good tidings

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

ain't no high-class broad

It’s official: my *relationship* with my former landlords is OVER, as of yesterday. Meaning, yesterday I finally received my security deposit, thus ending any necessary communication with said landlords. (Never mind that she promised she’d “put the check in the mail first thing in the morning” over two weeks ago. Postal date stamps don’t lie.) I was pretty happy to finally get the check, seeing as how it was for a not-so-insubstantial dollar figure. Even though she couldn’t be bothered to, you know, write in the cents when she was writing the amount. Apparently that’s too time-consuming. I can’t wait for the bank to get all anal-retentive over that one.

The thing that amazed me most, though (although deep inside, I know it shouldn’t), is the vessel she used to mail the deposit. You would think that a professional woman, with her own real estate “business,” could at least spring for a semi-professional envelope, maybe even (*gasp*!) of the security type. Apparently not. No, instead I received my hefty check in the return envelope from her latest bill from her insurance company. Of the window variety, meaning you could see my happy check hanging out inside, because she (naturally) couldn’t be bothered to accompany the check with even a short note of some kind, you know, “Nice doing business with you!” or even, “Have a good life!”

As I thought about it, the whole thing pretty much summed up my entire experience with the woman, the house, everything. It involved her taking the least amount of her time doing as little as possible for as cheaply as possible, to hoop with everyone else. Which makes me ever more glad that I am finally, finally done.

Nice doing business with you, Cornelia. Have a good life.

til exhausted close our eyelids

One of these days I might take the time to sit down and reminisce about some of the crazy times that have gone on in the last month and a half: I went to a mini-family reunion in southern Illinois, I went to the Former Students’ Day reunion at my high school in Kentucky, I moved (!!!!), I went to Kentucky for Labor Day/my nieces’ 4th birthday, blah, blah, blah. It’s been busy, yo. That’s pretty much all I can say. The long and the short of it is that I’m living in someone else’s house, with a storage unit full of crap*, and that I have added a few thousand miles to my newly-tired, newly-aligned car, and that I have officially driven over every single curb between Algonquin, Holiday Hills and Lake in the Hills with a 24-foot moving truck.

But rather than take the time to write about all that, I’m going about this post the lazy way. Meaning I’m going to copy a bunch of stuff I’ve already written.

For context’s sake, I should first tell you that Corella & I keep each other awake from time to time at work with short, random emails. Here are a few snippets of said emails from me, all from this week. Frankly, you may want to just stop reading now.

•I'm only slightly worried about the yarn, since it's boucle and I'm not completely sure I'll be able to keep it even.

•I need this day to be over, like, now. If I don't leave a vomitous mess on my keyboard before the day is out, it will be a miracle.

•I should have known what this day was going to be like before I even left the house this morning. Like, when I couldn't figure out where my bra was, until I realized 30 seconds later that I'd already put it on. Yep, that kind of a day.

•Boys are stupid. Boy stalkers are just ridiculous.

•I want to hear details of the sobbing. Because I hate her.
(Stop judging. It’s reality tv.)

•I love that one of the pillars of the church uses the word *knockers* at choir practice.

•I just started counting in my head/on my fingers the number of months so far in the fiscal year, but instead of mentally saying "April, May, June, July, August" in my head as I extended each finger, my brain started saying, "Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers…"
I. Need. Help.

•When I get married, I'm going to have somebody play just the intro to Let's Get It On as we're running through the birdseed/bubbles/whatever to the car.

•Just remember, it's all about the tongue, baby.

I haven’t fallen asleep yet.




*So full, in fact, that the new roomie was worried when I was late coming home one night that I had stopped by the unit and a bunch of stuff fell on my head and knocked me out.

my dirty little secret

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Shhh!! Get closer now, I’m not going to tell this to just anybody. (Thankfully, it appears that none of my coworkers has as yet found this little corner of blogdom.)

Are you ready? Closer!

Okay, here goes.

I am a Summer TV-Smut whore.

There, I said it. I know, I know, who would believe it, right? (*ahem*) Until recently, this sickness was limited to really only two embarrassing shows, at least for this summer: So You Think You Can Dance (go Jeanine!) and (*hangs head in shame*) The Secret Life of the American Teenager.

