It's not so much the front of the fireplace, or even inside the fireplace. But rather another place, that is in close proximity to the fireplace.
Could it be under the fireplace? No, that's impossible.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Ruining Christmas
Last night while working on the Christmas puzzle and eating cookies I said, "My favorite part of Christmas Eve is that we get presents the next day!"
Brandon got this smug look on his face and turns to his oldest daughter, Elle, and asks her, "Elle what is your favorite part of Christmas?"
Immediately she responds, "My favorite part is that we get to learn about baby Jesus!"
Ugh. Kids. Always trying to ruin Christmas.
Brandon got this smug look on his face and turns to his oldest daughter, Elle, and asks her, "Elle what is your favorite part of Christmas?"
Immediately she responds, "My favorite part is that we get to learn about baby Jesus!"
Ugh. Kids. Always trying to ruin Christmas.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas Book
Mother and I were at the breakfast table this morning, and she asked if I saw the presents under the tree. (I may or may not have made a big deal about how there weren't any presents under either of the Christmas trees, and what is up with that?!)
I immediately went to inspect them, and determined they were books for the Grandchildren. I asked about them, and Mom picked them out, but they were funded by G-ma. Mom said, "I even read one of Elle's chapter books. It was really great! I laughed out loud a few times."
"Aahh, I wish I could read it!
"Yes, it's a good one, and I think there are lots of discussion topics."
"Oh man, I wish it wasn't wrapped."
And then Mom got up, went over to the tree, and proceeded to unwrap the present.
I read it this morning, and I really liked it. I would tell you what it is, but what if Elle reads this blog? I don't want to ruin the Christmas surprise.
I immediately went to inspect them, and determined they were books for the Grandchildren. I asked about them, and Mom picked them out, but they were funded by G-ma. Mom said, "I even read one of Elle's chapter books. It was really great! I laughed out loud a few times."
"Aahh, I wish I could read it!
"Yes, it's a good one, and I think there are lots of discussion topics."
"Oh man, I wish it wasn't wrapped."
And then Mom got up, went over to the tree, and proceeded to unwrap the present.
I read it this morning, and I really liked it. I would tell you what it is, but what if Elle reads this blog? I don't want to ruin the Christmas surprise.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Free Underpants
I forgot to tell you:
Grandma and I were walking around the intimates department in JC Penny, and we passed some underwear for sale. It was a set of briefs that were pastel, satin, and full coverage. Super full coverage. Think almost to the waist and straight across the top of the legs.
G-ma points to them and says, "What size underwear to you take?"
Uhhhh.....
"I bought some just like this but they are too big, maybe they would fit you."
Hmmm...
1) What 28 year old woman would want to wear her G-ma's underwear?
2) I wear garments. Which, really, have more fabric than the satin set in question, but that's not really the point. Doesn't she know about garments? Maybe she forgot. I don't mind that.
I had been racking my brain for a way to get out of this, and so I said, "Oh, I don't like this style. Too high at the waist."
And, somehow, that got her to drop the topic.
Anyway, we still have a three pack of Grandma underpants hanging around if you know of anyone who wants them.
Grandma and I were walking around the intimates department in JC Penny, and we passed some underwear for sale. It was a set of briefs that were pastel, satin, and full coverage. Super full coverage. Think almost to the waist and straight across the top of the legs.
G-ma points to them and says, "What size underwear to you take?"
Uhhhh.....
"I bought some just like this but they are too big, maybe they would fit you."
Hmmm...
1) What 28 year old woman would want to wear her G-ma's underwear?
2) I wear garments. Which, really, have more fabric than the satin set in question, but that's not really the point. Doesn't she know about garments? Maybe she forgot. I don't mind that.
I had been racking my brain for a way to get out of this, and so I said, "Oh, I don't like this style. Too high at the waist."
And, somehow, that got her to drop the topic.
Anyway, we still have a three pack of Grandma underpants hanging around if you know of anyone who wants them.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Grandma, because it's been too long
It was Father's idea to gift Grandma a day of driving her around. It sounded like a pretty good Christmas present, seeing how I love shopping, she loves shopping, and also I couldn't find the pickled peaches Brandon wanted me to find which was the original gift idea. I felt a little bad bailing on the pickled peaches plan, but then I remembered that he can just give Grandma a picture of his kids for Christmas and call it good.
Anyway, the date was set for today! It had been too long since I had hung out with G-ma.
I had forgotten.
First, she has a new walker wheeled seat. I wish I could explain it better to you. I think the official name is the Smooth Walker 3000 or something. Does that help?
That thing is very difficult to get into the trunk. She wanted me to call Mother and ask her how she does it, but I was too prideful, so instead I struggled for a few minutes every time I had to get it in or out of the car.
The day started at 10 am, and we were going to Kohl's. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, G-ma starts talking about an article she read about how all the Mormon women are trying to change some things in the Church by wearing pants last Sunday.
Sigh.
Okay, G-ma, it's not ALL the Mormon women. Please don't classify me into a group of women who have forgotten that God loves them and that He is perfect, and has a plan and a reason for everything, even if it's not completely clear at the present time. I have three problems with this 1) Whatever article G-ma read made it into a newspaper. I think this is absolutely the wrong publicity. 2) I attend Sacrament Meeting to renew sacred covenants. It is not a time for protesting. 3) It worries me when members are just waiting for the Prophet to, essentially, change his mind. That indicates that the Prophet gets to do whatever he wants, which is false. The Prophet does what has been revealed to him. Wearing pants to church will not cause the Prophet to ask God to give women the Priesthood and then God will say, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Absolutely, let's do this." And the Prophet has no authority to make that decision on his own. This isn't a company we are dealing with. This isn't a government. This is God. It just surprises, saddens, and angers me to know that this many people don't understand the way God works, how he speaks to His prophets, that His timing is not our timing, and His infinite love for us.
Anyway, I couldn't say all that to Grandma. I was trying to get that darn Smooth Walker 3000 out of the trunk during this time. And then a car alarm went off, and Grandma was yelling over the car alarm about how that is her main problem with the Church, how women can't do what men do (which she didn't specify, I just let it slide) and also how Dad won't be able to see me married. Those are two different topics, but just to ease her mind on the last one, I'm in no danger of getting married anywhere, so don't worry about it. She said, "Those two things I have a problem with, the rest I don't care about."
This should be an interesting day. Our first stop: Intimates.
On our way to hunt down a bra, G-ma says, "You know, I was married to Al for 30 years before I changed my religion."
What? When did you do that? How come I've never heard of this? G-pa was Catholic. So what is G-ma? Also, if G-pa was raised Catholic, it must have been his mother's doing, because Great G-pa was Jewish!
