manners

I'm reeling.

In the past week, I've flown to Massachusetts and back, was sick and then recovered, accepted one job and quit two, and been added to a digital scrapbooking creative team.

Okay, backing up a bit...

Remember when I was all "good vibes" and you were all "on their way!" and then I was all "they worked!" and you were all "hooray"?

Right. So, I applied for a job as a part-time librarian at the New Lenox Public Library (NLPL), about 30 minutes from our house. Then things started to get weird. And by weird I mean interesting. And by interesting I mean -- oh, I'll just tell you.

One Monday a couple of weeks ago, I woke up and couldn't do it. I couldn't go to work. I took a sick day and sent my kid and my husband off. But my kid was feeling strangely and in that way that mothers do, I couldn't let it go. So I picked her up and took her to the doctor's. She was fine, and now that she'd been sprung from day care there was no way she was going back. So I took her to the pool.

(I'm getting to the job part, I promise.)

While at the pool we ran into some friends of ours, and we were talking and I mentioned the job at NLPL and she said, "Oh, my God! I have a friend that works there! I'll tell her you're applying for the job."

Not only did her friend work at NLPL, but it was her job that was available -- she was transferring to another department in the library. One thing led to another and I got an interview. And a week later, as I was trying to nap but couldn't turn my brain off, NLPL called and offered me the job. It happened so quickly my head's STILL spinning.

Now, about the digital scrapbooking thing... it seemed inevitable that my reintroduction to the scrapbooking world would lead to the digital realm. When I discovered it, it was like... eureka! I can be creative and still stay on my computer all day! FANTASTIC! I was quickly addicted.

When this whole job situation started looking more serious I considered applying to a creative team to support my habit. Digiscrapping is cheaper than traditional scrapbooking, but there are still things I'd like to buy. And that means money. Which is about to be in very short supply around these parts. Being a part of a creative team would mean I would be given products to use in layouts used to advertise designers. I thought I had no chance. My online portfolio has four layouts in it. That's it. I'm not a big presence on any of the forums, and I threw my blog together in a night.

So, yeah. I was totally shocked yesterday when the email came through telling me I'd been accepted to a team.

And now I'm here. Facing some big changes and making some decisions.

I have a new blog. I started it initially as a place to post layouts but now that I'm on a team, I think that I'm going to make it my main blog. Which means two things:

- monkey girl is going away. I'm not sure when -- probably when I can download the content and back it up. But it is going away.

- because the new blog is public, more of my life will become private. I'm really struggling with that right now. I hate writing there because it feels so stiff and lame. I've grown comfortable writing here, and I'm sure I'll get that way over there too, but it'll take some time.

- the good news is that there's a feed with the new blog, so subscribe! 

I'll be sure to come back here and tell  you when I'm wrapping up, but in the meantime, I'm going to be spending a lot more time on the other blog, so come visit me there.

listening to: absolute silence

If you follow me on twitter, you would have seen that my oh-so-helpful physical therapist recommended -- as treatment for my headaches -- a glass of wine, soft music, and a vacation. So I'm in Massachusetts, fulfilling 1/3 of the plan. Of course, because it's ME, as soon as we hit cruising altitude during the flight yesterday, I noticed my throat hurt. Fast forward to this morning, and the first full day of my vacation begins with a cold. Remind me to yell at my PT when I get back to Chicago, because clearly this is all his fault.



 



Now, I would like to send a resounding THANK YOU to all of you who sent good vibes my way last week. In short, they worked. OH, DID THEY WORK.



 



Ready to hear what your collective thought-sending accomplished? (Yes, I'm giving the credit to all of you, but mostly to my grandmother, who damn near set her house on fire lighting so many candles.)



 



I am now a bona-fide, honest-to-goddess librarian. I was offered and accepted a position at a (ahem, GORGEOUS) library 30 minutes from my house as an adult and teen librarian. A LIBRARIAN. You guys. I get to, like, order books! And plan programs! And teach classes! And answer reference questions and not have to say, "Oh, a librarian will have to answer that for you," because THAT'S ME, ya'll!



 



Also, this means that I will be back to only having one job. Hallelujah, I will see my family again. And my house will be clean. Of course, this also means a substantial kick in the balls to our income, but pshaw, I say. PUH-SHAW. Because I will be happy. And if I'm happy, well... I think you know how that sentence ends.