Granted, I have watched Secret Life since its entangled inception, watching with rapt attention the metamorphosis of Amy from naïve good girl to hormonal pregnant teen to jealous teenage mother (and my personal favorite metamorphosis: Grace, from the quintessential *Jesus Barbie* to new med camp graduate, with a little “My dad’s plane crashed because I got laid” in between). I could go on about the little quirky things that make me so addicted, or the moments that actually make me laugh out loud (“GROIN INJURY!!!!!!”), but I won’t get into all that here. Honestly, I don’t think I would have even classified this show as “smut” until recently, especially since this is a show directed to the tween & teen stage-of-lifers. But a week or two ago, I watched the show with a friend of mine who had never seen it before. And honestly? Trying to explain who all the different characters were made me realize this is a teen version of a late-night drama, or at best (worst?), a teen soap opera.

That guy is dating the girl with the baby.
That’s the father of the baby, who is sleeping with the girl who broke up the Jesus Barbie and her boyfriend the first time around, but who really wants to be with his baby mama.
That woman is the mom of the girl with the baby, who is currently pregnant with her ex-husband’s baby, and who just broke off an engagement with some other dude and is now contemplating dating some old friend before she decides if she’ll let her ex-husband move back in. (granted, the “old friend” turned out to be the ex-husband.)
That’s the slut. She dated her brother for awhile.
That’s the dad of the guy dating the girl with the baby. He’s engaged to a woman he doesn’t know was an internet-order prostitute, who went on a date with the Down’s syndrome kid.
He’s the dad of the girl with the baby. He installed a urinal in the garage.

Um, yeah.

So anyway, until recently, Adrian, the Teenage Whore and SYTYCD were pretty much my only two “I’m ashamed I watch this” shows. And then, one night, I just happened to be flipping through a few channels, nothing much was on, and I randomly stopped on some good ol’ Fox reality fun. And I can’t stop watching. Like, I’m addicted. And I can’t figure out why. But honestly, More to Love has me sitting on my couch on Tuesday nights, eating frozen pizza and trying to figure out just how that larger woman is going to manage to belly dance. I don’t really know what else to say at this point, other than I probably lost more brain cells last night than I inhaled calories. The show has sucked me in, and although I’m super glad the loud-mouth witch went home last night, and I’m not really sad about the loss of the painfully shy girl who had never dated before, I can’t wait until next week to find out which two are going home next (and which four aren’t).

The fall season needs to hurry up and get here. I can’t take the loss of any more of the few brain cells I have left.

Should I have been weirded out?

I think so too.

So I walk into the rest area on my most recent trip south, and they have put signs over each bathroom door. The women's restroom says "TEMPORARY MEN'S," while the men's says the opposite: "TEMPORARY WOMEN'S." Both bathrooms were open, usable. So I walk into the "temporary women's," and am slightly startled as I round the little corner, when there in front of me is a teenage guy scrubbing the urinal. Another person of the female persuasion has entered the washroom just before me, and asks, "Um, is this open?"

The kid responds, "Yeah! Go ahead."

So I hurry about my business, still kind of creeped out, and finish up and wash my hands. As I'm finally walking back out, I pass another woman starting to walk in the door. She sees the kid, who is about to start on the first stall, and the urinals along the wall, and stops dead with the deer-in-the-headlights look, then glances back to make sure she didn't walk in the wrong door. (I think it's that age-old childhood fear of accidentally walking into the wrong restroom at school.)

I laughed. (Is that wrong of me?!)

But, um, can anyone figure out WHY there would ever be a need to switch the men's bathroom & the women's bathroom? When both were completely usable? Weirdness.

that distraction inside of me, oh well

(this post is for andrea)

And now, for the long-awaited project! (Which, honestly, is partly to blame for my lack of reading lately. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

I took on a project a few (read: many) months ago as a present for my (insert completely non-hyperbolic, totally awesome word that exudes the awesomest awesomeness here) nieces. And then, because I suck lack the proper motivation, it took me forever to finally finish the project. But it's finally done, and with the exception of a crookedly-sown-on arm, I'm pretty satisfied with the result. But you can judge for yourself:


Making the frog body

The finished products:


Ms. Bear:

Mr. Frog:




Kudos to Amy Gaines, whose adorable amigurumi pattern made these backpacks possible. They were incredibly easier than I ever imagined them to be, and if I decide to do another one sometime in the future, I have full confidence I could get it done fairly quickly and quite well, thanks to what I learned this first time around.

How did I fall so far behind?

I am woefully behind on my reading list.