I was trying to sort all this out in my brain as I was searching for a bra size that doesn't exist. But G-ma said it would be there, so I kept looking.
I couldn't find it.
Also, we are looking for a terry cloth robe if you happen to have one. Maybe I'll just order her a Juicy Couture track suit.
In other areas of the store we found elastic waist pants, which are perfect, and also three fleece tops because it's just "so damn cold" outside.
Then, we went to JC Penny. They did not have the magical bra size. So we had to go to Walmart, where my soul died a little and where we did not find this particular bra we have been so madly hunting for. She did, however, find some cozy pajama pants with a Hello Kitty print, so that's a win.
Then we went to lunch across from an assisted living home. Grandma then entertained me with stories of her friend Millie, who used to be at that home, but she got kicked out because she once went outside practically naked in the middle of the night. She got kicked out of a lot of places, that Millie.
Anyway, I told G-ma that I would like to go to our local jewelers if she wanted to come with me.
She did.
When we got there, everyone greeted her by name. She's a regular! I had no idea. I knew she liked jewelry, but I had no idea that I should immediately go back to her place and try to place dibs on pieces and stones I particularly like.
Anyway, all in all it was a pretty good outing. I went home and Greta and I started wrapping some Christmas presents. The phone rings, and it's G-ma.
"Myriah, wouldn't you know it, not one of the things we bought today fits me properly. You're going to have to exchange or return it all. Can you go tonight?"
"Sure. Sure I can. I'll be over in ten minutes."
Anyway, the date was set for today! It had been too long since I had hung out with G-ma.
I had forgotten.
First, she has a new walker wheeled seat. I wish I could explain it better to you. I think the official name is the Smooth Walker 3000 or something. Does that help?
That thing is very difficult to get into the trunk. She wanted me to call Mother and ask her how she does it, but I was too prideful, so instead I struggled for a few minutes every time I had to get it in or out of the car.
The day started at 10 am, and we were going to Kohl's. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, G-ma starts talking about an article she read about how all the Mormon women are trying to change some things in the Church by wearing pants last Sunday.
Sigh.
Okay, G-ma, it's not ALL the Mormon women. Please don't classify me into a group of women who have forgotten that God loves them and that He is perfect, and has a plan and a reason for everything, even if it's not completely clear at the present time. I have three problems with this 1) Whatever article G-ma read made it into a newspaper. I think this is absolutely the wrong publicity. 2) I attend Sacrament Meeting to renew sacred covenants. It is not a time for protesting. 3) It worries me when members are just waiting for the Prophet to, essentially, change his mind. That indicates that the Prophet gets to do whatever he wants, which is false. The Prophet does what has been revealed to him. Wearing pants to church will not cause the Prophet to ask God to give women the Priesthood and then God will say, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Absolutely, let's do this." And the Prophet has no authority to make that decision on his own. This isn't a company we are dealing with. This isn't a government. This is God. It just surprises, saddens, and angers me to know that this many people don't understand the way God works, how he speaks to His prophets, that His timing is not our timing, and His infinite love for us.
Anyway, I couldn't say all that to Grandma. I was trying to get that darn Smooth Walker 3000 out of the trunk during this time. And then a car alarm went off, and Grandma was yelling over the car alarm about how that is her main problem with the Church, how women can't do what men do (which she didn't specify, I just let it slide) and also how Dad won't be able to see me married. Those are two different topics, but just to ease her mind on the last one, I'm in no danger of getting married anywhere, so don't worry about it. She said, "Those two things I have a problem with, the rest I don't care about."
This should be an interesting day. Our first stop: Intimates.
On our way to hunt down a bra, G-ma says, "You know, I was married to Al for 30 years before I changed my religion."
What? When did you do that? How come I've never heard of this? G-pa was Catholic. So what is G-ma? Also, if G-pa was raised Catholic, it must have been his mother's doing, because Great G-pa was Jewish!
I was trying to sort all this out in my brain as I was searching for a bra size that doesn't exist. But G-ma said it would be there, so I kept looking.
I couldn't find it.
Also, we are looking for a terry cloth robe if you happen to have one. Maybe I'll just order her a Juicy Couture track suit.
In other areas of the store we found elastic waist pants, which are perfect, and also three fleece tops because it's just "so damn cold" outside.
Then, we went to JC Penny. They did not have the magical bra size. So we had to go to Walmart, where my soul died a little and where we did not find this particular bra we have been so madly hunting for. She did, however, find some cozy pajama pants with a Hello Kitty print, so that's a win.
Then we went to lunch across from an assisted living home. Grandma then entertained me with stories of her friend Millie, who used to be at that home, but she got kicked out because she once went outside practically naked in the middle of the night. She got kicked out of a lot of places, that Millie.
Anyway, I told G-ma that I would like to go to our local jewelers if she wanted to come with me.
She did.
When we got there, everyone greeted her by name. She's a regular! I had no idea. I knew she liked jewelry, but I had no idea that I should immediately go back to her place and try to place dibs on pieces and stones I particularly like.
Anyway, all in all it was a pretty good outing. I went home and Greta and I started wrapping some Christmas presents. The phone rings, and it's G-ma.
"Myriah, wouldn't you know it, not one of the things we bought today fits me properly. You're going to have to exchange or return it all. Can you go tonight?"
"Sure. Sure I can. I'll be over in ten minutes."
Monday, December 17, 2012
Compassion and Tonight's Service Fiasco
Eye Roll.
I just figured I should start this with an eye roll to set the mood.
So, I've been feeling these strange stirrings of compassion in my soul recently. It wasn't my idea to get them, and I've been trying to figure out what to do with this excess love ever since.
Obviously, a way to release some of this pent up love is to serve.
Our branch did this cool thing this year where they bought Christmas for two families in the Stake.
Tonight for FHE, we were suppose to bring everything we bought and wrap it up.
I got there a little late (because of last week's Soviet Union struggle) and things were already under way.
As soon as I walked in, someone was already freaking out. And they were exploding all over me.
Something was missing. Then we had to figure out who was suppose to bring it, so the google doc had to be consulted, and did that person give those items to anyone else, and where was that person, and do they really have it, and will it get to the family in time? Now, this was not done in a calm, rational manner. No, it was going down with too much excitement and a heightened sense of possible immediate destruction. Seriously, it was too much drama.
Too much drama!!!!!!
I felt like I needed to get out immediately.
So, while this person was freaking out all over me, I started freaking out, and someone said, "Don't let Myriah have scissors."
I started wrapping presents. And did you know, when I got home, I found that I had cut myself?
(I contemplated not posting this picture because it isn't very pretty, but, it was so sweetly ironic that I decided it would be an injustice not to post it.)
