Saucy Trollop

Exercise in futility

2010-11-07T17:19:00.003-05:00

About 3 years ago (or maybe 2.5, but I'm not going to quibble over that .5 of year) I began to experience break outs. Being in my late 20's seemed like an odd time to be going through such a spike in such activity since I'd left puberty long behind over a decade ago. (sidebar: damn, I'm old).

But nonetheless there I was with skin like I'd never had before, even when I was a teenager I never experienced things like it. Beyond just the regular annoying breakouts was the painful, unsightly cystic acne. Seriously, those wankers hurt. They did however reduce in number when I cut milk from my diet. It had been a fairly new addition to my diet since I never particular cared for milk but then I discovered the joy of Snowville Creamery. They do have amazing milk, but I gladly gave it up if it meant I didn't feel like I had a series of large tumor-like things on my face.

They didn't clear up entirely, and were still annoyingly persistent. After waiting 8 months to meet with the only dermatologist in Athens they gave me a prescription for some face cream that would have ended up costing me almost $550 a month! $550! WTF. Seriously.

But it did clear me up just in time for my brother's wedding. I absolutely didn't spend that $550, but instead squeezed every last drop out of the samples they had given me- just in time for me to be unemployed.

You know what is coming next, right? Face breakdown. It was crap, the cystic acne came back in full force, plus the little multitude of red blots all over my face that just wouldn't go away. I felt like a face/skin failure.

I tried everything: hydrogen peroxide, unrefined honey, face masks, different face washes, sulfur masks, ClariSonic*, and on and on.

Do you know what did work for a while this summer? Pool water. Every bloody time I would spend the day in the pool my skin would clear up and be almost nice again. It got to the point that I was carrying around water bottles full of pool water and splashing it on my face at least twice a day in an effort to keep things under control.

Then in a fit of panic/upset one night I ordered the acne.org face kit. Because I'd already thrown a bunch of money at it why not throw some more. And really, the kit wasn't that expensive, like $35ish dollars? Honestly I wasn't expecting much, and the first week+ was rough. My skin dried waaaay out and was flaking like crazy, I seriously looked like I had dandruff on my face if I wasn't careful and applying enough moisturizer.

But soon, I noticed it getting so much better. SO MUCH BETTER.

Now, I will admit I stopped using the face lotion included in the kit. My skin is a delicate flower when it comes to lotions (lots of them burn the heck out of me) which is exactly what happened with the kit lotion. The face wash though seems very gentle and mild, almost like Cetaphyl.

So here is the part of the post where I admit I feel like so many of my problems could have been avoided if I hadn't stopped doing one thing that I always used to do. From the time I was 14 I had a face care routine that included putting Neutrogena On The Spot Acne Treatment all over my face, at least once a day. Guess what the active ingredient in that is: Benzoyl Peroxide.

And the active ingredient in this new face treatment: Benzoyl Peroxide.

Yes, I'm actively kicking myself over and over. Apparently my skin loves this stuff and it is the only thing that makes it sit down and shut up.

Thus the last 3 years have been somewhat an exercise in futility. I'm entirely sure that my crazy hormones played a part as did my increased milk consumption but really, I suspect so much of it could have been avoided if I hadn't stopped using the Neutrogena stuff.

I still get some breakouts, but things have improved and I'm feeling so much better about it all. I can't get over how ridiculously stressed my skin would make me- which in retrospect didn't help matters much. Logically I know my skin was never truly absolutely horrible, I had the dermatologist tell me as much but then again those cystic acne bastards really are just that: painful bastards that swell and left me feeling disfigured.

Benzoyl Peroxide + Me = true love forever.

*Seriously the Clarisonic is an awesome tool and I love it so. It was a pricey investment but so worth it.

Boozed up cherries

2010-10-02T22:52:00.005-04:00

From here on out I'm not going to comment on my inability to write regularly. I know with my schedule right now it's probably just not going to be possible. I'm out of the house by 9am and I'm never home before 9:30 a least 3 nights a week, by Thursday I all I want to do is sit like a lump on the couch. And often that is exactly what I do, my brain has turned to mush and making dinner seems impossible. Which is why last week I tore into an entire bag of Archer Farms Blue Corn Tortilla Chips and a whole jar of salsa. That was it, nothing else for dinner.

It seems planning right now is essential to my life, if I don't think ahead and plan meals it means I'm either forgetting to eat until I realize I've got the full on low-blood sugar shakes and am light headed or I'm having to compromise and eat something quick and not so good for my waistline. And lets be honest, I need those extra calories for beer and custard consumption- wasting them on shitty convenience food is a crime against Wisconsin's many culinary delights.

This week I'm trying a new plan- on Sunday (tomorrow) I'll be making a big casserole from the most recent Eating Well and then portioning it out for meals during the week. Perhaps even freezing some of it so I can pull it out for those weeks when I fail at life. I also need to make a couple of really awesome soups and freeze those, but that will have to be next weekend as I've totally run out of time this weekend.

This summer while I was staying at my parents I halved some cherries and made a simple syrup and threw in some booze (two jars were rum another two were vanilla vodka). I sort of winged the recipe after pursuing some online, then I canned them up and passed out some as gifts for helping me move and such. I did keep one jar for myself and sweet baby am I glad I did. These little vanilla vodka cherry bombs are amazing, I tried them a couple of different ways- one with just seltzer water. Sort of very grown up cherry soda, and while it was good I really thought that they were the best of best in Coke. Cherry Vanilla Vodka Coke. Hello, you are delicious.

I know cherries aren't really in season but I feel I should share anyways:

Boozed Up Cherries

- 2 lbs of pitted and halved cherries
- 2 cups of sugar
- 2 cups of water
- bottle of vanilla vodka
- canning jars, rings, lids (sterilized)

Bring the water and sugar up to boil on the stove top and once hot and the sugar is dissolved turn off (basic simple syrup). Fill the jars with the halved cherries about 3/4 the way full, fill 1/3 of the way with simple syrup, fill the rest of the 2/3 with vanilla vodka.

Then follow standard canning procedures. Wipe down the edges of the jars, place lids and rings and tighten. Then place in a boiling water bath and process for 7-9 minutes. Remove from hot water and allow to cool. Check to make sure they've "popped" and sealed correctly or re-process them.

Again, please use proper techniques when canning- which are easily look-up-able online.

Then placed these lovely jeweled babies on the shelf and crack them open and make up a boozy cocktail after a very long week. When you sigh in happiness you'll know why these are becoming a regular in my canning rotation.

Wisconsite at last.

2010-08-31T22:34:00.005-04:00

So here it is, three months and nary a peep from me. I've become the most craptastic blogger in all the land.

One would think that an entire summer of fun would provide me with endless opportunities to post about whatever fun thing I was doing but instead I failed to write at all. Photos, yes- there are tons and tons of evidence of me having fun. Riding rollercoasters, driving a boat (look at me overcoming that fear of boats and water), running a 5 mile race, visiting my sister in law in alabama/georgia, a fun visit back to Athens and on and on.

I have to admit I've started to feel sketchy about posting my photos here because of my intended future profession. I'm considering purging my old ones, just in case any of my students stumble across these posts and suddenly are like "Oh holy crap, look at this post Mrs. Skeezix* wrote about being totally freaking drunk 4 years ago! WHOA!" and then poof! I'm an unemployed teacher.

That is the crap thing, I love the photos (uh, clearly I'm a photographer). They convey the fun in a way that words sometimes can't. I'm also epically lazy and photos are an easy way to bulk up a lame or boring entry. I have some time to get make a decision.

But that means that I've actually started grad school! Hurrah! It's a week and half into classes and I'm enjoying being back in the swing of things. Class is really interesting and possibly a little overwhelming at times when I think about all the stuff I'll actually have to do once I get into a classroom.

Oh Milwaukee though, I'm loving it so. There is an excellent little tiki bar around the corner from my apartment (and I mean around the corner), I've ended up there almost every weekend since I moved into town. It's cute and hip and the drinks are crazy strong.

I've hit a couple of the breweries in town and sampled some delicious Wisconsin beer plus had my very first cheese curds (oh love). There are still plenty of breweries to hit up and I can't wait to get rolling. I've had a couple of visitors already, a friend who moved to Wisconsin came for a visit and then a friend from Athens who was in town on business. Really! It felt like a little piece of Athens-home here in my new place.

Keep your fingers crossed for me though, I need to find a job and it's been slow going. Which of course is stressing me out more than a touch, I'm paranoid because I've been having to spend money on school supplies and feel like I'm burning through my reserves faster than I planned.

*I realized after I posted this I made myself a "Mrs." I promise I did not have some quickie wedding in all the fun things I did this summer. I'm not sure why I bloody wrote that but it's funny and thus I'm leaving it.

Learning to relax again

2010-06-01T22:58:00.000-04:00

So during my first full day of unemployment I ran, biked, laid out in the sun, knitted while listening to NPR (outside), read some and then took another bike ride and organized some of my knitting needles (whoa boy, organizing knitting needles? That is exciting stuff right there- isn't it?)

Seriously.

Kind of sounds awesome, doesn't it? Well, perhaps not the part about organizing knitting needles.

It was, but honestly- I've been running full tilt for the last 2 months that all this time off I'm not entirely sure how to handle it anymore. For example, two weeks ago I was in Florida for 4 days for work, home for one, drove to Cleveland and back in less than 24 hours, packed a bunch boxes, went to my going away party, and had a house guest. All those things in 7 days.

Now I know I should be exhausted, and I am a bit...but I had Sunday and Monday of this week to do very little and so by today I was just ready to bust on out and do stuff.

Perhaps I should recap moving? Eh, it was moving- same as it ever is...too much crap and by 6pm that night I was just throwing shit away. Every single hanger I owned, a whole bottle of bleach, random cake boards I'd never used, old duplicate photos, a storage bin I'd had since I was 18, etc. There just wasn't room for them and they are all things easily replaced. My storage until was packed to the ceiling, my dad's car was filled with my stuff and so was my car. WHY do I have so much fucking shit? WHY?

I'm hoping to get every penny of my deposit back, and my mom was a champ at the cleaning of the apartment and it looked great. I'll need every penny to fund my unemployed summer of laziness plus a deposit on an apartment in Milwaukee and then paying the rent and utilities until I get on feet. Oh and money to buy food would be nice.

I'm not so secretly hoping that with all this free time I'll really get in some good bike rides and running, by the time the summer is over I'll have really amazing calves and thigh muscles. Then of course I'll have to figure out how to deal with the slow return of my regular body once I lose a majority of my free time due to a job and classes in the fall.

But I will know that for one glorious summer when I was 30 my calves were at their most athletically awesomest.

Changes are coming like a freight train

2010-05-03T19:56:00.002-04:00

How does it happen that I've failed to write for so long? I can't explain it, I've started to write things countless time and then something stops me dead in my tracks (ooh, look at that shiny object over there...wanders away from the computer.)

But here I am again, writing another entry- hopefully to completion.

There is news in the land of the Saucy Trollop. Big news. I handed in my resignation at work and my last day will be May 28th.

Oh. My. God.

I'm heading back to school in the fall to get my teaching license and my masters. It's absolutely terrifying. And exciting. And then terrifying again.

The reason I'm leaving so soon is because my lease on my apartment is up on June 1st, and my new school is in Milwaukee. So for the time being I'll be tossing my stuff in storage for part of the summer and then staying with my parents in Cleveland and visiting my brother in Alabama too. I'm aiming for a August 1st arrival date in Milwaukee, which gives me three weeks before school starts to get settled in and find a damn job. I need to work, my student loans won't cover my living expenses and my classes are built in such a way that I don't have to be in class all day. Plus living in a cardboard box under a bridge would be fucking hard in the middle of winter which would be the result of me not finding a job.

This whole thing is a good thing, I've been needing a change for a while and I know in my heart it is the right move but that doesn't mean that without the slightest bit of provication that I don't burst into tears. Lots and lots of tears. I go in fits and starts, I'll be fine for a while and then all of the sudden it will hit me that I'm leaving this place I've called home for so very long. It's been 6.5 years that I've lived here as a non-college adult and then another 4 for undergrad so almost 11 years in total. My friends here are awesome, the community is amazing. It's impossibly hard to say goodbye to it all.

My poor, long suffering sister has had to bear the brunt of my crying. That woman deserves a bloody medal.

I've mentioned before when I get stressed my stomach goes haywire, I lose my appetite- sometimes I throw up. It is like it turns into a Celtic knot of discontent. I am fairly sure I thoroughly worried my parents this weekend because the sum total of my food that I consumed in their presence wouldn't keep a tit mouse alive (yes, I just said tit mouse- because I'm 13 and it's funny). For those who know me this is absolutely not my usual modus operandi. I love food. I love to eat. Granted earlier in the week I was eating everything that wasn't nailed down (thanks PMS), but on Thursday a switch flipped and poof! angry gut and no appetite.

Which is a pisser because my parents took me out to eat a totally awesome restaurant in Cleveland and I had maybe 5 bites of my amazingly delicious food. Do you live in Cleveland? Please go to Lopez on Lee and eat some of their Iron Chef Guacamole. It is absolutely to die for.

Christ the way this post is going everyone is going to have the impression that I'm not really excited about this move. But I am, I swear. Right now it's just the stress is foremost in my mind and thus taking up 90% of my computing power.

Milwaukee is awesome, the beer. The cheese. The people. A whole new world is waiting for me, and that is an amazing thing.

Just breathe.

WTF Potluck

2010-02-26T19:20:00.003-05:00

I know everyone is desperate to know what I decided to do about my cell phone...I went with Verizon and the Droid Eris. So far so good, a few hiccups with it's fancy-ass-ness. But I've successfully sent texts, photos and made calls. I have also managed to be on the phone with my sister, put her on hold, call my mother, hang up on her, call her back, hang up again and then call my friend, hanging up on her- and finally hanging up on my sister (who was on hold). All in the span of 30 or seconds. It was spectacular.

Last weekend I spent the snow behind for a meet up of internet nerd friends. We've all been posting online in some iteration of our message board for damn near 10 years (some less than that- fresh meat and all that jazz). It was probably the best time I've had in years, so much laughter and hilariousness. It's mind boggling that we've all shared so much over the years (weddings, divorces, babies, deaths, moves, graduations, etc) and not all of us have met. I honestly think my abs may have given up by Sunday because of all the laughter.

One the best parts of the weekend was our amazing WTF Potluck. Over the years we've discussed various regional dishes- the sorts of things one finds in church cookbooks. Things that sound dubious in nature but actually are extremely tasty. In order to win over the doubters it was time to make those dishes and share them with the group. Top of the WTF list was the 7 Layer Salad. In case you are unaware it is a salad of lettuce (iceburg only), cauliflower (or broccoli), peas, cheese, bacon, tomatoes, and mayonnaise. It sounds horrifying but it is great- the mayo layer is provides the salad dressing. I promise it is delicious.

Other contributions include Grilled Stickies from State College, Pa. Which is a breakfast cake/bread that you butter and heat in a pan. It is warm, cinnamony goodness. A classic taco dip, cream cheese covered in chili sauce, beer cheese dip that was amazing. It actually tasted like beer and cheese, I feel most dips of this nature are lacking in the actual beer flavor. Also there was a velveta corn macaroni casserole and the ever classic Hanky Panks. Cheesy beef and sausage on rye toasts, they aren't pretty but they are tasty. And even good cold.

Some other highlights of the weekend included pictionary that went slightly pervy and got very loud, laying in bed giggling like a bunch of school girls over a hilarious joke- laughing so hard the bed was shaking, our walk through the park where we basically looked like a gang of ladies, convincing our host to take us to Bojangles for breakfast, a deep and involved discussion of what a Hurdy Gurdie is, and a hilarious diatribe about solar sun panels and Rascal wheelchairs.

I'm sure some of the above things will make very little sense but I still bust up laughing every time I think about my friend pointing at me and saying "YOU! You will make canned tomatoes!" when discussing her plan if the U.S. government should fall and we are thrown into chaos.

I could really go for a Grilled Stickie right now.

1, 2, 3, 4...

2010-01-17T15:03:00.002-05:00

Somehow this year I sort of managed to avoid the New Years Blues. Maybe I got a little sad but it's been much better than it has in years past. I'm attributing it to having done so much in the last year, checking things off my to-do list.

I'm not a fan of resolutions, because most don't seem to stick. But to-do lists seem different. So far I've gotten a couple of them already taken care of, granted they are simple easy things but totally worth it.

1. Call and cancel HBO and see if there is a special running to lower my bill.

Done. I used to watch HBO all the damn time, then I got a DVR and started watching a ton of regular tv on it and never used it anymore. Plus True Blood isn't going to be back on until June. With the special I qualified for I've knocked almost $40 off my bill. HELL YEAH!

2. Reduce my Netflix plan

Done. Again the DVR is to blame for this, I just haven't been watching as many movies. At the moment I'm only saving $4, but I might drop down to 1 disc a time.

3. Figure out what to do about my damn cell phone.

Partially. I spend about 4-5 hours yesterday looking at plans and contemplating options. My brain hurts. A lot. I'm thinking of upgrading to a smartphone but holy jesus, plans are expensive. Do I really need it? Probably. Then again, maybe not? I'm really hoping to lower my bills but this is one area where it seems like almost any change I make is going to make it go up. Which annoys me and my cold, penny pinching heart.

The issue is that my family, whom I talk to the most, is on Verizon which gives me opportunity to call them without using my minutes. Bad thing about them is their free calling doesn't start until 9pm, so I'd be limited in my calling to everyone else.

ATT is an option since you can add earlier nights and weekends for $9 (starting at 8pm instead of 9pm). Plus you get the pretty iPhone. The con is again, my family is on another network.

Both plans are about the same cost, and I can't fucking make up my mind. I made a spread sheet and I still can't decide.

Part of the reason I'm leaving my current carrier, Sprint, is because they sent me a notification that from here on out I'd be charged an extra $5 a month for having an Account Spending Limit. Which means that should I accidentally go over my minutes or texts I'd could only run up a bill to $200 before they would cut my phone off. This has never happened but I like the added protection and have had it since I became a customer with them 10! years ago. They'll remove the fee from my account if I give them access to automatically withdraw from my bank account. Which is a big, fucking hell no. I pay my bill every month, but I know that giving someone access to your account is a huge mistake and there are horror stories of people's accounts being wiped out when the company accidentally charges your account multiple times in a month. Which has overdrawn people's accounts and taken all their money, then it's a fight to get it back.

There is no administrative cost associated with this, it's all computerized and they've never charged for it before so it pisses me off. It doesn't help that their coverage in my area can be sketchy and their options for cells phone upgrades is limited to 5 options and all of them suck.

Holy hell, did I just write a freaking Trieste on cell phones? Sorry, but I did. Suggestions or flat out telling me who to chose would be appreciated as I am uncharacteristically frozen with indecision.

Over Easy

2009-12-16T18:55:00.002-05:00

For the last 7+ months I've been cultivating a serious addiction to eggs. I want to put them on everything, salads, potatoes, rice, tomatoes, curry and tonight- cabbage. I sauteed up some cabbage, turkey bacon and then topped the whole lot with a lovely fried egg. Then devoured the whole damn thing. It was delicious and easy.

I think the best eggs come from one particular booth at the farmers market but they rarely come in the winter months so I must be content with eggs from other vendors. Which I should note are still delicious but not the orange yolk colored, rich ones from Crowing Rooster farm. Oh, I dream of those eggs.

Sunday mornings are my favorite time, I cook up some hash browns, fry up a couple of eggs and then douse it all in Tabasco. Then I die and go to heaven. Really. It's probably my favorite meal of the whole week, which is why it's spilling over into my week night routine.

Last week I had little interest in dinner one night so I took an avocado, diced it and topped it with a fried egg and hot sauce. Really, I think I could put an egg on just about any savory food and be happy. I highly recommend curry with an egg on top, I believe it was a potato and chickpea curry.

There, I've now nattered on about eggs for probably entire too long and you are probably wondering if I've got sky high cholesterol (I don't) or some weird egg-centric obsession (likely).

All over the place.

2009-12-02T18:59:00.007-05:00

Last night I wrote this whole post that was basically me whining about having a cold and how shitty it is. But that is mind numbingly boring and crappy so I didn't post it. Yet, here I am writing about it- what can I say I'm a fickle girl on occasion.

I keep forgetting that I need fix my damn banner, I updated my website and thus it completely wiped it out. No cupcake at the top is making me a bit sad.

At about 10pm the night before thanksgiving my sister's dog ate 2.5 months worth of my medicine and my brother-in-law had to rush Jackson to the vet to have his stomach emptied and be doped up. He came home looking totally stoned, small, tiny, white dog is hilarious. I'm glad he's ok because otherwise it would be "Happy Thanksgiving, I killed your dog. On accident." and then my sister's kids would have cried all day and I'd no longer be the best auntie.

I carved the Thanksgiving turkey this year, this makes me very proud. I carved the hell out of it.

Do you have whiplash yet? This is a quickfire version of the Saucy Trollop.

I've got a week and half left until I turn 30.

I could have just copied and pasted the last thing I wrote which was my long rambly bit about the cooking club I just hosted. But that feels like cheating since it's somewhere else.

I need to pick up another bottle of bourbon. So far I've had Knob Creek, Wood Bridge, Makers Mark, Jim Beam, and perhaps one other kind. I sort of want to buy the fancy dancy bottle of Blanton's, which I've had once and remember it being fantastic. Any suggestions?

T-minus 30 days till 30

2009-11-10T19:31:00.003-05:00

Yes, in 30 days I'll be 30. I'm not freaking out, really- it's good. Mostly surreal, I feel like at any moment I'll wake up in be back laying in my dorm room and my freshman roommate will be across the way. We'll be watching a rerun of MTV's TRL, you know back when it was cool, then we'll saunter over to Nelson common and have some lunch.