 



So. There you have it. And I know it goes without saying but please no posting anything about this on public forums. I still have to give notice to my million jobs. But as soon as it's public I'll let everyone know.

because it's sunday night

Hello friends and neighbors:

Look at me! Not ignoring you!

Um. I may be creating another blog. It's not that I don't like you, it's just that you're not fulfilling all my needs. If you catch my drift. Anyway, prepare yourself for a reveal. Which means I'll never get around to it. In which case, just ignore this whole paragraph.

Everyone sent me good juju on Thursday, yes? Yes. Thank you! If it all works out, I'll tell you what all your good juju helped me achieve. If not, screw you guys and please go back to juju school because it failed.

My husband is out of town -- AGAIN -- and I have to work a bazillion hours while he's gone. Thankfully my mother-in-law came to watch Emma while I worked this weekend. And I've lined up a babysitter to watch her Monday and Wednesday nights. AND THEN she (Emma, not the babysitter, because wow. that would be weird) and I get on a plane and fly to Massachusetts and await the arrival of my husband via locomotive. At which point I will probably say, "I HAD TO WORK A BAZILLION HOURS THIS WEEK." And he will say, "And whose idea was it to take a second job?" And I will get huffy and storm off. And THAT, my friends and neighbors, is how you make a marriage work.

Let's see, let's see... oh! In happier news, I found an awesome farmer's market. So for all of you locals, Frankfort's market is the shizz.

And now I'm off to eat my dinner (cereal) and go to bed (watch Netflix) and get some good rest (lie awake listening to all the creepy noises my house makes in the dark).

speedy delivery

I don't know if anyone will even see this before Thursday, but in case someone does, a quick request from me:



Please send all good thoughts/vibes/ju-ju my way Thursday afternoon. Er, 3ish CST.



There's something BIG (in a good way, not in a hospital-related-they're-removing-a-vital-organ way) happening on that day and any things you can send across the psychic telephone lines (shut up, Fred) would be awesome.



Updates soon. Promise.

I just checked the calendar

I just checked the calendar so I could post a quick, "Hey, ya'll, only BLANK days until the Mad Men premiere" when I realized that Fred will be out of town on that day. And we'll all be out of town the following weekend. Which means that I'll have to wait an extra three weeks until I can see new episodes. Which caused much hyperventilation and frantic messaging on my part.



(10 days, by the way. 10 days for the rest of you with spouses staying home and cable TV.)



I know I owe you many posts about many things... and all I can say is: too bad.

albatross

So! Still here. Just, uh, strangely busy.

But I managed to finally get some pictures off my camera and phone. Except the Flickr iPhoto updater is a bitch and decided not to keep the pictures together, so I will instead direct you to the sets I painfully created just to keep some semblance of order.

Sigh.

Set the first! Emma's first ballet recital. Uh, two months ago.*

Set the second! The tea party I decided to host during a brief lapse in sanity. Also, I didn't take many pictures so please use your imagination.*

Set the third! In the evening after the tea party my friends threw a totally awesome surprise graduation party for me and totally made me teary. Stupid awesome friends.

Set the fourth! Emma's last day of school.*

AND set the fifth! The park district out here is pretty sweet, and a friend of mine (who works for them) organized a nature walk with a fairy theme. Needless to say, it was a big hit.*

Scattered among the sets are pics of me and Fred taken by Emma, and proof that I don't kill every plant that I come into contact with.

Please to enjoy while I try to recover from the busy-ness.

*Log in to Flickr to see ALL the photos, since, you know, there are other people's kids and other people can be weird about their kids and the interwebs.





Trying a variation on the iTunes-generated title, instead using whatever's currently playing when I start writing. Prepare yourself for lots of posts titled "silence." The Besnard Lakes (via The Current)

home

sick kid

no sleep

lightning all night like a pack of photographers outside my windows

office a disaster

wearing my husband's shirt

admiring my nails

family all together again in T-6 hours

good morning.

i second that emotion

The problem with me ("just ONE?" the chorus sings) is that I make promises I can't follow through on. Redesign! Monkey bread! BIG news!