It was my goal this year to read 50 full books in 2009 - only a few more than what I read in '08. Shouldn't be too hard, right? It's not like I'm attempting Corella's 100. So far, though, I'm barely in my 20s (which, for me, is borderline embarrassing). Earlier today I was browsing through my goodreads, looking at all the wonderful books I read in 2008. Some of the bestest books I've read in my life, truly fantastic. A few not-so-fantastic, I'm sure, but all the same... I was reading. This year, my shelf is sorely lacking. Not just in quantity, but also in quality. Oh, there are a few really good books, and very few I wish I hadn't taken the time to read. But I have a lot of ground to make up. It's not like I have a lack of books to read; there are so many lying around at home I could easily reach my goal, not to mention the MUST-READs I have yet to get from the library. I better get crackin'. (But not your beautiful bindings, Coral - worry not!)

As for what I have read recently... the book that stands out the most is one that I won through a goodreads give-away, Valeria's Last Stand. I personally loved this book. I thought it charming, full of dry humor, and a very interesting portrayal of the life and desires of a stubborn older woman that nobody likes (and that returns the favor). That is, until the Potter. The book deals with the conflict of the old versus the new, the time-honored versus the newly advanced, old socialism versus new capitalism. It is quirky and almost playful, in an almost fairy-tale sort of old-fashioned Hungarian village set during present times. The characters are intriguing and unique, and their interactions with each other are clever and fascinating to me. I'm glad this was the first advanced copy I won, and I would totally recommend it. My only caution to future readers comes from a review I found: "The geriatric sex is unnerving." Nuff said.

can you touch your nose with your tongue?

I'll update more later, but until then, this is one of my favorite moments from this past weekend:

wordless wednesday

with your feet out, girl you lookin' good

My toes are not “normal.”

I’m one of those people who have toes that freak some people out – my second toe is longer than my big toe. Now mind you, I don’t have a complex about this. I pretty much don’t care. But some people seem to. My friend Dom commented on this phenomenon a few weeks ago, when after seeing my cutely-sandaled feet, he mentioned that he has a longer 2^nd toe as well. Although, apparently his “abnormality” (I hate that word) goes a bit further – all three of his middle toes are the same length, all taller than the big one. Maybe his pinky toe as well, but I really don’t remember. We commiserated a bit about how our “specialness” causes some people to recoil in seeming horror with but a glance at our poor little piggies. (What? You don’t have random 10-minute toe conversations at social gatherings?!)

I’d pretty much forgotten about that conversation until this afternoon in the ladies’ restroom closest to my cube-home (read: cell). First of all, I have to say: Ladies (I assume this goes for gentlemen, too, although I’m less experienced in that area), if you walk into a public restroom and there are several stalls open, never take the empty stall right next to another occupied stall unless absolutely necessary. It’s called common courtesy. But anyway – I was sitting there, taking care of minding my business, when someone entered the stall next to mine. Mind you, our restrooms are pretty bland, everything the same yellowish color, quite boring and utilitarian. As I guess public restrooms should be. So, you know, eyes tend to wander, and I happened to glance at the feet of the person next to me. And her poor little toes. The first four of which were all the same pudgy length. I couldn’t even see the pinky toe, since it was (I hope!) hidden under her sandal.

What went through my mind in this moment?
Eww. That’s weird.

I’m a toe supremacist.

(When I have absolutely no right to be.)
(isn’t that the way it always is?!)

a perfect disaster

I think I should create a weekly post called "Things You Should Never Say." This week's edition: Things Your Accounting Manager Should Never Say.

Are the letters on your shirt curved, or is that you? - K

Um, yeah. Nothing says uncomfortable like "Hey! I'm looking at your boobs!" If he wasn't so clueless, I'd be offended. He really didn't think anything of it at all. And if we weren't in an in-depth conversation about university logos (unfortunately situated on my shirt), it really would have been awkward. Good times at work.

In other news... My birthday was earlier this week. My very favoritest present? The phone call from my brother, in which my twin 3-year-old nieces sang Happy Birthday to me. Best. Present. Ever.

(So much better than the naked bike ride I *got* to witness in the city last weekend. Really? That is so not attractive.)

Okay. I'm going to go clean something now. Happy almost-weekend!

So you ask: What's new?...

One of the good (bad?!) things about having a dentist who is Greek-American: When he starts shaking his head and mumbling under his breath, you have no idea what he's saying. (Frankly, I'm going with *good*. I think I'd really rather not know.)