That guy was right. I was dangerous with scissors.
Just another reason why I'm bad at service.
Sigh.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Nevah Gonna Happen
I've been making this crazy effort to be more social. I don't mean that my effort is crazy, I mean that it is a crazy idea to think that if I become more social, I will meet more people, which will open me up to more opportunities, which will lead to a man who is really cool, funny, and taller than me who wants to date me.
For example, I have started going to FHE.
We were all sitting in a circle, waiting for things to begin, and I was suffering through a conversation about the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall. As you know, if there is anything lovely, of good report or praiseworthy, I will take scrupulous notes to share with my dear friends and family later.
But there was nothing. Just people nerding out on the Soviet Union. And, unfortunately, that just isn't my cup of tea. It does not set my heart aflutter. I find it... boring.
I'm in a wasteland.
I got back from FHE tonight, looked at Nelly and said, "I'm never getting married."
I told her my Soviet Union/Berlin Wall/Historical woes, and she said, "You can get an information app or something for your phone next time."
"Uh, the issue is not keeping up with the topic, the issue is my severe lack of interest in joining the conversation."
The lack of interest was so intense that I contemplated leaving before FHE had even begun. I had this feeling like I needed to get out immediately or I would hate myself for the next 12 hours. It's this horrible panic attack that happens when things get too nerdy.
Anyway, another example:
A few months ago I was at an FHE at my Branch President's house. They had recently moved in, and needed help moving something. The Branch Pres comes in to the room and asks for any strong volunteers. Out of 6 guys, only one raised his hand.
Why, you ask? Because they all know that their skills do not lie in lifting things. They know they are scrawny.
It made me sad.
That was a few months ago. I was hoping things might get better, but these past three days proved to me that it most certainly will not get better, and that it's nevah gonna happen.
For example, I have started going to FHE.
We were all sitting in a circle, waiting for things to begin, and I was suffering through a conversation about the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall. As you know, if there is anything lovely, of good report or praiseworthy, I will take scrupulous notes to share with my dear friends and family later.
But there was nothing. Just people nerding out on the Soviet Union. And, unfortunately, that just isn't my cup of tea. It does not set my heart aflutter. I find it... boring.
I'm in a wasteland.
I got back from FHE tonight, looked at Nelly and said, "I'm never getting married."
I told her my Soviet Union/Berlin Wall/Historical woes, and she said, "You can get an information app or something for your phone next time."
"Uh, the issue is not keeping up with the topic, the issue is my severe lack of interest in joining the conversation."
The lack of interest was so intense that I contemplated leaving before FHE had even begun. I had this feeling like I needed to get out immediately or I would hate myself for the next 12 hours. It's this horrible panic attack that happens when things get too nerdy.
Anyway, another example:
A few months ago I was at an FHE at my Branch President's house. They had recently moved in, and needed help moving something. The Branch Pres comes in to the room and asks for any strong volunteers. Out of 6 guys, only one raised his hand.
Why, you ask? Because they all know that their skills do not lie in lifting things. They know they are scrawny.
It made me sad.
That was a few months ago. I was hoping things might get better, but these past three days proved to me that it most certainly will not get better, and that it's nevah gonna happen.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Squeak
It was a lovely afternoon. It was very unseasonably warm for Chicago. I got home from Church and found a quiet and peaceful house. Perfect, I had some things I needed to work on.
After about 45 minutes I decided it was time for some food, so I scrounged around in the fridge and found my left overs from last night's Kuma's Corner. So good. Just as I was about to put it in the microwave, Nelly comes out of her room and says, "Do you hear that?" I look at her and ask, "Um, the microwave? Cause I hear that."
"No," she says, "the chirping."
I was quiet for a second. Then I moved my foot and the floor squeaked. I looked at her questioningly. She shook her head.
Then I heard it. A chirp. And again. And again. What was that? After some ridiculous brainstorming and a bit of fun, we decided that maybe we had a bird in the house? I told Nelly that I was going to look for it. Good thing I had my head lamp.
After I told Nelly to close all the doors to the kitchen, she made sure to close herself out of the kitchen. I guess she doesn't like things flying at her. I checked the cabinet it was coming from and didn't find anything. I moved the fridge and didn't find anything, except a bunch of dust. So I got out the broom and started sweeping up. My broom swept under the cabinet and caught on a spider trap. I knelt down to see what else was down there, and I saw another sticky trap. With a mouse!
Squeak.
Ugh.
Alive.
Alive and crying for his life.
In the basement there are glue traps, and they are filled with spiders. I figured that is what these contraptions are: spider catchers. Spiders don't cry as they starve and won't smell after death.
Mice do.
What was I going to do?
Squeak.
Ugh, this is horrible.
I decided I would report to Nelly.
She informed me that these traps are intended to catch mice.
What? Seriously? This is a thing? It is horrible! It is horrible for the mouse, it is horrible for me, and it is horrible for the person I am going to call to exterminate. Where is Jesse Katsopolis the First Season when I need him?
Squeak.
Oh, Jesse.
I have a home teacher named Jesse. Maybe he is available to help me out.
Squeaaaaaaal.
I called him immediately.
Squeak.
Jesse answered but he wasn't able to come over for 2 hours.
Squeal!!
I told him I looked forward to his coming.
I got off the phone, reported to Nelly, and then we heard the mouse squealing, squeaking, and crying.
My stomach dropped.
We couldn't wait two hours. There was no way I could sit there and listen to the painful and slow death of that mouse.
Ugh, so gross.
Then I remembered Matt! He lives around the corner, and most importantly he is online.
I picked up my computer:
After about 45 minutes I decided it was time for some food, so I scrounged around in the fridge and found my left overs from last night's Kuma's Corner. So good. Just as I was about to put it in the microwave, Nelly comes out of her room and says, "Do you hear that?" I look at her and ask, "Um, the microwave? Cause I hear that."
"No," she says, "the chirping."
I was quiet for a second. Then I moved my foot and the floor squeaked. I looked at her questioningly. She shook her head.
Then I heard it. A chirp. And again. And again. What was that? After some ridiculous brainstorming and a bit of fun, we decided that maybe we had a bird in the house? I told Nelly that I was going to look for it. Good thing I had my head lamp.
After I told Nelly to close all the doors to the kitchen, she made sure to close herself out of the kitchen. I guess she doesn't like things flying at her. I checked the cabinet it was coming from and didn't find anything. I moved the fridge and didn't find anything, except a bunch of dust. So I got out the broom and started sweeping up. My broom swept under the cabinet and caught on a spider trap. I knelt down to see what else was down there, and I saw another sticky trap. With a mouse!
Squeak.
