Non-sex appeal

Polenta has to be one of the least attractive foods on the planet.

But, one cup does cook up into a startlingly large amount of food substance, even it it doesn't taste like much and I have yet to master the flavoring regimes that will turn lowly corn meal into the delicious, substantial, non-wheat carb I pounce on at restaurants.

Plus it takes FOREVER to make. Stir, stir, stir, indeed.

Tday 2008

A holiday for which I did not have to drive (navigating the holiday crowds and unfortunately timed road construction), shop (dodging, pushing through other holiday crowds), or cook (while wrangling preternaturally mobile children).

No wonder why it never felt like Thanksgiving!!!! (Until the food, more food, and glorious, glorious wine.)

And yet...I think I could get used to it...(as long as it doesn't fall on my birthday. Bah and fie on that!)

Breakfast of (older) champions

Currently: turns out that enthusiasm isn't exclusively the domain of youth

30 isn't that bad so far...

Carvel forever!!! Did you know that they have a cake with even more crunchies!!!! How awesome is that??!!

You can't get writing on it, but who cares??!!

Gifting

Currently: a littel verklemped. In a good way.

She included the gift receipt.

It marks a sea change in our relationship. Never once, in all my 30 years, has my mother acknowledged that it might be OK for me not to like something she bought me. This includes items she got that she knew perfectly well I would not like, but still thought, from the omnipotent heights of motherhood, that I ought to have (not speaking to practical gifts, mind you - ought to have encompassed the type of jewelry I should own and wear, the knick knacks I should display in my home, etc.).

The vest it actually pretty cute, and the matching hat is a little silly (another sweet story there - she was trying to replace another beloved hat, the loss of which caused an adult screaming mess meltdown at the Epcot center EIGHT YEARS AGO - tell me how mothers are not like elephants!), but regardless I will treasure this gift, especially its implied prize of giving up control, above all others for quite some time...

The last weekend of my 20s

Was mostly spent sleeping.

And doing homework.

You see, I decided to go out with a bang.

Woot.

Driving gloves

I've had these for a few years, but hadn't worn them till now (What? I like to keep my things nice and new!), when I needed them to combat the extra-cold snap of the morning (ish).

They aren't the red leather pants and jacket I've always dreamed of owning (Thanks, Buffy), but they're something (killer accessories are certainly a step in the right direction towards my someday all-red-leather ensemble!).

Is it weird that I think, as I pull them on, mwahahahaha, sexy assassin?

Choose to stop, or carpal tunnel will choose for you

Currently: pinning my hopes on Internet shaming

So, I don't exhibit many manifestations of an addictive personality, but every so often, something (activity, usually, or some munchable) will catch my fancy (ahem, Amazon Gold box, bubble tea, etc.). One of my weakness is brick-breaking games on the computer. Ah, countless hours spent in mindless, fascinating (in the literal sense that I am unable to look away from the screen for hours, days at a time) fun. Let's just say that there has been a lot of Tetris in my life. I spent a good chunk of first grad school playing Snood in my office - I came late to the game, but I made up for it with a vengeance! I gave it up (sort of) only after I discovered, and then practically took up residence in, the wood shop (maintaining my faltering piano chops fell FAR by the wayside of these twin wonders). Then, there was the brilliantly-named Smashing. Engrossing, but only until you beat all the levels. The past few (6? 7? 12?) months have been at least partially devoted to Collapse 2. Having hit upon the secret of breaking ever-increasing blocks of mono-colored bricks for exponentially larger point awards, this game never fails to delight because you can always strive to beat your best score. By the time I passed the million-point mark, I was hopelessly hooked. 2 million points later, I was headachy and sore of wrist, but I had mastered both the mouse-based game of my desktop and the pointed-nubbin maneuvering on my laptop (play anywhere, anytime!). Just good, clean, solitary fun, right?

Eh, except for the burning eyes, lost time (holy hell, the day is gone, and I still have to WORK??!!), and swollen wrist and digits, no harm, no foul.

Ack, not really! My hand and arm actually hurt because of this game, but I've had trouble letting go. Even after I hit a high 2 million mark and swore I would quit (how much further can I go?), I still occasionally opened it up at work or at night, and POOF! miss the rest of my day. Clearly, I have something of a problem.

So, let's toss my hat over the fence and say that this REALLY is my pinnacle score, and I have to STOP, mostly because my wrist and eyes and productivity levels are begging me to. And because I told the Internet I would.

(I know it's pathetic, but I'm so darn proud of this ridiculous score...and yet, I idly wonder if I tried JUST ONCE MORE if I could possibly make 4 million...)