But the reality is those days are far behind me, I'm a real live adult. I've felt an elemental shift in the way I do things, no longer am I going to wait around. If the first 30 years have gone by in the blink of eye I can't imagine time will slow to a crawl for the next 30.

Frustration

2009-11-01T21:51:00.003-05:00

I'm feeling the need to hit the gym, RIGHT NOW. I want to work out some crazy mental thoughts rattling around in my brain and some general anger. But of course it's late and my gym closes at 5pm on Sundays, which is a shame considering the onset of my black mood didn't hit until about 7:30pm.

I'm wishing away my sleep so that it will sooner be 5:30am and I can get to a cardio machine. Slightly pathetic but I'm hoping I'll feel better after wards.

Down the rabbit hole

2009-10-29T23:17:00.000-04:00

I can now check a whole 'nother round of things off my to-do list: take a last minute long weekend to see a man, eat some cheesecurds, drink out of a boot. Yes, I'm living my life like a character from The Bucket List. At some point this last year I realized, what the fuck am I waiting for? Hence the jumping out of a plane, trip to England and Ireland and now an impromptu visit to see a guy I used to date. He knew I was coming, it was like a sneak attack or stalking- I promise.

It has always sounded deliciously romantic and straight out of the movies to make last minute plans and jump on a plane to go see someone. It was exciting and fun, and as a bonus I only had 3! days to worry about whether or not I looked cute enough or if my ass has grown since the last time I saw him (it has) and he'll be horrified (if it did he didn't act like it).

As a friend pointed out this was like an Alice in Wonderland trip, everything seemed to have an oversized theme to it. First there was the oversized chair we sat in at Lake Mendota Terrace, the giant ostrich egg I bought at the farmers market (because who could pass a thing like that up? Not I.) to the enormous boot of beer at The Essen House. Apparently everything is bigger in Wisconsin, who knew?

To back things up a bit, I had to get up ridiculously early and so by about 6:45am I was sitting in the Chicago airport getting some breakfast- I asked for a cup of tea and shot of whiskey, a classic hot toddy. The waiter looked completely horrified, like i had just told him I like to hang puppy dogs by their tails. First off I had a scratchy throat from breathing dry airplane air and I thought a drink my calm my fluttering stomach. So the waiter haughtily informs me that it is entirely too early for him to serve me alcohol and walks off. Whatever dude, fuck you.

Now when I get to Milwaukee I had about an hour to kill so I try again, this time I start chatting with the bartender and relay my story of getting shot down in Chicago. She pats my hand and says "Honey, this is Wisconsin, we love to drink." as she is serving up my bourbon on the rocks. Guess what, I didn't get tipsy it just slowed down my nervous mind and from then on out I was golden.

The nerves were completely unfounded because even with the two years since we'd seen each other last it was just fine. I think he was doing his damnest to prove to me that Madison was the awesomest since he's been touting in emails since he moved there. I have to say he's a damn fine tour guide (in addition to being damn fine), I got to see both terraces (Madison is flanked by to big lakes), the capitol building, the farmers market, 2 breweries, an apple farm and then other random assorted sites. I drank a ridiculous amount of beer, ate cheese curds, part of an ostrich egg, a burger that had bacon, beef AND and bratwurst on a pretzel bun and watched my beloved Browns get their asses kicked by Green Bay. Ok, so that last part wasn't awesome, but I'm a Cleveland fan- disappointment runs in our blood.

It is possible that I fell a little bit in love with Madison*.

Really, how could I not?

*Ok, I realize that I said the exact same thing about Ireland- but Ireland and I are full blown in love, Madison and I need to get to know each other a little better before proper declarations are made.

Ireland

2009-10-13T20:31:00.005-04:00

I came thisclose to never leaving Ireland. I can't explain it, I felt at home there. Perhaps it was the pint after pint of beer befuddling my brain or the general misty haze that comes with vacation but it's the truth, I love Ireland. WE ARE IN LOVE.

And really, my hair looked fucking fantastic the entire time I was there. That alone is reason enough for me to move there.

Tom, Sara and I had wandered around Kinsale all morning and by early afternoon they were ready for a nap. Me, I wanted to wander some more so I did. First I went up the hill towards a nunnery and then I turned left. Somehow I ended up sort of out in the countryside next to an old Irish guy walking his dog, he turned to me and said something. What he said is entirely a mystery because it's possible was speaking Gaelic, because even after I ask him to repeat himself I still couldn't understand him. So I said "Yeah, that was quite a steep hill" and then booked it because he very well may have been saying something about the weather and wondering why this strange American girl is babbling about a hill.
Eventually I headed back into town, partially because I was pissed that some stupid McMansion sort of development had put up giant 12 foot fences and it was blocking my view of the Irish countryside. WTF?

One night after dinner Tom and I headed into a pub (seriously, the drinking that went on was ridiculous). Sara was too tired to come with so she went back to the B&B while Tom and I went to listen to some Irish music. It was the fantastically little cozy place with locals and tourists alike, we grabbed a couple of pints and sat down to listen. The guy singing and playing guitar was fantastic, he sang a couple of songs and then invited us to all sing along to Mary Mack. We were only a quarter of the way into our pints and the guy was singing a pretty (but slightly cheesy) love song when Tom leaned over to me and said "I think I need to leave now." Confused I asked why and he said "Things are rumbling in a way that isn't good". Both of us grabbed our pints and tried to down as much of them as we could- because the damn things were 4+ Euros a piece.

As we were hightailing it across the town square Tom's gut let out this unearthly growl. It was so loud and sort of echoed off the buildings around us, which only caused me to bust into laughter. Poor Tom ended up spending a good portion of the night in the bathroom.

The following morning he seemed quite recovered and we all headed off to the ancient fort outside of town, taking the low road. Completely forgetting that poor Sara had foot surgery in July and thus by the time we got to the fort her poor feet were tuckered out. Tom and I ran around the inside of the fort, which was massive, and then we boarded the little road train thing to take us back into town. Once in town we drank some more (shocking), ate some lunch and then DRANK SOME MORE. In our defense it was Arthur's Day- the 250th founding of Guinness so drinking in Ireland was an absolute.

I took a seriously insane amount of photos- a few are here, the rest can be found on my flickr page- since I don't want to endlessly bore you with 30 different shots of Kinsale harbor.

Celtic Cross in a super old church:

Kinsale Harbor:

Getting there is half the battle

2009-09-11T19:12:00.004-04:00

Wednesday afternoon I board a plane and leave for Britain and Ireland. This is possibly my first real true vacation. Sure I've had days off here and there, mostly spent with family. Short little trips to various locals but never a long, extended trip at a delicious location.

Needless to say I am very excited. So excited it has practically rendered me mute. It's like all the things I want to say about it get clogged up in my throat and all come out as "Aaaaeeeeee!!!!!!"

I've long been an Anglophile so this trip is more than a dream come true it's epic. I'll be staying with some friends in Liverpool and probably taking little day trips all over. I'm a touch concerned since the friends who've graciously put me up are quite the drinkers and as such I'm afraid I'll be known as the yankee plonker who can't hold her drink. I suspect there will be many a drunken shenanagans.

Then mid-week we'll be taking a trip to Ireland. IRELAND.

My personal goal is to meet a cute red-headed fisherman and somehow seduce him. Eventually we'll settle into a little thatched cottage and I'll drink tea (or whiskey) and knit while our adorable redheaded children sit by the peat fire.

Entirely within the realm of reason, no?

The most awesome wedding & bacon cupcakes

2009-08-31T20:22:00.003-04:00

All weddings are lovely and nice on some level, but I think it's the rare wedding that is so ass kickingly awesome that words completely fail you (unless those words are "awesome", "the best" or "ass kickingly" or any such combination of those terms to which the speaker feels so inclined). This past weekend two of my friends got married and their wedding was nothing short of spectacular. It was the sort of wedding were you got that perfect crystallization of a couple, it was just so them. And they are awesome.

Ok, I know I need to stop saying that.

It was a camping wedding or could be if one was so inclined. Really, I'm not much of camper being that the last time I really dealt without indoor plumbing and went without a real bed was sometime in the late 90's, and I'm pretty sure that was a ploy to go out and drink underage away from the prying eyes of parents.

But a tent and air mattress are an easy thing to borrow and I'm sure glad I packed the extra comforters because damn, it got cold on Saturday night. I did find myself awake at 4:30am cursing the lack of shower and that I had to get up with raging headache and my lantern to find my way to my car and subsequently my purse to find the sweet release of Exedrine Migraine. Also pee.

Almost everyone had volunteered to help in some way. Before the wedding tons of people gathered in the pavilion to decorate it with chinese lanterns and twinkle lights, to set out flowers, decorate the brown paper covering the tables, arrange the cupcakes. It was the most lovely sense of community I've experienced in a long time. Here, people from all over the country, came together and were laughing and talking and having a ball while prepping the space for the wedding. It's hard to describe to people who were there because it sounds like a crazy hippie commune of happiness but really it was amazing.

The wedding itself was one of those beautiful, natural affairs in a bit of a clearing near the pavilion. There was some seating but most stood under the brilliant blue sky and listened to them read vows they'd written for each other. Vows that made us laugh and cry and sigh with happiness. When their friend (who'd be ordained via the interwebs) announced them as man and wife he said "you may now high five the bride".

I know, right?

AWESOME.

Then followed the drinking. Ok, the drinking started hours before the wedding and continued on into the night. Food was plentiful, considering they roasted a whole pig (no joke). Then came the karaoke. Me, I'm not a singer. But I'll stand in the crowd and yell lyrics right back at you while flailing about doing my best form of spastic dancing. It's not pretty but it's fun. Which is probably why I woke up Sunday morning with a throat that felt like I had taken a belt sander with 100 grit paper and gone to fucking town. Ugh.

Best parts of the reception include my awesome air guitar solo (playing the part of Ted Nugent in The Damn Yankees) during Can You Take Me High Enough and then quite possibly the coolest person I've ever met in my life. She was about my age, holding a baby in a sling (cradling his head with her one hand) and with the other holding a mic and singing Shoop by Salt and Peppa. At damn near midnight. The baby slept the whole time even though I'm pretty sure there were 20 of us in the audience screaming at the top of our lungs during her song. After her song I found her in the crowd and told her she was my hero.

My contribution to the wedding was pretty much the most talked about cupcake ever, French Toast Cupcakes with Maple Buttercream and BACON. I don't think they lasted more than 30 minutes post-wedding. Poof, almost 2 dozen gone in a matter of minutes. I got the recipe from Life With Cake and while the frosting was top notch I didn't like the way the cupcakes rose inconsistently. A good number of them puffed up and then randomly slid off to one side, in fact many of them slid in different directions even though they were made in the same batch. Since these caused a sensation and have been requested for a couple of birthdays and such I will try them again but with one of my more tried and true cake recipes. They were devoured so quickly that the bride and groom didn't even get one, which I'll try to rectify soon.

But my god, the frosting could not be improved upon. Nether could the bacon, thanks to local pork and the failproof oven cooking method. I highly recommend bringing these cupcakes when you want to knock peoples fucking socks off.

Zippy

2009-08-08T16:16:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I finally bit the bullet and bought a road bike. It's so fun and quick, so very different than my hybrid. My hybrid bike is heavy and slow and to be honest I've been hating it so much that I haven't ridden it at all this summer. It just wasn't what I wanted, I wanted speed and lightness.

This morning I went for a very short ride, since my ass is currently protesting the hard seat. I have no idea how fast I went or how far but I do know that it felt faster and really, isn't perception everything?

Perhaps it's entirely dorktastic but I like to name my bikes, cars, ipods, kitchenaid mixers. I think it has to do with the fact that I usually outlay a huge amount of cash for these items (well, it's a huge amount of cash to me). I've mentioned that I named the MG Bernard, my Kitchenaid is named Lucille, and now I've named my new road bike Francine.

Tin

2009-07-24T07:54:00.004-04:00

Do you know what is elementally boring?

Re-introducing yourself via email to a bunch of dates from an online dating site. Over and over I feel like I'm basically coughing up the same information (job, social activities, where I'm from, etc). It's absolutely monotonous and has been sucking up all my creative energy.

Yet, I was so tired of being dateless I thought I'd give it a shot. I did have one date (actually two- because I believe in second chances) but there just wasn't any chemistry. I emailed with a couple other dudes but one fizzled (he started dating someone else), dude 3 and I have nothing in common and then I never heard back from that 4th guy. The 5th guy was one of those asshats who used someone else's photo, which means he's either married or a serial killer.

That isn't even counting all the other dudes I sent emails to that never responded. I'm slightly embarrassed to post the number here since it's a lot. WTF?

Entirely unspectacular. And makes me feel a bit like a dating failure. Which is always a good time! Whee! Failure, sweet, sweet failure.

The thing is that, a good portion of the time, I'm entirely content to be alone. It is nice not to have to take anyone else's wants or needs into consideration, being entirely selfish isn't a bad thing- it's the only thing. But being with someone is nice, and I've not had someone regular in my life since the spectacular flame out of my last relationship.

I've got a few simple rules for selecting dudes online,

1. Do you mention "playing games", "looking for an honest woman who doesn't lie" in the first sentence of your profile? No thanks. Clearly you've got some issues and are leading with that, it may be important to you to have trust and honesty in relationship but starting off with it screams 'I just got cheated on big time and am going to be suspicious of everything you do or say.' I totally realize this is a blanket statement and will not apply to everyone but it certainly sends up red flags.

2. Are all your pictures of you and your motorcycle (or truck)? I get it, you like your car, it doesn't impress me much. How about showing me some variety?

3. Are you shirtless and taking a photo of yourself in a mirror (with the camera clearly visible)? Yeah, this is not cool. Chances are your chest is fine, maybe even perfectly well built but really it's not going to make me like you better just because you took your top off. Have some respect, man.

4. Can you speak in clear and coherent sentences with a varied vocabulary and perhaps a pithy comment or two? CHECK PLUS for you, this is awesome.

And so the search continues.

So awesome

2009-07-09T18:31:00.006-04:00

I'm a shit and haven't written about my totally awesome sky diving experience. Blame my super full social life, seriously WTF? I've been home a total of 3 nights in the last two weeks.

So Saturday morning up bright and early with a weird vicodin hangover (my shoulder was really pissed at me the night before). A coke and some eggs seemed to clear it up, and thus I was ready to go. GO!

We got there and did our 5 minute tutorial and then signed a whole bunch of papers saying we wouldn't sue if our shutes didn't open and died or were torn limb from limb or other nightmare scenarios. We suited up (SUIT UP!) and climbed aboard the little plane for our jump. My back was against the control panel/engine so I couldn't hear a damn thing during the 20 minute ride up to 10,000 feet.

Once we hit it, I had to do this twisting roll over so that I was facing the nose of the plane and then my tandem dude hooked up to me- really it's like the tightest spoon of your life and you don't want it any other way. He said "I bet this is the closest you've been to a married man in a plane before!" To which I replied "Well, only a married man." because he totally walked into that one.

Then he opened the door and we stepped out onto a platform the size of textbook. We'd practiced this on the ground and while the platform seems small it's totally do-able, what I wasn't even considering was the wind speed. It's awesome. It takes your breath away and you can't believe that you are actually standing outside a plane with a ton of wind batting against your body.

Then the tandem guy goes one, two, three and suddenly you are hurtling through space. It's the most intense experience of my life. It's hard to register that the ground is rushing up to meet you and the force of everything on your body is crazy. The clearest thought that I can remember having is "Holy shit, these goggles are pressing against my face so tightly! I'm glad I'm wearing them!"

Then Chris (my tandem dude), pulled the cord and it was silent. Seriously, so quiet and crisp. I could see the slight curvature of the earth, the hazy point where the earth and sky met, everything looked tiny and unreal. It didn't feel like I was hurtling towards the earth any more, the contrast between the two was so startling. Chris gave me a set of cords to pull and showed me how to use them and we did a fun series of tight spirals. We practiced our landing stuff, and when we pulled down on the cord the chute collapsed and for a second we felt weightless and a touch of the freefall rush came back. It was mind blowing.

We had an excellent landing and honestly my face hurt from smiling so hard. It hurt for hours because I continued to smile. Several hours later the inevitable adrenaline crash happened and I needed a nap.

We are already planning our next jump (next spring/summer), I really do wish it wasn't so bloody expensive because I'd be doing a whole lot more.

Oh hi.

2009-06-26T21:39:00.002-04:00

So my lack of writing can almost wholly be attributed to the fact that I've spent the last two weeks trying frantically to re-finish a side table and bookcase rescued from the depths of my grandparent's basement. The scraping and sanding and inhaling of strong chemical strippers did wonders for my mental capacity. We used to tell ourselves in college that the brain cells we killed were clearly the weaker ones and therefor just making space for the stronger ones to survive and multiply. That theory is total bullshit.

Minor setbacks aside, I should be finished with the bookcase this weekend. The side table, well, that one is a little bitch. The first round of stain on the top looked horrible due to some experimenting that went horribly wrong. So I had to re-strip it yet this time around the stain seemed to eat the stripper and wouldn't come off. So I had to sand large stubborn sections forever. Which is probably why my shoulder is hurting, you know that bitch shoulder that has been bothering me for months.*

Yet tomorrow is going to be perfect weather and I'm not going to be working on any of these projects. Instead I'm going to be flinging my body from an airplane. This, my friends, is not hyperbole. I am actually going to be doing it and I absolutely cannot wait. I've wanted to go sky diving for years and round and round we've made mythical plans to do it. A couple of months ago I decided it was time for us to stop pussyfooting around and set a date. This is the year of action.

Full report to come tomorrow or very soon after.

*I finally did have that shoulder looked at and am currently doing some physical therapy. I should be better according to them in mid-july.

I blame the champagne.

2009-06-10T21:46:00.001-04:00

It seemed to start like all birthday dinners that we have been having lately go: nice restaurant, everyone brings a bottle of wine and we commence with the eating and drinking and celebrating. But it took a turn right about the time I opened the bottle of Domaine St. Michelle I brought.

I'm a lady who prides herself on her ability to open champagne bottles properly, hell I've opened bottle after bottle while riding in cars with nary a drop spilled. It's my badge of honor, champagne bottle opener girl. I waited a good thirty minutes after I got to the restaurant to open the bottle so any shaking it would have gotten while I trudged up several hills should have subsided. But as I removed the little metal capper thing the cork shot skyward and of course champagne started spraying everywhere.

I'll admit I panicked and clamped my hand over the top of the bottle thus creating a sprinkler effect and effectively giving everyone around me (including those not with our group) a bit of dousing (oxymoron, yes). I'm so unbelievably embarrassed for bringing the champagne sprinkler to the restaurant, which in theory sounds like an awesome idea, I'd like a champagne sprinkler right now. I profusely apologized to those around us and really do hope they didn't leave the restaurant cursing 'that bitch who doesn't know how to open champagne'.

From there on out the rest of the evening was a bit of tipsy blurr. At some point early on I told the story of the guy at the BMV who's hair looked like a Velociraptor, from then on I would randomly put my hands to the back of my head and wiggle my fingers while making a screeching sound. Everyone would laugh and that only encouraged me more.

Then I won the Irish Car Bomb Race, regardless of what Kate has to say about the matter. The prize? Another Irish Car Bomb, which is awesome. What follows Irish Car Bombs? Ridiculous photos of you and your friends, possibly involving lots of cleavage. Photos that will never ever see the light of day, that is unless you were there in person to witness our tipsy behavior. Because said behavior was taking place right in the middle of the most popular bar in our town, so I'm sure many people got to see that show.

Random aside: As I was walking to the restaurant, up those multiple hills, I caught site of my bottom in the reflective surface of a store front window. I'm sincerly hoping that it was combination of the dress, my underwear and walking up a hill that made my butt look like that. I was mesmerized and a touch horrified, my bottom looked very round and bouncy, protruding more than I'd like.

Unlikable.

2009-05-28T20:02:00.008-04:00

Christ, I've restarted this about 15 times already tonight. My original topic idea did nothing but cause me to want to sputter and be indignant yet be entirely incapable of explaining in any rational matter about why I hate it so. The topic: corporate naming rights to sports arenas.

God, I just hate it. It smacks of crass american commercialism, where is the history and love of traditional park names? The name Progressive Field makes me annoyed beyond belief, Quicken Loans Arena? WTF? Don't worry my hate extends to the Tostitos Bowl and it's ilk.

Right, so that is the best I can do to explain it. I'm lacking the written skills today to do better but I felt I should give it a shot. It's crap, I know. I'm sorry.

I discoverd a new sport recently though, and considering my penchant for rolling down stupidly steep hills and my love of cheese I think I would excel at it: Cheese Rolling. AWESOME:

Kilter

2009-05-12T19:19:00.003-04:00

Woah, that last entry was more than a bit incoherent. Unfortunately I was not drinking so I can't even blame it on that. Rather I think it was pure distraction from trying to watch TV while write.

This entry will, unfortunately not be filled with pithy transitions or even one thread to tie all the elements together instead I'm probably going to be listing and bunch of random shit that has been running through my head.

"Purity Balls" are hilarious. The weird fetishization of female virginity aside it's the inclusion of the word "balls" that makes me giggle. Balls are always funny. ALWAYS. Even more so when used in conjunction with the whole sexual bent of a virginity promise.

While we are in a sexual state of mind, I've said it before and I'll say it again...I need a date. I've even checked out the online sites and it's stagnant water. What the hell is up with guys who don't like women who are assertive or bold? Clearly, this dame isn't any sort of wallflower.

My bottom is already killing me from tonight's workout. Tomorrow and Thursday are probably going to be pure hell.

It's warm out and therefore all I want to do is drink beer. Cold, delicious beer.

