself, and then had to completely redo it when I realized a normal-sized crib would never fit in our place.)

It is roomy, sturdy, and cute as all get out. I give it two thumbs up. And this is my favorite part: for my birthday I get to give away a Boxy Backpack in this exact color (Evening in Essex) to one of you lucky readers!

To enter to win, just leave a comment.

For an extra entry, you can follow Nat The Fat Rat (by clicking HERE) or you can tweet the giveaway by copying and pasting this: http://bit.ly/ckcJvy @natthefatrat (along with your message of choice) into your Twitter feed. (Or both for two extra entries.) One comment per entry. If you enter three times, you get to leave three comments.)

The contest is open all week long, and I will announce the winner on Saturday. The Holbsaccountant will pick the winner using some mathematic equation only he understands, as usual. Good luck! And thanks again to the fancy people at Petunia Picklebottom!

GIVEAWAAAAAAAAY!!

2010-06-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

NOTE: If you have already entered this giveaway, don't worry! Your comment entries are safe and counted!

Have you heard of The Vintage Pearl? (Who am I kidding, of course you have.) The Vintage Pearl makes the most beautiful custom jewelry around, and I am so, so thrilled to have them as a sponsor.

When Erin found out I was having a boy, she quick-as-a-whip made up a Mama Bird charm (above) for me, and proposed a giveaway to celebrate! Can you get over that? As you may have noticed, I am in need of a good pick-me-up type celebration. Did you know that we are either moving in four weeks or nine days? Depending? And that all of my furniture is currently in a stack in the hallway for a good carpet cleaning and I have nowhere to sit right now, except for maybe in the car?

This giveaway could not have come at a better time, is what we are all thinking. Am I right? I know I am right.

In honor of this charming male fetus of mine and his horde of many admirers, The Vintage Pearl is giving away one $50 Gift Certificate to a NatTheFatRat reader! Do you even know the damage you could do with $50? Honestly. I have a Vintage Pearl charm necklace and I can tell you firsthand that the quality is impeccable, the silver is lovely, and they are all so cute.

Here is how you can win. Are you paying attention? You get up to FOUR entries, isn't that pretty rad of me? I know.

Your first entry: We need ideas for a name. A boy name. We like old man type names. Something good and formal, but not ridiculous. (I currently have a favorite but The Holbs is not quite convinced. Now is your chance! Help out a poor Holbs!) Give us a good name suggestion in the comments and you get an entry.

For a second entry: Tweet the giveaway! (May I suggest: "Vintage Pearl Giveaway at that darling @NatTheFatRat blog! I love her! She's so amazing! http://natthefatrat.com" That would sure make me feel good about myself, anyway.) Comment to let me know you've Tweeted, don't be embarrassed.

For a third entry: Follow Nat The Fat Rat through Blogger or your favorite RSS subscriber. (There's a cute little box to the left where all my beautiful Blogger followers hang out back on the main site (HERE), just click on it!) This is all about making me feel good about myself, did I mention? Oh, good. Just comment to let me know you're following, it's pretty easy.

For a fourth entry: Be my Facebook friend by clicking this HERE. I like having Facebook friends because who doesn't? Duh. Then, comment to let me know. You've probably figured that part out by now, though.

(PLEASE please put your email address in with each entry comment so I can track you down when you win!)

The giveaway is open until this Thursday at 11:59pm Pacific Time, winner to be chosen by my fool-proof tax-attorney-to-be husband and announced first thing Friday morning. Are you excited? I'm excited. You're totally going to win, I have a good feeling about this.

And three cheers for the male Holbsfetus! Huzzah!

Dear Nat The Rat,

2010-05-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

When you were trying so desperately to get pregnant, you said that when you got pregnant you would "love it on purpose" -- the heartburn, the getting sick, the getting fat . . . you know, all of the fun stuff. I was just wondering if you've been able to love every second of it, in spite of all the yucky things that come with it?

Love,

Traci

Traci, my love!

I was hoping nobody would ask me this because the truth is a little embarrassing. The truth is, this pregnancy has been really, really easy. It's been like falling off a log!

Now, the getting pregnant was not like falling off a log. The getting pregnant was like climbing a ladder upside down with one arm in a sling wearing a blind fold. But to be honest with you, and at the risk of opening up a whole host of jinxes, I sort of knew that my body would know how to rock being pregnant. And the last 16 weeks, well, they've been like magic.

I didn't have any morning sickness. (Isn't that rude?) I haven't had a lick of heart burn. No strange food cravings or aversions, no skin tags or rashes or varicose veins, no back pain or sciatic nerve issues or dry skin or itching. From conception to today I've only managed to put on eight pounds. (I am working on this though, pass the full-fat cottage cheese!) My skin has never looked so good. My hair? Well, now I am bragging.

But you know what, I am conflicted. Oh, I am conflicted.

I'm used to things being hard, and I'm used to finding the beauty in it anyway and thriving. I've been married for seven years and we are just finally starting our family. That wait was hard. In those seven years we lived in four states, and we're getting ready to move to our fifth. Moving is really hard for me. My husband is graduating at the top of his MBA and Law classes and yet there are no jobs. No jobs and we have another year of school and no money. Our house isn't selling. We need to sell our house. Everybody and their dog seems to be getting jobs except us. Everything right now is hard. I am working every day to find the beauty in our situation. Some days I do really well and other days I break down in giant, hormonal sobs.

Except this little fetus and me, somehow we live a charmed life, just the two of us. We sort of hang out all day, sharing burritos and whispering secrets back and forth. And I feel really good. And so, so blessed. Maybe this fetus is happy to be with me? Maybe I am just so thrilled to have it that I haven't even noticed the rest? Or else God just really wanted to give me a break. (Or else this is the calm before the storm, which, oh gosh.)

I always instinctively knew that getting pregnant and being pregnant and having babies was for me. That I could do it and do it well. When I had a hard time getting pregnant it was really surprising.

But this, this feels more like it.

xoxo,

Nat

Got Questions?

The Rat has Answers!

natalielovin[at]gmail[dot]com

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-11-17T19:46:00.000-08:00

I just got engaged to my wonderful boyfriend of one year. I read your blog all the time and you seem to be so happy in your marriage. What advice do you have for young people who will be getting married and what are your secrets for a happy marriage?

Your friend,

Sarah in Elizabethtown

Dearest Sarah,

Congratulations! Ohh, being engaged is one the most fun things you can be though, isn't it? It is also the most stressful thing I can think of right now, now that you mention it! Goodness.

So, marital advice huh? Shoot.

