A dramatization about privacy and why everyone should feel shame:

Me: Tra-la-la, I'm going about my day in the world! I can't wait to interact with my fellow human beings. People are mostly good!

Random man: Hello, kindly lady. I look completely normal, and thus you have not run away from me. Also, I can't seem to find the restrooms. You seem like you know a lot about the world, including this store where you clearly do not work. Maybe you can tell me where they are?

Me: Yes, I certainly can! I love helping people! They are over there! Good-bye, stranger.

Random man: Thank you. Boy, I should really stop drinking coffee. Goes right through me. Ha ha! That's not at all inappropriate for me to share with you! I enjoy talking about my bodily functions, don't you? I'm standing dangerously close to you, considering I am talking about human waste and you are a total stranger.

Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I have run away from you! You do not adhere to social norms! I'm normally okay with that but you are taking it to the next level! Gross!

Let this be a lesson to you. I do not want to hear about what you do in the bathroom, especially after I have been so informative and helpful.

This logic can also be applied to topics such as illnesses involving any kind of projectile anything, sticky things you discovered by accident with your hand, smells, your teeth, food that may or may not have been a pet at one point, and mucus of any kind.

You have been duly noted, strangers.

Also, Happy Halloween!

(note: the holiday and this post are not necessarily related. I just don't like knowing more than necessary {i.e. nothing} about your urine. But I like Halloween. And candy!)

But there aren't any mints on the pillows.

So, okay, it's been awhile...AGAIN.

I'm sorry.

What can I say? One day you are writing a blog, rambling on about who knows what, and the next thing you know summer is over and it's been at least two months since you even thought about writing anything.

Well, that's not entirely true. I have written several carefully planned text messages. My English professors would be so proud.

But, I've been keeping busy. Remember a few months back when I was considering creating a guest room out of the sad little pile of rubble we (read: me) had accumulated over the years? Well, guess what? I actually started doing that. And then finished! I know. I'm shocked too. Where will I keep all my outdated mail and clothes from 1997?

But, before I show you the results of our labor, it's probably a good idea to show you where we began. I'm not 100% positive it's a great idea to let you see my weird world of mini-hoarding, but when has bad judgement ever stopped me before, right?

Behold, the result of sloth:

You know what's sad? These pictures were actually taken after we had been cleaning for about 20 minutes. Please, don't think about it. I still want you to like me after all this is said and done. Oh, and also, if you happen to see something you gave us hidden within these mountains of shame, don't be offended. I tend to my piles of shit much like a gardener waters a flower bed. These babies received plenty of love and devotion before I slaughtered them like lambs. And, truth be told, if you were to check my closets you'd know that many of them survive to this day. Don't tell Brian.

Enough of that. On to the part wherein I appear totally awesome, design-savvy, and organized.

When I started designing this room in my head, I pictured somewhere really bright and calming, but with a sense of fun and youthfulness. I may have a pharmacy next to my bed and a specialist for everything, but I'm not a senior citizen just yet. Which is why I decided to rock out at Lowe's and pick out some paint and light fixtures. BECAUSE I'M WILD.

Anyway...The mythical guest room, three years in the making:

So there it is. I'm pretty pleased with the results. I feel like Martha Stewart. But, you know, without the prison record or the reputation as a total crazy pants lunatic.

Hm. Well. I haven't been to prison, anyway. If that's not a ringing endorsement to come for a visit, then I don't know what is.

Thank Goodness it's Friday, as the kids say.

So this week has been awful. Like, top-five-all-time-worst-weeks awful. I really would not like to get in to the particulars here, but I can't help but think how random and arbitrary our lives really are. One decision, one wrong move (or really ANY kind of move,) and BAM--things you never thought about could suddenly be taken away from you, or you realize those things were never really yours in the first place.

You are a guest in your own life.

I totally understand that without details this sounds like gibberish to you. But just take a second to think about the worst moments in your life (briefly, of course.) I bet they all came out of left field. And I also bet they all made you feel helpless, like you had no say in your own life and pretty much everything good you ever had suddenly seemed like the product of outrageous luck as opposed to careful planning (or perhaps, for some of us, a series of well-intentioned yet youthfully misguided decisions.)

Some people say they live their lives as if every day is their last. This is meant to express that they have no regrets and could never feel down because they are so high on life blah blah blah. Problem with that philosophy is, who wants to walk around thinking today is their last day on Earth? Hopefully we have many, many more days to come. Isn't the anticipation of where our lives might lead us just as exciting as the day we are experiencing today? Besides, I think those people are just spouting off at the mouth when they claim to live like that.

Each day like it's your last? Oh really? Then why did you pay the mortgage? Hmm? Riddle me that, wild man. What other crazy things would you do on your last day? Eat more fiber? Maybe make out a living will?

