Sipping on some Sizzurp

The past two weeks I have had a lingering cough. Mostly just at night when I am trying to sleep. One more obstacle standing between me and sleep. Awesome.

In an attempt to conquer the cough and lack of sleep, I have been taking small doses of Nyquil. But the generic kind. So Highquil or Sizzurp or KrogerQuil or whatever.  A couple of days ago, thanks to the Walquil, I kept having these insane half-awake/half-asleep thoughts about getting a dog. Weird, right?

When I fully woke up, I kept thinking about dogs. I like dogs. I prefer to have cats as pets. Low-maintenance, small, clean themselves, cheaper. All good things. My roommate and tons of my friends are allergic to cats. No cat for me. The thing about dogs is they are a lot of work. And why must they always smell so foul? Even the cleanest of dogs still smells occasionally. I really hate bad smells.

In my heart I know that if I got a dog it would go one of two ways:

1. I would love the dog beyond reason. Everyone else on the planet earth would hate the dog and accuse the dog of infecting them with weird diseases. NOT THAT I AM BITTER ABOUT MADDOX AND THE CAT SCRATCH FEVER ACCUSATIONS!!! Another story for another day. The dog would have poor social skills. I would find this amusing. Others would not. Right now I have a German accented quote running through my head, it sounds like this, "Your cat! He wants to bite me!" Ha-larious! To me.

2. I would think the dog was just okay but all of my people would completely love the dog beyond reason and then one day the dog would do something that I didn't care for and I would be "over it" and give the dog away. Or the dog would get sick and I would be like "oh sad" and then put the dog to sleep and never shed a tear or feel regret. Or the dog would run away and disappear or get hit by a car. Everyone would be sad and horrified in any and all of these scenarios and I would end I looking like a sociopathic monster because I wouldn't care that much.

Now if you are reading this and thinking that I am evil I have one question for you: You are from the city aren't you? Yeah. You are. I can feel it.

I am not evil. It's a coping mechanism. Ivan, Penny, Molly, Blue, Bruno, Kirby, Pup, Auggie, Tippy, Casey, and I am sure I am forgetting some. All dogs my family had. We never had more than 2 or 3 dogs at a time. So that's how many we went through in 18 years.  Auggie got hit by a truck and died before my very eyes. Pup was my favorite and slowly and heartbreakingly developed some weird paralysis on one side. Terrible to see. Kirby was deaf and blind. Molly got a leg caught in barbwire and had to have it amputated. She went on to live quite happily as a three-legged dog until she ran off. Not so fun fact: Hunting dogs like to run away and die in private. And leave their families in suspense about where they are and whether or not they are alive or dead.  Ivan was ran over by my school bus immediately after I boarded it. Joke I used to tell: Our house is where people send their pets to die.

Sad stuff, right? Eh.

I have some fond memories of our family pets, I just don't feel overly sentimental about any of them.  I was a country girl. They were outside dogs. I never slept with them, walked them,  or necessarily even played with them. They would drag dead opossums into the front yard. Not endearing.

They didn't eat scraps from the table or do tricks. They functioned as doorbells and alarms. "Stranger is here! Stranger is here! Stranger is within a 10 mile radius! There is a raccoon on the property and we will now bark at it for 4 hours straight while you are trying to sleep! We will now jump on you with our muddy paws when you are trying to board the school bus!"

Ivan 

Molly 

Recently I was told a story about someone who raised adorable fluffy little ducklings into full grown ducks and then ate them. The story was told to me like this: "HE. ATE. THEM!! CAN. YOU. BELIEVE. THAT??" I didn't say much in response but what I was thinking was: "I have never ate duck. Huh. I wonder if I would like duck? Probably not."

All of that being said: This makes my heart melt into a pathetic little puddle and all I can think is: I WANNA PUPPY!

This post was sponsored by Wal-Kill, I mean Wal-Quil. Okay, okay, it was actually sponsored by my Kroger Nite Time cough syrup induced hallucinations. 