I'm in a bit of a creative hell hole. I only want to do creative things during that pesky time between, oh, 8am and noon. Which would be fine and dandy except I'm WORKING. On quite substantially NOT creative things. And by the time I get home and the kid goes to bed, I'm overwhelmed by my choices:

"Do I watch Glee?

Or do I update the blog?

Or do I read a book?

Or do I work on those essays?

Or do I edit some video?

Or do I scrap a couple of pages?

Or do I upload some pictures to Flickr?

And when am I going to catch up on Fringe?"

Which leads to "Fuck it. I'm taking a bath and reading my gigantic book*. Good night."

And that is why, when I update my blog from work, it's full of fun sounding things, and by the time I can sit down at my computer and actually, you know, SHARE those things, well, I just don't want to any more.

Tonight's not any different.

I've packed my suitcase. I've packed Emma's suitcase. Fred's packed his suitcase. We depart tomorrow morning at a stupid early hour.

Our sump pump has broken. And been fixed.

Our tires went flat. And are being replaced as I write.

Our will is waning. Also, as is often the case with me, I'm tired.

(The tire thing? Yeah. NOT a metaphor. Like, actual FLAT TIRES. Ha.)

But I will give you something. Not monkey bread. And definitely not a redesign. And probably not a platform migration (seriously, with the link updating? That's gonna take some time). Okay, TWO things:

1) RSS feed. Kind of. Subscribe to my Tumblr feed. It'll tell you when there's a new post here. It'll also share all of my Twitter posts (because I originally set it up as an archive for Twitter... and I'm too lazy to change it right now).

1.5) BONUS SOMETHING! Speaking of Twitter, behold: my husband

2) I got a job. Er, another job. A, uh, second job. At a library. Like, an honest to god library, with books and shit. It's not a librarian position, but I'm at the top of the list. And this library? It's real purty.

*1,074 pages. ONE THOUSAND AND SEVENTY FOUR. Oof.

let's just take a step back. no, i was wrong, i'm sorry, take a step forward.

Big news to come on monkey girl. Okay, not, like, CRAZY big. Not LIFE-CHANGING big. Not even, shake-the-earth-a-teeny-bit big. But, you know, big for me.

Actually, multiple news items are coming down the pike, including:

- Possibility of an RSS fee for this mother, so you can stop randomly checking.

- Site migration to another blog platform, goddess help us all.

- AUTOMATED POSTING, bitchez. I have so so so SO much to tell you that it's just too much for one post, so -- GET THIS -- I'm going to write individual posts and then... wait for it... set them to post automatically. I know. The brilliance. It is mind-blowing.

And let us not forget the aforementioned big-but-not-too-big-let's-not-get-too-crazy-about-this news.

dun dun DUN.

(You guys all got the movie reference in the title, yes? YES? Please say yes so we can still be friends.)

list

Among the things I want to tell you about soon:

• tea parties!


• amazing friends


• me & my black thumb


• finishing school


• exciting library wheelings and dealings


• monkey bread

But before I get to that, I just have to say, you guys? The shoe thing? Is OUT. OF. CONTROL.

coming soon

I'm happy today. Why?

Because last night, after avoiding schoolwork by baking not one but TWO sugariffic items, then watching Flash Forward, and The Office, AND Happy Town, during which I may have poisoned myself with all of that sugarifficness, ending up with a headache and bad mood, I decided this morning to take some ibuprofen and sing Concrete Blonde in the shower, thus resulting in 1) a good mood, and 2) the LONGEST SENTENCE I HAVE EVER WRITTEN, HOLY GOD.

So, kittens, later (tonight, though next week is probably more accurate) I'll have pictures of my sugariffic awesomeness in baking AND LATER later (next year) a Very Special Anniversary Post dedicated to my schmoopikins, Suo Ewan Fred.

(Monday is our wedding anniversary. Seven years. Color me embarrassed when, while visiting with new friends and learning that their anniversary is around the same time, I piped up with "Yes! Eight years for us!" and Fred quietly says, "Seven years." I smiled sheepishly and may have said, "I don't like math.")

And now, I must leave you to do this dreary thing they call "work." Surely there's a better term for it.
Oh, yes.

Torture.

plans

This summer, I will:

take more pictures.

create a craft
space that looks like a candy store.

drink wine with friends.

kiss
my husband without being interrupted.

sit on the beach under a
yellow striped umbrella.