I've decided to use the money from the accident to pay off part of my credit card. I've been slowly chipping away at my sort of smallish balance I've been carrying, this will help me put a decent dent in it. I have weird feelings about it because I feel like I should be getting the car fixed but it's an older car so why should I care if the paint is peeling off the left corner of the back bumper? It isn't like the front bumper isn't losing a good portion of it's paint already, so what is up with the conflicted feelings?

I hate all the clothes in my closet.

Scraps of paper

2009-05-06T18:28:00.003-04:00

The other day while looking for someone in my high school year book, I came across some papers that had been torn out of a notebook. On these pieces of paper were a few journal entries from my senior english class.

I was in an AP Class, there was only one and we'd all been together since we were sophomores in high school. For some reason this afforded us some latitude in our general behavior in class, resembling a college course rather than a high school one.

Every class period we were supposed to write in a journal, my friend and I exchanged them with each other and often wrote for the other. He and I had been friends since grade school, I remember the first time I saw him. I was new in school (with a very thick southern accent) and he was carrying the plant for our classroom for the opening mass. I wanted to carry that damn plant and therefor instantly made it my mission to make his life hell. It didn't hurt that I thought he was cute. Ah, childhood you hate the ones you like.

So back to the papers, his journal entries are hilarious. And completely NC-17. I vaguely remember my entries to him and they were just as naughty. We were the personification of Catholic school kids with only sex on the brain.

I feel completely paranoid about sharing one of his entries, I somehow feel uncomfortable about it. I'm sure you all would not find them as hilarious as he or I would, as I read them I can hear him in my head and it makes me smile.

Punted

2009-04-29T16:56:00.001-04:00

Monday on my way home from work I got kicked in the rear, ok, more like my car did. Nothing major, no cops called, no real excitement over the whole thing. Just an orderly exchanging of information and then we were both on our ways. Minor damage to the bumper, which is not visible until you are up on it and only the tiniest bit of my tail light knocked out.

Fortunately, the whole insurance process thus far has been entirely reasonable and easy. Accident was at 4:30pm and by 7:30 I had an appointment with his insurance agent to have them cut me a check for the repairs (next week).

A wholly boring affair, frankly when it comes to car accidents there isn't anything better.

Eternal question though, repair the damage or take the money and run? The civic is 11 years old and the damage so minor.

Snooze button

2009-04-21T20:52:00.006-04:00

I'm beginning to think there is something very wrong with me, African Sleeping Sickness perhaps? Except I believe one must have either been in Africa recently (not I) or slept with someone who has (and that is an absolute impossibility since the drought continues unabated).

For the last month or so I've been unbelievably tired, falling asleep at positively early hours (last night I was completely conked out at 7:45pm) then sleeping straight through till morning. My house in shambles because I cannot muster the energy to keep it in anything other than a semi-tidy state. And almost forget going to the gym, I've managed to keep my appointments with my trainer but beyond that you'll not find me there. Which means that I'm absolutely not going to be ready for tri season.

Rather than languish on I've made an appointment with a doctor to make sure it isn't something else less exotic than my delusions of it being African Sleeping Sickness.

I did, however, manage to watch the entire series of Lost in Austin tonight on DVD. It made my little Jane Austen loving heart beat rapidly and was a most excellent expansion on the book. And Elliot Cowen does a bang up job as Mr. Darcy, so much so that (all over again for the millionth time) I found myself wholly in love with him. And for the first time a touch in love with Mr. Wickham. Oh my. I should qualify that only applies in this adaptation.

Really though, Elliot Cowen does a bang up job of casting a smoldering looks at the heroine. And now I covet the shiny red locks of Amanda Price (said heroine).

Flat rate.

2009-04-11T10:40:00.003-04:00

A little bit ago I instituted a new budget, and while I'm valiantly trying to stick to it sometimes is massively hard. I swear, I am a bit shocked at how much money I can easily blow on a Saturday morning just doing the normal weekly shopping.

It does not help that lately I've had one of those runs where all the expensive crap I need all runs out at the same time. In one week I ran out of propane for the grill, olive oil, toilet paper, plus I needed to gas up the car and on and on. So of course that is adding extra to my weekly bills. Another $20-30 depending on the week.

But what really put me under was shopping for my brother. Little bro is in Afghanistan and stationed on a super remote mountain top without out some of the most basic neccessities. Like a shower, depending on the week he may or may not get a shower. Ok, so a bunch of people shoot at you daily is definitely higher on the list of shitty things about where he is. There is absolutely no way in hell I could do his job.

Mail can be sketchy, and take weeks upon weeks so shelf stable food that can hold up to be dropped from a helicopter and various other rough delivery treatment is a must. When he was home in February he was so damn skinny, probably the thinnest I've ever seen him in a long time. He is having trouble getting enough protein in order to keep on muscle so he specifically asked for high protein items.

The packages were loaded up with beans, beans, tuna, laughing cow cheese (did you know this stuff is shelf stable? Isn't that awesome?!), rice, coconut milk, 6 boxes of triscuits (his favorite) and various other canned food stuff. The thing that blew my mind, besides the Laughing Cow cheese, is that those things are so freaking expensive. I rarely, if ever, buy those things (except the beans and laughing cow) that I spent more on his groceries that I do on myself in two weeks.

Luckily the post office has flat rate shipping boxes to APO addresses. I just hope he gets it all, sometimes things get lost or damaged and like I said- stuff happens and mail delivery can be postponed for months.

Dan Rather recently did a show about where my brother is stationed, it's entirely too surreal to hear Dan Rather say my last name over and over again. My brother sounds so smart and diplomatic, the camera really loves him too. It was more than a bit hard to see how he is living (shanty-like bunkers) and the sort of thing he deals with on a daily basis but important none the less. The show is called A Border Runs Through It (available on iTunes) and if you'd liked to know which one is my brother email me (address at the top right column of this page) and I'll tell you my last name so you'll know which guy he is.

Artist Statement

2009-04-06T18:11:00.003-04:00

Lets not discuss my non-training for that half-marathon or those triathlons I've scheduled for this summer. Or my bastard shoulder which I may have sort of dislocated a couple of weeks ago and is still sort of sore. Should make swimming awesome.

Instead I want to share with you all my 12 year old nephew's artist statement from a recent art show he was chosen for. Please keep in mind that a good portion of the time he acts like octogenarian:

For me, drawing and painting are nothing new. I have, for years, kept journal of art work and some page-long descriptions of them. Having three sisters in the same house can get hectic, so I often find myself locked in my room drawing, looking for inspiration or simply reading a book. Most of inspiration comes from family members, books, clouds, just about everywhere. This art work came to me from my bedroom window. There are three trees. At night when the light and horizon are just right, this is how it looks from my perspective. The tree in the middle is the tallest, and the other two are like children. When they are no in silhouette, they are abundant in cardinals, bluebirds and hummingbirds.

-James

Isn't he totally awesome?

Trippy Cake

2009-03-24T19:25:00.005-04:00

I have to admit I'm very proud of this cake, if only for it's eye popping decorating job(even though it's not as perfect as I wanted it to be). My coworker had a major birthday today and he absolutely loves M&Ms, has a bag of them every afternoon. He's also a big fan of southern cooking so I made the cake red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

I followed Smitten Kitchen's Red Velvet recipe with a couple of modifications...I only used two pans instead of the three she recommends. Also, I definitely doubled the frosting recipe (omitting one cup of sugar- so 5 cups instead of 6).

The decorating took about a bag and half of M&Ms (the medium size bag). Be forewarned though, those bastards at Mars didn't put in equal amounts of each color. My bags where disproportionately heavy on the orange and blue M&Ms, and light on the rest of the colors which made the decorating a bit more tricky.

On the whole it was a resounding success, everyone was super in love with it and tons of compliments and such. Unfortunately my stomach wasn't playing nice and was being a cranky bastard so I didn't have any. Then again, I'm not much of a sweets person even though I have a raging baking addiction.

My train of thought has become disastrously derailed

2009-03-22T13:57:00.005-04:00

My grade school was Catholic and therefor everyone wore uniforms, which was nice and boring. Hot lunch was only served twice a week (Tuesday always being pizza day, horrible, terrible sheet pizza that was not worth the $2 it cost), sometimes they would also make the most awful mac and cheese I've ever tasted. It was horrific, noodles reduced to the consistency of mush and oily cheap cheddar cheese served in a small styrofoam cup. I would like to know who the fuck was running that kitchen. They were also crazy about everyone drinking their milk, like stand over you and make sure you finished every last sip out of that damn cardboard box. Absolutely frightening women they were.

I can remember that at some point, 7th grade I believe, they decided to do away with those cardboard waxy boxes filled milk and were going to switch to milk in a bag. Seriously, MILK IN A BAG*. What looked like a zip lock bag filled with milk. You would stab the bag with a sharp little pointy straw, similar to the way you would stab a Capri Sun (although I wouldn't know because my mother refused to buy that damn sugar water), stab it anywhere. Oh, but make sure your thumb was over the top of the straw or it would be a milk explosion with a fountain of milk spraying forth from the un-capped end. There was also a video they made us watch about the milk in a bag, hey no sex ed or anything resembling a real health class but you will watch a 10 minute video about milk in a bag. There was a horrible song that was in the video and to this day most everyone who I went to school with can remember at least part of the lyrics and only because they were sooo lame. "Mini-sips are MAXI cool." Really? Ugh.

My family was never big on milk so thankfully except for that one quarter at gradeschool when I asked to have it I never had to drink it. Frankly I never understood why people liked it so much. Oh I know all the crap about strong bones and shit but personally I've got large, dense bones inherited from my mother. My sister on the other hand has bird bones, they are just so tiny and delicate. Her rings only fit halfway down my pinky fingers but I would like say that my hands aren't scarily large. It isn't as if I've got hands the size of those giant foam sports fingers attached to my wrists, they are just larger that my sister's hobbit like bones.

I much prefer a glass of iced tea for dinner or water, those were our options. Water or tea. Granted I've now expanded that to include alcohol but I'd say that most days I still prefer water or tea.

At this point I've rambled so far off the original point and purpose of this post that I've completely forgotten what the hell I was trying to express in the first place. Shit. Total shit writing and narrative on my part, although hopefully better than my last post which was clearly a dud except for my bit of exclamation about men in kilts.

And since I've totally fucked this up already I would like to mention that I am completely obsessed with the British show Top Gear. I'm currently watching a marathon on BBCAmerica and it's awesome. It looks like so damn fun, they curse, drive awesome cars, and I desperately would love to do their time test. Go watch it.

*I have been informed by some relatives that milk in a bag is very common in Canada. That may be true, but for Americans it is quite a odd concept.

Celt

2009-03-17T20:45:00.002-04:00

Truthfully St. Patrick's Day is one of my most favorite holidays, it always has been, always will be. Today I was a bit homesick for Cleveland and it's St. Paddy's lovin' ways. The holiday here just isn't as important it seems. Growing up if the holiday fell on a school day there was no school, which was awesome. It meant everyone headed to the parade in downtown, as I got older there was the deliciousness of beer added into that equation.

I was completely panicked when I couldn't find my Irish cable knit sweater this morning, my mother assures me that I left it at their house though. Crisis averted! I managed to have a couple of Guinnesses (is that the plural of Guinness?) and some corned beef (my head a touch fuzzy around the edges which might be why my writing is a bit subpar). So my Irish heart is happy and content this evening, I'm totally looking forward to homemade corned beef hash for dinner tomorrow.

And since I'm rambling on, dudes who wear kilts are hot. For real.

Hopefully everyone has had a lovely holiday.

Sunday Night Musical

2009-03-08T20:55:00.002-04:00

I'm one of those people who really listen to lyrics, I realize this may sound like a completely ridiculous thing to say as most people tend to listen to lyrics. I tend to judge a song based on whether or not I like them (exception: Gym music. I don't give a care if your lyrics are total shit but if you have a good fast baseline to which I can run my little heart out to then you are ok.) But there are certain lyrics that tend to piss me off, 18 year olds singing about being rescued and never having to be alone for one. Seriously you are 18, you probably need to be alone a bit. Also songs about being cruel and mean (see: Toby Keith's How Do You Like Me Now?)

Another category: songs about cheating. Piss me off to no end. I can't explain it, I've never been cheated on (to my knowledge) or cheated on someone. Example Rihanna's Unfaithful:

And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful
And it kills him inside
To know that I am happy with some other guy
I can see him dying

I don't wanna do this anymore
I don't wanna be the reason why
Everytime I walk out the door
I see him die a little more inside
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
I don't wanna take away his life
I don't wanna be...
A murderer

Yeah, fuck you. You have two options A. STOP CHEATING or B. Leave your boyfriend. God. It's not that hard. Plus stop saying "murderer" all goddamn weird, it's bad enough that you mangled the word "umbrella" in your other song.

Then this weekend I was listening to the radio and they played Baby, baby, baby by TLC:

Long as you know that I could have any man I want to
Baby that's actual and factual
But still I choose you to be with me
And work on me so you better not flake it up

Oh holy jesus. Conceited much? Is that really something you should say to someone you supposedly love? Yes, I realize that I'm getting angry over a song that was popular in 1992. 17 years people, maybe I need help?

Cross

2009-03-04T16:32:00.003-05:00

Damnit, time got away from me again and instead of writing I've been reading. I can't seem to put down the books. I've been trying to make an effort to write, in part because I love to do it. It's just that I've been lacking discipline lately and feel that my life is a touch boring. But I soldier on.

Last week while donating blood two things happened: one blood taker guy was not so stealthily looking down my top while adjusting the the bags that were to be filled with my blood. I understand it happens, for example: the other day at the gym and having a serious case of headlights. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it and it was so blatant that even I was staring and they are my own damn breasts. It's just that I would prefer looking didn't happen while I'm giving blood in church basement.

Which really in the scheme of things isn't so bad considering what happened next. The second asked me about the book I was reading (which had the word kiss in the title), then proceeds to look me directly in the eye and being dead serious said "Can I kiss you?"

UH, you have a giant needle in my arm? It puts the lotion in the basket? I ended up just laughing nervously until he says "You probably have some big husband who is going to kick my butt for asking that."

More nervous laughter from my side. I normally would like to think I'd have a sharp witty response but I'm blaming the fact that I just finished giving blood on my lack of mental quickness. I seriously hope I don't see that guy next time I go to donate.

Oversharing. It's awesome.

2009-02-19T21:37:00.003-05:00

I've lately decided besides all the nice normal reasons for wanting a boyfriend (love, sex, companionship- i.e. the basics) there would be some definite other upsides to having someone else around.

1. At least it wouldn't seem like I was talking to myself at home, I could just pretend I was actually talking to the other person.

2. Someone to put lotion on the spot of your back that you can't reach no matter which way you try to contort yourself. Seriously, WTF is with this section always being exceptionally dry and hurty and itchy. It's a real fucking pisser.

3. Cheer with me while I watch sports (uh, hopefully we like the same teams). I realize this is sort of related to #1. Plus this will keep me from eating all the hanky panks myself.

4. Have you ever tried to flip a queen size mattress on your own? It's unbelievably hard (that's what she said!...sorry, I couldn't resist) and one of these days I fully expect mid-flippage that I'll lose my grip on it and the entire thing will come crashing down and pin me against the floor. And when I call for help there will be no one to hear me, perhaps I should just get a Med-Alert call button for situations like this?

5. Someone else to peek outside when they hear some loud banging noise that cannot be identified. About 50% of the time I'm fully convinced that I'll pull back the shade and there will be a serial killer standing there banging my trashcan lid against the grill. It would be nice if someone else could look outside and tell me to stop being such a crazy.

6. I'm absolutely worried that this last one will make you think I'm a total freak, more freaktastic than someone who wants a boyfriend to rub lotion on her back and check the backyard for scary axe wielding murders while she talks to herself. Every so often (a couple of days after a hard workout) it would be nice if someone rubbed my bottom. Yes, right. The bottom area or not so delicately: my ass. I can't help it. It gets tight and sore and my hamstrings feel like the are being shredded every time I move ( I know hamstrings are not located in the bottom- but they are connected and it all hurts so I include them). Oh and I stretch all the time. I try to get massages once a month to help keep injuries at bay (do this, it's magical how many fewer injuries I get) and I always make sure to ask that they "loosen up my hips, whicharetightfromrunning". Oh holy fuck, this totally makes it sound like I'm going to some back alley "massage parlor" looking for sex instead of a real massage. Damnit. I give up. I probably should delete this whole last one and just call it a fucking day and be done with it.

In summation, my butt gets sore from working out, it would be nice if my hypothetical boyfriend would like to occasionally make it feel better. THE END.

Chip Chop Chip

2009-02-16T16:27:00.006-05:00

I was supposed to start training today for the half-marathon I signed up for months ago but somehow I find myself at home and cleaning instead (but I am dancing around to music while I do it- sort of like cardio, right?). I will get up tomorrow and go to the gym in the morning before work and run, probably huff through a couple of minutes and then want to die. I'll admit I've not been running since the beginning of January right before the cold/sinus congestion from hell set in. That lovely little bastard knocked me on my ass for over a month, which is why my stomach currently looks like it's a soft pillow.

Lets not even talk about swimming, ha. My suit suddenly became entirely see-through especially in the backside and I was flashing people at pool. Lovely, right? So now I need to purchase a new suit but I keep forgetting the stupid gift card for Dicks when I'm near one. Bah.

I'm finally going to purchase a new goddamn bike. It might mean that I'm not going to pay off that credit card like I planned which isn't very responsible is it? Bah. Sleek little road bike, come to me. I love you.

A deep and abiding love

2009-02-15T16:25:00.004-05:00

When I was a girl, probably no older than 5, my mom started going to this french bakery by our house in Texas. Besides smelling absolutely heavenly and being full of warm and crusty loaves there were also cases full of french pastries. There was one case on the right side of the shop, it was very tall and entirely made of glass. It spun very slowly and within it were fat, red strawberries covered in dark chocolate.

The moment I saw them I fell in love.

The French bakery is just a memory but to this day I still adore them so. Several years ago I was at a friends wedding, stuck at the singles table at which none of the other singles showed up to which was pretty much the longest meal of my life. Every other table was full and no one offered to join me at my lovely pathetic party of one table. The bright spot was when the servers brought out the tray of strawberries. You can bet your sweet bippy that I attempted to eat that entire tray myself. I failed though, because although the idea of being a complete glutton is alluring the actual carrying out of it is a whole 'nother reality.

I bring this all up because I was in Cleveland this weekend visiting my brother who was on leave. This means my very lovely father bought me a whole box of chocolate covered strawberries for Valentines Day. So now I'm camped out on my couch with the box of strawberries and momentarily very glad I don't have to share with anyone. Although I'm sure that will wear off when I realize that I can't realistically finish them before they spoil and that I actually do like to share. Damnit.

The alcohol breakup lasted all of 5 days. Restraint, I don't have it. In my defense I was at Great Lakes Brewery and could not pass up the delicious Edmund Fitzgerald porter. It's amazing. If you can at all get your hands on some please do so and then write me to tell me all about it.

I'm completely lacking in the ability to come up with transitions this evening (blame it on the chocolate-strawberry coma I'm slowly slipping into) but I also cut my hair this weekend. It's about chin length and choppy, I really wanted to hack it all off completely due to my usual winter malaise but refrained because I don't know if I have the face to pull off super short hair. I think my head might be too round and I would look ridiculous. Photo coming soon, hopefully.

Insomnia.

2009-02-09T21:18:00.005-05:00

For a couple of years now I've been experiencing what is called alcohol induced insomnia. Which basically means that my body freaks the fuck out if I drink. It started off just as waking up obscenely early after a night of excessive drinking but it seems to be getting worse. Two drinks spaced out evenly throughout the night and I'll sleep for 3 hours before waking and being unable to fall back asleep.

Which totally sucks. Today I was the walking dead since I had two cocktails last night after seeing He's Just Not That Into You (don't go- it sucks. There are no words for it's suckitude. It's not even campy-hilarious-Showgirls bad, it's just painful). Three hours of sleep are just not enough for me to function on and those three hours were quite fitful to start with, by the end of the work day I was near tears.

So I think I'm going to have to take a hiatus from drinking. Which pains me, I love alcohol and it loves me like Ike loved Tina. Sometimes all I want is a cold frosty Oberon Ale or a belly warming snifter of bourbon. I will probably be a bit cranky and annoyed while this self imposed exile from adult beverage land is taking place. Be forewarned.

I've still been cooking up a storm. This weekend alone I made orangettes, london broil and my mom's cheese zucchini. Which doesn't sound like too much food, but it was.

Some of these lovely orangettes will be dipped into chocolate, the rest left plain. I plan on making some candied lemon peal soon and tossing them in sugar and citric acid to make a very grown up version of sour patch kids.

nothing of consequence

2009-01-25T20:16:00.004-05:00

I've been seriously boring lately. I've not gone out in weeks, preferring instead to hide from the sub-zero temps by spending ungodly amounts of time squirreled away inside my apartment. Inside, where I'm either staring blankly at the TV or cooking. I think there is some sort of disastrous disconnect in my brain that causes me to forget entirely that I'm one person and end up cooking for about a family of 45. So then I've got entire pans of chicken enchiladas and double batches of Swedish meatballs. Ridiculous.

In good news though I finally finished a blanket I started working on when I was a junior in college. Finish is entirely subjective though because the yarn I bought, lo those 8 years ago, has gone missing. Pth! So I just bound off the edge and considered it done. And since I've finished it I've found it to be the perfect couch companion. It's exceedingly warm and perfect for snuggling under since it is so freaking enormous (originally slated to fit a queen sized bed).

This following bit is stolen from my facebook, but since it took me over a whole day to write I felt it should get a bit more mileage. Also, have I mentioned sometimes I'm epically lazy?