Library Loving: The Help

I finished The Help, by Kathryn Stockett yesterday. Blog, do you ever wish Kathryn Stockett was writing you instead of me? She is much better.  Also, thank you to Cydney for the recommendation.

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Embarrassingly, I should admit that for some reason I looked at the cover of this book and decided the book was set in India. The cover just said, "India" to me. I do not know why. I was surprised to find out it was about race relations in Mississippi as seen through the eyes of two black maids that worked for white families and one white woman who wanted to tell their story.  I started reading and because I almost solely read blogs and the last book I read was a novel told thru short poems (Because I Am Furniture by Thalia Chaltas - very bittersweet YA novel), I read the first page and a half of The Help and then I threw the book down on the bed and whined about how LONG and BORING the book was already! After I gave myself a stern lecture about my ever dwindling attention span, I picked it back up and kept at it. All told it took me about three hours to read. I liked it. A lot. 

********************************************************************************
And now for something completely different:

Reading The Help made me think deep type thoughts on racism and other such evils. Here are my thoughts. They aren't very clear.

Here's the big picture: Every single person. Yes, every one of them....the one that cut you off in traffic this morning, the one who gave you a hug yesterday, the one who makes you want to scream, the one who holds your heart. You and they and he and she and we and them are all part of God's creation: humans.

My ex-mother-in-law, Nancy, described it thusly to an inquiring mind: "It's like a bouquet. We get these bouquets of flowers and they are all different shapes and colors and we think it is beautiful. When God looks down on the earth and looks at humanity, he sees a beautiful bouquet."  Beautiful, no?

Imagine the tragedy of an earth filled with monotone flowers. Or people.

To me, the big picture is just that simple. We are all humans. None of the things that divide us (race, sex, religion, nationality) change that.

The little picture is the one on one daily interactions. If you look at every person you meet as an equally fellow human, how do you treat them? You Golden Rule it up, right? Again, for me, that is the end.

But then there is that middle picture. The picture where all the labels and quantifications get marked and pointed out. "That's a short human." "That's a dark human." "That's a poor human." "that human is from Japan." "That one is missing an arm." "That one can't see." "That one is fat." "That one is female."

First of all, thank you oh captains of obvious! Gold star for you! We don't all look the same. I bow before your astuteness.

Here is where it gets complicated: When and where does ignorance end and evil begin? How much of that is ingrained/trained/learned? And why don't people who promote divisions and hatred and prejudice and "isms" see how moronic that is? On some level, I get it. It is easy to have a few bad interactions with a few people all of the same "type" and suddenly we assume that is how all people of that "type" are.

That's not how it works! 

Would it be easier if it did? Maybe. Maybe not. I guess it would depend on where you fell in the scheme of things. Would it be fair? No.

Does anyone have control of where they enter the world and how they look when they get there? I mean, I don't remember specifically my DNA calling a conference and deciding that I would prefer to be a white female born into the middle class in Central Illinois. But maybe I had that option. Maybe I picked all of that and so therefore I am superior to some. Because I made better decisions before fully engaging with humanity. Although it still puts me below the blessed humans who had DNA that decided upper class was, in fact, where it was at in life.

All of that being said, I understand the power of "mob mentality" and fitting in and how all of that stuff that can turn so ugly so fast. Here is my example:

16 years later this story still makes me cringe in shame. I went to a small school. A very small school. My grade had approximately 28 students. All white, generally all on a level socio-economic playing field.

There was this one girl who did not fit. She was poor. She was crass. She wore ugly clothes.  She was what we called, "white trash."  She lived not too far from me. And she biked past my house one day. She stopped to talk. I was playing an imagination game with my little sisters. We were pretending to be birds. On bikes. We were birds on bikes. I explained this to her. Invited her to play. I don't think she did.

One day, a few weeks later, this girl wanted me to be her partner on a science class assignment. I did not want to be her partner. We weren't friends. She wasn't known for doing well in school. I wanted to do well on this assignment. She threatened me. If I refused to be her partner, she would tell the entire class that I still played pretend with my little sisters. Like the total weirdo that I was and absolutely still am.