But I digress.

Having had such a crap-infused week, I'm inclined to take a few minutes and remind myself of the good things that surround me everyday. I encourage you to do the same.

Tomorrow will be better. At the risk of sounding like a new age hippie, I'm gonna go ahead and say that we shouldn't spend our time worrying about what day will be our last, or what tomorrow will bring, or even what life mantra we should adhere to. I don't need a mantra. There is no accurate, one-size-fits-all mantra. I just know that I have love in my life, there is beauty all around us, and we should just take a few minutes to appreciate that.

And then, when all else fails, we can just completely lose our sh*t.

(plant life in front yard)

(flowering plant life)

(a young tulip, just tryin' to make it in the big city)(sunset for a new week)

Easter!

Easter was really low key for us this year. Which, by the by, I LOVED. Only one stop for the day and then home again. This was great not only because we are homebodies, but because Brian was feeling mildly under the weather.

His illness was only natural considering it was a holiday and all. Poor guy. Victim to the holiday wellness curse. At least it's only a cold and not something more disgusting like the flu or spontaneous vomitous exploding. That would be worse.

The true highlights of Easter were our baskets. Every year, Brian and I put together Easter baskets for each other. Like most other Easter baskets in the world, these contain copious amounts of candy and the occasional small gift. And keep in mind, we fill these baskets with items as a SURPRISE. The recipient has no knowledge of what the other has purchased.

Behold, our baskets:




Suffice it to say, if we want to watch animated wildlife in the near future WE ARE ALL SET. Also, I found our coincidental purchase of the same movie and candy to be so adorable, I think I may be coming down with a brief episode of spontaneous vomitous exploding.

Which is perfect, because all that candy really isn't meshing with my desire to eat healthier.

Spring clean

Spring is here!

Do you know what this means? Just a few more months until the threat of snow is gone! Ah, the Midwest. Gotta love it.

But I've truly been enjoying the weather lately. It's just warm enough to go without a coat, but still cold enough that layering is okay. And trust me, if anyone needs the help of layering, it's someone coming out of a long, cold, harsh, brownie-filled winter. By the time summer rolls around I'll be ready for tank tops, BUT NO SOONER.

I've definitely got the Spring cleaning itch. There is a room in our house that is used, more or less, as a tragic dumping ground for everything we don't feel like dealing with. Random decorative knickknacks, boxes of old paperwork and mail that needs shredding, crap that I've saved since high school and keep around because it's just so ridiculous. They all go to this room to die.

Let's have a moment of silence to commemorate their sacrifice. For my level of procrastination could not exist without them. Farewell, my friends.

Lately I've been bothered by the fact that this room is a sorry waste of space. Turning this room into something more useful like, say, a shrine to former first lady Barbara Bush, a ham-curing warehouse, or guest room isn't really high up on our list of "Things We'd Like To Do With All That Spare Cash We Have Just Sitting Around" (Please read those quotations with heavy sarcasm,) but it would be oh so appealing to be able to walk through the room without battling massive pieces of luggage.

Although I CLEARLY have a deep desire to learn the prosciutto business, I'm having a hard time motivating myself to actually clean the room. I find it difficult to get rid of stuff. I'm sort of like a mild version of a pack rat. Or, if you ask Brian, maybe not so mild. But that's only because he is super organized. I like to think that I'm enriching his life by showing him the ways of creative storage. You see that empty space of floor? That can be a closet! Or, if you are feeling saucy, your very own collection of mail! See the stamp dating back to 2001? YOU DON'T FIND THAT JUST ANYWHERE.

No, I exaggerate. But I seriously am a messy person. As is evidenced by this room. Maybe I'll fix it up and do a before and after shot. But first I must gather the proper motivation required to purge several years of crap. The horror.

If I had to place bets, I'd say a large amount of cursing and frustration is in the near future. Not to mention a rockin' picture of Barbara that is just waiting for it's time to shine.

Happy Spring!

(Backyard at sunset)

Progress

So...

The elliptical is finally assembled.

Why, yes, it is massive. Don't worry. This room previously only housed my wedding dress and our computer. Now they have a friend. Constructive use of living space!

My sister and I actually put it together last Sunday. At first I thought she was kidding when she volunteered to help, but it turns out she is a very handy assistant. And this was her first time assembling a major appliance. AND she was able to put up with my outrageous assembly methods (READ: yelling and cursing.) Not a small feat by any stretch of the imagination. I sense she has a career ahead of her in the field of "building assistant." And by career I mean I will call her every time I buy something that needs assembling. You're welcome, sis. Glad I could help you reach the stars.