The Holbs and I were married six years ago on a Tuesday in August. I was a baby-faced twenty-year-old, he was a cradle robbing twenty-five. Some days I look back on that Tuesday and smile wistfully with love and devotion and bliss. Other days I look back and wonder what the crap I was thinking.

Marriage is fantastic. I love marriage! I am way definitely pro-marriage. It's a never-ending sleep over, you get to spend every day with your best friend, and I guarantee you he'll be the best roommate you've ever had, but you can't get lazy. I think marriage means you're supposed to start putting someone else's feelings over yours, and I'm really bad at that. I think marriage means you work to make sure that he is happy, even if you aren't. My mom taught me that, and I am glad. Thanks, mom!

Another thing my mother taught me about marriage is that it is primarily a partnership. Like a business type of transaction. Oh, that may not be as romantic as the myth we are taught by Sleeping Beauty and Snow White and Hollywood romcoms, where your Prince Charming starts off being pithy and ruggedly charming, then gets all soft and romantic with the I-Love-You eyes, then sweeps you off your feet and carries you away to your magical kingdom in the sky where you will never argue, always see eye-to-eye, and have good sex until the day you die, but you know what, I think the truth is better than the myth. I really do! I think the truth is, marriage is about respect, admiration and love, and when all that's momentarily gone you just stick to your shared goals until you start to like each other again. Generally, you do start to like each other again, somehow.

Here are some rules I made up myself that seem to keep me outta trouble:

1. Be fiercely loyal to your husband.

2. Never talk badly of your husband to other people. Never Ever.

3. Always assume the best of him, even when he is at his worst. Like, when he says something boneheaded, stop for a second and try and see if there's a way where maybe it might almost make sense in a weird and twisted way what he just said before you jump all over him. Try to see the good in him, even when you are ready to punch him square in the face.

Here are some tricks that make things expressly sunnier at our little house on B Street:

1. Abide by your gender roles when you can. Make him dinner, pick up his shoes (they will be all over the house, it's a man disease), strive to make your home beautiful even if you're on a tight budget, dress up for him whenever you can, use a soft voice. I've found that the bat of a curled eyelash will get you much farther than a shouting match will, I promise. Let him do some man stuff, make some big decisions, protect his family, play rough sports with other dudes. Guys like stuff like that.

2. Teach him to give you compliments. Some guys get this naturally I hear, but this is a rare breed of man and I'm not convinced he actually exists. From my limited experience, it seems that when a woman reacts positively to a compliment others will follow, and when a man is actively working on finding compliments for you he has less time to notice your faults and/or the Double D's on the lady across the room. I mean, that's just logic.

3. Find out what he loves, and do it. All the time. Help him find out what you love, and pray to goodness he isn't allergic to it, as my Holbsy seems to be to back tickles (sadface).

I am so lucky I picked a man who works hard with me. When all else fails and we momentarily lose our spark it's okay, because I married a dude who shares my goals, my priorities, my values, and my beliefs. We will always have that to fall back on, so how bad could it be? Plus, he has red hair. How can you not love a guy with red hair? Please.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

That's my advice.

But what I'm really really interested in is YOURS.

Please, spill it.

What works? What doesn't work?

We need marital bliss secrets here!

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-11-10T23:47:00.000-08:00

I know you are a mommy to your dogs, and they already have adorable names, but if you were actually having a baby, what would be an amazing and sensible name for the little one?

Thanks!

Miss Baby Hungry,

Utah

Yes, please!

Dear Baby Hungry,

Oh boy do I feel you!

I first realized I had a penchant for naming things when I found myself face to face with an English Budgie at our local pet store that I was certain should be called Ernest Borgnine if he ever came to live with me. (He didn't.)

And yes, it is true, my dogs have really fantastic names. I can't really take all the credit. But okay, I can take at least 80% of the credit.

When naming animals I believe the sky's the limit! The more pompous and ridiculous you can make it the better. I have long dreamed of naming a fat orange cat Ron Weasley (full names are a requirement), my parents call their Westie Montague Shannon MacDuff (another Westie of theirs died as a puppy; she was just named Mattie. With a name so short it's no wonder she called it quits early). (Yes, Barnaby's MacDuff is a nod to Monty's MacDuff and their cousinship, as proper breeding in dogs is tantamount!)

Peter Pan's full registered name at the AKC is Peter Pan Lovin Holbrook.

Isn't that silly?

I name just about everything. My truck is named Betsy the Flying Potato. My sewing machine is named Renesmee (long story). I think the first thing I ever named was a stuffed dog with wiry whiskers called BobDog, and I think I was four.

But I have staunch opinions on human names. I am a little bit of a name snob. It's true, it's terrible. Can we still be friends? Here is my deal: a good baby name must be a real name, it must be spelled the way it's supposed to be spelled, and it must be appropriate from crib to school to law firm to retirement to grave. Thus, a name like Daisy, which I love to bits and pieces on other people, would not work for a child of mine own flesh and blood. Example: Hi, I am Daisy Holbrook and I will be your attorney. But you see what I mean?

I have wanted baby names long enough to have seen many of my chosen favorites explode with popularity, and that is another of my deals: it cannot be trendy! Thus we will no longer be having children named Ella or Jack. Sadface.

A few months back during an extra painful childless state (it comes and goes, you know) I visited the temple to do work for the dead. I looked down at the list of names I had been assigned to and was astonished to see my baby girl names, given to baby girls born in the eighteenth century. I took it to mean my Heavenly Father was looking out for me that day, that He was thinking of me, that He was aware of me. It humbled me to my bones. I have never felt prouder to do temple service than that day, and I think of those women often.

Some of my current favorites:

Viola Henry

Alice Miles

Nora Ames

Grace Simon

Hannah Oliver

What are your baby names?

(I won't steal! I promise!)

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-10-28T22:51:00.000-07:00

What products do you use in your hair to make it so shiny? I need to know!

Love,

Catherine Aiello

The hair, in all its whateverishness.

Dear Flattering Catherine,

So here is the sad news. I don't use anything in my hair. I know, I'm sorry. I have stared at your email a zillion times, and not just because reading it makes me feel good about myself, but actually because I have no idea what to tell you. My hair is just my hair, brown and long and sometimes wavy underneath and sometimes not and heck if I know what to do with it, it just sorta hangs there, you know?

But then I thought of something, and that something is this: I do have a really ridiculously pricey hair straightener that I bought this summer, and maybe that's the trick? It's a CHI, it cost more than a Buick, and it gets really super hot. I don't really use any products, my shampoo is that nasty Suave stuff that's 89 cents a bottle, and I usually go to bed with wet hair and wake up with a rats nest, but I smooth it all down with a CHI straightener and then curl the ends with a Hot Tools 1 1/2 incher and spray it in place with hairspray.