My desire to "fit" was SO strong and my fear of being outed as "not the same" so deep that I did something I regret to this day. Such is my intense shame. I told her that if she told my classmates, I would tell them all that she was lying. And then I told her, "You know they will believe me and not you."  She did know that.  She didn't tell anyone and I was not her partner.

Was it right of her to try and emotionally blackmail me into being her partner? No. Does that make what I did any less wrong? No.


Lessons?

• We live in a social hierarchy where some people are perceived as being more virtuous than others simply based on their placement in this hierarchy. 
• The desire to fit into or stay in or rise to a certain level of that hierarchy is a very powerful motivator. 
• That I wasn't meant to be a social climber because I can't forgive myself for squishing the people below me.

I wish I had done things differently. I wish I had just been her partner. Maybe that kindness would have meant something. Or that I had been strong enough to just let her tell people. To just confidently be me. To say, I am a 14 year old that plays pretend with her little sisters.  So what?

I wish that we were all strong and wise enough to all the time say, "Yes, this human looks different than me, so what?"



Read Peggy McIntosh's paper, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Backpack."   I am not asking that you agree or disagree with it. Just read it. At least skim it.


Irony alert: A guy that we totally accepted and several times voted as our class president is now on the state sex offender registry.

The One With The Adaptation

Nonnie's Raisin Bran Muffins Re-imagined.

2 1/2 cups wheat bran
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup oil
2 beaten eggs.

1/4 White chocolate chips
1/2 Craisins
I am estimating amounts on these last two. I just added as much as looked right to me.

The original recipe called for 1 1/2 cups sugar but I am slowly trying to make this recipe a little healthier.  Next time I make them I am going to try a little less sugar and substitute mashed banana or applesauce for the oil. We'll see.

So first mix the dry ingredients.

Then mix in your wet ingredients

Give it a good stir. Add in white chocolate chips and cranberries.

Bake at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

The bran makes these great hearty breakfast muffins, the cranberry gives them tart and tang, the white chocolate adds just the right amount sweet.

The One With Pain

This is not what I look like right now. Right now I look terrible. This picture just conveys the proper tone of grumpiness and misery. 

It's 3 AM. Do you know where your blogger is?

If you guessed writhing in stomach pain in bed, you are correct! You win nothing though.

I woke up with a migraine Saturday morning. This is happening with alarming frequency the past month and a half. This migraine held on pretty tight and the instant I truly got rid of it, my stomach freaked the heck out on me. And has continued without letup ever since. And now my migraine is starting to  reappear.

And I feel like all of my friends have over the past few days kicked me and then spit on me. Which is completely NOT the case. I am just occasionally over-sensitive and right now it feels like that is the case.

This is probably completely related to the unrelenting pain.

Current plan for tomorrow: SLEEP.  NOT BE IN PAIN.

That seems like a lot.

The One With Procol Harum

So I have been listening to Whiter Shade of Pale for the last 15 minutes on repeat.  I do that sometimes. You should know this about me by now.  Here.  Here.

The thing is, since my teenage years I have been quasi-curious about what "Procol Harum" means. What is the story with that band name? Which totally reminds me of how my cousins Pete and Lucy were on a "Hey that could be the name of a band" kick once. Am I making that up? Maybe.

I say quasi-curious because 1. I don't really care if quasi-curious is a thing and I am making it a thing now if it is not 2. I was always afraid it meant something dirty. I  didn't want to know if it was something dirty. Hey proof of my lame teenage-ness alert! Shouldn't it have made me want to know even more so if it might have been something dirty? Do you ever read my blog and want to RIP all of your hair out because I can not keep my verb tenses the same through out? Or is it just me? Look time is a very fluid thing. Sometimes I have issues keeping track of what tense I am going with: past, present, future.... very vague.