She and I put the elliptical together while Brian stayed downstairs and kept an eye on our nephew. I heard a lot of scuffling, but as I did not hear any crying (on Brian's part) and/or glass shattering (probably on nephew's part), I figured all was well. And it was. Although I never knew a five year old could find a house void of toys and other children quite so fascinating. I don't think I've ever met someone so enamored with stairs. You can walk up them! And then back down! You can sit on them! Crawl up them! And if no one is looking, you can JUMP DOWN 3 AT A TIME!

Just FYI. Something to try when the conversation lags at your next dinner party.

So anyway, this begins the long haul to whip my flabby appendages into shape. I'm really excited about it, especially now that the machine is fully operational. So excited, in fact, that I bought a scale. I haven't owned one of those since, well, EVER. I pretty much prefer to be in denial, but what with this new machine and all, I figured I'd better know where I'm starting in order to know how far I've gone. Depressing? Yes. Necessary? Debatable. But I'm going with it.

My sister keeps trying to get me to run a 5K with her. It's really sweet of her to even think I could do such a thing. But come on. Really? I can barely muster the energy to do my taxes, let alone compete in a foot race with athletic types. Unless it's the apocalypse, I'm just not competing with those people.

I'm all about keeping my goals reasonable. I've been exercising in the mornings before work, and even this past Saturday morning. These facts, combined with other factors, known as Life, are why I've just now decided to go eat some cookies. But only 2. Not the 12 I'd usually eat. CAN'T YOU JUST SENSE THE PERSONAL GROWTH?

Who needs a 5K to chart my progress when I have the soon-to-be-falling stock of Nabisco?

Resolving

Well, I'm finally going to begin my New Year's Resolution.

Many a moon ago (roughly 2 months ago, that is) I decided I was going to embark on a serious, life altering, health conscious exercise regimen. Original resolution, no?

I'd been really half-assing it for years, so I figured it was time to get on the ball and go for it. I mean, one can only claim to be deliberating about such things for so long. Sooner or later, someone's gonna start to question your sincerity. And that person should be punched. Hard.

Although, I do think it's totally reasonable to take approximately 5 years to decide on the perfect exercise machine. Haste makes waste. Right? It took me 27 years to find the perfect cheeseburger. And, HOO BOY, was I looking. 5 years? That's nothing. I'm a veritable whiz kid at this exercise stuff. WATCH OUT BOB HARPER.

The problem is I get so bored with exercise. After much deliberation about what kind of exercise would hold my attention, I decided upon purchasing an elliptical. I feel this is ideal for several reasons. You can read a book, you can listen to music, you can watch television if you so desire. The important point I'm trying to stress here is that you can space out. I need that.

Call me crazy, but when I think about waking up every morning to subject my multiple fat cells to what can only be described as torture, I start getting the shakes. The kind that can only be cured with chocolate cake. Or liquor. Or both. So, you know, distraction become key.

I know someone out there right now is asking why I don't just go to the gym. Well, there's a logical answer to that: The gym is gross. For so many reasons. Oh sure, people "clean" their sweat off a machine, but if you worked in the public service industry like I do, you'd know that the honor system is crap. With a capital C. Work in your own sweat, steroid boy.

Also, the people at the gym make me nervous. I suppose part of that is my own insecurity about my body and it's ability to work various large bits of machinery. So, for now, I'm just going to go ahead and look like a dehydrated monkey in the privacy of my own home.

The box containing the elliptical arrived Monday. I'm planning to assemble this bad boy over the weekend, much to Brian's disappointment. I feel his pain. I wouldn't want to be my assistant either. I'm what some of you might call "demanding." Others of you might call it "Crazy." To each their own.

Back from hiatus

Hello there!

So, I took a really long break. Apologies.

I began to feel like my head might explode. And, frankly, that sounded messy. So I took some time away from the world. I went down to see my girls (the first loves of my life...sorry Brian) and be part of their bustling metropolis-style lives. And, more recently, scheduled a few days off of work and really took some time away from the world. Like, hibernation style seclusion. Let me just say this--naps are the bricks with which we should pave the road to world peace. If we all took more naps, the world would be a better place. Of this I am confident.

I'm thinking the exploding head syndrome is holiday related (seeing as it happens every year) and am hoping to brainstorm a way around it for the next, oh, twenty to fifty years ahead. Stay tuned.

Also, in belatedly interesting news, I finally got a tattoo while I was down visiting my friends . I really like it. I'm confident that somewhere out there my father just clutched his chest in a mixture of sadness and disappointment. But, what can I say? If this is the worst thing I ever do, he got off light. In my observations, children serve few other purposes besides causing trouble for their parents. I WAS JUST DOING MY JOB, DAD.

But, more to the point, I was introduced to the glory of Five Guys Cheeseburgers while in Indianapolis. Oh. My. Goodness. I wish I never knew. I really do. Because now, whenever I have a day off and get mildly hungry, I IMMEDIATELY think about going to get a cheeseburger from this fine establishment. And the me tell you, this is not something one should eat on any kind of regular basis. You can literally see the grease dripping from your food. But it is the most delicious grease I have ever tasted.