Ugh.
Alive.
Alive and crying for his life.
In the basement there are glue traps, and they are filled with spiders. I figured that is what these contraptions are: spider catchers. Spiders don't cry as they starve and won't smell after death.
Mice do.
What was I going to do?
Squeak.
Ugh, this is horrible.
I decided I would report to Nelly.
She informed me that these traps are intended to catch mice.
What? Seriously? This is a thing? It is horrible! It is horrible for the mouse, it is horrible for me, and it is horrible for the person I am going to call to exterminate. Where is Jesse Katsopolis the First Season when I need him?
Squeak.
Oh, Jesse.
I have a home teacher named Jesse. Maybe he is available to help me out.
Squeaaaaaaal.
I called him immediately.
Squeak.
Jesse answered but he wasn't able to come over for 2 hours.
Squeal!!
I told him I looked forward to his coming.
I got off the phone, reported to Nelly, and then we heard the mouse squealing, squeaking, and crying.
My stomach dropped.
We couldn't wait two hours. There was no way I could sit there and listen to the painful and slow death of that mouse.
Ugh, so gross.
Then I remembered Matt! He lives around the corner, and most importantly he is online.
I picked up my computer:
3:17 PM me: Matt!
Matt: Myriah!
me: are you at home? do you have a minute to come over here and save me from the mouse we found on the spider sticky trp thing in our kitchen????
3:18 PM Matt: haha the mouse stuck in the trap? So you just need the mouse thrown out/
?
3:19 PM me: yes, but the mouse is alive. and squeaking. but he can't move
cause he's stuck and wining
and i can't handle it
3:21 PM Matt: ok im on my way
me: bless your heart
and i'm googling processes
3:22 PM Matt: im thinking shoe
3:24 PM wait
bat!
Please note the pause when Matt realized he is going to have to kill a mouse. I like to think that he is just asking his wife if he can come over, and not just pausing because he doesn't actually want to kill a mouse.
Please also note that I can't manage to format this after I cut and copied the chat.
Nelly and I waited in suspense for about 8 minutes, 2 of which were spent googling processes, and let me tell you: DO NOT DO THAT. It is a horrible part of the internet that nobody needs to see.
Matt shows up, bat in hand, and I lead him to the area of death. I inform him there are also some bricks if he needs them. We open all the doors to the back yard, I give him a plastic bag, and then, brave soul, he grabs the mouse, takes it to the back yard, and I went to the living room to pray.
He came back, and handed us less horrible mouse traps. "Here," he said, "use these next time."
Will do, Matt, will do. And also, thank you for saving us.
Please note the pause when Matt realized he is going to have to kill a mouse. I like to think that he is just asking his wife if he can come over, and not just pausing because he doesn't actually want to kill a mouse.
Please also note that I can't manage to format this after I cut and copied the chat.
Nelly and I waited in suspense for about 8 minutes, 2 of which were spent googling processes, and let me tell you: DO NOT DO THAT. It is a horrible part of the internet that nobody needs to see.
Matt shows up, bat in hand, and I lead him to the area of death. I inform him there are also some bricks if he needs them. We open all the doors to the back yard, I give him a plastic bag, and then, brave soul, he grabs the mouse, takes it to the back yard, and I went to the living room to pray.
He came back, and handed us less horrible mouse traps. "Here," he said, "use these next time."
Will do, Matt, will do. And also, thank you for saving us.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Time to start dreaming of a Spring trip to Spain
I just walked to the bus stop. My whole body was screaming that it didn't want to be doing this. I stayed out too late last night to make this morning walk feasible. And it's cold. It's the first really cold morning of the year. 37degrees. Plus wind chill. You know what that means: winter.
Sigh.
I've had a good run of it this year. I shouldn't be too upset that things are drawing to a close. It's been the year of the trip and I've loved it. However maybe I need to save a little more for a rainy day. Specifically, a blizzardy day, cause what else is there to do during a blizzard than to shop online?
Sigh.
I've had a good run of it this year. I shouldn't be too upset that things are drawing to a close. It's been the year of the trip and I've loved it. However maybe I need to save a little more for a rainy day. Specifically, a blizzardy day, cause what else is there to do during a blizzard than to shop online?
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Madison, WI
I love mini- vay-cays! Friday Hope had an audition in Madison, Wiscinsin, and I had the day off. Road trip!
We left really early, like, at eight, and traveled the 3ish hours to Madison.
The audition was at a huuuuge church, and I wrote my talk while Hope played the cello.
Afterward, it was time to explore! Based on a tip from a friend, we went to the best chinese place in town. And based on the absence of white people at the restaurant, it really was the best.
After lunch we decided (because I just found out that Madison is Wisconsin's capital) to go see the capital building.
It was so pretty and FALL!
We found a parking spot, and we ended up next to some type of bike rental station. After some investigation, we decided to rent bikes and bike along the lake!
Five bucks, and we had an hour of happiness! It was such a gorgeous day, and it felt so great to ride. I haven't ridden in ages!
And immediately after, we were so sore. So we decided to rest on a dock and read our books by the lake.
At some point we looked up and these guys were fishing our way. They wanted our phone numbers, but we were from out of town, so we knew it would never work out.
Afterward we found an ice cream parlor that sold Wisconsin-made ice cream. Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream. It was so good. So amazingly good. And, some how those girls at the ice cream shop gave us our favorite color spoons. It's like they knew.
Thanksgiving Weekend
Ah, Thanksgiving. It conjures images of toasty mornings and rich foods. Naturally, thanksgiving last year was just that.
Yes, I am posting my Thanksgiving post in October... I was looking at my blog which I obviously neglect, and realized I never posted this bad boy. It would be horrible to let a whole year pass, so here it is. Just, um... 11 months late.
I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving. Well, let me rephrase, I had everywhere to go for Thanksgiving, but neither the time or the money. Hope was in the same boat, so we made a plan. A food plan. I found this bread pudding recipe in Real Simple and determined that it must be ours:
And it was
We had my apartment to ourselves, and while we were eating breakfast, coloring Christmas sheets, and listening to Christmas music,
I got a picture from my family and their Thanksgiving day hike.
SO. Cute. I loved it.
Later Hope and I had to prepare the dishes we would bring to the mass Thanksgiving dinner held at one of the Branch Presidency's homes. While we were there, I got another awesome home pic.
Keep 'em coming, I love it!
The next day Hope's friend Mel came in to town. And did you know that she served her mission with Abe Garza?
The Magnolia Bakery recently opened up on State Street (it's a big deal in New York), so we went to partake of the deliciousness.