Where was I? Procol Harum! I thought it might be dirty. Look! What do I know really? I thought they were some kind of hippie band and everybody knows that hippies were nothing but dirty deviants! Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds is about LSD folks! And Paul is dead or the walrus or bigger than Jesus or something. And there is the fact that my parents had the Procol Harum album.  My parents also had a bearded friend named "Stone." Stone. Let me repeat for emphasis. My parents were the sort of people who made friends with people named Stone. My mom once told me that he was nicknamed Stone because he really liked the Rolling Stones. And I believed it.  Because I was the lamest. teenager. ever. So lame that I didn't ever research the band name, Procol Harum, for fear it be dirty, or drug referency, or some nickname for the devil.  Who knows?

I do. Now. The band was named after a friend's cat. And it is Latin. Why are all Latin phrases so deep sounding? Did Latin speaking people never just need to say, "Hey, what are you up to today?" No! It was "Seize the day," "beyond these things," "far away from," and "it does not follow" all the dang time. I feel like I would be the one Latin speaking person who would be labeled the village idiot because when they were saying all these deep things, I would say, "dude, like, literally, I have no clue what you are talking about. Literally. Dude. Literally. Like seriously dude. Literally no clue." How do you think you say "dude" in Latin?

The bottom line is they took the name of their band from a cat. When I read that I started to think of all the names bands could take from one of my family's cats. Maddox, Diggy, Fluffy, Ms. Kitty, Ringo, Twinkle-Toes, Callie, Nick, Cosette, Reese, Salvi, Ima, Claude, Degas, Emily, Louisa, Yoda.

If you are thinking of starting a band, all of those names are currently available as far as I know. And you are welcome to use any of them. For a small fee. Also, I am more than willing to make up some really deep sounding phrase and claiming that "Fluffy" is in fact Latin for "make wise decisions and regret nothing." And I would sell you this whole back story about how that deep and meaningful Latin phrase was the guiding principle for my teenage years and you thought it would be really ironic and witty to use that as the name for your hard core country acid band.

My mom would totally buy your album. And when anyone asks her why your band is named "Fluffy" she would tell them it is because you really like pillows.  Don't believe her. She was a hippie.

Clumbsy Thumbsy (Text Messages)

I keep forgetting!

I have been meaning to post this since forever.

Four days ago is forever right?

Four days ago, a friend text me pictures of all the snow in Metro East/St. Louis area. I, being the kind, caring, concerned sweetheart that I am, immediately text my dad, my brother-in-law, and my three sisters to see how they were doing.

I am all concern and worry, my  dearest readers. All concern and worry.

Nothing says concern and worry quite like, "I heard you are living in snowpocalypse and it's 70+ degrees here and gorgeous! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

My family was so warmed by my thoughtfulness that they replied in the following ways:

1. Nice.....thx 4 rubbing that in. maybe i'll ask you about the weather there next August.

2. As opposed to dull brown it is a lovely white blanket that hushes the earth to a tranquil paradise.

3. I don't care. its a dry snow perfect for sledding! Which me and Rita are going to do at Art Hill tonight or tomorrow. Now who is jealous?

4. That sounds nice! But I love this! Its sooo pretty & I have a nice rental so my drive wasn't bad.

Now let us review three text messages I received today:

1. I miss you....& your old.

2. Yay! ur old!!!! But I've been preparing something for u.....Kim and Kourtney K, Reese Witherspoon, Alicia Keys, Jennifer Morrison, Vanessa Manillo, Katie Holmes, Jake Gyllenhall, all these ladies (and sexy man) are in their early 30's and rockin it just like my big sister!!!!!!

3. Happy old day to you! Happy old day to you! Happy old day to Meghaun......u r thirty flirty and thriving. Happy old day to u! U r beautiful.


And all of that? That is why my life is so great.

You.

A Day in the Life ~ The Beatles

7 AM. Wakey wakey eggs and bakey
(woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head)

8 AM.  I decide to finish my book after my shower. 

Ready to start the day! 

How you doin'? My lovely Aldo boots. So comfy! 

Look! I even accessorized and put on a tiny bit of makeup today. Hallelujah! 