I actually said to Brian yesterday, "We cannot go to Five Guys this weekend." He looked at me with a mixture of amusement and disappointment because I'm pretty sure he thought I was kidding. But no, I am not kidding. I need to break this addiction before it gets out of hand.

Then again, I understand his disappointment. I will also be counting down the days until we can go again. To get a cheeseburger. And fries. And, of course, a Diet Coke. You know, to CUT CALORIES.

Just got home from a sibling dinner. Brian and I met my sister, brother-in-law, nephew, brother and brother's girlfriend for some family bonding this evening. This basically never happens (excepting holidays,) so it was really nice to all get together for a bit.

Nothing is new, we are all the same as we ever were, but there is something about hanging out as a group that is quite entertaining. I think it's just some sort of DNA coding that makes it possible for you to make your sister/brother snort soda through their nose until the day you die. Just one of the many perks of siblinghood.

But now I'm home and, from the looks of things outside my window, I imagine that's where I'll be staying for the next few days. It started snowing around Christmas time and has pretty much kept going. Sure, there were a few off days, but when you live in the Midwest when do you really figure things will die down? March? Maybe April?

So, we are in for the evening. Next weekend at this time Brian will be off to sunny California for a bachelor party. I, meanwhile, will be in Indiana. Snowy Indiana. Does anyone else sense the injustice there? Just sayin.

I have my own plans for the weekend, so I won't be entirely bored. There has even been talk of tattoos but, at this point, I've talked about getting one for so long that it's no longer news until I actually suck it up and get one. I'll keep you posted.

For now, I'm going to go relax with that man I married and enjoy the snowfall.

Happy weekending.

On having a Happy New Year

Last post of the year. Last post of the decade. Now THAT, my friends, is crazy.

I recall New Year's Eve 1999 and thinking we were all going to die from the dreaded Y2K. I was in high school people. HIGH SCHOOL. Does that not seem totally impossible? I remember like, 2 percent of my high school years and yet they are not even a full decade in the past. I maintain this forgetfulness is due to the extreme crappiness that is high school. Or the teen years in general.

So, on the eve of a new decade, I thought I'd reminisce about some of the highlights of the 2000's--a decade that was very important to me, for so many reasons.

1.) Graduated aforementioned teen hell (aka local high school.)

2.) Made the arduous journey to the fabulous Ball State University and found I loved it so much I decided to stay four years.

3.) Met my bebe (bebe meaning, of course, hetero life mate and friend extraordinaire), Amanda Jo. We had the same English class our Fall semester of freshmen year and happened to live in the same building. Every day after class, she walked approximately 10 feet behind me the whole way home. I sort of noticed this, but as I was in the front of this two person parade, I really had no idea she was back there. That is until she ran up to me one day and said, "I walk behind you every single day. Now I'm just gonna walk next to you." She has never left.

4.) Discovered I love working in libraries. Yay for geekdom!

5.) Met countless friends, both lasting and passing, who helped shape me in to the person I am today. Although the years have not proven to be helpful in maintaining contact, I think of all of you from time to time and realize how lucky I am that none of you killed me for my stupidity. Thank you.

6.) Became an aunt several times over. The 2000's were a busy time for my siblings.

7.) Against all odds, (read: seriously slacking off senior year) I graduated with my B.A. in English Studies, the most useful of all degrees.

8.) Met and fell in love with my husband, Brian. It still shocks me to think that he was right under my nose our whole lives, yet it took me 21 years to find him.

9.) Got married. It was awesome.

10.) Bought a house. Never, ever, ever buy a house that is up for short sale unless you are a zen master. Although I really do love our house. It was worth the wait.

11.) Quickly realized just how much I hate wall paper.

And now, we can look forward to another decade that will bring with it so many unknowns. Some will be good, others will be bad, but based on the success of this last decade, I think the new one will be just as it should.

Happy New Year!

Holidays and Penicillin

My apologies. I wrote this last Wednesday and thought I published it. I did not. So, a little belatedly, a new post for you.



Well world, I'm sick.

I've been trying to deny it for at least 2 days now, but the fact of the matter is that I am under the weather.

***If I may, can we have a little sidebar here? I mean, what is "under the weather" anyway? Does anyone know? Seriously, I'd like to know. Aren't we ALL under the weather, ALL the time? I guess you could be in a plane during a storm and be over the weather but really other than that you are under the weather.***

Anyway, I pretty much knew this illness was coming because I haven't had a healthy Christmas in years. I think it's karma's way of keeping me humble.