Hope this works!

A bug of sorts

It's that time of the year again...

new shoes

pricey moisturizer

tires! (well, that wasn't exactly a fun purchase)

feeding my Ulta fascination

Christmas shopping

infusion of pants to get me through the winter (once it gets cold, threadbare doesn't cut it)

LASIK??!!

buying just one more item to get Super Saver Shipping at Amazon

presents for kids are so gosh darn cute!!!

TWW (finally!)

a couple of jewel-toned shirts here, a few there...

I'm looking unreasonably forward to the Black Friday online sales

replacement head gear for my phone (sigh, I hate losing things, especially gifts)...

Just doing my part to stimulate the economy! (And to satisfy my insane birthday-month shopping frenzy.) What else will the season bring?

Car talk

I finally figured out how to turn on a hybrid! You press the button to turn on the electricity and...wait. The lights and music come on immediately, and somewhere between 5 to 20 (very LONG) seconds later, the engine might turn on. Usually. I turned on my rental car (yes, I chose a hybrid again and sat in it determinedly, pressing all the buttons until the darned thing came ALIVE!, mostly because I am stubborn, but also because it was the last red car in the lot) for the first time by accident, but I was able to start it on pretty much reliably for the rest of the week (the few times I couldn't, though, were definitely filled with panic-laden moments of what the HELL am I going to do if I'm stuck in Nowhere, CA with a giant red radio?). I really liked the gliding motion when the car switches over to electric only. It felt like I was driving a hovercraft (maybe I was! I'm inside the car! I can't see for sure how it works!!) and the steering was ridiculously easy - a nice break from my heavy-turning behemoth. Now that I am a mistress of the hybrid technology, I would definitely choose it again for a rental.

*******************

Ah, that Click and Clack! Still going strong after god knows how long! Love the sound of home...

*******************

I took my car in for a long-overdue oil change. I was using a coupon from a mailer, and, last minute, decided to take advantage of the fall maintenance special (since it was on sale!). I asked them to check the tires, and got a definitive reply. Since we were making a long drive, I brought it in to the tire folks the next day, surrendering to the inevitable - plus I'd heard that the Jersey Turnpike was already seeing "weather" (i.e., freezing rain and snow), and better safe than very, very sorry. $700 later, it was less "Happy Birthday to Me" than happy day at the spa, little car! Love the new tires! So that's what treads are supposed to look like!

As I drove out of the lot, I was alarmed at the difference in handling. What had they done to my baby? I barely had to touch the wheel to turn!, and that was NOT (see above) what I was used to! I made a call:

Me: My car! Is different!

Him (clearly thinking, that was the point, dipsh*t): Um, different how?

Me: It is so light! The steering is so tight!

Him: Well, which is it? Light OR tight?

Me (slight wail): What did they do to her??!! It's both - the steering is so LIGHT! The turning radius is so TIGHT! This isn't how my car feels!!! Is it broken? Should I take it back?

Him (possibly stroking his beard): Well, actually, that is all good. Did they happen to say anything about what they did, other than the tires?

Me (consideringly): Well, they did say something about the alignment...

Him (wearily): What did they say?

Me (gears turning): I...uh...wasn't really paying attention. They...fixed it? The numbers were...big? Would that have something to do...

Him: YES!!

Me (small voiced): Oh. So everything is...

Him: OK. Good. Wonderful. The car is fixed.

Me: Oh, huh, well good. I'm not complaining - I was just weirded out by how DIFFERENT it feels - it turns fast and feels like it is sticking to the road and -

Him: Well, I told you to take it in ages ago!

Me: Yeah, yeah, so the car is...

Him: Fixed! Enjoy. Look, I really have to get back to-

Me: OkayThanksBye!

ZOOM ZOOM :)

(It's nice having a boy around. Can you imagine how humiliating [yeah, sure! I'm an independent and perfectly competent, grown-up person!] it would have been to have had that conversation with my dad?)

Home life

On the making of beef broth (gotta use those scraps somehow, since we don't have a dog!):

Smells like we live inside a cow.

Croak

The house has been plagued for the past week, but we are slowly recovering. Meanwhile, our voices are manifesting in registers slightly lower than normal. To wit:

Me: I've got my husky siren voice on!

Him: Well, I sound like Barry White meets Ira Glass.

Me: Nah, you just sound like a stuffy Shaft. Eh, pretty much what you said.

Him: Or I sound like a frog.

Me: No, I sound like a frog!

Him: No, you sound like a sexy princess!

********************

I'll take it :)

To Lasik?