Breakfast: Ham, sausage, and egg scramble with Cranberry Raspberry juice. 

Work 

View out my office "window"

Vitamins: Good for you! Excedrin for headache: Bad for you! 

Lunch time run to the post office. I got a card! 

Run by home during lunch. 

Massive afternoon crankiness at work. Probably need to eat. 

Maxwell playing makes all the crankiness go away! 

Change to evening wear. Decide that it is too cold to wear strappy heels. Will put boots back on. But first,  more pics of the strappy heels. 

An old co-worker called these my "miracle mile" shoes. 

Miracle Mile is a street in Tucson where you might find......girls wearing very high heels such as these. 

Miso soup with soy sauce and sriracha.  The "God of Food" totally got me hooked on this! 

And Edamame. With lots of soy sauce! Did I mention the Miso with Sriracha? 

Eat and study. Such is my schedule. See how the book title is in Russian?  Also I think this is possibly one of the 1st times I have sat in a sit down restaurant and ate by myself. 

Starbucks! Free drink! Score!

 I realized through out the day that some times and places just don't lend themselves to picture taking. Like being at your place of worship. Or most of the time you are at work. So you know, there are some gaps in the day. The rest are from Applebee's for cheapy happy hour appetizers and drinks.

And finally, goodnight.

Ego Trip

Above is one of my favorite Dilbert comics. And recently it has been stuck in my head because as crazy and vain as it sounds, I feel like I have gotten a lot better looking. I feel super icky typing that. All braggy and stupid. But I don't mean it like that! Truly! I am just pleasantly surprised that as concerned as I have been about aging, I am actually happier than ever before with how I look.  Self-esteem. The gift that keeps on giving. If as I get older I keep getting more comfortable with who I am and less filled with self-loathing- BRING IT ON!! 

So for today I am trying to take pictures at least once an hour so that late tonight or early tomorrow I can present you with my day in pictures. I know you are going to be on the edge of your seat waiting to see if I can take my already horrific flash less iPhone photography too new depths of patheticness. Only time will tell my dear readers. Only time will tell.

BONUS: Taking pics of what I am doing all day motivates me to actually do things all day.

How To Make Raisin Bran Muffins.

My paternal grandmother's name was Nonnie. Technically her name was Evelyn. Her grandchildren all called her Nonnie.

Yesterday I realized that I can not picture Nonnie outside of her kitchen. And not even in any part of her kitchen except the space between the sink and her table. She either stood or sat at that side of the table and held court.

My Nonnie could cook. And she always made, "stuff." Us grandkids named her desserts, "Oreo stuff, Jello stuff, etc." Main ingredient + "stuff."

 She also made killer Raisin Bran Muffins.

Sunday, I attended a brunch. I had volunteered two sure winners: 1. Emma's "strata" stuff (egg, cheese, ham casserole type situation) 2. My Nonnie's Raisin Bran Muffins.  I have made the muffins once before.


Due to my insane schedule, I was at the grocery store shopping for ingredients way past my bedtime. And it took several trips to several different stores. I don't want to get bogged down with the details but the punchline is: don't ever assume you have eggs at home. Sage advice from me to you.

The next morning I got up early enough to execute said Raisin Bran Muffins before the brunch. Halfway in I thought to myself, "Something isn't quite right." This is what I was using:

Via

And this actual bran(pictured below) + raisins is what I used last time: 

Via

The last time I made them I used real bran and raisins NOT raisin bran cereal and they turned out exactly like my Nonnie's. So, understandably, when I realized I was not following the recipe and using a different ingredient,  I panicked. I didn't know what I was doing, how they would turn out, and I was making them for an event. 

The long story short is they were different than my Nonnie's but completely fine and edible and people enjoyed them.  