Taduh!

Sort of!

But really, thanks for the email, you are too nice. I might just keep it in my inbox for staring at when I'm feeling bloated and pimply if that's okay by you.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Got questions? The Rat's got answers!

natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

Introducing . . . HE SAID/SHE SAID

2009-10-21T23:35:00.000-07:00

Welcome to He Said/She Said, a game where yours truly and another advice columnist of the male variety tackle the same question to see what happens. Here we go!

Dear Nat The Rat,

I was on a date with this girl and she was really hot and flirty! But when I went to give her a kiss goodnight, she smiled and said, "I don't kiss on the first date."

She was all over me on the dance floor, but not even a kiss? I didn't even know what to say!

What would you do?

Love,

Randy in RI

Dear Randy,

Rhode Island is a lovely state! How is your autumn these days?

To answer your question I went straight to the dictionary to find a definition for you of a word you may not be terribly familiar with, these being the two thousands and whatever.

Lady

(noun)

A woman of refinement and gentle manners.

Now I know it is not exactly en vogue to be a lady anymore but there it is. There used to be ladies in this world and ladies don't always kiss on the first date. It sounds like what you got there that night was a bona fide lady. What are the odds?

There also used to be this thing called courtship. I know this is probably another unfamiliar term to us two-thousand-ers or whatever, so here, I Wiki-ed it for you:

Courtship is the traditional dating period before engagement and marriage. During courtship, a couple dates to get to know each other and decide if there will be an engagement. Usually courtship is a public affair, done in public and with family approval. It includes activities such as going together for a meal, a movie, dance parties, a picnic, shopping, or general hanging out.

(Incidentally, chatting online, texting, phone conversations, and gifts constitute wooing.)

Ideally as a member of the male gender on a date you are a gentleman, to complement your guest who is a lady. Ideally you enjoy your evening of deciding whether there will be an engagement, and at the doorstep of her abode before you bid her goodnight you expect nothing, but you wait for just a moment, just in case she seems receptive. If she is not receptive (as is often the case with ladies, I mean come on, it's the first date!) then you politely ask to call on her again for a second date. If she is receptive, well, lean on in baby! You will know which it is because she is sending you signals.

Trust me, she is sending you signals.

Only but maybe women do not know how to send signals anymore?

Geez, these two-thousands, or whatever.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Post Script! On a second date it is nice to bring flowers. But, you know, the two-thousands, or, whatever.

To see the HE SAID head on over here. Be sure to come back and tell me who got it right. (I know, it's probably me, huh.)

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-10-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

How did you come up with the names Barnaby MacDuff and Peter Pan?

Love,

Charlotte Missiaen

Dear Char,

Can I call you Char? Good.

All of my life I've had a knack for naming things. The story to follow is a real doozy and I do apologize.

We decided to adopt a Wire Fox baby when we were living in New York City and both working at the same office building in Lower Manhattan. I was in a teeny drab cubicle on the thirteenth floor, The Holbs was in an airy castle office on the fourteenth floor. Every day we would meet on the fifteenth floor for lunch where we would split a salad bar and eat our home-cooked PBJs and stare out over Ground Zero. We emailed each other all day long. It is safe to say The Holbs probably accomplished something during his office hours but my nine-to-fiver was spent exclusively concocting clever and hilarious things to email to The Holbs. It was during one such email that we agreed on the name Peter Pan.

Armed with nothing our wits and a breed personality guide I'd picked up at Target in the Dollar Spot we set about picking a name that would honor the tradition of his superior breeding and also my inexcusable love for Disneyland. Here is what we learned to expect in our future furball offspring: Stubborn. Smart. Strong-willed. Springy jumper who can clear a four-foot fence with ease. Confident. Slow to get past puppyhood. Your basic nightmare. I can't remember who came up with Peter Pan but let's face it, it was probably me. Our new baby was Peter Pan, a mischievous boy who'd never grow up.

As soon as the puppy babies were old enough an email popped up in our office inboxes from the breeder ripe with photos. We had pick of the litter and three babies to choose from. Male A, Male B, Male C. I instantly fell head over heels for Male B, a fat line-backer of a puppy with a determined fire in his eyes. Oh he was handsome. The Holbs kept insisting we reconsider Male C, but I have to tell you, whenever I opened Male C's jpeg all I could think was that he looked emotionally handicapped. I am just going to say it. He looked retarded. In the photo he was staring off at the floor a little cross-eyed and his little shoulders were all screwed up and he was just puny. He was puny and weird looking and was obviously touched in the head (if only we knew!) and I just couldn't understand the appeal, until The Holbs emailed back and said,

He has a lightning shaped scar! I mean, spot!

And that was when I understood.

My Holbswizard is some kind of into Harry Potter. We were dating when the Sorcerer's Stone came out in theatres and so I made a big deal of dropping off a roll of parchment containing two tickets to the midnight showing to the restaurant where he waited tables. As we sat in the theatre that night after his shift I could just tell I had sealed the deal. The spirit of Dumbledore whispered to him that it was true. When Ron and Harry were trapped in the spider's lair The Holbs grabbed my hand in suspense. When the credits ran he turned to me and said this, and this is verbatim now, you wouldn't forget something like this, not if you were me anyway,

Wouldn't it be so fun to live at Hogwarts?? Only but you'd have to have a friend like Harry Potter around, to keep away the spiders!

Right? It's no wonder I married him after a romantic speech like that!

So, now we had to name the stupid dog Harry Potter. But you know better than that and so instead we compromised. It is hard to get your way all the time, I know you were wondering.

(Now that I know him in person I can tell you that Male C just as retarded as I thought he'd be.)

For a long time his name was going to be this: Harry Potter Peter Pan Lovin Holbrook. I am not kidding you. Would I kid you about that? You should know I have a very high tolerance for ridiculous names and I felt no shame whatsoever, and neither did The Holbs for that matter come to think of it, which must be indicative of his intense love for me or else, who knows, puppy mania? Anyway, Harry Potter Peter Pan sort of rolls off the tongue nicely, doesn't it?

After announcing to our parents the impending arrival of one puppy baby named Harry Potter Peter Pan and getting plenty of Seriously? back we decided to only call him Harry Potter Peter Pan in spirit, and just Peter Pan vocally, you know, for short.

I know, this is taking longer to explain than you'd figured, huh? You're wondering, what have I gotten myself into? We haven't even gotten to the story behind Barnaby MacDuff yet!

Well, hold on.