This has been an interesting last couple of weeks. Full of waiting, and thinking, and deciding, and a little more waiting. In the meantime, I finally managed to finish Labyrinth by Kate Mosse. My thoughts? Don't read it. I'm glad I stuck with it enough to finish, because although the first two-thirds seemed like a waste of time, it turned into a half-way decent book in the last third. She finally lost the awkwardness of trying to mix old-fashioned colloquial language and modern colloquial, which was just that - awkward with a hint of trying too hard. Which actually is how I would describe the writing at the beginning of pretty much every chapter for the first two-thirds... After she got into the flow of a certain storyline, the writing was okay, but until then there was awkwardness and entirely too much detail that had no bearing on the story whatsoever. And, you know, if I was a little more caught up on my French (ha.), I would have gotten more out of it, but as it stands, I wasn't impressed. Or better, I was disappointed. I usually tend to enjoy your more gothic-style books. I think I should've paid attention when I asked the waitress from Chez Pierre what she thought about the book when she read it, and her response was, "Um, well... There was an interesting twist ending!" Yeah, there was. Which I figured out about 100 pages before I was supposed to. Disappointed.

After all that, I started reading a book I had picked up from the library and had been anxiously waiting to read (kind of my "prize" for finishing the other one) - Girls of Riyadh by Rajaa Alsanea. I adored this book. Maybe because I was so happy to be done with the other one, but I don't think so. It is a fiction book, told in the setting of Saudi girl writing an email every week to a group of Internet subscribers. In the emails, she tells the stories of 4 of her friends, and their trials of life and love in the city of Riyadh (with a little Chicago, London and Khobar thrown in). I couldn't put this book down, especially the last night, which should have been two. While this story is told in the confines of what most would seem an incredibly restrictive society, there is an undercurrent to the story that is wholly universal - especially in regard to making life decisions because it's what is expected of us, rather than what is in our deepest heart of hearts.

Last weekend I was given the address for the website of the McHenry Conservation District, which basically has taken all the unused areas in the county and turned them into parks with trails and fishing and such. So last Friday, after leaving work just a tad early, I decided to stop by one not far removed from my way home. I really enjoyed it, save for the mosquitos that are now starting to make their appearance. I took a little "hike," around a lake and through the woods a bit. I was very appreciative that the trail was well-mown, because of course, I hadn't planned on walking through a park when I left for work and had not dressed my feet appropriately. Anyway, it was a nice little diversion, and I discovered something I don't think I'd seen before: purple honeysuckle. And lots of pink, with some wild sweet william thrown in along the way. I love this time of year.

If only I had known how very dangerous love was, I wouldn't have loved.
If only I had known how very deep the sea was, I wouldn't have set sail.
If only I had known my very own ending, I wouldn't have begun.
- Nizar Qabbani

when the baseball analogy goes too far...

Things you should never hear from the pulpit at church:

"Come to church on Saturday and get to first base with the Pastor!"

these words are [now] my own

One of the perks of working for a book company is the annual book sale. When we were still in Lex, I always made sure to go and get some awesome books. Last year, however, I managed to be out of town for the first big soirée since the transition. So, on Saturday I was able to attend my first insane book sale in the frozen north.

I totally should have taken a picture of the crazy-long line, but honestly, that probably would have seemed a tad creepy to my coworkers. I got there 45 minutes early, and by the time the sale was supposed to start, I was probably about halfway back from the beginning of the line. (I was told at lunch today that there were some people who were there at 5:30am. Um, yeah, even 25-cent books won't get me up that early on a Saturday.)

Anyway, I gave myself a limit - I only allowed myself 25 books. And 25 books I got. Here's my booty:

(There are actually 26 books here. I got the thesaurus as a "free gift" for buying books. Yay goodwill! [um, not the store...])

You cannot image the crowds of people in the back part of the warehouse I had to fight through to get these. There was no rhyme nor reason to the way the totes were arranged.... Everything was just kind of all thrown in together. All I can say is, I got these brand-new (although a couple obviously have been processed) for $6.25. Um, I would have paid more in library fines in order to read these same books.

This entire experience has led me to believe something....

I need more bookshelves.

(Also, my need for books is insatiable. Because 25 new books did not stop me from checking out a new one at the library. But hey - it was only one, right?!)

all I can do

Hey!

Hey you!

Yeah, you, on the other side of the cube wall!