What I thought about is how this story would have amused my Nonnie. I can picture her sitting at her kitchen table, laughing her raspy laugh that ended in coughing, and her eyes tearing up from laughing so hard at her overdramatic granddaughter's cooking shenanigans. I can see myself wildly gesturing as I describe my rising panic over the use of raisin bran cereal as opposed to wheat bran and raisins. I can see her getting ready to tell me that raisin bran cereal will work just fine but stopping herself so that I can carry on in my loud and exaggerated fashion about the perils of trying to imitate her greatness. And then I see her checking the Franklin Times to discuss with me whether or not I am on the Honor Roll. But that's an entirely different story for a different day. Today I just want you to know that my Nonnie made really great Raisin Bran Muffins. And mine ain't so bad either. 

Have you ever botched a recipe and it turned out okay? Or was a humiliating disaster? Leave a comment and tell me about it. 

In the meantime, the first two picture below are of the Raisin Bran Muffin process, the final product was poorly photographed on my part and so not included. Also is a pic of the strata, which was completely drama free. Save the 1 AM run to Wal-Mart for eggs.  

All You Need Is Love ~ The Beatles

Hearts,  Love | Forward this Picture

Via

I hold this truth to be self evident: If I start thinking about the meaning of love after midnight, I can kiss sleep goodbye. Especially if the subject pops into my brain even though I am in my pj's, the lights are off, the TV is off,  Denzel is off (Denzel is my laptop), my fan is making its soporific sounds, and I am tired. And sick - did I mention I was getting sick? I am getting sick.  All of that should equal a shut down of thought processes and quality z's.

Instead I am thinking about love. Quotes about love specifically. John Lennon wrote that "love is the answer, and you know that for sure." I have seen another quote, and I am not sure who to credit for this one, that says something like, "What's the answer? Loving. What's the question? It doesn't matter, loving will still be the answer."

Lily Tomlin once said, "If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?"

I, personally, am unable to form a more solid conclusion on love than this:

 1. When it comes to romantic love, Harlan Ellison had it partly correct, "Love ain't nothing but sex misspelled." As much as I would like to elevate it to a higher level, romantic love involves a certain degree of chemistry and attraction that sullies it. Not that romantic love isn't swell.  It is. You just can't speak of romantic love in the lofty terms of LOVE. You know? LOVE? If it meets such lofty terms, it's more than romantic.

2. Humans are imperfect and so love imperfectly. And so therefore don't truly love.  We can only offer our best approximation. And that is what must always be kept in mind. What I have to give, what we all have to give is our best efforts. Generally, we all give a lot less. And there is the added complication that best efforts are unique to each person. My best effort is not your best effort. The next person's is neither of ours.

Do you have a headache yet? Can you at least see why I am not sleeping?

I dropped out of Calculus in high school because Mr. Moses tried to explain to me Zeno's Dichotomy Paradox. I was so upset, I almost walked out of class that day. I thought he was trying to say that it was impossible to measure the distance between two points. Clearly, measurement was possible. It happens everyday! How far is it from Point A, St. Louis, to Point B, Tucson? That is measurable!

What he really was referring to was this: What's half the distance between St. Louis and Tucson? And what's half of that? And what's half of that? And what's half of that? And what's half of that? And what's half of that? You get the picture. I am sure I am oversimplifying to the point of incorrectness, but it is a paradox that resonates with me. It's explained simply in the movie, IQ. Here is video explanation(I only listened til 1:30 because after that it gets all boring and mathy):





Love seems like something you can quantify. You can. You also can't. Once you start to examine love, it breaks down into seemingly infinitesimal segments. A paradox. You can say, "I love you" and mean it, but you can't. There is no end to love. No way to travel the distance between your heart and the heart of whom you love because the distance is infinity.  Does that make sense?

Here are some questions:

Is it more important to be able to love yourself or to love others unselfishly? Are the two diametrically opposed? Intrinsically linked? Can you love in one way without the other? Can you love in both ways?

Is it possible for romantic love to last forever? Or does it transmute into a more true and pure love? If the romance fades do you lose love for that person altogether?

Am I the only who reads the following passage and thinks, "I have never in my life seen real love?":

"Love is long-suffering and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its own interests, does not become provoked. It does not keep account of injury. It does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." ~ 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8a

Here is another question: Can we accept at face value the statement, "I love you?"  Is that sacred enough to be trusted when uttered?