We picked Barnaby MacDuff's name because it sounded Scottish and it was the first thing we came up with. That's it. (It really is hard to be the second child.)

(I would have liked to have kept the literary/Disney tradition alive but the only Scottish characters that fit the bill are Scrooge MacDuck and MacBadger, of which Barney is neither, because actually he is a dog.)

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Got questions? The Rat has answers!

natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-10-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

I love your etsy shop! It makes me wish that all of my friends would have babies so that I could order them sweet onesies.

What are your most popular designs?

What is your personal favorite?

Where do you get your inspirations from?

: ) amanda holbrook

Dear Amanda Holbrook Who Took The Amazing Photo Above,

My Etsy career began with a pair of brass knuckles and a certain someone named Courtney Jane. Perhaps you've heard of her? She had this miracle baby, maybe you've heard of him? She is a friend of a friend and so I sent along a little package of my favorite hobby, personalized onesies, and they were a hit. The rest, as they say, is history.

To this day, my favorite design is the Brass Knuckles For Yo Baby. Though I get really tired of stitching all. those. circles. Nobody ever orders it though, do you believe that? Is it the violence? But isn't violence supposed to be cool? I am confused.

Courtney posted a picture of her miracle baby wearing my Giraffe design, and for a long time that was my most popular. (That CJane, such a trendster!) I like making the Giraffe because it is one piece of fabric and I can stitch it up all at once in one. long. stitch. That kind of thing makes me really happy.

Then the Dooce highlighted Onesie-Twosie on her Daily Style section. Oh, Dooce? Maybe you've heard of her? From then on until now, the Oy Vey design has been selling like hotcakes. Which is good, since that's my second favorite design. Do you think I am kidding? Though I get really tired of stitching all. those. letters.

Here's what I know about inspiration. I have none. I swear my head is filled with nothing but clouds and fickle ideas. My best new designs have come from Custom Orders and Alchemy requests. I call them "Yousies" (Par Example: Busy Bee, Dachsund & Giraffe, Give A Hoot, Angel Wings, Tu Nombre, Cupcake.) (That was a lot of links just there. Did you really click on all of them?) My Onesie-Twosie customers are seriously the wickedest, smartest, funniest people I know. They give me some serious ideas and I just roll with it. I will say this much about me. I am good at taking a good idea and making it look awesome.

Might you also want to try something seasonal?

So, don't you want to give it a shot?

(I do toddler sizes, too!)

You can find my Etsy shop HERE.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-10-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be in Asotin, WA at the beginning of November. This is in the general vicinity of where you live, right?

I'm only there for a few days and will have young children in tow (but could possibly dump them for a few hours)...is there anything that you can think of that is a MUST for me to see or do?

Love,

Karen

A: Dearest Karen,

Asotin, huh?

I have to tell you something about Asotin.

There is nothing going on there.

There is nothing going on anywhere around here. Why are you even going? I just do not understand.

When I was dating The Holbs and we were just cute little specks of pixie dust he took me to meet his parents. I lived in Provo, they lived in Sandy, Holbsy had a class in Salt Lake. He drove me to Sandy, dropped me off and said, "See you in an hour!" and then drove off. I am not kidding. It was cruel. I spent the next hour with Joe Holbrook watching a video about Idaho. Because Joe loves Idaho. I endured it well I guess because after watching that video with him Joe seemed to decide that I was all right. But I mean, an entire hour of Idaho?

If I had known then that agreeing to marry Joe Holbrook's redheaded son would ensure me four years of living in Idaho, would I have done it? Life's questions.

The other day a really good friend from High School showed up quite randomly in Pullman for the weekend and I met him for lunch at the Q and took him to see the cows with the plexiglass stomach and to get ice cream and squeaky cheese at Ferdinand's. (Oh, I guess that's something you could do?) In between all the "It's so good to see yous!" I kept asking him, "But seriously, why are you here? Why would you come here?" Because I just don't get it. Honestly, why on earth do people come here?

We moved here because we had to. To go to law school. The Holbs only applied to the University of Idaho in the first place because his dad's former high school basketball coach later became the former Dean of Students at UofI. (See what I mean about Idaho?) The Holbs swore he was only doing it to cover his bases, that he had no agenda of accepting should an offer be extended. As he was filling out his application I begged him, on my knees and with supplication and all that, I begged him not to because I know my luck, and my luck is such that if you apply to the one place you know you don't want to go to, it will be the one place you will get to go to.

I know 'cause that's how I got roped into attending the Lord's University for four years.

And then what happened? Wait lists and wait lists and one lousy acceptance from IDAHO. (This is why we aren't allowed to do things like "cover our bases" anymore. I mean, hello track record!)

The only reason we ended up going to Idaho was cause Idaho tricked me. I flew out to take a peek and Idaho gave me a job at Satan's Fun House and a cute little house the size and shape of a shoe box all in one day. Also Idaho tricked me with it's lush green rolling hills and quaint little tree-lined streets and all the nice people.

When we moved to Idaho all our friends in New York asked, "Idaho, is that by Minnesota?"

We have been bored stupid ever since.

But I'm really glad that 19-year-old me sitting on that sofa with my soon-to-be Poppa Joe had the brains to marry that redheaded freckle face, because I really really love it here. Whattya know?

Now, Asotin isn't in Idaho and I know that but it doesn't matter. It's all Idaho out here. Even Eastern Washington. (Especially Eastern Washington?) Here's what I do out here to keep from hanging myself with wheat grass.

I go antiquing. Lewiston has really good antiques on Main Street. And then while you are there you need to go to this place I just found with my mother. It is called Effie Tavern and it is right in the middle of all of the good antiques places on Main Street and their burgers are literally the size of dinner plates. You need four people to finish one. And it is really, really good.

My mom with her quarter of the burger. I am telling you this burger was an event!

We go to Costco! Costco is in Clarkston, right next to Asotin. Costco might not be as exciting to you as it is to us, us who have no Target, but okay.

Um, there's the Snake River and Hells Canyon. Those are fun names. I must warn you though as these things are located outside and places that are outside in Idaho in November are colder than a witch's broomstick. Is that how that goes?

You could stay a night at Victor and Dawna's Hells Canyon Resort. (Dawna?)

Eat at Fazzari's Pizza. It's "famous" in Lewiston for having an almost-passable "New York style" slice. Or something.

Lastly, if you're up for the drive up the 6% grade, you should really come to Moscow. I'll take you to lunch at the Q and to see the cows with the plexiglass stomachs and to get ice cream and squeaky cheese at Ferdinand's.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-09-22T22:42:00.000-07:00

What crafty things are you into making, other than onesies?