So 25 things about me:

1. I occasionally can be a horrible procrastinator, this is a perfect example considering I got tagged over a week ago.

2. I love a good dirty martini with a shot of hot sauce. Or a glass of bourbon. Or a Bombay Sapphire and tonic.

3. I could easily spend days knitting and being completely happy doing so.

5. Yellow roses are my favorite, hydrangeas are a close second, peonies are third.

6. I have deep and abiding love of good corned beef. A good reuben (with sour cream and mustard instead of thousand island) might be the most perfect food in the world.

7. I could easily spend the GDP of a small ex-U.S.S.R state on makeup and other skin care items from Sephora.

8. I miss playing softball.

9. When I was about 8 I was in a grade school talent show. I've blocked most of it from my memory but do recall there were very sparkly tights, big hair and a choreographed dance routine involving bouncing a basketball.

10. My two favorite books are Pride and Prejudice and East of Eden.

11. I hate eHarmony commercials. I want to throw a lamb shank at those overly happy, smug couples.

12. I want a dog.

13. When I was a little girl I had to wear braces on my legs to correct my walking. I shared an orthopedist with the Cleveland Browns. This makes me feel special.

14. My grandparents gave me a claddagh ring for my Confirmation and a few months later I lost it when I was playing hide and seek in a cornfield. I felt awful about it because I loved that ring, luckily the next time they went to Ireland they bought me another one and I hate to admit I like the second one better than the first. It's prettier.

15. I hate it when people call me Susan or Suzy. Yet I let my Grandmother get away with calling me Suzy, only because she is very old.

16. I remember Sr. Nancy who taught American History would let Katie M and I talk all the time in class and never yelled at us for it. She sure did yell at Devon for telling us to be quiet.

17. Thinking of 25 things has been immensely hard.

18. I'm wickedly allergic to cigarette smoke.

19. I still love the times I had in Apartment #2. The Bitchin' Bitchass Bar was the best home bar ever. It was totally Ro-bitchin'.

20. Apartment #2 had two squirrels that lived on our back porch, we named them Gwen and Ron. Ron fell into our keg bucket and drowned. We felt really bad about that as we dumped him over our porch railing to his final resting place on the roof of the house below us.

21. I love trashy romance novels, especially if they are British period ones.

22. I love to shit talk and am very competitive. Consider that fair warning.

23. I've been weirdly obsessed with the idea of living in Wisconsin for long time. I think it is the availability of cheese curds and lots of breweries.

24. Currently I only have 5 minutes of hot water, my landlord is sending someone out to fix that this next week. Thank god.

25. Even though I don't go out without sunscreen my freckles have suddenly reappeared after having been missing for nearly a decade. I love them.

And the morning was total crap.

2009-01-08T13:12:00.000-05:00

Scene: You sick on the couch when you realize you'd promised to pick up a coworker at the car repair shop. Hop crazily around apartment like someone is continually sticking you with a cattle prod. Can't find a damn bra at all. Seriously, where the fuck are all my bras?!

Oh, an ice storm has frozen your driver's side door is totally frozen shut and won't unlock. Use passenger side door to crawl in and start car. Fuck with the driver's side from the inside, still won't open. Frantically try to scrape ice off of car, you are seriously spazzing out. Flailing about wildly that becomes even more pronounced when you realized you've locked your keys in the running car. SOB. House is locked too.

Walk over to the concrete company and beg them to use the phone while cursing yourself for not hiding those spare keys you had made last week. Call coworker and tell her you won't be able to pick her up. Call locksmith.

At that point you just decide to fuck it all and stay home.

Make yourself hot toddies. Whiskey and tea make things better.

The end.

New Years, same old feelings.

2009-01-01T18:56:00.003-05:00

It's the new year and we all know how I feel about this particular holiday (hate it) and how sad and crap I get around it. Yes people, sad and crap is actual way to feel. Embrace it.

I'm not one for making resolutions because mostly I hate them. I think that they in general fail and that my time can be better spent sitting on the couch watching another endless set of NCIS or House reruns. Isn't Mark Harmon dreamy? He can build a boat in my basement anytime, and since I live in actual basement I guess that means he'd be building in my living room. Which might make me testy if said boat got in the way of the tv. Then again, Mark Harmon in my basement means I'd probably prefer to watch him instead of my tv.

And now that I've shared with you more than you'd ever like to know about my feelings for Mark Harmon I'll get back to blathering on about resolutions. Oddly though, I'm making one resolution this year. Deal with my goddamn mail problem. It piles up on the TV and the armoire and the pretty blue side table.

I HATE the mail, every day I get scads of it- none of interesting and the majority of it are bills. Ugly, hateful bills. 90% of which I pay online. This year I'm going to have them all stop sending me crap. I don't need those endless cable bills (kudos to me for having already signed up for paperless this morning). Recently I also lost my check register, I have no idea where it went off too but it's gone. Which is most annoying since I do try to keep my bills checking account balanced. In an effort to never lose it again I've downloaded a spread sheet that will calculate all that crap for me. I'm willing to take a short cut on the math portion since it never really was my strong suit. Having Excel do it for me is lovely.

On Friday I'm heading out to buy a paper shredder. Then all those pile of mail will be dust, or tiny bits of shredded paper. I will instantly feel lighter and freer. I won't be consumed with shame when I have people over that they are secretly judging me for piles of mail that I stead-fastly up till now have refused to deal with.

Oh holiday recap: There was a lot of ice on the way to Kentucky. I nearly got run over by a double-trailer Diet Coke Semi who was sliding on black ice. This resulted in me driving down the center median, off road style to avoid being crushed. Did you know that Honda Civics are totally built for off-roading? Because they totally are.

There was an epic 5 hour opening of presents at my sisters during which I was hellishly jealous of my nephew's new huge plasma tv. I want one. The rest of the time was spent eating copious amounts of food. In years past I've managed to avoid to stuffing myself to the point of sickness but this year was a failure. Because my mom, sister and I were the only ones cooking it was everything I liked. And thus I put everything in my mouth. Ugh. Then I caught some sort of bug once I got home and didn't eat for 2 days. I'm hoping it sort of helped move the scale back in the right direction. But I think I'll still be paying for it for a little while.

Cracklin'

2008-12-22T20:26:00.002-05:00

The winter has arrived with full and epic force. Temperatures outside have been fluctuating between single digit numbers and low teens. In turn I've got the heat on and my skin has turned into the the most delicate parchment ever created. It's painfully thin feeling and tight like a drum causing itching and general uncomfortableness. Today at work I had to change into my workout pants because the feel of jeans again my legs was torture.

Last year I pitched my humidifier because it was old and more than a wee bit crusty. I've yet to go out and purchase another one partially because I'm lazy and partially because they aren't cheap and random bills keep hitting me.

Like the asshats who run the town next to mine, where I got a $5 parking ticket for an expired meter in mid-October which I totally completely forgot to pay. Now I've recieved a letter from them extorting $70 or they will issue an arrest warrant. FOR FUCKING REAL. I plan on paying them their damn money with a letter to them and their chamber of commerce stating why I will never, ever fucking shop in their town again. Way to shoot yourself in the fucking foot assholes.

God. I seriously hate them right now.

Is anyone else procrastinating packing for the christmas holiday? Because I'm sitting here avoiding it and I leave tomorrow. I don't want to do it at all.

Oh, and Christmas cards this year. HA. So going to be late again. I couldn't pull my shit together enough to get them done on time, this holiday season has been far too short (as I evil-y eye the unfinished scarf that is supposed to be my mother's present). And they will in no way be as good as the idea I had for last year's, but any one here wants one you should email me. I promise I won't use your address to stalk you, although how could you really trust a girl who fails to pay a $5 parking ticket?

I speak the truth.

2008-12-16T16:53:00.001-05:00

You know what will kill a crush faster than anything else? Seeing said crush kiss another girl (or boy- whatever, it all works).

Dead. Die. Cold.

Then you will be forced (or feel like) going home and eating copious amounts of rice pudding. Warm, comforting rice pudding never broke your heart, did it? No, it didn't.

Crushes should live on in a sort of suspended animation, always available to date but never quite achiveable. It's perfection that way, no? The reality of it can never live up to whatever one has created in your head.

And they most definitely should not kiss other people.

The end.

Of course you are.

2008-12-06T09:29:00.003-05:00

I heard that phrase repeatedly last weekend at my high school reunion in regards to what I do for a living. It came from people who didn't know me very well as well as the people who did. Guess I was pretty ubiquitous with the camera even back in high school. 15+ year love affair one could say.

To be completely honest I had a good time in high school, it was fun and I floated about somewhere in the middle of everyone. Friends with all with only a couple nemesises. It was not the time of my life and there are things I wished I done differently (like why was I hung up on my high school sweetheart and not dating all the wickedly cute boys that went to my school), but unlike (ahem) someone who declared if she could go back and re-live any school year it would be senior year. Me, no fucking thanks. I'll take college any day. Beer, friends and living without the watchful gaze of parents beats out the crap of SATs, curfews and general stupidity.

10 years later it was surprising how much everyone still looked for the most part like what they did in high school. There were only a few people I didn't recognized off the bat, and of course those bastards weren't wearing name tags. Douches.

There were two people who ended up marrying each other and that pretty much floored me. I guess I never expected two people to meet in high school and marry post-college, it feels entirely too much like something out of the 1960's. Then again perhaps I should be seeing the sweetness about meeting your love so early on, but really then I think about all those great experiences that come with drunkenly kissing someone who is totally wrong for you but so.freaking.hot that I don't think I would want to have met someone when I was 14.

Of course later in the evening I was standing next to a friend of mine snarking heavily about the door prizes which included a t-shirt with our mascot printed massively on the back (it seriously covers the whole back of the damn shirt). Just as I was ramping up for another snark filled rant they called my name. That's right, I'd won the hilarious t-shirt that LOUDLY proclaimed my awesomeness as an alumni. You bet your sweet ass I wore it to the gym this week, if only because it cracked me up. I'm absolutely positive no one else in my gym got that I was trying to be funny but I did, they probably just assumed I was a wanker. Which considering I wear the old style of headphones and not the cool earbuds (they hurt my ears) probably only reinforces their opinion of me as probably a dork.

Light Bulb

2008-11-20T19:42:00.004-05:00

Just a few moments ago a light bulb went off inside my head and things started to click and make sense.

At some point this summer I saw a really cute guy at the gym, he was wearing a red baseball hat and I could have sworn he was smiling at me. I'd not seen him the gym before and hadn't seen him since which was a bummer because I like cute guys who smile at me. Especially if they are wearing baseball hats, I have a serious weakness for men in baseball hats. If you wear a baseball hat and look good in a sweater I'll jump you. It's true.

So about a month ago I ran into someone I know but haven't seen in more than 2 or 3 years. Then I ran into him at the gym tonight, working out and wearing a baseball hat. Whoot, same guy I saw earlier this summer. I cannot BELIEVE it didn't click in my head. It wasn't as if he looked that radically different. Perhaps seeing him out of context threw me but in my defense he did look a bit different- older, more defined facial features.

Anyways, now I'm sitting here on my couch all self satisfied because it makes sense now. I can stop wondering who the smokin' hot guy in the baseball at is, because hot damn- I actually know him.

And, yes, I know I'm being mildly vague. Kate will read this and know who I'm talking about, but for now I'll going to keep his name under wrap just in case someone should stumble across this. Plus a little mystery is good.

Random aside: I cannot get this song out of my head...."Damn it feels good to be a gangster..." I should go beat the shit out a fax machine now.

Woah

2008-11-06T19:22:00.003-05:00

First off, holy shit! Obama is going to be President. Simply spectacular news in my opinion. I'm wickedly happy and in awe.

Although when I went to vote there was a problem with my address and those poll workers acted like I was trying to pull something over on them like perhaps I'd murdered the REAL Skeezix and was wearing a mask pretending to be her. Yes, you figured out my diabolical plan...Mwahhahaha.

So clearly I have a posting problem. I come home at night and blankly stare at my computer screen trying to think what I say. Frankly, nothing interesting comes to mind and I end up knitting instead.

Knitting has taken over my life. I'm obsessed. Everyone is getting homemade presents this year and they are going to like it. Damnit. I must have some justification for my obsession, no?

So I'll leave you with a photo from my zip lining adventure, which was awesome. Go do it.

Bits of my thoughts

2008-10-23T18:40:00.003-04:00

Hi, I'm a lazy wanker lately. Writing is entirely beyond me and unfortunately everything here is going to be in bullet points because paragraphs are just to much fucking work.

-Hey smartypants, remember your inside whisper voice is not so whispery after 4 high alcohol content beers. That is why that girl heard you mocking her speech patterns and proceeded to stare at you with daggers in her eyes.In my defense she rolled her r's without a good reason.

-Signing up for the young professionals email list as "Skeezix-the slutty one" probably wasn't professional. Again, sign up for shit BEFORE you drink 4 beers.

-My flirting skills are RUSTY. Especially confronted with extreme hotness.

-I swear. A lot.

-Dear cute guy at the gym, I'd like to thank you for doing those lunging chest presses while wearing those small running shorts. Seriously fine ass.

-I was never a huge fan of NKOTB, but
Sarah's recap of the concert makes me wish I was there with them.

-The new AC/DC album is only being sold at Wal-Mart, WTF? That is so wrong.

-My pants have been feeling tight lately, so I've stepped up the workouts. Except then today for lunch I ate my body weight in bad chinese food and for dinner had a soft serve ice cream cone. Clearly a practice in failure.

I promise the next post will be full thoughts and paragraphs, most likely about my zip lining adventure on Sunday. So FREAKING excited.

I like chasing cars

2008-10-07T22:28:00.004-04:00

I cannot stop laughing:

I found a dead cat on the side of the road so I took it home and put some honey on it and then I cooked it and then I ate it is that bad to do do do do do.

Pie Weekend

2008-09-28T18:54:00.006-04:00

Yes, I'm talking about food again. I should be writing a post about Kate's birthday and how we enjoyed copious amounts of alcohol on Tuesday night plus watched some of them do karaoke, but I'll save that because there is video- which I've not uploaded yet. On to the pie...

Something about my family never allows us to do things in a small, normal way in regards to cooking. Perhaps the Irish genes embedded deep inside of us remind us of the famine and thusly cause us to make more food than is possible to consume. I have memories growing up of my mom making enough cookies to keep a family of 6 fed for months, pies were not made by the single or even double rather 5 to 6 pies at a time. Granted we do like to eat, but mostly things ended up in the freezer for later. Nothing like having a randomly shitty Wednesday and your mom being able to pull one of her amazing homemade pies from the freezer. An hour or so later things didn't look so awful because really, pie makes everything better.

Of course I am the exact same way, just a few months ago I was making cooking for my nephew. Why double a recipe when you can quadruple it? Yeah, 7+lbs of cookies is overkill but I didn't hear any complaining.

This week my mom sent me a box of crack apples from a Sage's farm in my hometown. There are no apples that can compare to these, they are spicy and tart and perfect. There is a different apple farm in the area, do not be fooled by them. Their apples suck, their pies aren't homemade (they tell the people in the bakery to lie to you- trust me I worked there), and they pay poor teenagers crap wages. So anyways, heroine apples- my mom didn't take her usual precautions with packaging and they arrived slightly bruised and battered needing to be consumed quickly. I can totally put away 4 or more apples a day, but there were way more than I could eat before spoilage set in.

That's right, it is apple pie time. Oh, and because I've been craving french silk pie I decided to make that too. What? Too much pie for a single person. Yes. Who cares. If you are already in the pie making mode, make a lot. Ahem, which is why I ended up with 3 batches of 2 crust pie doughs. Hell yeah.

First up, Saturday's apple pie. Spicy and good, although a little soft about the middle considering the apples weren't as firm as Mom recommends.

Then on Sunday I made the French Silk pie, my brother's favorite. I've briefly considered sending him a photo via email, but that seems a bit torturous considering he's in Afghanistan and won't be getting pie like this for a loooong time. I'm not cruel. I used a stabilized whipped cream frosting on top because nothing spoils a pie like a weepy whipped cream frosting ruining all that delicious crust.

Tomorrow I suspect my office mates will be quite happy, I plan on taking the leftovers in. Because I've had several slices of each at this point and am about to enter a pie coma.

*I am massively annoyed that I can only do one photo in the middle at a time, sorry for it looking a little long and janky.

Give me a passle-load and I'll be a happy girl

2008-09-22T18:38:00.003-04:00

I've not done a food post in a while and lately I've become obsessed with dumplings. Of the pan fried Chinese variety.

I can sit down and tear through them, their soft pillowy goodness offset by the seared and crunchy bottoms. Honestly, there are times when I think I could just go face down into a giant plate of them and die a happy woman. But rather than be shamed at ordering a large number of them at one of the various restaurants that serve them I've opted to make them at home, so when I do eventually consume all 25 dumplings I've cooked up there is no one to shame me with their eyes or comments.

Let me digress a moment, there was a Chinese restaurant next door to the wine shop. They happen to make spectacular Szechuan vegetables, delicious and perfectly steamed. So last week I ordered two orders of them and asked them to hold the rice. For a couple of reasons, one being that I try to avoid white rice being that it is pretty nutritionally void and just filler. I don't need filler. I've got plenty of filler already perched on my belly, thank you. So when I ask her to hold the rice she cackles into the phone "What! Are you on a diet?! HAHAHA!" I don't know how to take this, is she saying I need to diet or that I don't? WTF? Maybe she is just making small talk, whatever. Just give me my damn vegetables.

So anyways, my friend Yumi gave me a good jumping off point for making my own dumplings at home. Here is the humble recipe I've come up with that I like most, and everyone should be impressed that I wrote down actual measurements rather than generalities. If you can get your hands on some garlic chives then use those rather than straight chives, but sometimes they are hard to find.

Also, you may have trouble finding a ground un-seasoned pork. Generally I grab a pork shoulder or pork roast and just have them grind that up for me since most ground pork is seasoned or "sausage". Also I found the pot-sticker wrappers at my local Asian market in the frozen food section. I believe one could substitute wonton wrappers in a pinch though.

Pot Stickers

1/2 pound of ground pork
1/2 pound ground chuck
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon Worcester
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon sesame oil
5 tablespoons of chives
2 minced cloves of garlic
1 tablespoon of grated fresh ginger
1 package of pot sticker wrappers

Mix all the ingredients together except for pot sticker wrappers. Work the meat and seasonings as little as possible to get the ingredients combined though, don't overwork the meat (haha, why does that make me laugh. Oh, right because I've got the dirty mind of a 13 year old boy).

Place a sheet pan off to the side with a damp towel on top. Also have a damp paper towel to cover the stack of pot sticker wrappers so they don't dry out. Place a small amount of meat in the center of the wrapper, using your fingers moisten the edges of the wrapper with water so they will pinch shut. Try not to leave any pockets of air in the dumpling. Fold in half and crimp closed.
Place on sheet pan and cover with damp cloth.

I practiced with different ways of pinching them shut, but that was just my inner Martha coming out. I ended up leaving one side flat and then fold/crimping the other side. It's hard to explain and I suck at writing down what is clearly a visual process that I'm unable to photograph because I don't have a spare set of hands. Once you get a sheet pan filled you can stick them into the freezer for a couple of hours to harden up. Then transfer to a plastic bag and you are ready next time you need a quick go-to meal.

To cook, take frozen dumplings and put in a hot pan that has been coated with a little oil. Sear the bottoms till they get crispy. Then dump in some water (and I add a little soy sauce) and put a lid on. Steam away for a few minutes until done. Voila! Dinner in 7 minutes.

Forget your self control and Rock and Roll!*

2008-09-14T20:20:00.006-04:00

This last week I was shooting on location in a warehouse and to add some levity to the image they wanted someone in the background rocking out on a guitar. In an unusual twist, because I'm always behind the camera, I got to stand in while we were testing lights. Now, this is a blurry blowup (since they wanted the dude to be out of focus) but I rocked it none the lesS.

Today, before the evil winds of hell starting ripping crap apart in backyard (also known as the remnants of Hurricane Ike) I took a solo drive in Bernard. It was hot and sunny and perfect, that perfection was added to by the lunch of pulled pork, cole slaw and sweet potato fries (passable by my high Texas BBQ standards).

*This was the saying this evening on the underside of the bottle cap of my Magic Hat #9, which- if you've not had you need to go out and find. NOW. Awesome with popcorn and a football game (Go Browns! Kick Pittsburg ass!). Equally awesome any other time.

Mondays can go to hell.

2008-09-08T21:40:00.001-04:00

Today was one of those days that started off in a total shit manner- not that it would get better as things went along but I did manage to ruin one the few nice work tops I own by splashing bleach on it. Awesome, pink shirt with semi white spots- just on the right side of the waist though. Eff.

Yet I didn't lose my shit, I just changed my shirt and walked out the door. This is a improvement, because at various points last week had that happened I probably would have lit the damn shirt on fire while standing in only bra in the yard thus giving all the construction workers an eye full of my very pale half naked self. Then I would have grabbed a bottle of whiskey and called off work since clearly no one wants a motherfucking crazy employee.

And holy shit people, I did laundry this weekend and put it away! This is progress.

I also ran nearly 2 miles today, little legs pumping away. Not bad considering it's been a week and half since I'd done any sort of running. It felt good and I've stopped trying to hide the fact that I occasionally play the air drums while running. I'm sure I look like a total douchebag but I've found I don't care anymore. It feels good, man, to play the air drums.

Of note: I'm tired of people looking down their noses about people who spend time on the internet. It does not make you special or better than me, just makes you sound like a wanker.