I have a message for you:
14 oz. of lotion? Is. NOT. the same. as. bathing.


(apparently breathing at work has become an amenity.)

*pop!*

When I was home for Easter, I spent quite a bit of time with my beautiful nieces. One night while we were hanging out at Matt & Amy's, the girls had their first taste of suckers. In honor of the momentous occasion, Matt found the song Lollipop online, which the girls absolutely loved, as evidenced by Chloe's rendition below:

i can watch a sunset

Friday night before last I decided to go run around downtown Chicago for a bit. I've missed non-subzero temperatures, so I've been taking advantage of the decent weather as much as the semi-constant rain will allow. Anyway, I ended up spending a good amount of time sitting by Buckingham Fountain, which I hadn't actually ever seen before when it was warm enough to be running. It was beautiful, and a perfect place to catch up on some journaling and such.





(I'm still learning how to use the settings on my camera, so hopefully the quality of such photos will improve in the near future.)

I've also been trying to take advantage of the nearby state park on a more regular basis now that it's warmer. There are some great secluded spots by the lake that are perfect for some nice afternoon reading with the poochie.






There really wasn't much point to this post. So, um... Thanks for reading anyway?

all out of language

Here’s the deal. I know I haven’t been blogging at all lately. I have a lot of blogs in my head, though, so one day you’re going to come here and there will be a whole bunch of new ones or something. Or maybe I’ll just never get motivated and they’ll all stay in my head. Either way. But consider yourself warned, in case I ever do find my muse.

Things I’ve been reading lately… Not enough? On my last two drives to Kentucky, which were timed fairly close together, I started an audiobook that was actually very good, but that I only made it about two-thirds of the way through. Sometimes, when I’m driving for long stretches, listening to someone’s voice reading a story makes me sleepy and I have turn on noisy, fast music that I can sing really loud to in order to keep myself awake. But anyway, one day I’ll actually finish it, whether via the audiobook or the actual book, which is Gentlemen and Players by Joanne Harris. She’s a fantastic writer, and I already have another of her books in the backseat of my car that I’ll probably forget to read before it’s due back at the library.

Another book I’ve read fairly recently is The Darkest Child – I forget who the author is. (Dorothy something? I’d look it up, but I kinda just don’t want to.) I was actually surprised at how much I enjoyed this book, although it’s kind of hard to use a word like “enjoy” for a book that’s so dark and disturbing on so many levels. I read a lot of reviews by people who talked about how much they hated Tangy Mae’s mother, because she was such a horrible person, but I mostly just felt sorry for her, I think. People who would treat their children the way she did in the book have severe mental issues, and it’s mostly a shame that there weren’t people in their part of the world/level of society that could recognize how much help she needed. I thought this book explored very well the truth that love and hate are not necessarily opposites – Tangy Mae, as well as the other children, both very deeply loved and hated their mother, both for good reason. The perspective that the author used to tell the story from Tangy’s eyes was very effective and insightful. As long as you can handle the darker parts of the story, I would recommend this book.

I also recently read Change of Heart by Jodi Picoult. But if you want to read my review of that one, you’ll have to check out my goodreads, mostly because I don’t want to type it all out again. I started reading Labyrinth by Kate Mosse, but I’m already beginning to get bored with it, which isn’t a good sign. I’ll let you know if I actually make it through or not. I’ve also read a bit of pointless chicklit, but to avoid Coral’s positively encouraging comments about those, I won’t go into detail.

it's only finger-lengths that I see

Last weekend, I managed to sneak home for a long weekend to meet and hang out with the new nieces. We had a ton of fun!

Playing with Play-Doh (yes, I look completely insane. I know.)

Essie, making monkey faces in the car. One of my favorite pics from the weekend.

Chloe is apparently following in the musical footsteps of the fam

Essie is all about the hat!

Getting some lovin' from Mommy

We had a fantastic time. My only complaint was that the weekend was so short! Even so, I also managed to make a super-quick trip to Knoxville to see Sonya and her new little one:

Sonya & Daniel Isaac

where the deer and the rattlesnake play

I'm off to the homeland, back to the beautiful bluegrass state to meet the most beautiful little girls in the universe. And also a pretty darn cute little newborn boy, too. In my excitement, I'm wishing for copless roads and a wonderful weekend for you all. Cheers!

I scare children. Apparently.