"To often we have reached out in what we believed to be love, only to recoil in awe at its power to collect tyrants and cause pain." ~Source unknown. (Possibly Jonathan Swift)

My final sure conclusion is that I am both cynical and hopeful about love. Agape, Eros, and otherwise.

What about you?

The Time I Got a Second Job

Last week I mentioned in a post that I hoped to have an exciting news update this week. Well I do, but I don't. Do I have a news update? Yes. Is it exciting? Ummmmm......well, I got a second job.

Are you excited?

Me neither.

I am grateful. Just not excited. I start today. What I am thinking is......my schedule now requires SO much more organization and planning skills then I currently put into use.  Adding one more thing is a little frightening. I have the organizing/planning skills, I just don't use them. In times past I actually had a blog dedicated to all things organizing. You didn't know about that one did you??? It's yet another of my dark secrets.

Here are a few of the things that keep me afloat currently:

1. A calendar. My awesome big sister buys me one of these perfectly purse sized calendars every year. At first it was out of love for me, now it is because she wants me to just leave her alone. See, I became addicted to them.  I will now call her halfway thru the year in a panic about whether or not she will be giving me a calendar for the upcoming year or if I will have to *horrors* buy it for myself. I repeat this phone call every month thereafter.

2. A little notebook for to-do lists. Purchased at Target.

As a side note: For as much as I love technology, I much prefer pen and paper for scheduling and to-do lists. It's one area where technology just doesn't do it for me. 

3. Caffeine. I have sleep issues. It's borderline ruining my entire life. Caffeine helps. A lot. (Oh I feel a lecture coming on from someone about how it is probably one of the culprits of my lack of sleep )

Here is where I am falling short:

• Meal planning. 
• Budgeting. 
• Not being lazy or procrastinating. 

So most areas then. I fall short in most areas.

For instance, I am not entirely sure when I will eat today. I know that I will get dinner at around 7 PM. But 1 meal out of 3 is not a great idea for anyone and certainly not the best idea for me. I am almost positive that my mini nervous breakdown yesterday was because I ate nothing but jelly beans until I made myself dinner at 6 PM. Oops!


So hey! If you are out there and you work MULTIPLE jobs and you volunteer approximately 70 hours a month and you are broke and tired and hungry.....how do you make your life work? Well actually, if you are broke and tired and hungry, you aren't making your life work. You are imitating me. Which is creepy. And unintelligent. So you don't need to comment. Thanks though!

Always Use Erasable Pen!

How bizarre is the cover of this crossword puzzle book? I am not so good at crossword puzzles, but I love to give them a shot. I definitely am not at the New York Times crossword puzzle level. I am at the USA Today crossword puzzle level. The book pictured above is NYT puzzles. I can get about 4 clues per puzzle. I feel like if I keep at it, I will get better.

Thanks to my lack of skill, I used to do crosswords in pencil. Very logical, no? My very, very, very smart, crossword genius grandma disagrees. She saw me attempting to complete a crossword in pencil and folks, I was nearly responsible for her death. She had a cow/heart attack/apoplectic seizure over my use of a pencil.

"But Grandma, sometimes I get it wrong and if I use pencil then I can just erase the incorrect letters."

"Harrumph" Said she and disappeared to her bedroom only to reappear moments later and slap an erasable pen down in front of me on the table.

So the next time I rant and rave about some totally mundane thing, you will know it is genetic.

In other news, does anyone want my purple jelly beans? I refuse to eat them. Also if you are in the market for jelly beans I strongly suggest Jolly Rancher Jelly Beans. Tasty. Very Tasty.

In even otherer news, I have a friend coming over tonight to play photographer (I am paying her in purple jelly beans) for some upcoming posts. FINALLY some posts with decent pictures!

Library Loving: Jane Eyre

Today I opened my blog to the public.

Here goes nothing. 

So sometimes I exaggerate. But sometimes I don't. 

Remember that post where I said I had 5 copies of Jane Eyre? 