A post in which I even bore myself

2008-09-04T20:43:00.005-04:00

I have been entirely meaning to write more but I just cannot seem to get my ass in gear at all. Everything lately seems to move very slowly and it's all I can do to get my laundry put away. Or not. I've had a bunch of it sitting in basket for 2 weeks now. Crappity crap crap.

Instead, I seem to be practicing the sort of things that would make a person you'd want to be married to in case of an apocalypse. I spent the whole of the Labor day weekend knitting, canning and refinishing furniture. Really, come on over once all hell breaks loose- I'll have whiskey and vodka and knit you things while preparing a meal from homemade canned goods.

Granted, I only canned one jar of tomatoes this weekend...I thought for sure I'd get two out what I brought home from the farmer's market. This weekend I plan on buying a boatload more, since I'd like to think that my homemade canned tomatoes will be better than what I get from the store. I might try to oven roast some of them to concentrate their flavor and make it deeper.

I also canned up a couple more jars of pickled okra. Because one can never have too much pickled okra- delicious for eating straight from the jar or in your Bloody Mary.

When I moved my parents brought me a table from my grandparents basement. A table that my grandfather had randomly drilled holes into and splashed a million different types of paint on. It was a dingy green color and in need of some serious loving care. After scraping off the layers and layers of paint, removing a few random nails and filling all the holes I was ready to paint.

Before:

After:

Oh my, this is boring isn't it? Fuck, it really is. I'm sitting here reading my own crap and drifting off.

So whatever. I painted, knitted a bunch and canned some food.

Really, I think whatever I write will not compare to the drama surrounding the Republican VP nominee. It's like the best lifetime movie ever. I can't get enough of it.

As usual the best commentary is coming from The Daily Show:

The rambler.

2008-08-26T20:10:00.002-04:00

I've been lazy lately, thus the lack of writing down of actual thoughts. But most of my thoughts lately have been, "Is it 5pm? Can I have a glass of wine or two?" and lots of sleeping.

But I've still got things to tell you about, so to review:

Friday night at the bar my friends and I were laughing it up and having a good time in the very crowded, noisy bar (loud music and such) when this henious woman at the next table leaned over and asked us to be quiet. FOR REAL. We all sat there in stunned silence, I wish I had a time traveling machine because I'd go back and tell her to go fuck herself. It's a bar. It's loud. If you don't like it you can go down to the damn library. Bitch.

I got fired from my wine shop job. They said it was "downsizing" but really it was because I basically told them to shove it- twice, when they tried to institute ridiculous policies- if something breaks on your shift they will take the cost of the item out of your paycheck and apparently we are supposed to know through telepathy that the owner wanted us to clean the toilet during our shift. I'll miss helping people out because I found I really liked it, I will not miss their horrible management of the place or the lack of hours that I was getting. I was working so little I only made about $30 every two weeks.

The farmer's market this week was full of sweet, apple cheeked babies with ridiculously fat thighs. I considered stealing one.

It's been a full three months since the last time I got kissed, that is entirely too long. Yet not a single cute single person in the area lately. I fear the college students will come back I'll accidentally lose control of myself and grab a poor freshmen and kiss the hell out of him on the street. But that would probably be some sort of assault, right? Crap. Must remember not to do that.

I bought a whole watermelon this weekend, I'm going to attempt to eat it all by myself.

It wasn't until Monday of this week that I realized that it was Labor Day weekend this weekend. How the hell did that happen? Summer is over? WTF? I certainly haven't driven my car enough...I'm thinking about taking a little solo road trip this weekend but I have no idea where I want to fo.

Although a tiny part of me is secretly looking forward to cooler fall temps and boots and jackets and pretty leaves. First I should probably go buy some boots and jackets, right?

That is all I've got.

Greater Cleveland Triathlon

2008-08-16T19:17:00.006-04:00

Race Report #2: Awesome. (Ok, I promise I'll try not to use that word so damn much)

Saturday afternoon my mom and I went out to the race site to pick up my packet, I'd already checked the bike course and knew what to expect there (a couple good sized hills) and the run course was nice a flat- the water, now there was the variable. Seriously, I nearly fell over dead when I saw the water and course markers. Nothing like waves and swimming against a current that seemed to be moving horizontally to the shore. A couple of the other racers were in the water giving a try and seemed to be doing ok -then again these were like the super swimmers. The top notch of the notches. Me, I'm in the upper 1/2 of the notches but not top, honestly.

That night I eagerly watched the weather and nothing calms a triathlete's racing heart and head like the words "Small craft advisory". Crap. Dreams involving drowning and sucking in great lung fulls of water followed by a tragic picture in the paper featuring myself in a wetsuit which makes me resemble a lame seal.

But the morning of the race they called off the swim portion, because the water looked like this:

Holy hell, the water was rough and choppy and the sky looked crazy.

It was unseasonably cool as well, mid-50's in the morning and maybe warming up to be in the upper 50's low 60's by the time the race was over. Because the swim was out, they added in a 1.2 mile run to start the race- so the tri because a dual-athon. Which is minorly disappointing since triathlete and triathlon sounds so much more impressive, no?

Anyways, the bike was good, sections of it were pretty windy though but I felt relaxed and just enjoyed myself. I was pretty stoked when one of the international distance guys came up behind me and said "Kudos to you for hauling on that bike!" This made me so freaking giddy I peddled just a bit harder after that. (I ride a big clunky hybrid while everyone else in the race, except two other riders, were on sleek road bikes).

The run was decent, I did have a few rough spots where the water I consumed on the bike sloshed about so much that I felt a little sick. So I walked when I felt that it, and ran the rest.

I LOVED the people on course, both the volunteers, the crowds and the racers. HUGELY different than the group last week, lots of encouragement which really means a lot to me. Besides the 'kudos' comment, a lot of people exchanged "good job!" with each other, from the announcer as I came back in from the ride portion "Look at her riding that huge bike!", I also got a "Keep it up Athens!" and a "I LOVE your jersey!"

Plus, kick ass goody bags with SWEET shirts, hair ties, carb gels, lotion, Triathlete magazine, several Gatorade products, Cliff Shot Bloks (salty goodness), and a bunch of other stuff I'm forgetting. As you came across the finish you got a medal, which is my first medal ever. I LOVE it. I didn't place but I want to wear that medal around my neck for a long while. I may be wearing it right now. Shhh.

And even though it's not a one to one ratio race wise I did it in 1 hour 53 minutes which about 11 minutes faster than my race time last year for a sort of equal distance (although this course was harder).

Starting the 5k:

And DONE!

I think this will be my last race of the season. I'm really fighting with myself since I'd like to do another one but I'd also like to enjoy the rest of the summer and not have to keep training so hard. Plus I can put the race fees towards a road bike so that I can knock some time off my cycling portion. But part of me is sad that this is it for the year, but it's good to end on a high note- right?

I will never call it Progessive Field, it will always and forever be "The Jake"

2008-08-12T17:09:00.004-04:00

I'll get to the triathlon race report in the next post (it's a good one, no little children punks making me feel like crap!)

Last night I conned my parents into taking me to the Tribe game (vs. Baltimore Orioles) and thank god I did, it was great. We ended up having good seats (upper deck but the lower section right between third and home) and it was an exciting game. I'm not a sports writer so I won't even bother to try to blather on because you would all flee in horror from the over-use of "awesome" and "dude, it was great!" while really gleaning very little understanding of what happened at the game. I can't help it, I suck at that sort of thing.

I am, however, awesome at taking pictures. Ok, as awesome as one could be with a tiny little point and shoot camera with a fixed lens and shooting around other spectators heads. I probably over-state my awesome-ness but suck it up. My blog, my prerogative to pontificate on my awesomeness.

If you'd like to do some reading about the actual game (the tribe won) I suggest that you head over to Orioles Insider , unlike myself Michael has actual talent when it comes to sports writing. Although, of course, his recap of last night will have a decidedly Orioles bend to it but if anyone happens to know of a good Indians blog I'd really appreciate it since all the ones I've tried I've failed to like or don't post enough.

Cleveland at bat:

Baltimore at bat:

Cleveland Triathlon Race Report

2008-08-06T20:50:00.006-04:00

So the truth of the matter is that I am probably entirely too hard on myself. In my head I fixate on the way I think I should be performing during triathlons and then when I realize I just can't do what I imagined I get down. Way down. Crying-in-the-corner, clutching-a-bottle-of-gin-muttering "dumb, slow-wanker" over-and-over-again down.

It doesn't help matters that I got fucking schooled by an 8 year old. Yeah, that's right- an 8 year old finished before I did. WTF? EIGHT. MOTHER-FUCKING-EIGHT.

It's a tiny bit hard not to beat oneself up when someone who is 20 years your junior totally kicks your ass and that person hasn't even hit puberty yet. Although in the end I win, because I'm an adult and can eat ice cream for breakfast and a candy bar for lunch while jumping up and down on my bed legally swilling gin and he can't. So suck on that Mr. 8 year old.*

Today someone told me that some races are for learning and not for rocking. I guess that is the way I can sum up Sunday's race, it was all about learning. Swimming in the Lake Erie harbor was actually pretty cool- the fear of water where I can't see the bottom is getting better. The course was surrounded by the cool Science Center and the Rock Hall and the William G. Mather, so there was plenty of interesting things to look at. And they closed down the innerbelt of the shoreway for the race- which if you are familiar at all with Cleveland is one of the main arties out of the city. I wish I had enjoyed the view more but I was battling hellish wind off the lake and some wicked hills. And depending on which distance you were doing you got to hit them a repeatedly. So maybe they weren't such a big deal to the pros but for me those long, slow climbs were a tiny challenge. But I did it and I didn't stop- I just kept peddling.

The swim though, the part I usually feel like I rock, was hard for me this go. I got kicked hard in the stomach twice, which caused me to inhale the lovely water of Lake Erie. In turn causing me choke and then have a hard time catching my breath. After I exited the water I was still coughing up some of the water and spent about 45 seconds bent over at the waist trying to catch my breath. For someone who prides herself on being a strong swimmer I was hella disappointed in my performance. 7:04 for a 300 meter swim.

Sometimes I get pissy with myself because I feel like I'm using the fact that I got kicked twice as a crutch for being so winded and craptastic in the swim portion. And then part of me is really glad I came out of that water and wanted to quit so badly but I sucked it up and got on that damn bike and went, dare I say I'm proud of myself? Conflicting emotions, it's awesome.

Swim: 7:08 (300m)
T1: 4:45
Bike: 44:40 (8 miles)
T2: :57
Run: 21:41 (1.5 miles)
Total: 1hr 19 min.

So this weekend, at race #2 (a longer and harder race) I'm just going to have some fun. I don't care how long it takes me, or how many times I get passed, I'm just going to do it. Fuck yeah.

My number:

In Lake Erie (Science Center in the background):

*Ok, I'm not really trying to knock the 8 year old triathlete around. I think it is quite awesome that he did but that doesn't mean I'm above a little shit talking in order to sooth my wounded ego. I never said I wasn't a minorly petty person under particular circumstances.

Good Intentions.

2008-07-30T21:09:00.004-04:00

Ok, so I had a semi-funny post about stress and exercise and not drinking because I have a triathlon this weekend and then OPPS. I went out and played pool volleyball and had approximately 1 (or 2 or 3) too many Bells Oberon Summer Ale. DAMNIT.

YET. It was fun and delicious and resulted in me getting Taco Johns on the way home. BASTARD.

Blah, now I want to sleep. Goodnight.

Oh my holy shit.

2008-07-21T17:03:00.006-04:00

PSA: A trashcan full of empty boxes and a bike parked at the right angle so the sun hits the bike reflector can ignite a fire. OUTSIDE YOUR FRONT DOOR.

Then in your awesomely half dressed state (because you just emerged from the shower) you can throw open said door to find a cop yelling at you to shut the door while he extinguishes the fire. Then still not wearing a bra and with wet hair you can be asked a million questions by the cops and fireman (who were actually really nice and helpful) determine that it was a freak accident (once they rule out that you are neither a smoker, pyromaniac or crazy).

Things that were ruined by the fire: trashcan, bike tire (hopefully not the rim or anything else), lawn chair, snow shovel and a couple of my tomato plants.

This is just another in a random set of things that have sucked balls, including getting food poisoning on Friday night possibly from something I ate on the scenic railway beer train (cost: $25). Really, as if it wasn't bad enough they ran out of beer 20 minutes into a 2 hour ride and their "local appetizers" were tiny cubes of very non-local cheese, ritz crackers and a bag of pretzels; but then 6 hours later I'm spending copious amounts of time hunched over my toliet. That is like kicking someone in the ass after they've already fallen down because you tripped them and then stealing $25 from their wallet.

Previously, on things that blow: my iBook keyboard started malfunctioning. Several of the keys died and while it is an easy fix the nearest Apple Genius Bar is 1.5 hours away. So last Saturday I drove to Columbus to get it fixed, except that once I reached Columbus' 270 outerbelt I hit a freaking box spring at 70 miles an hour. There was a giant truck right in front of me that swerved to miss it, but since I couldn't see why it swerved until about 3 seconds later there was nothing I could do. I was boxed in, and slamming on my breaks would have only caused the guy behind me to ram into my back end.

So like something out of Dukes of Hazard I just drove right over top of it. Killing it dead.

Luckily it didn't seem to hurt my car, but really it's an experience I could of lived without.

Seems I'm not the only one having a rough go of July, the wonderfully witty and awesome Jemima seems to be in the same boat as I am.

Post Script: Cleaning up hot, smoked, half-burned rotting garbage is horribly horrific. Oh my god, the smell. I had to shower after I picked it up, I felt like that awful smell was clinging to my skin and hair.

In brief

2008-07-13T22:26:00.005-04:00

I think I could have stayed in Texas for a little while longer, if only to eat delicious BBQ and Mexican food. There were a couple of nights I laid in bed moaning because my belly hurt from over fullness. My poor sister had to listen to me go on and on about how I shouldn't have eaten that last 12 bites of beans or tamale or whatever else I had overindulged in.

But seriously, that tamale was delicious. But really the most amazing thing I ate the whole time I was there was a roast beef sandwich from this little roadside smoke house Robertson's Choppin' Block. I'm completely in love with it, there just are no words to describe the tender meat that just falls apart and their own rich BBQ sauce. (Le sigh.)

I truly believe that this sandwich could bring about peace in the middle east. At one point I had a fantasy that I would someday get married on the back deck and serve the delicious sandwiches for the meal (with lots of shiner bock). Have I strayed too far into hyperbole? Perhaps, but damnit- that sandwich is worthy of such great blathering on.

And really, I could have used some more of the poolside sunbathing with a book.

Last but not least, the snow cone. These are not the crap pellet-ice versions that are available in the north rather they are shaved ice topped with fantastic flavorings and snow cream.

Mini-break

2008-07-02T14:42:00.002-04:00

What does one pack for a trip when the destination is only slightly cooler than the surface of the sun? Personally I have no idea, only that I'll probably melt into a puddle the minute I step outside of the air conditioned bliss of the Austin airport. Why would anyone in their right mind take a slightly extended mini-break to Texas in the middle of July? Only for the love of a family member- my brother is leaving for Afghanistan next week and my sister, parents and his fiance are all converging on that hottest of locals for 5 days of family fun.

Not that Kileen is the happiest place on earth, but rather where his base is so in this situation we come to him. And really, from what Glenn has told me Kileen is in the exact middle of nowhere. I really expect the first thing I'll need to do after de-boarding is pick up some sunscreen since the TSA is so unkind about the amounts of 'liquids and gels' one can bring with themselves aboard a plane. 3 ounces of sunscreen is nothing and I'm very, very white. I glow, people. Last year I had more free time (thanks second job) and so had spent more time outside building up some natural color (while wearing the 'screen). And I'm going to try to avoid like freaking hell to check bags since I would be charged an addition $15 each way. Shelling out ridiculous amounts of money already on ticket wasn't enough, now they want to bleed me dry to check a bag.

Ok, so $15 won't break me but it's still ridiculous.

Right now I'm focusing on the positives, Melissa will be free from all her adorable little goblins since they will be staying at home. Straight up sister time! We've not had that since we took a trip to Vegas a couple of years ago; the last family outing which involved a hospital visit, an intervention, and gambling- the perfect Vegas trip no? Oh, Melissa and I also hid out in the bathroom every morning in our hotel room, drinking coffee and eating fresh donuts and trying not to wake the other sister who was still sleeping. I don't know why but that is one of my favorite memories of us, our backs pressed up against the tub laughing and downing coffee and donuts.

So anyways, Melissa and I are hoping to spend some time pool side, slathered in copious amounts of sunscreen drinking some Shiner Bock. We've also got a very strict goal of eating as much as we possibly can, all our childhood favorites to be specific (we all lived in Texas for 10 years in the 80's). On the list are mexican food, snow cones (no one does snow cones like Texas), BBQ and Ranch Beans. I'm sure there are more things but really I'm trying to appear not entirely gluttonous right now. I know I'm not the only member of the family that is obsessed with the good food from Texas, my Dad is planning on stopping at his favorite chocolate place and loading up. I fully expect that by the time they reach Ohio he'll be deep into a Fudge Love coma.

In preparation for the trip I also bought a new camera, shocking behavior for a photographer- I know. My old point and shoot was complete shit, it was a lemon from the day I got it and I sent it back for repairs at least 4 times before I just gave up on it entirely. Its been half operational for a year and half, and really it was time to upgrade. I ended up with a little Canon Elf, and thus far I'm completely in love with it. It is exactly what I've been looking for in a little point and shoot- the color is good, it works well without needing the flash (providing there is appropriate light available) and is small. Now I will barrage you all with photos.

It's a good thing I'm leaving soon because these pickles I made the other night are taunting me from the refridgerator. 10 days feels entirely too long to wait before I'm allowed to open the jar. Patience is clearly a virtue I lack:

Random salad I made for dinner. Roast beets, bacon and pine nuts in a basil chili feta dressing:

Bernard (the MG Midget) and I went for a drive, stopping at these old, sort of creepy brick kilns:

Here I am being a chicken shit about going inside:

Phallic smoke stack!

Bits

2008-06-24T17:59:00.002-04:00

Ok, I love the song New York Minute by Don Henley (and a bunch of other guys). But listening to it makes me wonder what the hell is so special about a New York Minute. Is is faster or slower? WHAT? Isn't the amount of time in a minute universal (unless you are in space which I think time is measured differently or is that only on other planets? Am I completely making shit up now? Probably.)

Speaking of time, I'm still having a bit of a rough go of adjusting to working part time in addition to working full time. In addition to training for a triathlon. But after tomorrow I have a whole week off or so and I'm going to spend every breathing minute in the gym. Or riding my bike. Except for Thursday afternoon during which I'll be getting a massage. A much needed massage as my stupid back decided that it would be a good time to freak the fuck out. I slept horribly waking every hour or so in pain, not including the awesomely weird dreams that I had that I was training to climb Mount Everest (a direct result of reading Into Thin Air before bed. Seriously go get this book and read it. It's amazing.)

I went to gym once last week. ONCE. I was so messed in the head with the sinus issues that I could barely think straight and running or any physical activity made me want to die. But this week is off to a much better start, I ran last night for 35 minutes (2 minute warm up) and clocked in 2.9 miles. 3.2 miles with the cool down. I'm mightily impressed with myself and at some point when I stop being amazed that I can run any sort of distance I'm sure I'll shut the hell up about it. But until then I'm going to talk about it until everyone wants to beat me to death with their keyboards or break my feet thus rendering me unable to run ever again.

Lets hit up the way back machine and discuss running- college style. We've already covered why I started and why I stopped running college but I've not touched on the awesomely embarrassing thing that I did while running one time. Lets be honest, I'm of average height (5'4") and possess a curvy figure albeit one that can be athletic and strong. So at the start of my running in college I was strictly a treadmill sort of person and we went early in the morning (7am is EARLY for college people, ok.) One morning and very tall and lovely European student got on the treadmill next to me. She was everything I'm not, TALL and lithe and blond. Whereas I'm short and a wee bit stocky and dark.

Never in a million years could I ever hope to keep up with her gazelle-like stride or pace but I was holding my own slow even canter (yes, canter like a horse or whatever). I have this thing where I HATE, with the fire of a thousand suns, being able to see the time click by on the onscreen display. It makes me crazy because time seems to move so much slower that way. So I toss my little gym towel over it so I can't see it. At some point about 15 minutes in the towel falls off and slips by my feet on the treadmill. Here is where things break down.

Not thinking AT ALL, I come to a dead stop on the treadmill while the damn belt is still running. This shoots me off the back of the treadmill like a rocket and into the wall behind me. Glorious, no? I'm alternately laughing and crying a little bit and the Blond Gazelle next to me stops running and rushes over to make sure I'm ok. I am, just horribly embarrassed.

Aannnd Scene!

Where is my damn Sudafed?

2008-06-19T13:14:00.000-04:00

Praise baby Jesus (because I'm sure he had a lot to do with it), but my landlord called me back at 9pm. In my head I'd given him a 9:30pm deadline before I totally lost my shit, which would involve me driving over to his house with my toiletries and asking to take a shower and use the toilet. He was massively apologetic on the phone and told me to get the carpet cleaned and send him the bill. Which I fully intend to do once I get my damn shit together. Currently I feel like bits of my sanity are held together with scotch tape and perhaps might go flying off if they were to encounter a stiff wind. Its the move that makes me feel this way. I spent at least an hour last night poking through the boxes looking for the giant powder blue makeup bag that held my salvation (sinus medication) and couldn't find it. This morning I was miserable, stuffy headed and still looking for that damn bag. Then I realized I might have actually already put the damn thing away, and just like that I opened my closet and there it was.

I'm slowly making progress with all the boxes and stuff piled around me in the new place. Last night I managed to get several boxes cleared away and make a real meal. One with chopped veg and everything. Tonight my goal is to attack the remaining boxes in the left quadrant of my apartment, the right quadrant is still a total mess and I'm dealing with it by completely avoiding it. Sounds like a plan, no?