We had fun, and it was cute, but soooo overrated. Seriously, they use paper plates? And plastic forks?Are you kidding me? There are a million bakeries in Chicago, and their presentation is a hundred times better. Sorry Magnolia.
I love love love when people visit Chicago, even if they aren't my people! Because we get to see Chicago, and I love to see Chicago. This time we decided to see the trees.
Macy's tree:
Macy's old-timey water fountain:
Bloomingdale's tree on Michigan Avenue:
Christkindlemarket tree:
The water features at Millennium Park:
Chicago Cultural Center (cause we can never get enough) Possibly there was a wedding that night?
More baking! There were so many holiday flavors we needed to taste!
And another great pic from home!
Aww, I love it! I can't wait for Thanksgiving 2012!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Chicago FIRE (MLS)
I do fun things all the time. It just doesn't stop. This is one of the reasons I'm so behind in my blogging: I'm out having fun.
Did you know that Chicago has a major league soccer team?
Surprise! It's the Chicago Fire!
So we went to go see them light up the field. Duh.
As far as I know, the stadium is in the middle of nowhere, and really close to not Chicago proper.
We kept driving and driving, and we hit traffic like there was some sort of cattle crossing ahead of us.
There wasn't. Just Chicago Fire fans, going to the game.
We parked (after a very unorganized entry payment system that could have easily been improved upon by taking our simple ideas that we came up with in under 30 seconds) we parked in this HUUUUUUGE gravel/dirt/concrete lot and made our way to the huge glowing bowl. There was nothing around to distract from the lights of the stadium. The closer we got the louder it got. Cheers would pour over the bowl and into the chilly night air. And then I finally understood how Harry must have felt as he approached the pitch at the Quidditch World Cup.
We had the pleasure of sitting in the rowdy section. Immediately after we got there, a fight broke out! Sandy was a little ways behind us and almost walked right into the fight! She totally would have had beer and popcorn all over her if she wasn't saved by us.
It. Was. So. Much. Fun. I loved every second of it. The fans were CRAAAAZY, and I love a good group of crazy people every once in a while.
But seriously, not all the time. That would be too much for my sensible soul.
And yet, I want to go back.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Men
Well, after a series of events that I will most likely share at a future date (or right now), I have come to the conclusion that I will marry a man with either black or brown skin.
I wish I had known this earlier in life, as it appears I have wasted years thinking white men liked me. But they don't. Of course, how was I to know? The states I have lived in (California, Utah, Idaho) all have a strong white boy presence, and not a lot of black or brown to get any good research done.
Anyway, you may wonder how I have come to this conclusion. It's simple: White men NEVER talk to me, while brown and black men frequently talk to me, frequently check me out, and frequently hit on me and try to get my number.
This realization began about two months ago. (I should have known for much longer, but I suppose the absence of dates with white men wasn't a red flag for me, I just figured the right white man hadn't come along yet. I've got a news flash for me: He's not coming.)
I was living with Wendy in my summer home and I was on my way to work on a Saturday. I left her place, hit the main road, turned right to head one block to the bus stop when I felt that maybe someone was behind me. A quick glance showed a big black guy in a blue polo shirt, baggy jeans, and white un-laced sneakers walking a half a block away.
No big deal.
I reach the bus stop and sit on the bench. I get out my phone to track the bus. (FYI, you can text the stop's code to BusTracker, and they will text you back the next two arrival times for all buses at that stop.) I hit send and the guy in the blue polo shirt sits down on the opposite side of the bench.
Stranger Danger Choice: Keep phone out so as to appear busy and not open for conversation; put phone away so he can't see it's an iPhone and choose to mug me.
I keep my phone out.
He looks at me, and asks, "Does this bus go to the blue line?"
Well, that answer is tricky, cause it stops one blockish away from the blue line, and you have to follow the diagonal street until you hit Western Ave, and then cross the street to get to the entrance.
I explain, in a rather poor form. Then we stop talking.
He says, "How long till this bus gets here?"
"Well, bus tracker said 5 minutes, but I think it's been longer than 5 minutes."
"That's Chicago for you."
"Yeah, right? Sometimes they can be accurate, I think." (I really don't think all the buses are on weird timetables, I just think some routes are wonkier than others and I really didn't agree with his sentiment that all buses in Chicago are late, but I tried to keep it in.)
"So did you grow up here?"
"No."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Out West." (Even though I know they won't know where Atascadero, CA is, and that my hometown is safe from the strangers I meet, I still like to be wildly vague so as not to give people any ideas of where they can find my family to rob or kill them. Chicago has toughened me.)
"Oh, really, where?"
(Dang it. I can usually proclaim being a westerner and all inquiries stop. I don't know what they are afraid of, but usually people choose not to ask follow up questions about the West.)
"California."
"Well that would explain your accent."
(For the record, this guy didn't have an accent, and I also feel like I have a certain way of speaking that is in no way an indicator of my homeland.)
"Oh yeah, you think so? Where did you grow up? Did you grow up here?"
"Well, I was born here but I grew up all over."
(Further inquiries proved him to be in a military family, and he listed countries of residence that I can no longer remember.)
He then asks me, "Have you been in this neighborhood long?"
"Um, about a month. I just moved over here, but I like it pretty well. It seems like a cool place."
"Yeah, have you been to the Puerto Rican festival yet?"
"No, but I had some awesome street meat a few nights ago."
(Street meat= Meat cooked out in the streets. Guys buy BBQ carts, then set up shop on a street corner for a day or two and sell meat. I had a kebab. It was really good. Side note, a black guy who was there walked up to me while I was waiting for my meat to cook. He says, "Hey, do, uhh... do I know you?" I looked at him and was certain I had never met him before in my life. I say, "Oh, I don't think so, you don't look familiar." And he says, "What's your name?" I answer him and he says, "Ah, I think I was getting you mixed up with someone else." And he puts out his hand and says, "My name's Black." -seriously-and I shake his hand and now we have officially met.)
Back to the bus bench.
"Yeah, I was thinking of maybe going to the festival sometime."
He pauses," My name's Jeremiah. What's yours?"
I tell him.
He smiles and says, "Myriah and Jeremiah, that kind of rhymes."
Ha, yup, they kind of rhyme. I'm sorry you're nervous and have to say things like that.
Out loud I say, "It's nice to meet you."
He asks, "So, uh, do you have a significant other?"
Sigh. To lie or not to lie. Which is best? I can never decide, but truth is always my fall back, so I choose not to lie.
"Nope, I do not."
As with every answer, truthful or not, I must be prepared to answer any subsequent questions.
He says, "Well, can I get to know you better? Is there any way I can contact you, like a phone number or something?" He looks at my phone.
Crap. I really appreciate that he is interested and that he is doing something about it, but I am not interested, and I don't want to lead him on, but I want to be kind.