Take, for instance, Christmas of 2007. It was actually a really really awesome Christmas. No fighting, no hurt feelings, no stress. But, Brian and I were both sick. We actually skipped out on a Christmas Eve festivity due to our illness. We stayed home with a bucket of KFC (mmm...unnaturally raised chicken) and an ER marathon of the Christmas themed episodes from County General's past. What in the world took Hathaway so long to realize she should be with Doug and not that psychopath Shep?

But, I digress.

So, yes, I do sort of remember that particular Christmas fondly, but I also really like to fondly remember this little thing called breathing in and out with no hint of struggle. So there you go.

Against the medical advise of pretty much every doctor I've ever known, I'm self-medicating. Meaning that I had a penicillin refill from a tooth extraction a few months ago and I am now taking said penicillin for the sinus infection that I'm positive I have.

It seems to be working. I'm no longer breathing like a donkey with sleep apnea and I've been able to inhale through my nose all day. Huzzah! Who needs a fancy M.D. when I can just fix myself. Thank you, internet and history of nasal problems for pointing me in the right direction.

I'm now ready to celebrate the holidays. We've got a Christmas morning gathering and another gathering that afternoon. This pretty much guarantees that we'll be busy all day long and will want nothing more than to crash at home by the end of the day. I'm really looking forward to it actually.

For Christmas Eve, we are more or less playing it by ear. It's supposed to be terrible weather and the last thing I want to be is dead for Christmas. Brian and I are thinking that maybe another holiday at home (a la 2007) might be in order. Make some beef and noodles, pop in a video, and just relax.

Oddly enough, this coincides perfectly with my plan to bake delicious things and nap. It's amazing when these things come together like that.

Happy Holidays!

And now, an open letter to Starbucks:


Dear Starbucks,

I've been watching you for some time now. You may not have noticed me, I come and go so quickly through your always speedy and cheerful drive-thru. At first, it was all too innocent. I'd stop by and get a mocha, chilled or hot depending on the season. I could go weeks, nay, months without a sip of your delicious beverages with nary a whisper of discontent.

But that all changed when you began enticing me with your flavored lattes.

First, it was the pumpkin spice. Had I ever known true happiness before that first drink? I can't remember now--it's all caught up in a spicy haze. What is that? Cloves? Nutmeg? The essence of pure bliss?

And oh my, the whipped cream. You are incorrigible.

I had to have another. And another. And before I knew it, you pulled the rug out from under me. You took away that which I held closest to my coffee-laden heart. I feared it would be the end of our relationship. I just couldn't go on.

Oh, sure. I went back to the mocha. But it never really understood me. Not like pumpkin spice. It was simply a means to an end. A way to stay alert and warm on cold winter days. I was deep in grief.

Do you remember the time I was so tired I forgot to specify that I wanted a mocha latte? I know, I promised not to bring it up again. It's just that it hurt like so much coffee milk.

I knew you would sense this. You always know what will cheer me up. Thus, the Caramel Brulee Latte.

Until that moment I never knew how much you cared.

I know there are others. I see that girl sneaking out the door with a red cup. I know your heart is too big for just one person. I forgive you your humanitarian nature. For they need you as much as I do. After all, I will always have Del Taco. You understand, don't you?

Of course you do.

And so it is, my dear Starbucks. Ours is a love to be shared with the whole world. Let us sing it from the rooftops! The world needs to understand what it means to be truly loved. I entrust this task to your mighty coffee beans. You never let me down.

Always yours,

Rachael

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Or, you know, Wednesday. Wednesday with snow and wind. Hooray?

We went Christmas shopping this past weekend. Oh my. Can I just say that I would never (Read: NEVER) stand in a huge line with no end in sight just to get my little paws on a mechanical hamster. Seriously? Unless that thing is going to make my breakfast, I'm not wasting my time.

And, in the midst of all that craziness, we found an entire shelf full of the original Tickle Me Elmo. My kingdom for a time machine. Now THAT would lead to some Christmas cheer.

I'm probably about half way done with the gift shopping. This year I've kind of just let go of my neurotic gift buying tendencies. It makes for a much more pleasant experience. No anxious worry about whether or not someone is going to spit in my face and tell me what's what just because I got the wrong flavor of lip gloss. No! Now it's replaced with the thought "Who wouldn't want a full sized plastic unicorn? Let's get 5."

In all reality though, we've toned it down this Christmas due to that ol' recession there. Lots of time spent watching the sales and hunting for bargains. And I'm sure that's probably true of most folks out there.

I do recognize that we are very blessed. We are able to buy gifts for our near and dears. Not everyone can do that. But, in a way, this cost effective mindfulness has actually given me pause and caused me to think about the purpose of the holiday. Isn't Christmas really about family and love? Sharing a good meal with those who know you best?