The right will come under attack this weekend, hopefully by Sunday everything will be in it's own place. Oh, except that the giant Rubbermaid containers will be chillin' in the main room. Because there is only one closet and it's already full of clothes, extra bed linen, and shoes. I have no idea what I'm going to do with all of them since House Du Rubbermaid isn't really my decorating style. Perhaps I'll even get ambitious and hang pictures this weekend.

And steam clean the motherfucking carpet.

Oh, and make damn cookies for my nephew's birthday (which was a month ago).

Clearly I'm on top of it all.

Shit, shit, shit. I've turned into one of those people who bitches all the time about being busy yet does nothing to stop it. I hate those people. I guess I can add 'self-loathing' to my list of complaints and things to do.

Crap. Literally.

2008-06-16T18:44:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I'm not dead. I just feel that way, I've got another cold. Complete with sore throat and plugged ears. Oh, and overflowing toliet and a shower stall full of poop-water (which is escaping from the bathroom and onto the carpet in the hallway). AWESOME.

Best part is that I've called my landlord but his wife seems to think that overflowing sewage isn't that big of a deal and won't call her husband on the golf course.

I showered this afternoon at the gym and might have to pee in the backyard tonight.

Barely functional

2008-06-09T20:19:00.005-04:00

Ok, so clearly I bored everyone with my post about running. So in retaliation I'll make you read a boring bit about my weekend. Bear with me I'm not my usual witty self... I'm so freaking tired right now I can barely sit upright. I've spent the last 4 days moving in 90+ degree heat. Moving oneself by oneself can be a long, laborious undertaking. My friends helped move the large bits but the rest has been up to me.

Tonight I spent longer than I care to discuss cleaning my old apartment. I want that fucking deposit back. I still need to finish cleaning the oven, wash the floors and baseboards and then I'm DONE. Oh and move 4 boxes out of the damn garage. Then I'll be really done.

Lets not even touch on the fact that I've been so tired that all my stuff is piled around me in the new apartment none of it put away.

Shall I mention that my parents are coming for a visit this weekend? Because just a bit of added pressure to heap onto the pile to get things put away. Yeah, if it doesn't happen my parents can just suck it up and deal.

The best part about moving, I drove the big ass Uhaul truck. It was wickedly fun. Oh, and moving all the major furniture only took 1 hour and 20 minutes. Which meant my lovely friends and I enjoyed a celebratory beer at 11:20am on Saturday. Oh, and my new neighbor saw us drinking and decided to come down and introduce himself (and his wife) and join us in the beer consuming. Awesome.

See, I loved driving the truck (not bad looking for not wearing a lick of makeup, having been sweating for a couple of hours, no?):

And my awesome friends enjoying a frosty cold one post move, although Dan (the dude in the middle) is looking not entirely happy:

Clodhopper

2008-06-03T18:31:00.004-04:00

I've been running, twice exactly. And while my speed nor the distance I can do, 2 miles** (with some walking breaks tossed in there) isn't earth shattering- it is running. Albeit slowly. It's still not my favorite activity and I doubt it ever will be, yet there is something so alluring about running and the cult that surrounds it. I love the way runners talk about how it is just them and the road, a single, solitary activity with no judgment- just footfall after footfall. The runner's high, those sleek, gazelle-like legs, the steady gate...I want all of it. Although I fear I'll never have those lovely, shapely legs and my gate will always resemble a Clydesdale.

My Dad has always been a runner, for as long as I can remember he would don his running shoes and slip out of the house to pound away on the pavement. In my younger years I remember the torture he would inflict upon us by making us run with him in the middle of summer. In TEXAS. Our Mother would slowly follow behind us in that massive van she used to drive just in case one of us died of heat exhaustion. I could never make it very long and would eventually end up in the van with my mother. My brother on the other hand was a natural, born to the heat and pavement like it was his destiny. There was no end to the love and affection our Father felt about this, he loved that his only son was a runner- just like him. Some sort of triumph of genetics, while his daughters eschewed the very activity. I was always more of a waterbaby, excelling at racing to the end of the pool lane, flipping and coming back for more. I have the powershoulders of a butterfly-er that I've never been able to get rid of.

In college I attempted to be a runner, and for quite some time succeeded. I was running about 3 miles a day and while this was no great distance to do in one go, it was quite an achievement for someone so prone to disliking the sport. But this was also during the period of my life at which I flirted with messed up eating habits, living on diet ginger ale, celery and one cup a rice a day. Complete and utter ridiculousness, looking back and that time I'll admit I'm ashamed. In the end, though, I stopped running. Not because my body gave up from pure exhaustion or lack of nutrition- because really it was surprising on how far I could go on that one cup of rice a day but rather it was the doctor that told me I had to stop. A couple of months into my running I began to develop the most debilitating back pain- when not running I was hunched over like an old crone barely able to pick up my book bag. Turns out the combination of running and the huge breasts I had were messing up my back so badly (oh, the bouncing- I couldn't bare to have a treadmill facing the mirrors, it was like a horrible fun house mirror except REAL). So I quit and the back pain subsided somewhat. The dumb eating bullshit sort of started to clear up too, although it would take me more than a year and half to fully kick it's ass and realize how unbelievably stupid not eating was.

Then I didn't run again for 6 years, until last year (this time with much smaller breasts thanks to my plastic surgeon). There wasn't any painful bouncing or back pain, although a high impact bra is still in order (ladies, Enell is your savior- I don't exercise without mine. No bounce EVER.) Yet, I still didn't love it and it was the part of my triathlon training I neglected the most, figuring if worse came to worse I would walk it. And I did walk a good bit of it, this year I'd like it to be different. I'd like to be better at running, last year it was biking that I so desperately wanted to do well at and that didn't go exactly as planned. The point of all of this is that I'm trying, I'm trying to make myself a runner. It could end in failure yet again, or just something I can do but still don't love.

But I hope not.

Oh, and to answer Shannon's question about which Tris I am going to do, The Cleveland Triathlon Mini Sprint, August 3rd and the Greater Cleveland Triathlon Sprint on August 10th. Perhaps one more in September in Akron based on how those go. I've opted for Cleveland ones because while I LOVED the all women's Triathlon in Sylvania Ohio it just so far from my home and at one point on the drive home I thought I would pass out at the wheel from exhaustion. Just totally drained, and if I race in Cleveland I can stay the night at my parents house and relax without having to worry about that. Not driving off the road = good.

**ok, I wrote this post before I left for the gym today and I'm proud to report that I've now run three times. This last one for 2 miles (22 minutes) without stopping! Dude. WITHOUT STOPPING. I feel awesome. AWESOME.

The whole time I was running I was like "Oh my god, I'm rocking this. Look at MEEEEE! I'm running!"

Tri-Suit Up!

2008-05-29T09:10:00.000-04:00

I've not talked about triathlons at all this season for the simple reason I wasn't sure I was going to do one this season. The plan all along had been to do the one I did last year and another one in later August. Except then I lost my drive, it was like I couldn't bear the thought of training; all those hours logged in the gym when I could be laying on my couch stuffing myself full of salt and vinegar potato chips mourning my sad, pathetic love life. Even before the love life meltdown I was struggling with the idea of more tri's, which is odd because I LOVED doing the one last year.

So really I can't explain why in my head I decided to not do any this summer.

But yet, here I am looking at Tri schedules and swimsuits and a new tri top.

This could end in total disaster because I've not biked in at least 2 months, nor have a run lately. Swimming though is never something I'm worried about even though the only time I've donned a swimsuit lately was to get into my friend's hot tub. Really, on the whole I'm going to have to work very fucking hard for the next two months to make this a go.

Oh, and fit that in with working 2 jobs, a move (not a single item packed yet), plus a trip to Texas for my brother's deployment (which I don't even like to think about).

I think I'm fucking insane.

Do you need a receipt with that?

2008-05-22T15:57:00.000-04:00

The last week or so my entire apartment has exploded with laundry and dishes and oh my holy jesus- the mail. It's OVERFLOWING all over everything. I hate mail. I rarely open it unless it's a bill that needs to be paid, I'm completely unbearably lazy like that. It's been piling up for quite some time and every time I look at it I just sigh and then shove some more on top. Effective, no?

I don't think I've ever let my place get to such horribly messy state as it is now. I'm blaming my schedule and exhaustion from the eye thing+a little stomach bug I can't seem to kick that is using up all my extra energy. Not that those excuses really make me feel any better about it.

Why so busy? Well, I took a part time job as a wine store worker. I figured if I was handing out random advice to strangers in liquor aisle I might as well get paid for it. It's actually pretty fun, not counting the endless hours I spend on my feet which aren't used to that much standing. My feet ache at the end of my shifts, so terrifically sore that all I want to do is have someone rub them. Oh, but I'm loveless and live alone- so I'm left to rub my own feet which somehow defeats the relaxing purpose of it.

Other things about my job: I sell endless amounts of Natural Light. That beer is the staple of every single party in this town due to it's cheapness and overabundence of college students. Seriously, Natty Light is the king of beers here. I'm impressed when college students come in a buy wine, decent wine-not party in a box- which does have it's place and time. Lord knows there were many nights in college that ended with my roommates and I squeezing the last drop of wine from that weird silver bladder that is in the Franza White Zinfindel box. We were firmly of the mindset that no alcohol ever get wasted- EVER.

I'm not impressed by the tool who spent the last 10 minutes before closing trying to choose from our selection of nicer beers and then asking me why they don't put sell by dates because he wanted fresh beer. He did not believe me when I said that our stock rotates quickly and had been in the case for less than a week. In the end he chose a beer with a dumb name and even dumber looking box, and really it isn't all that good.

And HELLO to the very cute guy who came in last Friday and bought a bunch of wine. He saw me coming out of the cooler carrying a box of alcoholic energy drinks and sweetly said "I feel like I should be helping you carry that!" Uh, thanks for the offer but what I'd really like is for you to kiss me. Please come back into the store and do so.

Really.

Oof.

2008-05-19T22:17:00.003-04:00

So sometime yesterday afternoon I noticed that might right eye was a bit swollen and red. I chalked it up to allergies since I had a wicked allergy-induced headache.

Yeah, not so much. Instead I woke up at 3am with it throbbing, luckily an ice pack allowed me to get at least a couple additional hours of fitful sleep.

Results: Random eye infection.
Cure: A million dollars worth of eye drops and pills.

Ok, not a million but still $80 dollars of medication. Damn expensive eye drops, those cost me $60 for 3ml. 3ml! A goddamn rip off.

But still I forked over the cash because I don't particularly feel like looking like I was punched in the eye and then spent 3 hours crying about it. Also I'd like it to stop hurting like a mother-fucker.

Forgetful

2008-05-15T16:32:00.002-04:00

I used to carry around a little notebook in which to jot notes to myself, it was extremely helpful for remembering random bits of information that seem to escape from my sieve-like mind. Paying bills I occasionally forget, but if you want to discuss the particulars of certain episode of Saved By the Bell, well of course that information is completely at the ready.

Lately I've been puttering around doing my normal daily activities and find myself going "Oh, lovely- that would be fun to write about!" and then thinking 'must remember that' at which point it silently slips from my brain never to be seen again. So I'm re-instituting the notebook procedure, that way all those brilliant (at least to me) ideas/thoughts that I feel the need to share with the world at large don't go skulking off into the dark recesses of my head.

In the interest of wrapping things up since I've been so lax in my writing, here is what I've done for the last week... I made some absolutely awful cranberry muffins. It was my go-to recipe for years and this time around they were absolutely awful. They stuck to their papers and where generally taste-less, perhaps I cocked the recipe up (entirely possible) or maybe over the years my palate has advanced to the point that once considered glorious muffins are now sub-par.

Oh yes, and I spent the weekend at my sister's house. I cut my sister's hair, made homemade mac and cheese + brownies for the kids, did a ton of sidewalk chalk drawings with them (crime scene outlines included), blew enough bubbles to qualify me for employment at the Wonka Factory, gave one of the girls a bath and fell asleep in the recliner while watching game 3 of Cavs/Celtic playoffs.

Also I bought some ridiculously expensive shoes at the New Balance store. Ok, not ridiculously expensive but still on the upside of $150 dollars. $120 for the shoes and then $35-ish for the special insoles to help with my amazingly high arches. It is like walking (ahem, I've not had a chance to try them out running) on clouds. Fluffy little clouds made of deliciously sprong-y memory foam. I will not comment at all about the look of disbelief that clerk gave me when I told him I do triathlons. I guess he doesn't think I'm ripped enough to be a triathlete?

Then true to form I went next door to trader joe's and bought some more cheese. And red wine salami.

Crap.

2008-05-07T19:20:00.003-04:00

Last week I fucking tripped over my own feet while walking up the stairs at work. Full out splat pavement contact. Pisser. I bashed up my knee and fucked up the palms of my hands. Nice. Good to know that I don't need actual obstacles when it comes to making a total ass out of myself, just my own feet. Or air.

Tonight I was pulling the asparagus from the oven with one of those silicone hot pads. Oh, and the hot pad had a fucking hole in it so you could hang it from a hook. Except me, I put the pad of my thumb right there and proceed to burn the fuck out my thumb. Can I say FUCK again? Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Oh, and I accidentally grabbed the wrong t-shirt this morning for my post-work gym session. That shirt? It was the one I'd already worn once to the gym already so it was a tiny bit funky (but not overly so). I feel embarrassed that I couldn't even grab the right shirt this morning.

Random:
If any of you make the red velvet cupcakes please make sure you let me know how they came out.

Red Velvet, the dish

2008-04-30T21:57:00.003-04:00

I would dearly love to mail you all these cupcakes- but I fear they would arrive a broken, crumbled mess. I think the only solution is for me to make a cross country road trip stopping in various cities bringing you all my cupcakes*. A modern day Johnny Appleseed, except you know, a woman. And not apple seeds but cupcakes. And you could bet your ass I'm not walking.

So not really like Johnny Appleseed at all.

But lets get down to it. For the red velvet cupcakes I used Smitten Kitchen's recipe, usually I would turn to my mother's but I couldn't find it and why not throw caution to the wind and try something new. Her recipe turned out fantastically, it was a deliciously damp cake- blood red, of course with a decent cocoa flavor. The recipe itself it is a bit step heavy, but that I don't fault her for- every red velvet recipe I've read is most certainly be-labored with interesting bits (dissolving baking soda in vinegar- mini volcano in a cup!). I also think Deb has hit upon the right balance of sweet and tang for the cream cheese frosting.

My coworkers were the guinea pigs for these and they all declared them to be the best they'd ever had. Commenting on both the wonderful cake base and frosting.

Decorating the cupcakes was easy-peasy, I used an extra large star tip (like the kind that can be found in this set). Then starting at the edge I make a clockwise swirl using a continuous even pressure (hint: make sure there isn't any air trapped in the bag as it can cause 'hiccups' and mess up your pretty frosting). Once you get the the starting point continue the swirl except move it inward and continue repeating the motion until the cupcake is covered. Upon reaching the center pull up on the pastry bag while releasing the pressure. That should ensure a nice little pointy tip.

Practice really is the key, get yourself some parchment and practice piping frosting onto that. Once you've run out of frosting scrape it off the parchment and back into the pastry bag- no wasted frosting.

For these cupcakes I only filled them about 1/2 full with batter because I wanted the cake to barely crest the tops of wrappers. The recipe makes itself makes a lot of cupcakes done this way- about 48. And because I so liberally frosted them it took 2 batches of the frosting to cover them all.

*Can I please take moment to wonder aloud why "bringing you all my cupcakes." sounds vaguely dirty? Perhaps I just need to be thoroughly kissed to relieve this perceived pervy-ness in my writing.

Wiped.

2008-04-28T19:47:00.003-04:00

I'm entirely too tired to write much today so instead I'll leave you with some photos I took this weekend. You know why you should all want to love me and be my friend? Because I like to bake but dislike actually eating baked goods (except bread- get between my bread and I and I will fork you.)

So really, I routinely pawn things like these red velvet cupcakes I made off onto friends:

Recipe and more will be forthcoming once I can put more than a few coherent sentences together.

It's not love but it'll do for now.

2008-04-23T21:35:00.002-04:00

Looking for a place to live is stressful anywhere you live, but for some reason it seems to be a major issue here. You would think that I'm living in a thriving metropolis but nope! Just plain old Athens (with it's massive student population who artificially drive up prices). How about $1400 a month for a two bedroom apartment? YES! Please and thank you. There is also this giant rod that you could beat me roundly about the head with too.

Ok, but in all seriousness- $1400 a month for a two bedroom apartment in insane. I could rent a whole house in a nicer neighborhood for that amount or a little bit more. So the epic search continued on- then there was the $450 motel-dive-looking apartment. Complete with half inflated air mattress on the floor and hobo smell.

Then there was the hugely touted "ceramic tile!" apartment, the only ceramic tile was about 3 tiles right when you walked in the door. Of course the kitchen had horrible, shit-tastic linoleum. Instead of a hobo smell this place was heavily incensed so either the dude was in the Seminary and practicing his Catholic rituals or he is into the pot. I'm thinking it is the latter, especially since there was the tell-tale hippie tapestry on the living room wall.

There was one other contender, it was nice, tile floors/nice carpet, bigger kitchen, good amount of storage. But the price was a bit higher, it had a bit of an odd layout and it didn't have a washer and dryer. It cost about the same as the place I'm living now though- but...

In the end I chose the apartment on the West Side of town, sort of out of the way (still only a 5 minute commute to work). But it's big and open (albeit boring and bland), with a nice washer and dryer. The kitchen is JACKED, though. Carpet in the kitchen? (good bye deposit the minute I spill something on the floor) It looks like they intended to put in some more counters/cabinets and then got distracted by shiny object or perhaps a ham sandwich thus causing them to entirely forget about the project.

Kitchen

Living Room:

Bedroom:

But it is cheaper than my current place and I am instituting plan "super money saver" so at the end of next year I could make some major life changes. Maybe leave, maybe buy a house, maybe take a super extended vacation? I don't know. Something BIG.

Now that I've put it out there I have to follow through.

So very sore+Day in photos

2008-04-18T15:51:00.003-04:00

I am totally walking funny today because I asked my trainer to kick my ass. I've totally slacked off on working on for the last month, I just couldn't find the motivation because I was being sad and lame. Whatever. Really I couldn't stand feeling like such shit anymore so I resolved to working out every day again. Also I had a bit of great motivation, that being that my pants are starting to not fit correctly. Which sucks since my pant wardrobe is seriously limited to start with.

As soon as I started back this week I felt better. I got in several good cardio workouts before I asked my trainer to essentially come up with a plan to make my thighs explode. Oh, and he did. Circuits. Lots of squats, lunge-like steps, kicking exercises (which I happen to LOVE. Here let me work out some aggression by kicking the shit out of your (padded) hands.WHEEEE !!!!). Best part was that we ripped through an hour workout in 30 minutes because I could complete each circuit in 11 minutes, I was hauling ass people. He did cut one set of circuits because he didn't want me to be totally fucking paralyzed for the following 2 days.

Yesterday I just did cardio, but there were a couple cute new guys at the gym. And I think one of them might have been checking me out, although it is quite possible he was staring at my extremely red face in horror. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned how I turn the color of tomato whileexercising but here is the other thing about when I'm having a really good workout... I smile. A LOT. Because it feels good. Also because I'm usually listening to some super cheesy pop mix. Yesterday the biggest smiles came from Wind it Up (GwenStefani), Switch (Will Smith), and Faith (George Michael).

With any luck I'll feel more comfortable in my pants in a month, barring any more brownie breakfasts (oops, just one this morning). But I also like to think that eating it early in the day might be marginally better since I've got all day to burn it off. Just let me live on in my delusion,ok?

Lets show some photos, shall we? Tuesday happened to be a particularly fun day, since it didn't involve my usually boring routine of sitting on the couch watching endlessCSI repeats on Spike (CSI is the new Law and Order), I felt the compelling need to document it.

A full day

2008-04-13T20:57:00.003-04:00

Saturday was one of those full, great days where things just seem to cosmically align and go smoothly. I woke up early and managed to get out of the house in 45 minutes- from waking up to out the door that is pretty impressive especially since it includes a shower, blow drying and curling my hair and make up application. Honestly though, my makeup is exactly two products- a face lotion and blush. What can I say, I'm a pretty low-maintenance woman.

All the way to the store in Columbus I was hearing awesome music: Cher, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, etc. Really fun car music for singing along to (at the top of your lungs) and then there is the car dancing. Oh the car dancing, since one is constrained by being in a seated position and being strapped in, range of motion is seriously limited. Basically there is much flailing about with the arms and head to the beat of the music.

While in Columbus I dropped some money at the L'Occtaine store, since I was in serious need hand lotion. It may sound ridiculously vain and lame but it's important to me to have soft, lovely hands. Which means nails need to be polished/buffed (oh-new favorite nail colorOPI Royal Rajah Ruby- buy it, it's perfection) and hands need to be properly lotioned for niceness. Why this obsession with hands care? Most likely it is that I'm a little self-conscience about the size of my hands and the fat little fingers that are attached. I long for lovely long and slender fingers, instead I have plump little digits. I know it's something probably no one else but me notices (I hope like hell people aren't talking about my hands behind their backs, calling them big, meaty paws or man hands. Don't get me wrong, I love man hands. ON MEN.)

Bloody hell, perhaps I'm just obsessed with hands in general.