What is your most treasured posession?

Have you ever been to Alabama?

What was your "something blue" when you married The Holbs?

Love,
Hannah

A: Dear Hannah,

Hiya Hannah!

You wanna know what crafty things I am into? I am super into scrapbooking and toll painting and modge podge! And vinyl lettering! Just kidding. Did you know that when I was a stubborn bratty youth I used to think that women who liked to scrapbook and modge podge and toll paint were soft old fuddy duddies? And I thought I was sooo above such things? Pass the hot glue gun! I have a sunhat that is in dire need of raffia ribbons and some silk sunflowers!

Crafting is something that I come by naturally which is obviously why I must have shunned it for so long. But it turns out that the creative acts as a salve to my more abrasive parts. When I'm engaged in making things, especially beautiful things that I'm proud of, I suddenly become very tame and all nice to be around and things, and some people who I'm married to appreciate that kind of thing every so-and-such. I don't know about all yous and everything, but my special love Dieter F. Uchtdorf was sure on to something, wasn't he though?

I like to knit and crochet and bake. I LOVE to bake. (I need to hire a professional baked goods eater who I can keep in my silverware drawer for just such occasions.) I love to decorate my home. I can put together a mean "tablescape" (cue my brain oozing out my ears). I like just about every kind of crafting. Except scrapbooking. Gross!

Um, right . . .

My loony tunes Granny Goose was in charge of my Something Borrowed/Something Blue and my getup included a OLD coin from 1990 for wearing in my shoe (ensures good fortune), a NEW pearl earring from my mother, a BORROWED antique pearl bracelet from my Granny, and a BLUE crystal heart necklace, which was blue. And I was in such a hurry the morning of my sealing I left it all at home. And my Granny almost didn't speak to me for three whole hours.

I have never been to Alabama, but my grandparents served a mission there recently and when I'm really tired I slip into a very convincing Southern accent, on a count a my grand-pa bein from South Carolina!

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Got questions?

Ask the Rat!

natalielovin(at)gmail(dot)com

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-09-20T23:11:00.000-07:00

What is something you'd love to achieve in your life, but no one (maybe not even yourself) thinks you will?

Love,
Charlotte
thedailysnapshot.org

Image of Google. Doesn't this look like it could be me and mine?

A: Dear Charlotte,

When I was little I was sure I was going to be a veterinarian. I loved animals, I was determined to do eight million years of school and NOT EVER get married, I had all these plans. I was five.

Then I was pretty sure I was going to be a famous actress. Early successes on the bright stage of my high school auditorium basically solidified my starry-eyed ambition and I was fairly certain that the Oscar(TM), it was already mine. Does it even need saying that nobody, sniff sniff, believed in me?

It's okay though because when I went to college I quickly gave up all thespian dreams in exchange for a new found lust for singing. I was pretty sure that nobody of my inestimable talent could ever settle for less than at least ten gold records and two Grammy awards and that it was really only a matter of time before I was discovered. A professional jazz singing gig under my belt already, I auditioned for an MTV "Make Your Own Video" type dealie and got a part but had to pay my own ticket to New York and that was no good cause I had New Testament class the next day and stuff.

When I got married I really struggled with the "what's next?" I wasn't ready for babies and Hollywood was no longer calling to me and I didn't have much luck holding down jobs. Plus, I mean, as much fun as it is to scoop up other people's dog's poo, it didn't exactly fill me with pride or nothing (comes before the fall).

Obviously now the one thing I really want which I don't know will ever happen is get pregnant. (Go ahead, cry for me now.) Does that count? Nobody doesn't think it'll happen, not even medical professionals who are paid a lot of money to stare at women's hoo-hahs and know these things, but I feel sometimes like it will never happen, and how could it ever happen?, and etc. and etc. and insert dramatics HERE.

How many months are we into this thing? 15?

Good scrap!

But here's one thing I've learned about myself through all this that I never thought would happen to me and that nobody ever thought would happen to me either: I've decided I want lots of babies. Like, WAY more than one. More than one at a time, even! Twins? Sign me up! Triplets? Don't mind if I do! Once I finally get this party started I won't be taking those three years in between babies like I'd always planned. A year apart? Nine months apart? Bring it on! The more kids I can get in diapers at a time the better. Barefoot and pregnant? Only if I can wear a muumuu!

(But, you know, I have decided I am over it. For honest's sake.)

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-09-17T22:05:00.000-07:00

Do you listen to music when you run? If so, what are some of your favorite running tunes?

Love,
Hannah

A: Dear Hannah,

Lately I have been saving all of my stress brain cells for stressful thoughts regarding running. I'm trying to figure out when to run. I've already figured out where to run and how far to run but I just can't seem to unlock the true right time to run.

Ponder this along with me please: If I run in the morning, then I have to shower afterwards. Boo to showers! And morning runs are all uncoordinated and painful. Morning runs are frustrating. And then I have to showerrrrrr, did I say that? If I run in the afternoon then my day is split up into two parts: before the run, after the run. So, do I get dressed before the run? Do I shower before dinner or after dinner? Will my husband regret my messy ponytail when he comes in for a hello kiss? Will my odor interfere with the deliciousness that are my nightly dinners? In truth I want to run at night, at 8:00, but already it is dark by 7:15 and it's only going to get colder and soon running "at night" will mean running "at 3:30." You know? Running at night means running on the rickety treadmill of terror.

One thing I don't have to stress about anymore is what to listen to when I run.

I used to make intricate playlists to get me through my runs. Songs that start slow, songs that are peppy and energizing for the middle, songs that slow me down for the end. Songs that last exactly the 20 minutes it took me to round that stupid track four times. (Is that sad?)

But around the time I had that breakthrough and realized I could run two miles without wishing myself a corpse I also realized I prefer to run au naturale.

I like the squishy pounding of my sneakers on the road to be my rhythm. I like my breath to be my percussionist. I like to pretend in times of strife that the pounding and breathing are detached from me, that they belong to the cosmos, and that I am moving against my will and because the road beckons me. That is when my runs become spiritual. Can runs be spiritual? I've prayed about it and I think they can.

(I prayed and was told not to run in the mornings. Would I lie?)

When my lungs start to burn and I begin to feel that I must give up I direct my thoughts to my legs and let them carry the burden. (You can run with that metaphor if you'd like.)

(Run? Get it?)

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

Q: Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-09-16T23:38:00.000-07:00

What are your plans after you guys are done with school?

Isn't this your last year?

Do you have a certain place you would like to live?

Love,

Kristi Thompson

Where will you go after Moscow?

(Forgetting about that whole "current economic downturn and we'll go wherever we can get a job.")