I find that my favorite part of the Christmas holiday is when I get a chance to sit down with my family and just relax. Talk about nothing in particular, maybe watch a movie, and continue trying to eat most of the northern hemisphere. (Sidenote: Two years ago, my sister and I spent weeks discussing what would be the main dish of our Christmas feast. WEEKS. Let alone discussing the side dishes. But, we ended up deciding on prime rib, so it was totally worth it...right?)

So, this year, maybe don't worry about gifts so much. Just eat a cookie, joke with your family and friends, and maybe take a nap. That, my friends, is true happiness.

Just don't make me watch that stupid Christmas movie with the fat kid again. I CANNOT TAKE IT.

Running low on ideas right now. So, it's time for bullets.

• Thanksgiving went well. Turkey was not dry or burnt to a crisp and it actually got a few compliments. A successful turkey was really my only goal. Well, that and stopping any potential bloodshed. I hear it's nearly impossible to get blood out of carpets. Nearly.
  
  
• I can not believe Christmas is almost here. Could it have anything to do with this ridiculously nice weather? I submit that it does.
  
  
• Please Mother Nature, do not cause a blizzard to engulf my house tonight while I sleep.

• If you don't watch Modern Family on ABC (or, as I like to call it, The Manny Show) then I don't care to know you. Tune in folks! You can thank me later.



• I need a new CD to listen to. Any suggestions?
  
  
• For serious, I cannot think of what to buy people for Christmas. Is it acceptable to give everyone an I.O.U. until I think of appropriate replacements?
  
  
• This reminds me, I need to send out Christmas cards. However, I have lost my address book. Well, it's not so much a book as it is a loose stack of papers that I tend to keep under the couch. I just can't imagine how that got lost, can you? If you don't get a card this year, apologies in advance. Know that I am sending you all a card in my mind...hmm, will this strategy work for the aforementioned present debacle? Thinking cap time!
  
  
• Apparently, I need an address book for Christmas. Take note, relatives.
  
  
• This year we put up two Christmas trees. This is mostly because our basement reaches near sub-zero temperatures in the winter. As we spent most of our free time in the basement, this can be a bit problematic once snow sets in. Especially since we want to keep all of our appendages free from frostbite. So, this winter we've migrated upstairs to our rarely used living room. I just couldn't deny the basement its tree, even if we weren't going to be spending as much time down there. But, I also knew that we had to have a tree to enjoy whilst whittling away the hours upstairs. Thus, two trees.
  
  
• Does anyone else find it odd that I worry about hurting the basement's feelings? I mean, it's a room. That right there is the same problem that makes it impossible for me to throw away food. Four mozzarella sticks down and one to go? Someone's gonna eat that stick, dammit. I don't want it to feel sad for not being chosen.



• Sidenote: In what crazy world is there ever an unwanted mozzarella stick? I should have picked a better example. Apologies.
  

Here is our basement tree. Note the majestic quality of its branches.

And here is our upstairs living room tree. Note the sparse, yet inviting, tree limbs. This is what determination, hard work, and ten dollars at Target's after Christmas sale will get you.

Do you smell that? That, my friend, is the smell of Christmas.

Turkey Day

So tired...Thanksgiving went well. I'll relate it to you all in another post. For now, I'm going to bed. Here's a post I wrote on Tuesday but forgot to publish.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!


Thanksgiving is but a few days away! Never in my life have I had such a humongous turkey in my refrigerator. Or really any turkey, for that matter. Brian refers to it as "Birdzilla." I'm more than just a little worried about roasting the thing. Last year I roasted a turkey breast for just the two of us, but that in no way compares to this 20ish pound behemoth that is currently taking up an entire shelf of space in my fridge.

My fear is that I won't cook it right and, come lunchtime, I'll have 20-30 hungry people on my hand just waiting to mock me for my stupidity. Worse things have happened, I suppose.

Like giving those same people a food borne illness. Hmm...I'm sensing a dry, but thoroughly cooked bird in my future.

Honestly, I don't really have that much to say right now. My brain is so preoccupied with Thanksgiving preparations that I fail to notice much else.

I find it somewhat disturbing that Christmas is just around the corner. Even more disturbing to realize that our Christmas tree will be up by the end of the day Friday. Seriously?

Yes, seriously. Every year we put up the tree on the day after Thanksgiving. It's the official start of the Christmas season, in my book. Also the official start of me realizing I have 90% of my shopping to finish. E-gad.

I am super excited about two of my Christmas finds though. I haven't decided who they'll go to yet, so I can't tell you about them. But suffice it to say YOU ARE LUCKY, RECIPIENT. Whoever you may be.

Just yesterday Brian and I went to purchase our annual tree ornament. Normally, we do this much earlier in the month. This year time got away from us so we had to do it quickly. I imagine this weekend we'll go out and find another one with a bit more flair. But, we simply had to have a new one before we put up the tree. It's tradition.