I end up saying, "I don't... think... so... But you are really nice." (What the heck was that response? I don't even know.)
Jeremiah says, "Alright, I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable."
"No, you were fine."
And then he starts talking about the weather.
Thankfully, the bus comes. I stand up. He stands up. I walk to the bus doors and he stays still. I look back at him and he says, "I just wanted to make sure you got on the bus okay." And I smile, thank him, and tell him it was nice to meet him, and that was it. I got on the bus and he walked back the way he came.
And that's when it hit me: No white guy has ever or likely will ever go out of his way like that to try and get my number. And, obviously, you don't marry men who don't have your number.
I wish I had known this earlier in life, as it appears I have wasted years thinking white men liked me. But they don't. Of course, how was I to know? The states I have lived in (California, Utah, Idaho) all have a strong white boy presence, and not a lot of black or brown to get any good research done.
Anyway, you may wonder how I have come to this conclusion. It's simple: White men NEVER talk to me, while brown and black men frequently talk to me, frequently check me out, and frequently hit on me and try to get my number.
This realization began about two months ago. (I should have known for much longer, but I suppose the absence of dates with white men wasn't a red flag for me, I just figured the right white man hadn't come along yet. I've got a news flash for me: He's not coming.)
I was living with Wendy in my summer home and I was on my way to work on a Saturday. I left her place, hit the main road, turned right to head one block to the bus stop when I felt that maybe someone was behind me. A quick glance showed a big black guy in a blue polo shirt, baggy jeans, and white un-laced sneakers walking a half a block away.
No big deal.
I reach the bus stop and sit on the bench. I get out my phone to track the bus. (FYI, you can text the stop's code to BusTracker, and they will text you back the next two arrival times for all buses at that stop.) I hit send and the guy in the blue polo shirt sits down on the opposite side of the bench.
Stranger Danger Choice: Keep phone out so as to appear busy and not open for conversation; put phone away so he can't see it's an iPhone and choose to mug me.
I keep my phone out.
He looks at me, and asks, "Does this bus go to the blue line?"
Well, that answer is tricky, cause it stops one blockish away from the blue line, and you have to follow the diagonal street until you hit Western Ave, and then cross the street to get to the entrance.
I explain, in a rather poor form. Then we stop talking.
He says, "How long till this bus gets here?"
"Well, bus tracker said 5 minutes, but I think it's been longer than 5 minutes."
"That's Chicago for you."
"Yeah, right? Sometimes they can be accurate, I think." (I really don't think all the buses are on weird timetables, I just think some routes are wonkier than others and I really didn't agree with his sentiment that all buses in Chicago are late, but I tried to keep it in.)
"So did you grow up here?"
"No."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Out West." (Even though I know they won't know where Atascadero, CA is, and that my hometown is safe from the strangers I meet, I still like to be wildly vague so as not to give people any ideas of where they can find my family to rob or kill them. Chicago has toughened me.)
"Oh, really, where?"
(Dang it. I can usually proclaim being a westerner and all inquiries stop. I don't know what they are afraid of, but usually people choose not to ask follow up questions about the West.)
"California."
"Well that would explain your accent."
(For the record, this guy didn't have an accent, and I also feel like I have a certain way of speaking that is in no way an indicator of my homeland.)
"Oh yeah, you think so? Where did you grow up? Did you grow up here?"
"Well, I was born here but I grew up all over."
(Further inquiries proved him to be in a military family, and he listed countries of residence that I can no longer remember.)
He then asks me, "Have you been in this neighborhood long?"
"Um, about a month. I just moved over here, but I like it pretty well. It seems like a cool place."
"Yeah, have you been to the Puerto Rican festival yet?"
"No, but I had some awesome street meat a few nights ago."
(Street meat= Meat cooked out in the streets. Guys buy BBQ carts, then set up shop on a street corner for a day or two and sell meat. I had a kebab. It was really good. Side note, a black guy who was there walked up to me while I was waiting for my meat to cook. He says, "Hey, do, uhh... do I know you?" I looked at him and was certain I had never met him before in my life. I say, "Oh, I don't think so, you don't look familiar." And he says, "What's your name?" I answer him and he says, "Ah, I think I was getting you mixed up with someone else." And he puts out his hand and says, "My name's Black." -seriously-and I shake his hand and now we have officially met.)
Back to the bus bench.
"Yeah, I was thinking of maybe going to the festival sometime."
He pauses," My name's Jeremiah. What's yours?"
I tell him.
He smiles and says, "Myriah and Jeremiah, that kind of rhymes."
Ha, yup, they kind of rhyme. I'm sorry you're nervous and have to say things like that.
Out loud I say, "It's nice to meet you."
He asks, "So, uh, do you have a significant other?"
Sigh. To lie or not to lie. Which is best? I can never decide, but truth is always my fall back, so I choose not to lie.
"Nope, I do not."
As with every answer, truthful or not, I must be prepared to answer any subsequent questions.
He says, "Well, can I get to know you better? Is there any way I can contact you, like a phone number or something?" He looks at my phone.
Crap. I really appreciate that he is interested and that he is doing something about it, but I am not interested, and I don't want to lead him on, but I want to be kind.
I end up saying, "I don't... think... so... But you are really nice." (What the heck was that response? I don't even know.)
Jeremiah says, "Alright, I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable."
"No, you were fine."
And then he starts talking about the weather.
Thankfully, the bus comes. I stand up. He stands up. I walk to the bus doors and he stays still. I look back at him and he says, "I just wanted to make sure you got on the bus okay." And I smile, thank him, and tell him it was nice to meet him, and that was it. I got on the bus and he walked back the way he came.
And that's when it hit me: No white guy has ever or likely will ever go out of his way like that to try and get my number. And, obviously, you don't marry men who don't have your number.
Tony's
I LOVE Tony's.
I am continually pleased with my experience there.
My original guesses were all sorts of wrong.
The produce is amazing. Tony must have a hook up or something, but this is the best produce I've found in Chicago. It's really good. And I don't mean to brag or anything, but my produce quality expectations are high seeing how I grew up in California. But Tony, that guy delivers.
I even found rhubarb there the other day.
Tony's is ideal for my favorite dinners: tacos and tostadas.
They had multiple packs of tostada shell thingies to choose from, Queso Fresca within easy reach, and more chorizo than I could shake a stick at.
I love it.
Also, Tony has two red boxes out front.
TWO.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
New Digs
It is sickly hot this morning. April, May, and June were full of wondrous springtime and summer delights, but July is just making me sweat. Interestingly, auto correct thought I meant "swear" instead of "sweat" and auto correct may be on to something there. I'm trying to figure out when exactly one will start to sweat, and I think it is a complicated formula based on how hot it is, the amount of energy you exert, and if you are suppose to look nice that day. Usually that's when you will be sweating the most.