If you had your choice, where would that job take you?

Love,

Kim Marx

A: Dear Kim, Kristi, everyone else who always asks me this, et al.,

I really do have something very silly to admit. Can you keep a secret?

I want to move back to Utah.

Ugh. I know. It's the weirdest thing to me too. But here! Hear me out, okay?

Okay, so.

It has always been said by those that know and love me that I am my father's daughter. I mean, there is the subject of our shared noses (let's not discuss). Then there's the penchant for idealistic dreaming and nostalgia. (Of course there is also the complete inability to control facial expressions, but whatever.) What I'm speaking of specifically here is our extreme homebodyishness.

My dad and me, we are homebodies to the max.

I've thought a lot about where our next steps will lead, and if I'm being honest here then I'm going to have to admit that I don't want any more adventures. I've had enough adventures! If I'm being honest here, well, when we leave law school (in eight and a half months!) I want to go home. I want to go where I have a connection to the place. I want to go somewhere permanent.

But, see?

My parent's home in Tualatin isn't my home so much as it's the house where my parents live. (A beautiful house!) I lived there for two years and then left for college, and anyway the home I go home to now looks nothing like the home I went home to then, thanks to renovations and new marble counters and the ever revolving paint scheme.

Nothing boils my bunions more than when people ask where we are from. The Holbs will answer proudly "Texas!" and I just stand there trying to act cute so no one will know that in fact I am homeless! An urchin! Usually I will say "Nowhere really" and then just change the subject. (I hate that question more than "What's your major?") Basically, if Obama said to all citizens of the United States, all King Herod style: Go Home To Be Counted And Taxed, you know, I don't know where I'd go!

I decided for once and for all to be able to answer that stupid old question. I thought about it, prayed about it, let the whole of my life flood me at once to see if any one place stuck out in my heart, and then I decided to hose all that mumbo jumbo and just find the answer in Science.

So I made this:

Sciency!

And guess what! I'm from Arizona!

So then I made a very complicated mathematical formula wherein you add up all the good things divided by the bad things multiplied by the amount of good Mexican Food available.

Turns out, I liked Utah best!

I know, right?

So, I'm calling like I see it. I want to move back to Utah. Forthwith and expediently, please sir. So, there.

In my defense I was sitting in the temple last week and I thought of Utah (one part in partic) and an overwhelming calm came over me and I decided right then that if we did move to Utah, well, something tells me it'd be a-ok by the big guy upstairs.

If indeed He cares about such things.

Which, something tells me, He does.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

You have questions?

The Rat has answers!

natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

DO IT

It's fun!

2009-09-15T10:08:00.000-07:00

Q: Dear Nat The Rat,

I am going to my husband's friend's wedding next month. I want to look hot but not, well, inappropriate. Care to help a lady out?

Love,
Your Wife

A: Dear Shannon!

Dearest, deary dear Shannon, love of my life!

I know what I'd wear, if I were going to a wedding. I know because I have been obsessed with this since last Friday.

I've been OBSESSED with finding a good vintage dress.

Do you know how hard it is to find such a thing?

Moscow has these incredible antiques shops, I mean, they're the kind of antiques places where you walk in and your eyes bug out of your head and you don't know where to look first! They're the kind of places where you can find antique milk glass for a song, dusty worn leather cowboy boots - always in my size! - for $20! Mid-century modern furniture and 1820s wash stands and bone china! For a song!

But NO vintage dresses!

Look, all I want is something silky and fitted that I can wear over tights with a snazzy belt! Is that really too much to ask?

But that's what I'd wear to your husband's friend's wedding next month.

Plus red lipstick.

Bonus points if you can swing that braid, I tell you what.

xoxo,

Nat The Rat

2009-09-14T19:47:00.001-07:00

Q: Dear Nat The Rat

So, your Peanut Butter and Honey sandwiches...

Do you mix the peanut butter with the honey before you spread it on the bread? Or do you put peanut butter on one piece and honey on the other and put it together and let the honey do that crystallizing thing it does?

Please tell me the right way (your way) to do it.

Love, Bree

A: Dear Bree,

Thank you for this most delicious and important question.

On Sundays The Holbs and I like to partake in what we call our "day of rest." This means we go to meetings all morning and then come home and then The Holbs puts on the strangest assortment of clothing he can assemble. Track pants from who knows when, a t-shirt older than our marriage, and his church socks. Then he puts on one of the Lord of the Rings movies, or else a Harry Potter. He leaves his church socks on all day (this bears repeating). On Sundays I go into the kitchen and pull out my favorite recipes and bake. And, on Sundays, I get to legally eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches, a substance for which, on weekdays, there is a restraining order out against me. (There should be, for reals.)

Peanut butter and honey sandwiches are the thing on this earth that most love me. I can eat them like a hero. I am a peanut butter and honey champion! I can pound down one after another after another. They are absolute heaven, they make me feel like I can do anything, be anything, accomplish anything!

They are my own, PERSONAL brand of heroin.

All during the week I pretend that they don't exist. I am good and I run and I watch my portions. But on Sundays I let myself eat as many as I want.

It is the only way I can stay sane.

(And then I have Rice Krispy Treats for dessert because HELLO, PERFECTION CALLING, ARE YOU READY TO EAT ME?)

YUM. Guilt.

Are you ready?

The Nat The Fat Rat

Proven Method

Of PBH

Preparation & Consumption

Ingredients

1. Two slices of bread. I try to go for a low calorie bread, because Heaven knows you've got to cut back somehow! (I like to refrigerate my bread because in New York the bread would turn moldy in two days and I've never properly gotten over the abject horror of hairy bread on a half-eaten sandwich)

2. Creamy Peanut Butter. This is by no means to be attempted with crunchy peanut butter, are you crazy!?

3. Honey. It has to come in a cute little bear or else it's not worth your time.

Method

1. Take a butter knife and scoop out a giant, enormous scoop of peanut butter. Liberally schmear it one slice of bread.

2. Turn your honey bear upside down over the peanut buttered slice and drizzle on top to the count of four.

3. Cheer this cheer:

PBH! PBH!

Fight! Fight! Fight!

4. Put the plain bread on top of the honey (which is on top of the peanut butter, which is on top of the bread). (You get it.)

4.5 DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT stir the honey into the peanut butter. The Holbs likes to stir his but this is ALL WRONG.

5. Give the sandwich a good smoosh. (Bonus points for a good side ooze.)

6. Pick it up and eat the crust fast before you get honey all over everywhere. (Honey is super hard to clean up!)

7. Count to ten slowly before eating the rest. This gives the honey and the bread time to get get to know each other better and make you some crystallization. The crystallization is the whole point. I cannot emphasize this enough.