I'm here. Not dead. Not even close.



Well, except I think the canker sore in my mouth might be trying to kill
me. Slowly, but steadily. Little bastard.



So I have two-ish weeks of school left. EVER. That's good.



And I invited a gaggle of 4-year-old girls to our house for tea this
weekend. I have to stop saying "I'm having a tea party" because people
look at me funny and start scoping my car for W bumper stickers. And
then I have to explain, "No, no, a REAL tea party, not those dumbass
fake ones that make no sense." And then they nod and smile and I don't
think they believe me so then I have to propose to them (if they're a
woman) or encourage them to marry their boyfriend (if they're a man)
just so that they'll understand my HIGHLY LIBERAL POLITICAL LEANINGS.
Dammit.



I think I'm a little angry today. See, I'm ashamed of my home state, who
has decided to promote and support racism. Boycotting Arizona seems
like a good idea, except that my mom works there and needs the money and
so instead I'm campaigning to "Move My Parents Out of Arizona."
Contribute to the fund by buying them a house in Illinois.



I'm also angry because I think discrimination of all types in our
country is out of control. I read two separate, unrelated articles about
transgender discrimination and I wanted to punch my computer. People
can be horrid, evil beings. And I feel so powerless. Except that I want
to raise my child to see the differences in people and appreciate them.
And then treat them ALL with respect. Yes, people are different. And
that's a good thing. So that's where I'm going to focus my energies.



I am also angry because of the canker sore on my lip with aspirations of
murder. Fucker.

black tongue

So technically I'm not DONE done. I still have a class. Allegedly.

But I do have all of this supposed free time now. And I have a mental list of everything I want to do in that free time:

• paint my hallway


• install crown moulding in my living room


• sew pillow covers for... uh, pillows. duh


• scrap my life since 2002


• clean. no, really


• print and frame photos for the bedroom


• read a bazillionty books

Instead, I eat pizza flavored goldfish and watch Parenthood on Hulu. And torture my husband.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

um. some other things, too

Hey! My birthday's coming. Also: Mother's Day, wedding anniversary, and Tuesday. See some things I like here. And also, over there on the left.

Above The Failure, AKA I stopped running but I'm starting again on Wednesday and I blame Shannon.

things i want

May 11, 2010

shoe madness by thatmonkeygirl featuring Chinese Laundry shoes

April 12, 2010

So lately I've been feeling the need to look a little more... feminine.

You all know I love Glee, and one of my favorite things is the wardrobe of guidance counselor and clean freak, Emma Pillsbury. While looking for Glee-related gossip to tide me over until the premiere, I found what has become my fashion inspiration: What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear? Through it I've found the best things, including this lovely site called Polyvore, which lets me build the collection you see below.

polka dots and t-straps by thatmonkeygirl featuring Nicole shoes

Right now I'm into t-strap pumps and anything with polka dots. Also: marcasite marcasite marcasite. That watch is from TARGET. $30 -- THIR-TY! HELLO!

Want to look at anything in more detail? Of course you do!

online

Oh. So. Hey.

Good, good. I'm goo--

I'M FINISHED!!

Ahem.

How are you?

gnarls barkley

I was catching up with a friend today and explained that this culminating school project is taking up so much of my mental energy that I can't focus on anything else. Work (as in, the place I go every day and hide at my desk) is exploding and apparently I registered for another class this semester that seems to want me to do things and participate and shit. Also, there are these people who live in my house and I feel like I should pay some attention to them. One of them is cute, and I get the feeling that he's hitting on me, and the other one keeps calling me "Mommy" and I keep looking behind me to figure out who she's talking to. Because me? I can't be mommy right now. Or wife. Or quasi-program coordinator who nods and says, "Yes! Sure!" to more work. I can't even be healthy right now.

In 10 days... TEN... I will be done with this. And I can get back to my life. And my brain.

I hope those people who live in my house are still there when this is done. They seem like nice people.

firmly planted in the year two thousand and... uh... what year is it again?