But enough about that jazz, lets get to my favorite part of the whole damn weekend. I stopped at Trader Joe's to refuel on cheese and decided to pick up some beer for a party I was going to on Saturday night. While stand in the beer aisle a cute fellow asked me if I had any beerrecommendations , and I pointed him in the direction of an apricot ale. Flirting over beer ensued and right before he walked away he said "You're beautiful. Uh, I mean you're helpful. Thanks."Awesomest Freudian slip EVER. I think I fairly floated around the store on the cloud of that compliment- even the checkout guy flirted with me. Which was another awesome exchange, he was asking me aboutProsecco and I was telling him why it was good especially for brunch (I'm a traveling wikipedia of alcohol, folks). I added that is if you like to start drinking early on the weekends like I do, and he said "You are my kind of girl!" By some funny twist of fate I was parked next to Freudian-slip guy and there was more flirting as we loaded the cars but he never asked for my number, damnit (oh well).

Who knew all I need to do to boost my confidence was head to Trader Joe's and dispense alcohol advice, letting the compliments roll in.

Then on Saturday night was a childhood-themed pot-luck for the ladies. There was lots of drinks, food, pictionary and randomly swinging conversations. A few topics covered included: Prince being a Jehovah's Witness, kumquats, cake decorating, tea-bagging, prowlers in my neighborhood (holy shit!), and pony play.

yeah, some stuff...

2008-04-07T20:08:00.002-04:00

First off, I'm glad my boys of summer finally pulled their shit together sunday afternoon and racked up a win against Oakland. And with three losses under their belts (from both the White Sox and the A's) it's not exactly the start to the the season I was dreaming of this long cold winter. They'll be back in the latter half of the week to play the A's again after a 3-game series with the Angels.

Of course lately I've been all-sad-girl-dating-reject and spewing my sad-girl-dating-reject-ness all over my wonderful friends who listen. As evidence I present this IM convo I had with Kate:

me: I'm just feeling very "wah, wah...sad" girl lately. I don't want to be that awesome girl into my thirties though who everyone thinks is great but is still alone and terribly lonely.
Kate: your thirties are pretty far away, man!
me: 1.5 years. KATE WE ARE ALMOST 29!
Kate: 1.5 years is a loooooooooooooooooooong time!
me: Ugh, but at this rate I'll be 87 before I find a man. And then only because all the other girls are dead and they have to like me.
Kate: HA! omg.

I left out the part where I dramatically talk about shooting myself if this new girl in town ends up with a boyfriend before I do.

THERE IS A BOYFRIEND QUEUE PEOPLE. Line forms behind Skeezix.

Ok, not really. And I'm massively happy for anyone who finds love or a shag partner or whatever in this town.

What? Yes, I know I'm only 28 and that my thirties could be a very rich time for dating. But the dating pool in this town is pretty damn small, fuck, it might qualify as a kiddie pool. And not one of those awesome inflatable kiddie pools rather one of those molded plastic ones that are blue with frogs printed on the inside of it. You know the ones I'm talking about, they hold like a gallon of water. Lest you think that I'm kidding about the smallness of the pool, I'm quickly butting up again the maximum saturation point that allows for a comfortable degree of separation of sexual partners and friends. In my ideal world there would be at least 3 people separating me and my friends in the sexual realm. Yet, I'm hovering close to two people separating some of us. And I'm not even that slutty!

My friends, on the other hand, are total whores.

Ok, I lie. They aren't whores, almost every single one of them are all in stable, loving relationships. Which does occasionally make being the single girl out a little bit harder because they make being in/finding a relationship look so blastedly easy. And it's not, dudes. It's not.

But since I've already shared one IM conversation I feel can share TWO, and in it's perfection I would like to leave you with it as a parting thought. This is the reply my friend Tom sent me after I called him pervy:

"And yes, I like to dress like US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and then get spanked with a rolled up copy of The Wall Street Journal, while my sweaty babe yells "House on fie, house on fire, put it out, put it out!""

PS. I feel I should tell you all I wrote this earlier in the day. Then I went out for happy hour and got a little drunk. Now I find everything hilariously awesome.

Screw the spoonful of sugar, I'll take a slice of cheese to make the medicine go down.

2008-04-02T20:19:00.003-04:00

The other day I spent $45 on cheese and olive oil at Trader Joe's as a conciliatory reward for a lady-business doctor's appointment. I'm a firm believer that if I have to have my feet in those stirrups and be poked about by a doctor that cheese and wine are most certainly in order. The wine, I'll admit I did not imbibe because I still had a hour and half drive back home. But never fear I did have some wine the minute I walked through the door of my apartment.

So what kind of cheese did I manage to blow lots of hard earned money on you might ask? (Ok, honestly you didn't ask but I'm going to pretend you did and that you love cheese as much as I do. Because if you don't then I really don't ever want to talk to you again.) I bought a lovely double cream brie which was smooth and silky, it was all I could do not to sit down demolish that (not-so-tiny) wedge all by myself. I also bought parmesan , which is besides being wonderful atop many dishes is also fantastic when you steal little chunks of it from the fridge while drinking red wine and watching trashy television (possibly in lieu of a proper dinner).

Also purchased was blue cheese, and really there are few things in the world more lovely to me than blue cheese. Blue cheese on granny smith apples (maybe with a bit of honey- this is seriously heaven. You should go to your kitchen right now and eat this. It will change your life.), blue cheese in salads, on burgers, eaten straight from the block- I love all of it's incarnations. Lastly there is a hunk of white, very sharp cheddar cheese which will possibly go into mac and cheese or perhaps be eaten with my mother's spicy sweet mustard. There are many reasons to love my mother and her mustard is just one of them. It's got a fantastic English mustard-based heat, a nice vinegary kick and then a lovely note of sweetness to balance out the other two.

Jesus, it is no wonder I've put on 5lbs in the last two months. Oh, also the fact that I've been a terribly lazy ass.

Screw you March...

2008-03-25T19:30:00.008-04:00

Ok, really- March can go straight to hell. I know last month I bitched about how much I hated February but really I hate all Februaries. Which by the way- doesn't Februaries look like a totally fucked up word? It doesn't look real, it's freaking me out yet my spell check is telling me it is a word.

Anyways, March I hate for an entirely different set of reasons. All of them personal, lets see there is the broken heart bullshit (which is still making me sad and cry-y), I got my ladytime TWICE (double the cramps, double the exhaustion, etc), work deadlines that made me stresses, feeling like I don't have any direction, questioning myself and general fucking malaise.

Right now I'm drinking whiskey to sooth the cramps, and wishing that I had some mayonnaise to make damn chicken salad. Oh and doing laundry since I've reached Danger! levels when it comes to clean underwear.

Shall we now discuss the other bullshit reason that March sucks balls? They fucking canceled Jericho again. Yes. Wankers. One of the best shows on TV, it consistently rocks the house and it brings the pretty (in the form of Jake and Stanley). I know I had a reprieve last year when it magically rose from the dead (like Jesus) because of it's devoted fans but I fear this year there is no hope. Stupid CBS.

But in the interest of not being all whiney and bitchfaced in this post I'll post some photos from cooking club. I've not posted cooking club photos in while out of sheer laziness, but we've been trucking along each month as always.

Nancy making pasta:

Kate, chopping:

Rolls that I made for dinner:

Crab and avocado salad with blood orange vinegarette:

Sweet potato soup with peanuts and lime:

Roasted balsamic vegetables:

Spinach and ricotta stuffed pasta:

Hummingbird cake:

Lots random bits...most rant-filled

2008-03-18T17:00:00.005-04:00

So terribly I had my heart broken this last weekend by the boy I mentioned way back in January. Privately, there was lots of crying. Oh the crying. It went on and on. The next morning I looked like I had been beaten roundly about the eyes. They were so puff-tastic they were doing that thing were they have become so swollen it actually looks like your eye lashes have curved under and are now growing from inside the lid.

I don't know if I'm stuck in a place of total and complete denial but I'm actually doing quite ok these last 2 days. The distraction of work has had a soothing effect on my psyche, so really I'm going to keep going forward with the plan to remain wickedly busy in order to hold my shit together.

Enough of the self-pitying rambling, lets engage in a little bit of ranting- shall we?

First off I'd like to take a brick to any tv chef who utters the words "Pre- (insert word here)". This could be used in reference to a multitude of sins, "pre-shredded cheese", "pre-washed greens", "pre-cooked chicken", etc.
Listen people, pre-shredded cheese is in fact a BLOCK OF CHEESE. Pre-cooked chicken is RAW CHICKEN.

The prefix "Pre" refers to the state of the item before you performed the action. This is simple English usage, and baby Jesus knows I'm not the best with complicated English rules- but this is a fairly simple concept to grasp.

Why use the term "pre-shredded"? Some marketing genius somehow believed that it added a certain value or cache to their product, or perhaps someone thought it made them sound cool and like they were giving you a hint on how to cut down time in the kitchen.

It's dumb. It pisses me off. The end.

In that same vein of stupidity put forth by marketing and advertising geniuses; I say that knowing full well I work in the marketing world- we're great but some of the shit we come up with is completely fucking ridiculous, as evidenced by the following:

Really, 100% Beef?

What is your implication here? Perhaps before you didn't used 100% Beef? Do I really want to conjure up ideas about what you were using before you loudly declared that you use 100% beef?

Or are you trying to imply that your competitors don't use 100% beef in their hamburger patties?

The simple fact is that you could have used this term effectively for me if you'd added the qualifier 'American' or 'Grade A', but there is also the distinct possibility that you can't make that claim at all. I don't know where McDonald's beef comes from or what grade it is. This is all part of their new "healthy and fresh" makeover that they are trying to give us. For me, it doesn't work. I will never go to McDonald's and think that I'm eating healthy. I go to fast food joints for the exact opposite reason, sometimes one needs a bit of greasy, fat-filled food with a large fountain coke. (The perfect cure for those wickedly bad hangovers.)

This whole thing made me tool about on their website, and I have to say I'm annoyed by the implication that only mom's eat salads. Men eat salads, damnit. Why couldn't you have phrased that as "parents who bring their kids in for a happy meal." Eating salad is GIRLY, way to reinforce dumbass stereotypes. Men don't eat vegetables!

And lastly, 1 in 4 teenage girls has an STD. OH! SCARY! Lets talk about how 1 in 4 teenage girls have STDs, AND NEVER FUCKING MENTION HOW MANY TEENAGE BOYS HAVE STDs. I'm not some crazyass feminist conspiracy theorist but come on! Those teenage girls aren't giving STDs to each other, they are only half the equation. But no is talking about the boys and their STD rates, to me it just smacks of shaming female sexuality and blaming them for when really it takes two to get an STD. Why aren't we having an open discussion about males and their rate of infection? In all the articles I read and news stories I saw never once did anyone bring up teenage boys.

Perfection; in relation to happy hour

2008-03-07T20:56:00.002-05:00

Last night I was watching TV and there was commercial that caused me to stop and laugh for good 10 minutes. I also happened to be on the phone and luckily my phone companion thought the commercial I saw was as awesome and hilarious as I did (and wasn't annoyed that I was watching TV while on the phone with him).

And what was this a commercial for? Tudor's World of Biscuits.

Shall I repeat that? Tudor's World of Biscuits. A world of biscuits, people. A whole world, how have I never known that such a place exsisted?

I like biscuits, perhaps I will take a trip to this Tudor's World of Biscuits since they are franchise and are scattered over the region (apparently). I love a good biscuit, I mean- who doesn't? I would probably think you were a zombie or alien if you didn't.

Here is the thing, I'm a little drunk. Actually I'm the perfect amount buzzed. You know where things are lovely around the edges yet I'm not ridiculously screaming at random college students on the street about how they are dressed (which would be 'like sluts').

The only problem is now I'm starving and tired. Yet, I've eaten two very sizable pieces of pizza and yet the belly is still clamoring for more. I could make myself a salad, but who the fuck eats a salad when they are drunk? It's not exactly the perfect drunk food, more like the worst drunk food. Whipping up a dressing seems like something I would mess up in my slightly altered state (and no, I don't own bottled dressing- so that isn't an option). So I'm pretty much screwed on the food front- I don't have any good snackable items on hand. Damnit.

Tired? Oh yes, I'm wiped out. Too many late nights this week (hello after midnight bedtimes!). Not the best idea, I'm just sleepy.

Ok, I'm off to forage in the kitchen. I know I've got some frozen corn, but again frozen corn does not a good snack make.

Also where have all my readers gone? Too much erratic posting? Lame entries that don't inspire comment at all? I'm sure it is all of these things and for that I'm sorry.

Today I didn't even have to use my A.K.

2008-03-02T20:42:00.002-05:00

I got to say it was a good day.

Perhaps I'm just on a sunshine/warm weather high. It is amazing what tempatures of 65 degrees with sun can do for one's disposition. The weather I doubt is about to stick around for long but it was enough of a reminder that spring isn't too terribly far away (one hopes).

It was the sort of Sunday so desperately needed, the morning hours were spent playing with a friend's adorable baby. And as a bonus she has a super fancy espresso maker and honestly crafts the best latte I've ever had. It was splendid, perfection, coffee nirvana. It's is amazing how far I've come as a coffee lover in the last year or so. I've gone from someone who rarely drank it to a person who clearly has a deep and abiding love of it. (Yet, I still don't own a coffee maker at home, try to figure that one out- it makes little to no sense. Then again I never claimed to be the most logical of the bunch.)

Lattes and adorable babies, was it possible for the day to get any better?

Yes, because the temp continued to rise and after a quick trip to the grocer I spent the warm sunny afternoon hours reading. Look I have proof of the glorious sunshine.

Ok, I seriously should probably stop talking about the lovely weather. But forgive me because it has made me punch drunk, like an addict who has been in serious DTs getting their first sweet, sweet hit in a long time.

Leap day.

2008-02-29T12:26:00.002-05:00

Finally Wednesday night I had an awesome workout. Truth be told I've been struggling with working out, which is odd. It felt impossible to drag myself to the gym for just another ho'hum workout, I never left feeling energized or pumped. Rather just sweaty and disappointed.

It was seriously starting to piss me off.

The other night everything clicked into place. The spinning class was one of my best, discounting the wickedly bad charlie horses I kept getting in my left calf. I was really pissed that I had to ease up for the last two hard sets we did because it felt like my muscle was trying to pull right off my leg. It is still sore today, fucking pisser.

Because the charlie horse gimpy calf is still hurting I'm skipping the gym tonight, I don't want to make it worse. Plus I'm hoping that it'll stop being a little bitch so I can go to spinning tomorrow morning or tomorrow night (if I can't drag my ass out of bed in the morning).

Part of the reason I can't seem to get out bed is that I've been having really vivid dreams, everything feels so real. The other night I had a dream that the guy I'm interested in (hey! it's complicated-but I'll leave it at "I'm interested") told me he loved me (uh, so not even anchored in reality) then last night I had a dream he told me he didn't want to see me anymore because he was never, ever going to commit. Of course this last dream has induced me to become Mademoiselle Crankypants today. Yes, it wasn't real, but yet it completely bummed me out.

Adding to the crankiness is the massive subterranean cystic-like blemish that is forming on my chin. Something so large and heinous it will effectively move me into Quasimodo territory and I'll to become a shut-in until it subsides. Let me digress for the moment, I hate all words for blemish- except for, well, blemish. Zit and pimple cause me to physically shudder and thus I cannot bare to even think about them otherwise I'll be mistaken for someone with a seizure disorder.

The last thing I'll bitch about is the weather. February seems like the longest month in the history of man, it's been gray and depressing with only occasional snowfalls to brighten the dismal, soul crushing bleak landscape that is southeastern Ohio in the winter. Right now I might sell a non-vital organ for a warm, sunny local and a drink with a tiny paper parasol in it.

The weekend, it was nice.

2008-02-25T09:56:00.004-05:00

This last Friday Yumi and I decided to go out to happy hour. And something unusual happened, we actually went home after 2 drinks like responsible adults!

What? Shocking? Am I turning into a boring oldie?

Probably not, considering it was just two weeks ago I was stealing friend's beers and then chugging them when they didn't drink them fast enough. Of course then in my drunken state repeatedly (probably yelling) into my phone that we were out celebrating my friend's divorce. Which really wasn't the case, we were out to give moral support- not celebrating. But at 8 beers that line becomes very much blurred and everything seems like it is more fun. Even divorce.

Granted I wasn't the one getting divorced so I guess that statement could be considered completely bogus and unprovable.

Saturday night I finished a knitted gift for my friend's birthday, well- I need to add the buttons to it and it's done. Hurrah. I also made Orangette's brown butter cookies. Which of course she admonishes bakers to let sit for 2 days to allow the flavors develop. But clearly I couldn't wait, because I lack all self control, and busted into a couple of them post-baking. They are delicious. Make them.

But I did manage to put the rest of them away and am going to use all -2% of the willpower I possess not to eat them until Tuesday.

So boring

2008-02-20T14:33:00.000-05:00

What have I been doing lately? It really seems to be a whole lot of nothing. I feel trapped in that wintery craptastic mood where I just don't feel like leaving the house, yet desperately want to get the fuck out of town. I've also been mysteriously exhausted without any real explanation and it is seriously pissing me off. As a side effect I've not gone to the gym in what feels like forever and thusly feel like my pants are too tight.

Which is sort of a problem because I only own like 4 pairs of pants that acceptable for public viewing. And mysteriously one pair has gone missing and one of my favorite pairs has developed a hole. A hole that renders them unwearable. Bugger.

This morning in an effort to stop the slow progression outward of my belly I went to spinning. And I do feel better, and now am slightly tempted to go to another spinning class after work. Because not fitting into my pants isn't an option, people. Pantless Suzanne is not a good thing.

Nuts!

2008-02-13T09:21:00.001-05:00

Lets discuss that my favorite show, Jericho is back. With a nod to it's fans it showed a character eating peanuts in the first couple of minutes. Whoohoo. That is how you treat your fans. You also treat them right by giving them a kick ass episode, with lots of Skeet and Stanley and Mimi. Toss in some Heather too (I could use more though) and I'm a happy girl.

Not so much the Emily. She's still a dumbass, who can't bake a cake.

Also the whole Stanley/Mimi proposal scene made me cry. Cry like I was being the one proposed too. It was awesome. I covet Mimi's skin. She has that beautiful healthy glow with lots of freckles. As someone who recently re-discovered her freckles this summer (I didn't get them for 10 years) I am covetous. I'm sad that I don't have them now that I'm trapped in the dregs of winter.

And since I'm lacking a perfect transition I'll just throw myself into another topic entirely without regard to flow. What? You don't want to hear me talk about dating again? Tough.

Recently I was reading a popular online magazine and the discussion of who pays for what on a date came up. I have to say I was SHOCKED at some of the responses from women. There was no shortage of women who would refuse a second date with a man if they took them up on their offer of going dutch. Really?

You offered, what is so wrong about them accepting it?

I don't know, personally I've always preferred going dutch on dates...at least in the beginning. For me it's about the sense of independence I've had ingrained into my psyche since I was a little girl. I come from the school of thought that I can pay for my own damn dinner, thank you very much. At Christmas time I went out with a male friend and he was totally shocked when at the end of the night I pulled out my wallet to pay for my share of drinks. He kept saying "But you are a girl you don't pay for things, right?!" At some point I missed the memo that said no penis = not having to pay for your drinks.

There was also more than a few who thought that the man should pay for dinner because he is getting the pleasure of her company. Ok, why not just call your self a hooker and be done with it?

I don't know, maybe that was harsh?

I think there is entirely too many expectations of what the other person should and should not do, sometimes it feels impossible to get it right. But perhaps you have to believe it will all shake out correctly in the end?

Frightening Realization.

2008-02-07T09:32:00.000-05:00

Last night I managed to accumulate three hours total of sleep. That's it.

Between my mind being unwilling to shut off and then the nasty spat of storms that rolled through I just didn't sleep at all. Which is why I laid in bed until 8:15 this morning and didn't shower before coming into the office- hence the baseball hat and pony tail. The fact that I still managed to make a phone call to my sister (I needed reassurance I wasn't losing my mind) and make it into work by 8:45 is amazing. Actually that is the latest I've been in the office since I don't know when. If you would have told me that years ago I would have laughed in your face, by nature I'm much more of night owl. I could stay up all night reading, drawing, writing, and drinking. But slowly over the years I've forced myself to get up earlier and earlier. And come to the frightening realization that I sort of like it. I blame my father, the man is a natural morning person. I fear I caught it from him.

It is those little things that smack you full on in the face and you sit up and say "Holy shit. I'm turning into my mother/father." And then you cry into your plate of eggs.

It isn't that you don't love your parents but just that you never quite believed that you would become so very much like them. And really, my parents are wonderful people. I should want to emulate them in a lot of ways but there is still a small part of me that wants to be different- like a petulant teenager.

Damnit, whatever.

2008-02-04T15:33:00.001-05:00

There is absolutely no hope of me writing anything resembling a cohesive post today, filled with witty transitions and insightful, pithy observations.

Instead, I feel like a haggy, lumpy, limp-haired old shoe who just wants to sit on her couch and maybe cry a bit while watching a Lifetime or Hallmark movie. (Don't judge me, I actually was disappointed this weekend when I realized my cable provider doesn't offer the Hallmark channel. I often mock and hate the sap of Lifetime, but sometimes there is nothing more delicious than a Tori Spelling made for tv movie in which the nanny steals her baby and then her husband while trying to kill her.)

I tried to take a picture of me wearing the hat I finished this weekend and after 15 shots that nearly brought me to tears I gave up. The damn hat looks like the one a couple of posts ago, except it's blue.

I'm going home soon, at which I've decided I'm going to open that blasted $15 a bottle of champagne that I bought for New Years.Then I'm going to cover my face in a mask that smells like chocolate, pluck my eye brows, repaint the nails I chipped yesterday, and give myself a pedicure. After that I'll probably be drunk enough to start making random phone calls to people. If I've got your number I'd like to apologize in advance for anything I might say.