8. Make another one, because you're only human.

xoxo

Nat The Rat

Have a question? The Rat has Answers.

Ask The Rat!

natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

2009-09-07T19:46:00.000-07:00

Q: Dear Nat The Rat,

How do you stay so dang thin? I covet your body and your hairless legs (dear goodness I need to find a razor).

My husband used to live in Oregon, near Astoria. You know -- where The Goonies was filmed. Please tell me you've seen it. Where did you pick those monstrous size blackberries?

If you have seen The Goonies, what are your favorite scenes? My favorites are The Truffle Shuffle and where the Fratelli's make Chunk stick his hand in the blender. Although I must say that the whole Sloth and "Hey You Guuuuuuyyyyysss!" part totally cracks me up every time.

Do you think I am a weirdo yet?

Who is Blake?

Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?

Yours Truly,
The Screwed Up Texan

What $15 worth of Cinnamon Bears looks like in one place.

A: Dear Screwy Texan Lady,

Well! Firstly and foremostly, I will tell you what I do not like about Goonies: the throw up story, and the obnoxious Korean kid. Would you believe it that the other night the Holbster was undressing and I asked him to do the Truffle Shuffle and he got offended?

(My favorite part is everyone's favorite part.)

Now, coveting your neighbors assets is soo ultra not cool with us religious types! ;) I must acknowledge, however, that my assets are quite covetous! ;) I can hardly blame you! ;) Look at all this! ;) (winksmile winksmile*)

The hairlessness is a byproduct of the Lovin family. We don't have much body hair, and we also don't grow all of our own adult teeth. We also tend to have bird bones, us Lovins, and also you should know that I am practically a midget. I am midget sized, only three inches away from governmental handicapped status. I am small. (Aren't I making out my family to be sooo ultra great and attractive?) But if never being able to reach the plates on the top shelf is really all that appealing to you, then I'll let you in on a little secret:

Cinnamon Bears.

Now, I love to be on a diet. When I'm not careful with what I eat, it's all I can think about. Dieting clears my conscience and lets me think about other things. It's backwards logic, but when I'm on a diet I obsess less about my body. I run two miles three to four times a week and I try to never eat after seven p.m. I eat tons of fruits and vegetables and watch my portions. I make myself stop eating before my food is finished to ask myself "still hungry?" and if I say "yes" then I "keep eating."

I make a bowl of oatmeal that is OUT OF THIS WORLD.

But here's the trick: when I am watching what I eat I have to have something sweet after EVERY meal. For a while it was mini marshmallows but that quickly got out of hand and right now the trick is Cinnamon Bears. Cinnamon Bears! Oh lovely Cinnamon Bears!

I have said this before and I will say it again until forever: Cinnamon Bears are the perfect food! They are squishy, they stick to my teeth, it takes forever to eat one, and they leave my mouth all cinnamony. They send a signal to my brain that I am done eating, and then I can go about my life not feeling snacky. (I hate feeling snacky!) Also, cinnamon is an appetite suppressant. (Or so they say.) Nearly nothing can suppressant my appetite, I have an appetite for life! I am always hungry! If I could I would eat all day long! Nothing makes me as happy as food. Sobering moment. Hence, I love to diet. Make sense?

(And on Sundays I make chocolate chip cookies and eat as many as I can. It sort of resets my brain.)

Blake is my kid brother.

(I promised him a post all about his lovely fourteen-year-old-ness, and I promise, Blake, it is coming, I swear.)

We got those blackberries on Ibach Road.

I do think you're a weirdo.

Carmen San Diego is definitely in Provo. Doesn't it seem like everybody is in Provo these days?

xoxo
Nat The Rat
P.S. I love you, and I love your blog. And thanks for being my cyber friend.

*The newest Holbs House Rule: When one of us is being jokey in a text message we have to show a winksmile, you know, ;), so that we know not to take it seriously and get upset, because we accidentally started World War Three the other night via text message when it turned out both of us were joking but neither of us knew it.

Is it sad that we need a rule like that?

2009-09-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

Q: Dear Nat The Rat,

Thank you thank you for giving me, a total stranger - loyal blog stalker, permission to Ask The Rat. Questions, boy do I have questions.

How many readers do you get in a day?

Have others stumbled across your blog and enjoy reading it as much as I do, or am I a totally random stranger in your otherwise family and close-friends blog world?

Why did you turn off comments?

What do you miss about New York?

What should I fix for dinner tonight?

Love,
Kim Marx

A: Dear Kim,

Well, Kim. I am so glad you asked me this. Your questions made me pause and consider: What is it I am doing here in this web log? And, Why do I continue? And, Who is my audience? And I am all about pausing, when followed by considering.

Here comes my long-winded answer. When I started blogging in New York it was because I was living in this crazy place and every day I saw these crazy things and they had to go somewhere. It just wasn't enough to look at The Holbs and go "I KNOW!" Chandler Bing style, all day every day.

When I started blogging it was back before people really had blogs the way they do now. Now you have a blog and it's like, Oh, so? Everyone has a blog. It's how you keep in touch with people. And you can have a blog for all kinds of things. Blogs are so commonplace now that I've entirely lost the embarrassment I used to feel when I would admit terribly sheepishly, I have a blog.

But it was different back then. And I would write about myself. Embarrassing! Nowadays you can do that, but back then it was a little out there, and people were all like, Who do you think you are? At least, that's how I felt. It was my mom's idea to blog but I never told her I started one, because that would have embarrassed me. When the topic of blogs came up in conversation The Holbs knew to shrug along with me and say "Yeah, I don't know what kind of person would have a blog, so lame!" He once almost let it slip to his sister on the phone that I had a blog and I very nearly killed him. So, no, my blog has never been for just family or close friends. My dad called me once after having read a post of mine and I almost DIED. I talk about my ovaries in here, people!

I blog so I can look back on things I did and go, Oh yeah! (I have very a poor long-term memory.) And, I guess I blog so I can be read. I want you to read what I have to say. For that reason I don't believe in "blog stalkers." You guys aren't stalkers, you're readers! You're friends! I don't want you to feel embarrassed about reading my blog any more than I want to feel embarrassed about writing it. I write because it gives me a chance to find a small bit of universal truth, or to reach out to people who I can help or who can help me. I try to write broadly about things we can all relate to. If you can't relate to it, then I want you to at least be entertained. This is NOT my journal. (My journal is filled with what I ate that day and various detailed to-do lists, hello lame.)

I write to give these little things I feel some significance. I am all about our lives having significance.