About that eBay thing --

On Saturday, Shannon graciously agreed to come with me to Archiver's, aka Mecca of Scrappers, to see demos of some die-cut machines. This was after an exercise class that left my biceps so sore that for the next three days I walked around with my arms bent like a Barbie. The pain when I tried to straighten my arms was too much, too much, I tell you. (It also didn't help that I took a nap on Sunday afternoon and when I woke up I had a sore throat and a runny nose, and about 5 hours later, a fever joined the party, and I spent the next two days in bed moaning. I feel better now, and have taken my moaning to the office.)

(This is a long one... continued after the jump.)

So Shannon -- who doesn't scrap and was being an awesome sport by agreeing to go -- and I went and looked at adorable sticker sets and pretty patterned paper and by the time we left (after dark cherry mochas OMG you must go get one of these right now, AND a trip to Costco where we had too much fun laughing at kids' books and looking at teeny onesies) I had decided I wanted -- nay, NEEDED -- a die-cut machine.

If you're not familiar with these little wonders, let me briefly explain: you decide that you would like to cut a butterfly shape out of some paper. But your tracing skills are crap and your cutting skills are worse. Enter the die-cut machine. Load a cartridge, press a button, insert the paper, and a little paper crafting fairy flies out of the machine with the tiniest scissors you've ever seen and cuts a perfect butterfly out of your paper.

Okay, not really. But for the price of one of these, I EXPECT a fairy. 

Let's back up a step:

About a month or so ago, I came home and asked Fred if I could quit my job. I know, I see you rolling your eyes. "Oh, this AGAIN?" Yes, this again. And we sat down and talked honestly and frankly about our expenses and our income and we saw that we could in fact manage on Fred's pay alone. And then he said, "But you'd have to give up your phone," and I said, "Never mind."

But that discussion led to further discussions about how unhappy we've been with how we spend, and stuff, and excess, and let's see if we can cut back. Fred calls it that, I call it living simply, because that makes my  brain hurt less and I can pretend it's fun and full of calming colors and a Martha Stewart voiceover. We budgeted (and budgeted) and began our new simple lives. We would examine each purchase carefully.

So... fast forward -- er, or rewind, I'm not really sure where we are anymore -- to this past weekend, when I decided that my life would not be complete without a die-cut machine. But this purchase did not fit into our new simple plan. At least, not at the retail price point. Enter... eBay!

Somehow, in the span of two short hours, I bid on three separate auctions, each time getting outbid faster than I could type the numbers. It was... addictive. Ahem. Fred was getting antsy (the last time I participated in any sort of auction we ended up spending a gazillion dollars for a tour of a garden, so, uh, yeah). I figured out the whole automatic bidding deal, set my top amount for an auction set to expire an hour in the future, and went to watch Mad Men and drink martinis. Out of our Man Men glasses, of course.

During a break between episodes, I casually wandered upstairs to check on the auction. And I had lost. Been outbid. BY A DOLLAR. It was a Price is Right episode gone bad. And just like that, I was on a mission. Which is funny, since these things are typically sold by Mormons. Get it? Mission? Ha ha?

Fred, however, was not amused. Because now his wife was trolling eBay auctions trying to score a fairy-powered machine that typically costs roughly a fifth of our mortgage payment. So he talked me into only bidding on one more auction, one that would expire early in the morning. And implored me to please, walk away from the computer.

And that explains why, in the middle of baking those cinnamon roll things (which, by the way, I would suggest using TWO cans of crescent rolls and cut each spiral roll into four), I was frantically checking on the status of that auction. That I WON. SUCKERS.

Which allowed me purchase a die-cut machine for nearly half the price. (I went with the smaller, cheaper model that wasn't such a significant portion of our monthly budget. Even with the discount, that one was still obscenely expensive.)

I don't know when it's going to arrive, but when it does, prepare yourself for an onslaught of butterfly-shaped paper cut outs. Courtesy of my very own paper fairy.

what i did this morning, and you can too.

Grab one of these. Yeah, yeah, yummy preservatives.

Melt some butter in the microwave (this is 1.5 T). Unless you're Katie. Then keep your butter far away from the microwave.

While it melts, go check on your new obsession, eBay auctions (eeeeeeee!!!).

After you unroll your preservative-laden crescent rolls, slather them with melted butter.

Then sprinkle with cinnamon. Like, a LOT of cinnamon.

Look forlornly at your broken sugar thingie. Oh, poor sugar... thingie.