We started buying ornaments our first Christmas together, when we realized that between the two of us we had the equivalent of a Q-tip and tinsel with which to decorate our tree. So, ever since then we've gone out a week or so before we put up the tree and each picked out an ornament to take home. Over the years we have purchased such fine ornaments as: a glass pickle, an anthropomorphic hot pepper wearing a cowboy hat and twirling a lasso, a football-bodied snowman, and this year's crowning glory--a tiny wooden hedgehog.

We promptly named him Jeremy and welcomed him to our family. I'll be sure to place him far away from that hot pepper. If I remember correctly, that pepper also has a gun.

Well my dear blogging world, I'm about to host my first extended family Thanksgiving. I'm not sure if it was a seizure that overtook my body and first suggested the idea to me, or perhaps aliens. We may never know. But, host I shall.

No, I kid. I'm actually looking forward to it. I think you need to come from a big family to understand the appeal of a large crowd. My poor husband is not from a large family and so he tends to pick a spot and sit quietly while contemplating the meaning of life and (I'm positive) how he got himself into this mess in the first place.

He has my sympathies.

I figure I've got upwards of 20-25 people coming for sure, with about 10 people who may or may not show. Thus the conundrum of blended families. Always more than one place to go. But, I'm not going to worry about that right now. I may not worry about that ever. I figure if stretching food is the height of your concern, then you are doing pretty well.

Wait a minute, what am I thinking? When has this family ever had to worry about stretching food? Answer: not in a million years. We are a bulk buying, bulk baking, bulk eating group.

What's that? For Thanksgiving? Oh. Sure. Yeah. Only on Thanksgiving...

Anyhow...Although it is rather stressful to plan a gathering of this magnitude, it's comforting to know that these people sign up to attend these holidays year after year. To know that no matter what, they are going to be around. Probably eating. Probably laughing. Probably asking you the very questions you hoped they wouldn't ask but of course want to know because they are your people and they love you and want to annoy you. Out of love.

It's touching, really.

You know that movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding? At the end, when everything has turned out just oh-so-swell and they are all dancing in a circle and the main character talks about her family? I get it. Almost every single thing in that movie rings true (minus the Greek heritage and weird accents.) As they say in the movie:

My family is big and loud but they're my family. We fight and we laugh and yes,
we roast lamb on a spit in the front yard. And where ever I go, what ever I do
they will always be there.

My family is loud. My family is big. Oh, and trust me, we fight. We do not, however, roast lamb on a spit in the front yard. Although I kinda wish we did. Imagine the stares from the neighbors! Plus, I have seen Dad eyeing the Windex on more than one occasion. Coincidence?...but I digress.

Thanks Nia Vardalos (writer of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.) For putting in to words what generations of crazed family members knew all along.

Sometimes, I think Fridays are the best way to prove God loves us

Whew! This has been a week.

But now it is Friday and I'm just going to go ahead and put it all behind me. Right after I complain about it here.

Can I just say that if you are a doctor and it takes your patient calling in to remind you to read their bloodwork because they know something is wrong, YOU ARE A CRAPPY DOCTOR. Especially if it turns out the patient is right and their medication needs adjusting. And it had already been 2 weeks of waiting for the results. Good thing my insurance doesn't cover anyone else, or you'd be so far down on my list you would never again see the sun. And by sun I mean my bright smiling face.

I guess I'll just check out some medical books from my local library and diagnose myself from now on. Oh wait, I do that already. It's called hypochondria.

What I love best about having a chronic condition is that when my medicine is off, I get to stay up ALL NIGHT and think about it. It's so much fun. Insomnia--it's not just for drug addicts anymore!

And another thing that gets to me--if someone asks you a question, I think the most polite thing to do is to answer them. Don't you agree? I find this applies to all walks of life. Respond to questions, people!

On another note, you should watch I Love You, Man if you haven't already. I feel I need to rectify some bad energy concerning this movie. When it was first released I thought it looked like a pile of dog crap adorned with a shiny gold ribbon (Paul Rudd, you are the shiny gold ribbon.) So, naturally, when people began to ask my opinion on whether or not they should watch it, I hinted that I thought it looked stupid and perhaps a better use of their time would be picking the lint out of their dryer traps.

Oh my, how I was wrong. Sure, the movie is not going to win any awards. It's totally stupid. I recognize this fact. But, if you are a fan of laughter, I recommend giving it a whirl. I've been going around calling people Jobin and telling them I'm "slappin' da bass" for weeks now.

The stares are getting a little annoying.

So, that's why I think you should watch the movie. Let's get this thing goin' on a national level! I'm just gonna go ahead and say you're welcome now. You're welcome.