Then I'll probably pass out.

Good plan.

The Graduate

2008-01-29T11:36:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning with a weight on my chest. It felt like someone was sitting on it and that at some point during the night I had scrubbed my throat vigorously with sandpaper. I have a feeling this one is going knock me on my ass. And I'm not really looking forward to it but if does really knock me down it will give me a chance to watch more Lost.

What? I'm a woman obsessed.

Enough about my boring looming sickness or my obsession with Lost (hey, I'm only 3 years late to jump on that bandwagon). This weekend I got hit on by a dude in his early 20's. Besides the fact that he clearly doesn't remember the first time a Bush or Clinton was in the Presidential Office (not that Hillary is assured of that place) he was also in a punk band. And wearing a leather jacket, with lots of shiny grommits and studs. The kind I suppose punk boys wear. I don't know, I don't have much experience with punk boys, they really aren't my bag.

The thing was he just seemed so damn young and I'm not really into being anyone's Mrs. Robinson.

I'll admit I was flattered. But when he asked me to come to a party with him I realized the music was way too loud, my ears were ringing and I wasn't interested in swilling Pabst for the rest of the night. Sure realizing all that made me feel old, but I'm completely ok with it. I like my music at a reasonable level, I like my beer to taste good and the men I date to understand the difference.

Too much

2008-01-22T13:11:00.000-05:00

I promise I've not fallen into some sort of black hole, unless that black hole is filled with entirely too many books to read (I currently have 8 books scattered about my house begging to be read) and then I've been ordered to start watching Lost too. I've got season one sitting on top of my TV which I started watching last night.

Oh and almost totally ruined dinner because I became so wrapped up in the first episode I forgot I had mac and cheese in the oven. Lets not even discuss the first 3 discs of My So Called Life that I've also got from Netflix that also need to be watched so that I can get season 2 of Lost (look at me planning for the future!)

The truth is I've got entirely too many leisurely things to do to work (or blog apparently). Somehow quitting my job to keep up with my reading and television watching habits doesn't seem to be the most adult thing to do. Yet so deliciously wonderful sounding that it a tempting idea.

But not really.

Since I don't feel like being homeless

Badass Knitter

2008-01-15T09:33:00.001-05:00

I somehow stumbled upon Fig and Plum last week and immediately became obsessed with the idea of the Koolhaas hat by Jared Flood . OBSESSED.

So it was only fitting when the new man joked that he wanted me to make him mittens that I was "No mittens, but how about a hat instead?" (I would make him mittens but he doesn't really strike me as a mitten-wearer and I insist that my knitted items be worn not shoved in a drawer never to see the cold.)

I ordered two lovely skeins of yarn fromLoop (who happen to ROCK! They shipped super fast and even wrote a cute "Thanks Skeezix!" across the top of the receipt). It seems everyone is making the hat from Malabrigo and like I lemming I had to as well. God, their blue color is just lovely. And soft. And nice to knit with. Go buy some. Ok?

In addition to the yarn I also went down to my local yarn shop and picked up another pair of Addi Turbo needles. These seriously made my life beautiful. Sure, they are expensive but worth every penny, from here on out they are my go-to needles. I adore them.

So needles in hand and yarn wound into a ball I got to work. And nearly immediately cocked the whole goddamn thing up. But I trudged on thinking I could fix it/figure it out. Yeah. Not so much. It was my first time working with traveling stitches/cables and while it was a rocky start I'll say that I think I've figured it out. And by rocky start I mean I totally and utterly fucked up the hat and had to rip it all out (about 5 hours worth of work) and start all over again. I think partial blame goes to Brett Farve because I kept stopping what I was doing to watch him rock the Seahawks. Then I'd forget where I was and things just sort of fell apart from there.

See, I thought I could fix the cock up I made but it just devolved into a pattern that looked nothing like the Koolhas hat at all. Although it did still look like a hat, just a had with big fat center cables. So Sunday morning I sat down and ripped it all out, then loudly began berating myself for doing so because I had several false starts with the goddamn ribbing (too many stitches/not enough because I cannot count to save my goddamn life). So I turned off the TV (what I listen to while I knit) and sat in silence until I did the first whole set of stitches, and it was like something in my head clicked into place and bam! it started working for me.

So I sat on my couch for an ungodly number of hours alternating between watching Friday Night Lights and the Cowboys/Giants game. Finally I put the damn hat down at about 9:30 and then tossed and turned worried that I would fuck it up again when I started to do the decreases. Seriously. I laid there for 2 hours thinking about it. I should have just gotten up and starting knitting again but I didn't.

Last night I finished up the decreases and didn't mess up, I'm so bloody proud of myself I can't even tell you. I'm beaming with pride. Now all that is left to do is worry that the slight pink tinge that is present in some parts of the yarn is too girly for a boy.

Toast.

2008-01-11T09:36:00.000-05:00

My brain is entirely too fried to come up with anything creative or mildly coherent to talk about since I've spent the last couple of days making guitar electronics hover in the air in perfect register with a previously taken photo. I'm rocking the project but all other brain functions have had to be taken down to their lowest levels in order for my head to not actually explode. Besides basic body functions and the large section of my brain labeled "photography" nothing else is working. Sorry.

I've been tagged by KB , which thankfully is a godsend since this exercise requires very little actual thought on my part.

7 Random/Odd things you might not know about me:

1. I spent part of my youth in Texas, when we moved back to Ohio I had an awful, awful accent. I used to cry every day after we moved away saying how much I hated Ohio and wanted to be back in Texas.

2. I am a very fast reader and can devour whole books in a single setting.

3. I wanted to be just like my sister, Melissa, when I was growing up. I pestered the hell out of her (she was 8 years older than I) and her friends. She's still my best friend in the whole world. Even if she did drop me on my head when I was a baby.

4. I was partly responsible for cutting off my brother's thumb when we were younger. He was playing with my mother's very sharp sewing scissors and I tried to take them away from him thus partially severing his finger. Good news is they were able to stitch him up fine and the thumb is in good working order.

5. I'm obsessed with my new heart rate monitor. I love wearing it to see how many calories I've burned (those machines at the gym are WAAAAYY off on their numbers). I'm considering wearing it all day soon just to see what my normal calorie/heart rates are throughout the day.

6. I love to dance but do it horribly. I don't care.

7. I've actually seen Vanilla Ice in concert, in 2003. It was the weirdest concert I've ever been too. It was during Ice's angry-rock-screamy phase.

Tuesday Tipsy

2008-01-08T18:24:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling a wee bit emotional today so the best cure is pinot noir and maybe some tipsy blogging.

I've wanted to share my holiday card but I've been waiting to send them out to friends and such. And since I'm worlds best procrastinator ever I just got them out this week.

Please click on the image for the full size, it's best that way.

I'm going back to my wine. Thank you and goodnight.

Ambrosia

2008-01-04T11:04:00.000-05:00

Ok, really where has Apricot jam been all my life? How did I get to be 28 and never had such deliciousness? It's like heaven on toast, ok, who am I kidding. It's like heaven on a spoon. Because if I'm going to indulge in jam sometimes the bread is wholly unnecessary. And thus I've saved calories by not eating the bread, calories that can be use to eat more apricot jam. Foolproof logic in my opinion.

I'm sure the shitty store brand version of apricot jam isn't anything like the real tried and true version that I could probably make but since it's January and apricots are completely done for the season I guess I'll just have to wait till mid-summer to find out.

It's the new year so now we are all being bombarded with tons of advertising tell us to stop being fat asses. Most of the commercials incite me into some sort of homicidal rage but I have to say that the Kellogg's Smart Start Cereal one made me fall in love. It features women exercising for their HEART! Not to make someone love them or fit into that size 8 but because it's what you do to be healthy.

It's like a choir of angel's opened up and started singing to me. Thank you Kellogg for realizing that working out for your heart's sake and not the sake of your ass is the right way to approach a lifestyle change. If you go to their website the whole page is dedicated to healthy heart living! Heart disease is the #1 killer of women (far outpacing breast cancer) and I'm so glad to see that a company is promoting something that is so important and isn't focusing on our waistlines and telling us our self-worth is wrapped up in our pant size (like every other diet commercial out there).

And yes, I realize the awesome dichotomy of posting about eating jam straight from the jar in the same breath writing about heart health.

New Year's Eve Confession

2007-12-31T07:56:00.000-05:00

There are things that sometimes I want to write about yet I keep them mum. Mostly because if I never talk about them then I won't have to re-read entries and be disappointed that it might have gone wrong or embarassed at my feelings. But that is some sort of self-censorship that I think really might not do me any favors in the end. Perhaps I'm just feeling contemplative about everything since the new year is upon us. I tend to get a bit blue and sad around the new year. It is odd but every year starts this way and over the years I've just come to accept it.

I've been preoccupied lately and have found that I cannot seem to put words down onto paper. Instead I've caught myself staring out into space completely lost in thought without having done a single damn thing.

Right now I'm finding myself with a big ol' crush on a friend of mine. Luckily the feeling is mutual, but still a little scary and new and fluttery. The upside is that because of the fluttery stomach I've barely been able to eat and thus managed to avoid packing in the holiday treats. Although you know you haven't eaten much when your new soon-to-be sister-in-law comments that you barely have any Christmas dinner on your plate. And that really is a crime isn't it? All of that delicious turkey that I couldn't bear to eat.

I've been making a valiant effort at trying not get ahead of myself and instead just enjoy what we've got. But the scaredy cat feeling is still alive and kicking. Just under the surface.

Lately I've been listening to Dan Savage's podcast and he is a genius. Plus listening to his podcasts at work makes me feel a little bit subversive since no one else knows that I've got Dan Savage saying dirty, dirty things into my ear. I've picked up a few sayings from him, my current favorite being "Every relationship fails until the one that doesn't."

Which is so true and often so easy to lose sight of. If this goes downhill I'll do what I've done before...lick my wounds and then pick myself up off the floor brushing off the cookie crumbs, throw away the empty wine bottles, comb my nattered hair and give someone else a shot.

For now though I'm focusing on the soft little squiggly melty feeling I get when he asks to hold my hand after spending the night being run through the gauntlet that is meeting my friends.

In fact Holly over at Nothing But Bonfires wrote about a quote that really seems to speak to me. And since I know that I'll never be able to eloquently re-phrase what she has already put so well, I'll just link to it for the sake of saving you all from my attempt

Ali Smith "In the end, everything simply began."

I think that is the nice thought to begin the new year. Happy New Year to everyone!

Joy

2007-12-27T11:38:00.001-05:00

I'm back at work today, and oddly feeling very happy. The happy feeling has nothing to do with work but I'll take it none-the-less.

Yesterday on my drive back to Athens I was rocking out to some music and I know I was entertaining the guy behind me by playing the 'air drums'. Either that or he thought I was having a seizure.

Eep!

2007-12-20T09:48:00.000-05:00

I feel that rising panic inside, the kind that can only come from having entirely too much to do and too little time to accomplish it all in.

And yet, I still procrastinate and write blog posts about it.

I'm leaving tomorrow for 6 days spent in Cleveland, at the end of which I'm sure that I will be desperate to get back to my life in Athens. I still must clean my apartment, which of course was on the agenda last night but instead I baked brownies for the beer tasting I'm going to tonight. Because a girl needs to have priorities and a sink full of dirty dishes and pantaloons thrown onto the floor do not take precedence over beer and deep, velvety brownies.

Lets not even discuss the shopping bit of my week, since Athens is woefully lacking in places to shop besides BigLots or Wal-Mart I've put off shopping until I go to Cleveland. I had planned on going to Columbus this weekend to tackle it but then there was that massive storm they were calling for. The storm that never materialized, which in it's own way was probably a blessing because it allowed me to nurse that tiny hangover I had on Saturday with fountain coke and a nap.

So there is the cleaning, the shopping, the beer party, oh! and the blasted holiday cards. Cards that are so fucking hilarious and awesome I cannot wait to send them out. But one should actually order cards if one expects to send them. So instead I've revised the damn photo 50 times because I'm obsessive-photographer like that and still not sent them to the printer. People will get them late but they will laugh till they cry when they get them.

Of course my one coworker left for vacation and I'm literally left holding the bag of delicious baked goodies I made for him. I don't want these fucking cookies and must find someone else to pawn them off on. I'm sure I could shove them onto the overfilled table in the break room and they would disappear in a flash. Yet, part of me doesn't want to do that? Just chalk it up to my little Grinch-y heart.

And still my mind keeps shooting back to the sink full of dishes, an occurrence so rare in my apartment that it keeps filling me with panic. Is this really what my life has become? Have I fully turned into my mother? The woman who cannot stand a sink full of dirty dishes?

No thank you.

2007-12-18T09:58:00.000-05:00

I honestly never want to see another cookie ever again.

I took a day off work last week to make cookies and had a blast. It was so nice to be home in the middle of the week surrounded by the smells of cookies and holiday joy. By by the 3rd day of baking I'd decided that the smell of cookies is entirely overwhelming and awful. I cannot wait to get them out of my house, they will be delivered to their recipients tomorrow and then I will be free of the cookies for now. Although I do still owe my brother in law a batch for his birthday. But I think that for at least a couple of weeks there will be a cookie moratorium.

Of course I spoke with my grandmother on the phone on Sunday and she wanted to make me cookies. I begged her not too simply because I just couldn't possibly want to eat any after having been around so many.

Yesterday was a particularly hard day for me, I had such a perfect weekend that the crushing disappointment of a Monday was just too much to bear. But still I forced myself to go to spinning and eat a little bit of dinner (a lone baked potato with yogurt and hot sauce) before falling into bed at 9pm. I honestly could have gone to bed at 8 but was trying to refrain from acting entirely too geriatric.

Tonight will probably not be much better, I plan on doing the massive piles of laundry that have stacked up around my house and cleaning the disaster that is my kitchen (from all the cookie making). All this in preparation for leaving for the Cleveland for the Christmas holiday. I just don't want to arrive home after Christmas to a disaster and then feel I must clean and put away presents.

Lets not talk about the hat I'm supposed to have finished for my brother's fiance to match the scarf I made her.

Not that I'm experienced with goat testicles. I love squash.

2007-12-14T10:14:00.000-05:00

I've started a blog entry about my birthday 4 times now and have since abandoned all of them as being boring and lame. The one I really liked was eaten by the google servers so I've had to try to remember what I liked about it. Oh my god, like you all really want to reading this inane drivel about my attempts at posting because I'm sure you don't since I myself and even bored by it.

The reality is I had a very nice birthday, and the blog title was actually something that was utter by a friend of mine at my birthday dinner. It was all one thought, and so splendiferious that we all sat and laughed for a very long time at her. And is it really surprising that something as weird as goat testicles was discussed at my birthday dinner? Although now I'm sure that every freak on the internet who is looking "goat testicle birthday party" is going to be directed to my site.

Listen, if you are looking for freaky action of that nature you should just point your browser in a different direction, ok. I seriously need to get back to the topic at hand though...

I do feel a tiny bit bad for the relatively sedate party of 15 that was in the room adjoining ours at the restaurant. They had to listen to us braying loudly at nearly everything. Lots of bottles of wine and six usually rowdy ladies is certainly not a recipe for a calm evening. But I think the highlight of the evening for those trying to have a quiet dinner was when they heard me sing Good Ship Lollipop and Baby Got Back after I'd inhaled a lot of helium.

So really I spent my 28th birthday acting like an 8 year old at sleep over. But does the odd, chipmunk-like voice induced by helium ever really stop being funny?

Choices

2007-12-05T10:20:00.000-05:00

Two roads diverged in a wood...

Ok, I had to do it. Robert Frost created such a perfect metaphor that I (and of course everyone else who's ever heard the poem) just can't resist to use it when talking about choices. Trite and overused, just deal with it.

My choice last night was not of epic proportions, rather the decision to either have multiple glasses of wine and become slightly inebriated or go to the gym and sweat my ass off. Why would this be such an choice that could effect one's overall mood?

Oh, because I just got dissed by my date. Or dumped or however you want to phrase it. After he bailed on Saturday's date (it was to be our first official one even though we'd been sort of involved already) he then turned around and called me last night to tell me that he's been hanging out with someone else he really, really likes and wants to focus on that. Did he mention that he really likes her? Really likes.

Ok, dude, I get the message. You like this other chick, thanks for repeating over and over again that you like her so.much.more.than.me.

So then came the choice, drink or gym. The choice for me was fairly easy, I was going to go with the alcohol route. Then while trying to peel some hardboiled eggs, which I subsequentally mauled beyond all reason, I realized that I had some excess anger energy to work out.

So I threw on my gym clothes and over an hour later I felt so much better. I left the gym feeling clean and awesome. I was lighter mentally and knew that in the end it was the best decision I could have made.

Then to come down from the endorphin high I had several glasses of wine and eventually slept like a baby.

Voodoo

2007-12-02T19:42:00.000-05:00

So over the years I've developed several pre-date rituals. I'm calling them rituals because it sounds fancier habits, and I like fancy.

1. Polishing my jewelry.

Ok, so I know this may seem very weird but since I go on dates about once a month (on average, exempting that outlying period where I didn't date at all for a very.long.time. Which in retrospect seriously sucked.) it always seems like a good time to remember that I've not polished my jewelry. Not that I'm dripping in Zsa Zsa Gabor like accourtamonts but rather everyday I wear the same silver necklace and silver ring. They get very dingy over time since I never take them off so a good polishing is in order at least once a month. Also a sparkling silver necklace will bring my dates eyes to my cleavage and that is always a good thing, no?

2. Showering and Shaving.

I know this seems seriously obvious and one would hope that all your dates have showered recently, but really it's the shaving that is important here. Yes, I know that some women go in for the whole 'chastity pelt' to keep them from getting frisky on the first date. Simply taking the time to shave my legs insures that I will not be getting any nookie because fate is cruel bitch like that or there is always the chance that if fate does decide to play nice I'll be ready to go.

3. Pre-planning outfits.

Again, for some people this is a given. I tend to go through periods of seriously hating everything I own deeming it either ill-fitting or boring. This is not always successful because there are times where the pre-planned outfit just doesn't work for me. Those days are the worst, because I can manage to destroy my whole bedroom in matter of a few minutes. In fact just the other night I had a Fashion Show! Fashion Show at lunch! except you know, at night. I had my heart set on this adorable dress but in the end the store didn't carry a petite size and the regular was just too long and slightly too big. I was worried that after going through the whole Parkersburg mall, their Old Navy and TJ Maxx that I had just bought the least ugly outfit I tried on, which is why Kate so graciously let me come over and dork out with a fashion show to make sure I looked ok. Afterwards I was worried that her boyfriend might have made serious fun of me since he was a witness to the fashion show, Kate assures me that he did not.

4. Go to the gym

I always feel much more confident and pretty if I've put in a long hard session at the gym. It always does the trick, and I feel no need to expound on my love for working out since I've already done that in enough posts.

Unfortunately all this pre-date voodoo in no way ensures that your date won't call a couple of hours before meeting and beg off because he's not feeling well.

Then a whole 'nother sort of thing is called for, one usually involving a stiff drink and perhaps some bacon. Because bacon and alcohol are the best ways to get over a broken date, hell, I think they are probably a pretty damn good cure for most mental black moods. Maybe throw in a little Skeet Ulrich and I'll forget all about what's his face- even if just temporarily.

Or your friends will graciously allow you to crash their date night and ply you with champagne and pizza and trivial pursuit.

Slapsgiving

2007-11-27T09:09:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving I opted to avoid the big, huge family deal that was going to be at my parent's house. Instead my sister and I cloistered ourselves at her house and thanked baby Jesus that we didn't have to deal with our extended family.

Melissa has four children and I know what most of you are saying "OH MY GOD! FOUR!" Yes, four. There are four of us siblings and so four doesn't seem that odd to us, but apparently today anything more than two is seen as people who never learned how to properly use birth control. The only thing about having 4 children, 3 of them young girls is the talking. Oh my god, the talking. It goes on an on, I really think that if we wanted to solve issues in the Middle East we should ship those very talky girls over there and both sides would easily capitulate after 4 days just to make them stop talking. I know all kids go through this phase but as a childless single it was quite a bit to be thrown into all at once. Although in my brilliance I taught the girls a very fun game, it's called manicure time. During manicure time I will paint their nails and then in order not to smudge them they have to sit quietly for 45 minutes. It totally worked, they got pretty manicured hands and I saved a tiny bit of my sanity.

Her oldest is 10, I remember when he was born and was this tiny little peanut who would take naps while curled up on my chest. Now he is 5 inches shorter than me but I've still got a few pounds on him even when he does finally reach my height. Those combined inches and pounds I've still got on him came in very handy this weekend when I had to take him down and tickle the hell out of him. Of course the moment I decided to do this I was wearing a blond Hannah Montana wig so I'm sure it looked even funnier. I honestly think he was surprised that I could pin him down so effectively since we are starting become of equal size.

It started on Wednesday night when we were eating dinner and one of my nieces asked me if I had a boyfriend (a question I thought I would be not be asked since I was not going home to the massive family extravaganza). After I said that I didn't have a boyfriend my nephew pipes up "Yeah, you don't have one because you are so ugly."

What a little smartass.

In return for his insolence I made him laugh so hard he threw up his dinner. At the table.

Then in a later conversation my 7 year old niece told me "I want to be like you when I grow up." Which is such a very sweet sentiment but then it's followed with "Because I never want to get married."

So everyone take note, I'm an ugly 27 year old spinster at this point in the game.

Then as some sort of freudian slip my nephew was saying goodnight to me and he called me 'dad'. For everyone keeping score at home I'm an ugly 27 year old spinster who looks like man.

There is nothing like small children insulting the hell out of you, I guess it is a good thing that I left on Sunday because who knows what I would have become if I'd stayed any longer.