So to answer your questions, I have a good chunk of daily readers, and my readers are mostly ALL "stalkers."

(Do you know what would be the bees knees? If I could write like this for a living. How stupid would that be?)

I get a lot of emails from people telling me they love my blog and apologizing for stalking.

Stop apologizing!

(But keep emailing!)

I keep my comments off because it keeps me honest, and because low comment counts hurt my feelings. (Personal weakness.) Maybe I'll get over it.

(Just now on NPR they announced that dogs have more in common with 10-month-old babies than they do with wolves. They are acting all surprised. They have obviously not met my dogs.)

Asking me what I miss most about New York is like asking which of my kids is my favorite! But I don't have any kids. So let me tell you, what I miss most about living in New York is how it made me feel. New York made me feel like I could do anything.

And you should have vegetarian chili for dinner. That's what we're having.

Thanks for being a "stalker" or whatever. :)

xoxo
Nat The Rat

You've got Questions? I've got answers!
Ask The Rat: natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

2009-08-31T19:45:00.000-07:00

Q: Dear NatTheRat,

What are the best Nie-inspired red lipsticks you have found? I am committed to sporting red lips from now until forever. I have found some I like and some I like not so much.

Love, Amy M.

A: Dearest Amy M.,

(Love your recipes, by the by.)

I am so glad you asked me this.

And I must commend you for your dedication to the red lips, because it is true, a lip so daring requires you to be steadfast and true until you feel comfortable in it. And it can take a while. You will get a mess of very confusing compliments when you first start wearing it, but, you know, wear it anyway. It's good for the soul.

But I am so glad you asked me this because on Sunday I was asked to give the closing prayer (the Benediction, if you will).

Well, it wasn't so much that I was asked to give the closing prayer but that they asked The Holbs to give the opening prayer.

And I was, as usual, running five seconds late.

This is not an exaggeration, I was actually, literally five seconds late. The Bishop was halfway through the "co" in "Welcome" and I was scooting in the back door, and then as I was finding my husband the Bishop announced that "Brother The Holbs will be giving the opening prayer," and as I took my seat next to my churchy stud I realized that that probably meant that I'd have to give the closing prayer, too. You know, the spouse clause. So.

So, no, nobody asked me. But I was doing it anyway.

And then for the next hour I jittered and skittered, tried to pay attention so I would know what to say in my prayer so as to let the whole ward that I was a good sister who listens in church, and then I prayed hard, for a solid hour. I prayed about knowing what to pray about.

(I think being asked to give the opening or closing prayer in church is like having arrived at adulthood. I had never been asked to do this before, and suddenly I felt all this responsibility! It was ghastly.)

The family who was originally called to give talks that day had left town suddenly due to a death in the family, and so Sacrament meeting was a patchy rendition of Missionary Mom testimonies and a last minute call to the Seminary teacher to come up and tell her favorite Book of Mormon stories. I would rather gain 15 pounds than go back to early morning seminary, except halfway through her talk I realized that Seminary with Sister Richards might actually be the most amazing thing ever. Her talk had the whole room blurring around me as I simultaneously felt the calming effect of the Spirit and the passion to get back to Second Nephi and power through to the end. (I always lose steam in Second Nephi, and I know you do too, it is practically the human condition or whatever.)

Suddenly her talk was over and we were rounding the last phrase of the last chorus of I Know That My Redeemer Lives and I knew it was time to stand up and walk to the pulpit. So I did. Me, my four-inch gladiator strappy wedges, my fluffly tiered black polkadot skirt, and my big fat red lipstick mouth. For all the ward to see. It was practically a red lipstick coming out party. I strutted/wobbled/speed-walked down that aisle like it was a nervous catwalk. And I thought, shoot, I hope my clown-like appearance doesn't distract from the Spirit, and I wished I had shown up in a pioneer dress with a benign floral print with a sweet, nice, reverent pink lip instead. Too late now!

I got up and shut my eyes and then it was all over. The amens echoed, and I made my way down the stairs and was confronted by a man in the ward who wished to tell me that I looked like a flamenco dancer. I thanked the kind man, and, having no idea what else to do, swished my skirt at him a little.

In second hour I was stopped by a Relief Society Lady who wished to inquire about my summer and also where did you get that lipstick?

In third hour I was cornered by a gaggle of Beehives who wished to inform me that I should wear that color lipstick every day for the rest of my life, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, and that they were pretty sure that life could not go on without it, oh my gosh.

On my way out the door after a successful lesson on standing in holy places I was stopped separately by three sisters wanting to know the exact make and model of my mouth.

At dinner at the Cole's house the Gordon's daughter Elizabeth pointed at me shyly and whispered to her mom. "She wanted me to tell you that you have scarlet lips, like a princess," Jenny told me later.

So to answer your question, dearest Amy, fairest in the land, the very best red lipstick I have found and which I have been wearing to grand effect is made by MAC and is called Ruby Woo. It is very matte and very powdery, so be very careful, because where you put it, it stays.

I also have another red, a less orange and more deep blue red, which is made by Apt 5 Cosmetics (sold at Duane Reade). I bought it on a whim while I was living in New York City and after trying it on once, I panicked and hid it deep in the bowels of my make up bag. I resurrected it this summer and wore it as a warm-up to the more permanent and shocking Ruby Woo.

I wonder what shade Nie prefers?

Steph! What is your preferred red lip?

I say buy a few shades and try them out. See what works and what makes you feel like a cheap hooker. But whatever you do, you must wear it out at least five times before you give up.

And when you feel like you are faltering in your red lips and like you are a sham, ask yourself this: What would Nie do?

Love, The Rat

Huge thanks for the overwhelming response to Ask The Rat! Keep the emails coming, I will keep the answers coming! (I'm dying for a really good etiquette question so I can use my senseless Emily Post/Dr. Laura dazzle on you!)

natalielovin{at}gmail{dot}com

Dear Nat The Rat,

2009-08-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

I have this really stupid but probably really awesome idea.

You have questions. About me, maybe. About life's meaning, perhaps? About who will win the Superbowl this year, I'm sure, and about whether there will be an early Spring, and also probably about where you should send your first born to college?

I have answers!

(And where I don't have answers I have really awesome and probably entertaining opinions!)

Send me your questions! Your hardest, toughest questions. I'm nicer than Dr. Laura and way cuter than Dear Abby and I happen to know a heck of a lot of stuff about things (especially things related to moi, mi subjecto favoritoso), and when I don't know something I'm really good at making up stuff.

Go on, Ask the Rat.

The Rat will Answer.

natalielovin@gmail.com

DO IT.