If you can ignore the stupid intro, here's the trailer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeZ1YyZZ86Q

Also, and bear with me here because you are seeing this out of context and the beginning of this clip is kinda boring, here's Paul Rudd "slappin' da bass."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUOXXAK55C4

Happy Weekend, my lovelies!

Friday Night Media News

It's Friday evening, I have a frozen pizza in the oven, a fresh bottle of rum and Dr. Pepper (suck on that rum & Coke enthusiasts!), and Netflix has sent us Nothing Like the Holidays starring some people whose names I forget. I belive John Leguizamo is in it. I find his voice somewhat hypnotizing. Kind of like a leprechaun.

This is a recipe for big fun.

I can tell I'm old because this is seriously my idea of a good time. I figure I went out to the bars plenty enough in my wasted youth (pun possibly intended...let me think about it) so that now I can just sit home and enjoy a fine comedy film and feel fine about it. Although, it would be nice to be able to do this with my big city friends. I miss them. (Who am I kidding, really? We'd end up either ignoring the movie, or going out to recall said days of misspent youth.)

In other news, I am currently listening to the soundtrack from the movie New Moon. I know, I know, this potentially makes me a crazed Twilighter. But hear me out--the soundtrack is actually pretty good. Sure, at first the songs make you want to kill yourself with their incessant glumness...song after song after song about being sad and losing love. I GET IT. You're upset. Can we move on? But it features the song stylings of such fine acts as Deathcab for Cutie, The Killers, and Grizzly Bear, just to name a few.

After about the 3rd round of listening I got over the teenage angst and found a couple of tracks that I really enjoy (Not that I'm dissing teenage angst...I did read the Twilight books. All four of them. Twice.)

So I guess what I'm saying is that any of my family reading this can safely purchase the New Moon soundtrack for me for Christmas. Or, you know, precious gems.

Either is acceptable.



:)

November Days

So Halloween came and went. We had fewer trick-or-treaters this year than we did last year, but still a good turnout. We ended up with about 75-80 kids. As always, they were adorable. There was a family dressed up as the Incredibles, which may have been my favorite costume of the night. There were, however, a large (somewhat disturbing) number of tweens and teens who were not dressed up at all. Not a mask or painted face to be seen. I chalked it up to the economy. Why spend $20 on a costume when you could buy, what? 8,000 packs of ramen noodles with that kinda cash?

Next up...Thanksgiving! Stay tuned for what will no doubt be the beginning of the long and harrowing journey known as The Holidays. Drink your coffee!

On a more serious note, my sister's surgery went worse than planned. So, thanks to the assistance of my way too kind and forgiving boss, my work schedule has been cleared and I spent today helping my sister in all the ways that no human being ever really wants to be helped. Suffice it say that one never realizes how important a knee can be until it is gone...or in this case, immobile. I'll be there through Thursday, at which point we are hoping that she'll be able to make it through a day on her own. After spending time with her today, I'm somewhat optimistic that she'll be okay by herself on Friday.

The silver lining in this armpit of a situation is that I will get to spend more time with my sister than I have in about two years. We used to spend inordinate amounts of time together, to the point that our respective spouses wondered what in the world was left to talk about. What can I say? We speak each other's brand of crazy.

Other than that though, totally unfun. But she's my family and she's probably my best friend. And I love her. And I'll gladly help her stand up, and make her lunch, and help her do her painful knee exercises, and look at her stitches and staples all week if it means I can make her laugh through the pain.

I know she'd do the same for me.

Sick Time

Good news everyone!

Operation Do Nothing went off without a hitch. It was 2 straight days of bliss.

And now, as if to prove to me that sloth has consequences, The Universe has seen fit to make my neck immobile. I can look right with no problems...looking left? No, not so much. For a while I was convinced I had meningitis but in the absence of , oh I don't know, symptoms...I decided I probably don't.

This week my sister has surgery, my mom has swine flu, her partner-man is recovering from surgery, and I have ceased to appreciate the beauty of everything to the left. I'm thinking one of us is slightly less inconvenienced than the others...SISTER, I'M LOOKING AT YOU.

No, not really. I know I'm fine (although this is one wicked muscle cramp) while everyone else is dealing with rough stuff. It's just that in times like this, when it feels like everything is falling apart or broken, it's easier for me to make light of the situation than deal with it head on. In reality I'm very concerned about these developments, but what can you do except wake up and hope that nothing else goes wrong?

In my heart of hearts I know that everything will turn out alright. And really, none of this directly affects me. It's just always a bummer when people you love are dealing with difficult situations that you can't influence either way.

I'll be happy when everyone is well again and/or healing.

This reminds me of a Demetri Martin quote. He said, "I see cards that say 'Get Well Soon.' **** that. Get well now."

My sentiments exactly.