I'm currently taking shelter in the shade of TONY'S, which, as far as I can tell, is the premier grocer in the area. I don't know for sure because I'm new. Just moved to Logan Square yesterday. I love trying out new neighborhoods, and I really love to know that I live IN that hood, rather than on the fringes or in a neighborhood no one has ever heard of before. I kind of feel like a sell out with those reasons jeez. The only thing that keeps me feeling better about that is the simple fact the Logan Square is the land of the hipsters. The true true true hipsters are moving south, of course, but people like me can be comfortable in Logan.
As I stand at the bus stop, I see three old ladies with their carts and bags, fresh from a shopping trip to Tony's. Obviously, this must be THE place to shop over here. I can't wait to go in! I wonder what it holds. It is large, the size of a full city block. That is huge for A Chicago neighborhood. Usually no-name grocers are three quarters the size of the smallest CVS you've been in.
Anyway, here are my predictions for the inside of Tony's:
1) Huge liquor selection. Think average college town store.
2) Fabulous pastries. The last time I went to Wendy's market I came back with fresh churros. I think that can be repeated at Tony's.
3) Weird cuts of meats. Think crazy stuff, stuff you wouldn't dream of, except maybe that kid in Where the Wild Things Are, because I'm guessing there is probably some wild beast for sale at the butcher counter inside of Tony's.
I'll report back.
I'm currently taking shelter in the shade of TONY'S, which, as far as I can tell, is the premier grocer in the area. I don't know for sure because I'm new. Just moved to Logan Square yesterday. I love trying out new neighborhoods, and I really love to know that I live IN that hood, rather than on the fringes or in a neighborhood no one has ever heard of before. I kind of feel like a sell out with those reasons jeez. The only thing that keeps me feeling better about that is the simple fact the Logan Square is the land of the hipsters. The true true true hipsters are moving south, of course, but people like me can be comfortable in Logan.
As I stand at the bus stop, I see three old ladies with their carts and bags, fresh from a shopping trip to Tony's. Obviously, this must be THE place to shop over here. I can't wait to go in! I wonder what it holds. It is large, the size of a full city block. That is huge for A Chicago neighborhood. Usually no-name grocers are three quarters the size of the smallest CVS you've been in.
Anyway, here are my predictions for the inside of Tony's:
1) Huge liquor selection. Think average college town store.
2) Fabulous pastries. The last time I went to Wendy's market I came back with fresh churros. I think that can be repeated at Tony's.
3) Weird cuts of meats. Think crazy stuff, stuff you wouldn't dream of, except maybe that kid in Where the Wild Things Are, because I'm guessing there is probably some wild beast for sale at the butcher counter inside of Tony's.
I'll report back.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Berry Berry Kix
I have waited years for this moment. My last memory of Berry Berry Kix was approximately 1994-1995, when they simply disappeared from the grocery store shelves. I loved Berry Berry Kix. Somehow, mother let me have them even though I'm certain sugar was one of the first three ingredients. And I became hooked.
Every time I accompanied mother to the store I'd ask if I could get Berry Berry Kix. She always said yes, and I would skip gleefully over to the cereal, pick it up, and hug it on my way back to the cart.
One day I was skipping over to the cereal and I couldn't find my Berry Berry Kix. They were simply... gone. Not even an empty place on the shelf for them. Just, gone.
For weeks, then for months, I would haunt the cereal aisle, hoping they would come back, and they never did. BUT, everything changed yesterday morning.
I was cruising around on my social networking sites, and someone had posted a pic of Berry Berry Kix. SAY WHAT?!! I freaked out. I contacted the poster every way I knew how. That fool didn't respond. Obviously he didn't know how important this was to me.
I got Wendy on the case, and she found a shipment at the Target in our neighborhood. I left work immediately to secure my own boxes of Berry Berry Kix.
My joy was full. I was so happy!
I was freaking out with happiness so much that I had a hard time not shaking the camera for these photos.
And, it was good. But, not enough berry flavor.
This is not the same item from years ago. This is that item: http://www.amazon.com/Kix-Berry-Cereal-11-3-Ounce-Pack/dp/B001M1V87A
I miss that item. I have waited years for this cereal, and I was so excited when I finally got it, however a little disappointed after I finally spent some time with the cereal. I imagine that is what a man feels like after he lands the lady of his dreams and she's not as awesome as he thought she would be.
Anyway, here I am with a slightly shattered dream. But I'll pick myself up and carry on. I always do.
Friday, June 1, 2012
November Odds and Ends
Apparently, November 2011 was packed with fun. Or something. Maybe I was just busy avoiding a roommate who I kinda hate and smells really bad. Shrug shoulders. Anyway, like last year, we made turkeys again for FHE~
Also in November I became very serious about Words With Friends. Thank you iPhone, for helping me to be a little more distracted.
Also, I got a new babysitting family. They live on Randolph and have a rad view of downtown and the Pritzker Pavilion and such.
Ah, one update, 8 months later, done. Let's see what else I have in my drafts folder.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Avengers
It's really no surprise I was bored watching The Avengers. Why would I like it? It's not my style, I'm not invested in the characters, and it was long.
I did decide to appreciate it as much as possible, and help out the nerds, so I laughed loudly when appropriate. I could tell though, that some of the nerds in the audience simply didn't know when something was funny, as I was basically the only one laughing.
I contemplated napping, but I was strangely well rested, so I just kind of looked around and waited for the next funny part to come along. But really, it. Was. So. Boring.
This is the type of thing I would usually post to facebook, but I didn't want to cause any heart attacks, and I think people are tired of me expressing my non-nerdy opinions.
As bored as I was, I did appreciate all the eye candy. That wasn't bad at all.
I did decide to appreciate it as much as possible, and help out the nerds, so I laughed loudly when appropriate. I could tell though, that some of the nerds in the audience simply didn't know when something was funny, as I was basically the only one laughing.
I contemplated napping, but I was strangely well rested, so I just kind of looked around and waited for the next funny part to come along. But really, it. Was. So. Boring.
This is the type of thing I would usually post to facebook, but I didn't want to cause any heart attacks, and I think people are tired of me expressing my non-nerdy opinions.
As bored as I was, I did appreciate all the eye candy. That wasn't bad at all.
Monday, April 30, 2012
A Regular
In an effort to stick it to the stupid 7-Eleven man and also make healthier choices, I've decided to give up my morning taquitos. The thing about the taquito is that it is super easy to pick up and consume in the morning, and they keep me nice and full till lunch time, a problem I've had my whole life.