Sprinkle sugar over the cinnamon, then drizzle the rest of the melted butter on top of that. And you're done! Bon appetit!

Okay, not really. Roll up the little bundles of buttery goodness. Grab some floss (NOT mint flavored, because eeewww), and use that to slice the dough.

Lay them in a baking dish (I probably could have gotten a few more out of this but the first couple were really thick). Bake according to package directions. Then keep baking because they'll still be raw in the middle.

Mmm. Drizzle with a glaze that you whipped up but didn't take a picture of (milk, powdered sugar, and a splash of vanilla).

Feed to kid who has been asking all morning where the freaking cinnamon rolls are already. Jeez, woman. Get off eBay and make me some breakfast!

And lastly, squeeee! I won the auction. I'm now the proud owner of something that I'll tell you about later. Oooh, the suspense.

 
 

struggling

You guys. It's sunny outside. For real. AND WARM. It's like bonus day. Not like bogus day when it looks bright and sunny and you step out, lured by the rays and the yellow and the sunniness, only to be stricken by cold. Bitter, freezing, tooth-achingly cold.

No! It's not that at all!

So I'm sitting here at my desk, in the middle of the afternoon --

[blah blah Emma's spring break, going to daycare, which means I get to work four full days this week and next, Fridays off for lounging working on culminating project for graduation]

-- and it occurred to me that there is so much I've been wanting to tell you.

You know how I have two names? And it makes me feel like I totally live this double life? I'm really feeling that double life thing right now.

Carolyn is a mom, wife and library school student slacker, who goes to work every day and comes home and watches TV and doesn't do her homework.

But Nina... well. For the past month or so, Nina has been slyly creeping back into a world she thought she'd left behind: the scrapbooking world. Once occupied only by Mormons and soccer moms, the scrapbooking world has changed quite a bit since Nina was last in it. Well, there's still a lot of talk about journaling and embellishments but now there's the Internet (please say that in your head with a big booming voice). Nina has discovered a virtual crafty world that is filled with such amazing stuff, she's actually considering dusting off her sewing machine. Gasp!

I am consumed by this stuff. It's so... sparkly... and pretty... and wow. Okay, not ALL of it. I mean, there's a fair amount of crap out there too. But every day I see at least five new things that make me smile. And that's a lot.

So I've made a deal with myself: finish the schoolwork and then I can start this new thing. No crafting, no scrapping, no sewing, nothing, until it's done. Which, frankly, is making me miserable. I daydream all the time about colors and shapes and paper textures and wall paints. And I'm hoping that the misery will translate into motivation.

do we really need to monkey around with this title business?

Oh.

Hey.

So, damn. I meant to post something in February just to, know, have something for that month. But stupid February with its not-enough-days.

It's time for the annual "Fred's at LPSC and I'm all alone" whinefest. This year's entry is brought to you by Xanax -- if I had some, I'd be doing a lot better.

Remember last year? When my kid stopped breathing and I called for an ambulance and she was fine but then in the middle of the night I thought I was dying? Remember? Boy, DO I! This week is the first week that Fred's been out of town since then. Ok, there was that little trip to France, but he left like 5 days after I was in the hospital so I think I was technically still in shock and it doesn't count.

ANYWAY.

After months of therapy and deep breathing exercises and medication and herbal tea, I had those pesky panic attacks under control. Anxiety be gone! And then Fred packed his suitcase (really, all by himself. Cute, right?) and we took him to the airport and went grocery shopping and I chopped up something like two dozen carrots for the week's lunches and we met Shannon and Nathan for playtime and dinner. Awesome! And that night I climbed into bed, and promptly had a panic attack. After a long time, I fell asleep. Emma woke me up calling to fix her covers. I stumbled into her room, pulled up the sheets, and stumbled back to bed when, yes, panic attack # 2 struck. And let's repeat that whole thing one more time for a grand total of THREE PANIC ATTACKS. The last one was the worst, and I had to really talk myself down off the ceiling. I turned on the light to read my book. I went and checked my email (kind of hoping to see someone in Gmail chat even though it was two in the morning). And about two hours before I had to get up, I fell back asleep.