So, after much hemming and hawing, and thinking about it for years, I went in for the evaluation, and I'm a candidate. Now what?

They have to burn off pieces of my eye, while I stare deeply into the path of the laser - awake, unmoving, and not allowed to freak the f*ck out.

But I'll be able to see in the middle of the night.

Probably.

For the tune of $4k.

Which I have.

But could probably stand to invest at the moment, with the other vultures, doubling down on the eventual recovery of the American economy.

Which would also use a boost now.

I like the doctor's office.

But possibly not that (re: $4k) much.

I HAVE TO WATCH THEM LASER MY EYE!!!##$%$%^%&^&*^%$%@#@!~!!!!!!

With no guarantees of success.

But my eyes are already starting to not tolerate contacts.

And I hate glasses.

Halos for three months?

And likely having a raging case of uncomfortably dry eyes?

And the literal burning of my eyes?

Potentially no more eye juice forever!

***********************

As you can see (HA!), AHHHHHH! I don't know what to do, and I only have only a few days before my FSA election is due...

Precautionary measure

I was pretty sure that the election outcome would favor my politics, but just in case, I got some idealist insurance:

Actually, I'd been watching this on Amazon for over a year, hoping it would go on Gold Box or lightning deal sale. It did just a couple of weeks ago, so SWOOP!!!! Great price, great show, happy me! And now, even though I won't need to clutch my West Wing and hide out in a bunker watching favorite (er, for some of us, all of seasons 1-3) episodes, keening for a kinder, smarter America, it's still a great thing to have around for constant, sing-along (um, mouth-along) fun.

Dressing

Currently: Decidedly more cheerful about the whole mess

I had been rather depressed about kick-starting the whole dress-finding business. I remember bridesmaid dress selection and fittings to be pretty much horrendous, and didn't expect my own wedding dress shopping to be much better. So, other than some perfunctory online searches, cursing my luck for missing the DC 2008 Running of the Brides, and fantasizing about a gorgeous, custom-made Chinese EBay dress for less than $200, I hadn't made much progress in finding suitable bridal wear.

Noting the ticking timetable, however, I finally broke down and decided to check out that warehouse of all thing brideful - David's - during one of their innumerable sale events. Some highlights:

Celebratory, unanticipated ejaculation of champagne from the thermos while still in the car. Oooooh, sticky!

You are not allowed to actually touch the dresses until a qualified individual brings them to you. Some of the prerequisites of qualification, it appears, are diffidence and bitchiness.

White or ivory? Ivory, please! No, white! How about some champagne?

Wrestling in and out of dresses is hard (and thirsty, since they won't let you drink in the dress studio) work! And it actually does take more than one person to get those things on and off! Guess dressmakers know what they're doing...

So I, too, can be a princess! With a veil! And a tiara! Neither of which I thought were remotely necessary until I tried them on, and now, viva la principessa!

An appreciative, supportive, and gently critical audience is worth at least a bajillion dollars. Or lunch, whatever.

Apparently I will need to practice walking in whatever poufy monstrosity I settle on, because MAN! are they hard to move in!

Ok, so I think it looks nice. Perhaps not quite misty-eyed and blushing, but a close enough approximation. I did learn that it helps to let my hair down, whip off the glasses, and pretend that I didn't give myself first degree facial chemical burns the night before.

I draw the line at sequins. Seriously.

The attendant who kicked us out after an hour and a half must not understood the concept of "working on commission."

Sampling of dress salon conversation: You're so pretty! No, you're so pretty! No, you! Oh, you! YOU!

There really is a difference in the infrastructure of a wedding dress - stitching and basting and boning and yards and yards of fabric that somehow come together to make everyone, anyone look good.

I still don't feel that lace and beading are me. But apparently, chiffon is. Go figure.

A tip: try on dresses before eating a ginormous, delicious meal, because after you'll just want to take a nap.

There aren't any wedding-worthy dresses at the mall. I promise.

And finally:

How many wedding "necessities"-hawking emails (jewelery I get, but ice sculptures?) can be sent in one day? Guess. No, really, guess. Can't guess? That's right! Because it's INFINITY.

Snooze and snuggle

I had a set of grand plans all set for today - fairly unusual, since my typical Sunday lineup involves a lot of sleep and lazing about in pajamas, interspersed with grocery shopping and then eating the fruits of my gatherings. An activity, some friends, some work, some school, and maybe a quick workout.

But it was rainy.

And cold.

And I was still sleepy at noon (well, this isn't anything strange).

And bed was just so snuggly.

And who wants to get up and get dressed anyway?

So I made the call, then slept on.