Well, a few weeks ago when I got sick, I needed to make tea purchases. So, in the morning I would start going to Argo Tea and pick up a food item as well. They have these amazing muffins that keep me full till lunch time, which I'm all about. It suddenly hit me that they must be a million calories, so the next day at Argo I checked, and indeed, they are rolling somewhere between 350-500 cals. Sigh. That would explain the full factor.
But that's not the point. The point is that today when I asked for a small Rooibos Chai, she said, "Wait, have you tried that Green Rooibos Vanilla, it's our special today. I offered it to another regular this morning and she really liked it."
What? I'm a regular?
I had no idea. I don't even know if I've ever been a regular anywhere before. I don't even know how I feel about this.
I said, yes, I would like to try the Green Rooibos Vanilla, with almond milk, and make that a Teappuccino. Oh, and can I get a chocolate croissant? Thanks.
It was delicious.
Well, a few weeks ago when I got sick, I needed to make tea purchases. So, in the morning I would start going to Argo Tea and pick up a food item as well. They have these amazing muffins that keep me full till lunch time, which I'm all about. It suddenly hit me that they must be a million calories, so the next day at Argo I checked, and indeed, they are rolling somewhere between 350-500 cals. Sigh. That would explain the full factor.
But that's not the point. The point is that today when I asked for a small Rooibos Chai, she said, "Wait, have you tried that Green Rooibos Vanilla, it's our special today. I offered it to another regular this morning and she really liked it."
What? I'm a regular?
I had no idea. I don't even know if I've ever been a regular anywhere before. I don't even know how I feel about this.
I said, yes, I would like to try the Green Rooibos Vanilla, with almond milk, and make that a Teappuccino. Oh, and can I get a chocolate croissant? Thanks.
It was delicious.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Rebecca Minkoff Mini M.A.C
My new neon pink bag came today! I'm so excited. Naturally we had a little photo shoot. Welcome to my life, little neon bag. We are going to be very good friends. I'm excited for all our summer adventures!
Monday, April 23, 2012
Miserable Tomorrow
For the past week I've been thinking about something that I've known for a long time: Facebook isn't fulfilling. I don't know why I let myself get swept up in that filth, but I did.
I've always known blogging was the way to go. I have always known it, yet I've let my blog fall by the wayside. I would think about posting something every so often, but it always sounded like a lot of work. Why come up with an accurate and witty retelling of my life when I can just post a mediocre one-liner or a half truth photo to facebook and get a bunch of "likes" and hopefully a lot of envy burning in the hearts of my "friends"? Obviously that is the best choice. If I'm going to spend time on social media, it might as well be where I can get instant gratification and where I can twist the truth so others can become jealous of my single, fabulous, jet-setting, reality-tv-ing, good-looking, humorous, fashionable life. Right?
I realized, like everyone else, (by everyone else, I mean mostly single people) facebook is a huge source of pride. We post things to brag, and to build ourselves up. And unfortunately, we read things and it usually tears us down. (In my case, I just get annoyed, and then block that person.)
Anyway, I'm going to loosen my grip on pride, and spend a little time on my blog. I had thought that maybe I was too far gone, and wouldn't be able to make a respectable return to my previous rock star record keeping habit. But I have decided to try.
Right before I was about to type up this post, I was brainstorming a topic. I was thinking of complaining about how sick I've been, and that I have to move at the end of the week, and it's all just been so hard, and I hate moving, and I hate change, and it's impossible to move when you are sick, and people aren't behaving how I want them to behave, when I noticed Amanda Ball had updated her blog.
Amanda, your life is harder than mine. I can't hardly handle my life right now, but I know for certain that I couldn't handle yours. So, if any of you want to know how I'm doing, just read Amanda's blog, dial it back about 100 notches, and you've got my life.
Now, I'm going to go to sleep, and sleep in, because I have the day off, and no one to wake me up but the birds outside, and maybe my coughing. But I'll just go back to sleep. But please remember, I'm sick, so I will probably be miserable tomorrow.
I've always known blogging was the way to go. I have always known it, yet I've let my blog fall by the wayside. I would think about posting something every so often, but it always sounded like a lot of work. Why come up with an accurate and witty retelling of my life when I can just post a mediocre one-liner or a half truth photo to facebook and get a bunch of "likes" and hopefully a lot of envy burning in the hearts of my "friends"? Obviously that is the best choice. If I'm going to spend time on social media, it might as well be where I can get instant gratification and where I can twist the truth so others can become jealous of my single, fabulous, jet-setting, reality-tv-ing, good-looking, humorous, fashionable life. Right?
I realized, like everyone else, (by everyone else, I mean mostly single people) facebook is a huge source of pride. We post things to brag, and to build ourselves up. And unfortunately, we read things and it usually tears us down. (In my case, I just get annoyed, and then block that person.)
Anyway, I'm going to loosen my grip on pride, and spend a little time on my blog. I had thought that maybe I was too far gone, and wouldn't be able to make a respectable return to my previous rock star record keeping habit. But I have decided to try.
Right before I was about to type up this post, I was brainstorming a topic. I was thinking of complaining about how sick I've been, and that I have to move at the end of the week, and it's all just been so hard, and I hate moving, and I hate change, and it's impossible to move when you are sick, and people aren't behaving how I want them to behave, when I noticed Amanda Ball had updated her blog.
Amanda, your life is harder than mine. I can't hardly handle my life right now, but I know for certain that I couldn't handle yours. So, if any of you want to know how I'm doing, just read Amanda's blog, dial it back about 100 notches, and you've got my life.
Now, I'm going to go to sleep, and sleep in, because I have the day off, and no one to wake me up but the birds outside, and maybe my coughing. But I'll just go back to sleep. But please remember, I'm sick, so I will probably be miserable tomorrow.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Anniversary Party
I don't know if you know, but my life here in Chicago is a little bit surreal sometimes. By surreal I mean my work is the subject of a reality show on VH1 airing at the end of March. You should watch it and probably see me every once in a while accidentally making a dumb face at the camera, yawning, or eating something really messy.
Anyway, one of our last evening filming sessions was the celebration of eDrop-off's anniversary. It was a cool party because it was mostly only coworkers, which I liked. I enjoy being able to invite my friends to events, but if everyone has their peeps there, you always have to be watching out for them, making sure you don't lose them, introducing them to people. It can be hard work. Anyway, the following pictures are of my coworkers and you will probably see the film crew as well.
PS, this was one of my first nights using my new iPhone for picture taking purposes. It was also the first night that Natasha tried to ask Siri something and Siri politely responded, "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." I like that Siri, because I like loyal friends.
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