Since yesterday evening was such a nice evening to be outside, I took my *project* outside with me for awhile and sat in the yard and let the poochie play for a bit. The two most adorable neighbor kids in the world live next to me, and for awhile they were in their back yard as well, with another kid from somewhere on the block. Betwixt the random screams of "Look, BIRD POOP!" and the sound of young children sliding off the roof of their little playhouse, I suddenly heard the neighbor girl, the eldest of the three, explaining to their friend as they all peeped through the fence: "That's little Cheetoh! It's just a little puppy. Here, Cheetoh! Come here!" Chico sniffed their fingers for about two seconds before sauntering away in his aloof little way. They stared through the chain-link fence for about two more seconds, then went back to sliding off the roof.

These kids are both fascinated with and terrified by me, although I can't really figure out why for either. Any time I'm outside and they're somewhere nearby, they grin shyly at me until I make eye contact with them and smile - then they run away and hide behind something. The next second they think I'm not looking, they creep back up and stare at me, watching very intently whatever I'm doing, whether it be working in the flower beds or mowing or reading a book in the sun. Or crocheting, apparently. Part of this I'm sure has to do with their age - I would guess the boy to be about 3-4ish, the girl maybe 5-6. Sometimes the girl, in her little blond pigtails, manages to offer up a quick wave before getting embarrassed. Last night was the first time I've really seen them since the brutal winter, so maybe sometime soon I'll be able to draw them out of their shells a little without scaring them (or their parents, of whom I've met only their mom, once, for a 5-minute conversation).

Any ideas how to pull this off?

(You know, other than dressing up in a dinosaur suit and singing children's songs.)
(Although I'm pretty sure that would REALLY scare their parents.)
(And me.)

wait for me, it won't be long

They're coming home, TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's all.



...I'll see you at home.

oh, deerie me

My friend, Chef Ryan, is now AWARD-WINNING Chef Ryan. You can check out the deets here. There's even a picture of him and everything! (#5) And if you are ever ever ever in the area, you should visit the restaurant where he's head chef. Because his food is AWESOME. And you will eat until you almost die from eating.

Congrats, my friend.

there's just one thing that's getting in the way

I know, I know, I disappeared again. I won't regale you with stories of computer issues and crazy work schedules, because I'm sure no one really cares about all that anyway. I'm here now.

So I'm pretty sure most of you who read this already know about what's going on with my family, but I'll say it anyway... My brother and his wife are right now in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, getting ready to bring my two new beautiful nieces home!! Here's one pic - if you want to see more, you can go to their blog (or my facebook):

I'm working on a craft project for the girls, but I won't post it here until it's done and the gift has been given. Although I have to give mad props to Andrea for sending me on the right path to find the pattern, which is pretty much just awesome. Since I've spent a lot of time crocheting like mad, I haven't had much time to read lately. For some reason it's taking me forever to get through Jesse Stuart's Taps for Private Tussie, probably b/c I don't pic up the book very often with everything else going on. I'm also reading Voyage of the Dawn Treader on the side, but I'm sure you can imagine how that's going as well. I mostly picked it up b/c it was something easy to throw in my purse on my way to the dentist's office to get my root canal. Yes, boys and girls, while the last month has been relatively uneventful for me personally, the eventful things have been not so much on the fun side of things.

Overall, I'm mostly thrilled that we got out of the crazy cold month of January. Friday night was actually pretty warm, so I decided at the last minute to go run around downtown for a bit. I bought some adorable fleece sweatshirts for the girls at the Disney store, had a bird poop in my eye, got hit on by a homeless guy, and crocheted for 2+ hours on the train. It was a pretty productive trip.

Okay, that's all for now. Maybe I'll be better and post again soonish?! Here's hoping.

then later on, on the drive home

You know what's not a great way to start the week? (yes, I'm behind in my blogging again)
Spilling coffee on your sweater, first thing in the morning.
You know what's an even worse way to start the week?
Poking yourself in the boob for 5 minutes with a tide-to-go stick.

While we're on the subject of ways to start the week, some of the McDonald's up here (albeit not the convenient, on-the-way-to-work one) have "free latte Mondays" or something like that, where they give free 8 oz lattes on Monday to encourage people to try their new McCafé line. I've had the mocha before, which ain't no Starbucks, but isn't too bad for cheapish espresso. So on Monday I decided I was going to go for the free latte, and actually get a true latte this time for something different. Following is my review of the experience.