Here's 4 of them. One is missing. It makes me sad. The one on the bottom is my favorite. It's pretty.

I have a migraine today. I had a lot planned. Instead I am just trying to not be in pain. Maybe tomorrow.

Not exactly the fanfare I was going for on my first day of opening my blog to the public.

Library Loving: Library Edition

I love libraries.  I grew up going to the Jacksonville Public Library. I still remember it's thick glass floors upstairs. When they remodeled the library, they cut up those thick glass floors into little squares and sold them as souvenirs. It makes me sad that I don't have one.

On the other hand, the remodel in the 1990's brought a quiet, well-organized adult section upstairs. Adult Fiction and non-fiction were housed up there with big wooden tables for you to spread out and study at to boot. When I was a teenager, I read a lot of Madeleine L'Engle. As a writer, she doesn't dumb down what she is trying to say and she uses a lot references without completely explaining them. You can understand the plot, but just not every detail and nuance. Combine her writing style with my unending curiosity and you have a recipe for learning. I used to write down all the things in her books that I wanted to know more about and then I would go to the library and research it. Just me and the stacks for an hour or two. And while I was there I would find more books to read. I read every Agatha Christie, James Herriot, and Madeleine L'Engle book in that library because of those nights.

 It was....heaven.

For some reason, thinking about that time makes me emotional. Something about what a beautiful library(scroll halfway down link page to see pic) it was for such a small town. And about how the time I spent there alone was so completely my own time.

The library I go to now is an interim library while the "real" library undergoes construction or something. I will just say that it is not the Andrew Carnegie funded Jacksonville Public Library and leave it at that. Maybe the permanent library will be a thing of awe and wonder, but I think it unwise to get my hopes up. Just in case it isn't.

For reasons unknown, I feel like I have just divulged something intensely private.

*sigh* 

I wasted my teenage years on extraordinarily tame behavior.

In other news, I have a lot of exciting stuff to post about in the coming week. Books, food, fashion, and shenanigans. In the meantime, have an excellent weekend. It's sure to be a busy one here.

Manic Monday on a Wednesday

"I always take a relationship to the next level. If that works out, I take it to the next level after that, until I finally reach that level when it becomes absolutely necessary for me to leave."
~ Dave Chappelle as Kevin in You've Got Mail.

For some reason, I always think of the above line when I have days like yesterday. It applies not in relationships but in how I plan things in my life. I will have large amounts of time filled with nothing and then I will have a day like yesterday where I add and add and add things to do to that specific day until the weight of all that I have to do that day threatens to crush me. Do you see the applicability of that quote?

Yesterday I had scheduled plans from 7:00 AM to 12:00 AM.

At one point I was so frenzied that I jumped out of the shower only to realize that in my haste I had forgotten to use body wash. Thus I was forced to jump back in the shower and, in effect, shower over again.  In my defense, I was cooking oatmeal at the same time and around the time in my shower routine that I use body wash I started panicking about the house burning down. Very distracting.

My day started with this:

Because Tucson rarely has cloudy skies, it rarely has sunrises that are so magnificent. Yesterday we were blessed with this exception.

After that, I ran home, simultaneously showered and made breakfast (oatmeal and coffee), threw myself together, and ran out the door, oatmeal and coffee in tow, plowed through several very busy hours at work, and left work with just enough time to run home,  forage for something to eat, and slap makeup on my face before my 3:30 appointment. This appointment was something I hope will lead to an exciting news update, for me at least, sometime early next week.


By the time I left the my appointment, it was getting dark, and I had just enough time to run a few errands and head to my Wednesday night spot.. As I walked towards the house from my car, I took time to notice how Orion's Belt (I think) seemed to hang directly over the house. Bright and awe-inspiring. Very different from nights in or near St. Louis. There you count yourself fortunate to see one star. Let alone a brilliantly clear view of an enormous awe-inspiring heaven.  With days that begin and end in such a manner, it's not hard to see why people come to Tucson and stay.  Regardless of what happens in the in-between.