Puttered about the house in cozy clothes.

Took a nap.

Watched some Rome.

And went back to sleep.

:)

Boba

I have been a complete maniac for bubble tea in the past month. Which is strange, considering I never used to like the stuff. The first one I had was a chalky, fruit-flavored concoction with slimy bubbles. WHO WOULD LIKE THAT??!! But, a few trips ago, we stopped in at one of the many (apparently) chain bubble tea shops and I was convinced to try a mocha/black tea version. And WHOA, but it was awesome! Delicious iced almost-coffee (I guess the it really is all about the matrix) laced with large, chewy, sweet bubbles of boba fun, sealed with its own brightly-colored to-go top. Pure delight!!! So ever since, I've been hunting out the various local purveyors and sampling their wares...to some avail...some bubble-tea ruminations:

Yucky Thai iced tea-looking thing with too much cream and weirdly orange color with nasty, crunchy-slimy bubbles

"Oh, BOBA tea!!! I thought you said bubble tea!" I did - that's what we call it at home, but they're the same thing. "Well, we don't have either of those."

No teas, but a bunch of fruit flavors, or coffee. Coffee??!! Sign me up! Passed on the dark roast, but the perfectly cloying sugared and creamed iced coffee with the sweet, small, gummy pearls was the best I've had in the area - gone in a moment and even worth sacrificing the sleep!

"Sorry, that Asian bakery has moved over to the other Korean shopping center."

Mediocre bubbles, weak tea. Meh.

What is this? Not bubble tea, but bubble icee?!?! In black milk tea flavor? A tea frosty with boba??!! The bubbles get slightly hard from being chilled down, but otherwise, a magnificent dessert! For breakfast!

********************

And so forth. I begin to understand other folks' problems with addiction...unfortunately (or is it fortunately? I don't know yet) boba-icee place is only a few blocks from work. In fact, if I took a slightly different route, I could drive by it each morning...

Change in the seasons, too

Well, the end of flip flip weather has finally come. I don't have the most formal of workplaces, and so I've finally succumbed (eh, for several, summers now) to the flip-flop siren. For about 8 months of the year, I wear my flops pretty much exclusively to work (and everywhere else). I have lots of other shoes, but none that can beat them for convenience and comfort. And they go with everything!!! Pants, shorts, dresses, skirts...right?

These are my 2nd pair of Reefs, identical to my old pair, except not yet having been worn to a razor-thin tread. The first pair carried me all the way through grad school and...5??!! years of work. Actually, wow! But I had to buy a new pair this season because I could feel, not only the rocks, but the grains of sand under my feet :(

Anyhow, so in retiring the flops, I had to get some new shoes:

Sadly, I couldn't buy anything really cute, because truly cute = heel = I just won't wear it. I have lots of cute shoes in my closet, most of which only get broken out once in a blue moon. My sneakers, sketchers, and flops, however, show the wear and tear of true road warriors. My boots get some good coverage during the winter, but overall, I am a flats girl - which is too bad, because I can really use the height. In the end, though, it's really better to just go with What I Will Wear. Because, yes, I am too lazy to walk on a heel. So this pair should get me through the fall, well into winter!

Just change

Today, we shaked and baked ourselves a new president.

And I helped.

(Weeps.)

(Smiles.)

It's nice living with someone who, as he so beautifully puts it, "sh*ts confidence." Notwithstanding the fact that I don't want to examine that construction too carefully, it certainly has been a boon for the election season. He's known, all year, that it was in the bag (and wasn't shy about sharing). And, probably through osmosis, I absorbed much of that certainty. Thus, my election cycle has not been the fraught, anxious state that coined yet another syndrome (pre-election anxiety syndrome). The talking heads did their best, but could not spin me in a tizzy. I had a momentary lurch, with the rest of the world, when Mean Lady was tapped, but that too, faded quickly. And now that we can sit back and savor the sweetness of victory, I get to know that, for once in my life, my vote mattered (yeah! Livin' in a swing state! I don't even mind that we had to wait for an hour in the dark at 6 AM!), and I belong to a winning team. (Is this how sports fans feel?) HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and we have an eloquent, erudite man to take on one the most thankless tasks in the world in a few short months. I can't wait!

Change of heart?

Oh sad grandpa, I just want to put you in my pocket!!!

Almost makes me want to vote for you.

Cristal and Carvel

Some milestone birthday, eh? Even when it's not mine!!!

(Cristal is very nice, but personally, based on the price to enjoyment ratio, Carvel cake kicks Cristal's butt out of the water. What can I say? Plebian tastes don't always grow up.)