First of all, I didn't really think about how small an 8 oz cup would be. I felt like I was drinking espresso from a sippy cup. Which, other than reminding me of a Charlie Waffles song, was not too impressive. But how did it actually taste, you ask? My first impression: This is what it would taste like to drink Lucky Charms.

In a nutshell? If you like to drink coffee-tinted sugary children's cereal out of a baby bottle, you should definitely try it.

(I actually did like it, it was just... different.....)

Hello, my name is _____, and I'm a teaholic.

I think I might have a slight drinking problem.

For some reason I have been craving unbelievable amounts of liquid this week. Maybe it's because I can't chew gum until I figure out why pieces of my teeth keep falling out? I don't know. But it's reached the point of the ridiculous.

I got tired of spending way too much money buying drinks at work, so when I was at Walgreen’s a really cool store the other night, I bought 2 gallon jugs of Arizona green tea. I took one to work with me the next day. Thursday. By the time I left work last night (Friday!), it was empty. Somehow, in two work days, I managed to drink an entire gallon of tea. And even more shameful? That's not counting the 32 oz. of diet crap from Taco Bell, also consumed during work hours.

If anybody needs me, I'll probably be in the LGR.

how ugly are thy branches

My Christmas tree is anorexic.




(Yes, my tree is still up. Whoever can guess what that little box is lying under the tree behind the slutty dog bed gets a prize. I don't know what, but I'm sure I'll think of something appropriate when(if!) the time comes.)

(The dog bed is slutty because its clothes are coming off. I've enrolled it in a 3-step program. Also known as "the washing machine.")

However, I'm mostly just happy my Christmas tree still has all its pieces and whatnot. I bought the thing at wally world my first Christmas in my first apartment. I think. If not then, definitely at the town house. But I'm pretty sure it resided at the mansion, in front of the window that our dear friend "rapist cop" parked next to. Anyhoo, I got it for about $15, the thought process being, This is my first apartment, so it deserves some cheap little tree, I'll get a better one next year once this one falls apart. But, strangely enough, this one has managed to hold itself together through 5 whole Christmases. It still has all its little branches, although I have yet to get a decent tree skirt for it. It really is kinda skimpy and pitiful these days, but I have learned that if you put enough lights on it, any tree can look half-okay. And totally not ghetto at all. (Mostly.) Anyway, when I finally take it down sometime this weekend (or next week... or something... gotta keep a little bit of the War Creek in me alive!), the smart thing to do would be to just get rid of it. Then, next year I'll have to get a new one.

But I won't. I've kinda grown attached to the pitiful little thing. It's been with me through all 4 residences, this one twice, since I've been "on my own." Maybe next year I'll just buy a few new ornaments and let it go at that.

But I really need to get a tree skirt. Nobody likes to be naked in the middle of winter in Chicago.

you can catch me

In the last year, I have turned into quite the slacker-blogger. Maybe when I actually take the time to sit down and write a few New Year's Resolutions, changing that will be one of them. Knowing my penchant for all things procrastination, however, the resolution-writing seems unlikely. But I am determined to do better with the blogging, though. I amaze myself every time I get upset when one of my favorite bloggers hasn't updated for a bit, when it's usually been a month since I have bothered to do the same. Really, I'm not quite so hypocritical about the rest of life.

In the meantime, I just got back on Sunday from a fabulous two weeks in Kentucky.



I got to see my family and some of my wonderful friends, whom I miss with my soul. We also got some discouraging news about the adoption (read more about that here, if you wish). We would all appreciate your prayers.

Sadly enough, the month of December was just crazy enough that I didn't get the chance to do a lot of reading. I don't even remember what I've read lately... pitiful. I do remember reading Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella... I personally didn't find it quite as good as Undomestic Goddess, but it was still some good chicklit. Over Thanksgiving, I read Havana Nocturne: How the Mob Owned Cuba and Then Lost It to the Revolution by T.J. English. Even though family holiday times made the reading a bit slow, I still really enjoyed this book. And now I've become slightly obsessed with Cuban history. Seriously, so fascinating. I'm currently reading The Meaning of Night: A Confession by Michael Cox, but it's been slow reading for this one, too. I'm having a hard time getting my mind into books lately, for some reason. I also read a couple short Evanovich books - she never ceases to amuse. Um... I think that's it. I'm hoping that now that the Christmas craziness has passed, I'll have more time and mental energy to devour some new good books again.

Okay, it's late, and this post has rambled on enough. Have a great weekend, everybody.