On Monday, I resolved to have a different experience because, really, that sucked. And it was making me hate my bed, and you guys? I just got new bedding and it's super cute and I love it and I don't want to hate my bed right now. So I drank my hippie tea and I made sure to do some work that had been stressing me out and I took a hot bubble bath and ate a granola bar and then, ready for this MINDBLOWING solution? I didn't read my book. My book about kidnapping. Instead, I put a podcast on my phone and fell asleep to hipster humor.

Last night? An even better idea. Instead of Ira Glass (who, don't get me wrong, I adore), I loaded up a Neil Gaiman audiobook, narrated by Neil himself.

Yes. Yes it would.

photo courtesy of http://twitpic.com/photos/bstiteler

definition

irony

–noun, plural -nies.

def.: Watching Hoarders while sitting at this nightmare and still managing to feel smug.

 

Thankfully, a quick trip to IKEA and now I can watch the show comfortably secure in the knowledge that, yeah, I threw most of that shit away.

the goofy is kind of a permanent state

Random bits of goodness for you:

- Yesterday was my dad's 60th birthday. Yes, that's right. SIXTY. Happy birthday, OLD MAN. Heh.

-
I went to my exercise class last night. No, no. Let me rephrase. I
braved blowing snow and treacherous road conditions to work out. Yeah,
that sounds better. I had this refrain going through my head during the
class: Fuck you, depression. It worked. A little. I only had two
handfuls of chocolate chips when I got home.


What? I was hungry.

- Does anyone still watch Fringe? Anyone? Okay, then. Just checking.

-
Wait, wait. How about Gray's Anatomy? I have a bazillion episodes
sitting on my TiVo and I just can't bring myself to sit on our KICK ASS
AWESOME NEW COUCH and watch them.


- Yes. I just cheaply and lamely used a melodramatic soap opera as a way to bring up our KICK ASS AWESOME NEW COUCH.

-
So, ahem, today marks the beginning of My Last Semester of Graduate
School. Hooray, right? Right. Except the last class I chose to take
(which, mind you, I chose because I actually thought I would learn
something, rather than just picking the class that I could cruise
through because, I mean, I am PAYING for this degree, right?) has
biweekly online class meetings on Tuesday nights at 10. PM. At night.
When the sun is no longer shining. Mandatory. Meetings.


- Shannon sent me a link to a spa in Wisconsin (I know... the
jokes, they just write themselves), and at this spa you can get, are
you ready for this? A massage with TWO masseuses. And it's 90 minutes.
So for an hour and a half, two people rub you stupid. Don't ask how
much it costs. It's too depressing. Just sit and imagine being rubbed
by four hands for nearly two hours. Unless that kind of stuff creeps
you out. In which case just sit and imagine something totally harmless
and benign. Like... tongue depressors.

126 days until june

Yesterday, it felt like spring here. Well, as much as it can feel like spring in January. In northern Illinois.



It wasn't sunny and warm. We didn't immediately put on shorts and run
outside. In fact, it was cloudy and gray and the lights were on in the
house most of the day just so we would avoid walking into furniture in
the dark. At noon.



But the temperature was well above freezing, and rain from the night
before had washed away most of the snow and left the air smelling
fresh. Emma and Fred went for a (still relatively bundled up) walk and
I opened up the windows and cleaned like I hadn't cleaned in months.
Scrubbing floors and vacuuming dark, dusty corners and polishing
furniture.



The last couple of weeks my mind has taken its cue from the weather.
Despite the fancy pill I pop every night (ostensibly prescribed to keep
my heart rate down but I think my doctor just told me that and instead
was thinking, "Please, just take this and shut UP about your anxiety
attacks), which for the past few months has helped keep the gloomies
away, they snuck back. And that made me sad. Which, already kind of
being sad, only made me sadder, and well, I think you see how this is
headed.



I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. I slept a lot. I read a lot. I
ate chocolate chips by the handful out of a giant bag from Costco. I
drank a fair amount of wine. I skipped all my exercise classes. And it
sucked.



And then yesterday, it went away. As I cleaned, I realized something
had changed because, hello, I do NOT clean when I'm depressed. After
cleaning I flopped on the couch and watched some football and had my
kid bring me food from her restaurant (she's a chef at Chili's, in case
you wondered). And I thought, good. Gone.



This morning the temperature has plummeted and it's snowing outside. Damn those gloomies and their insistence on coming back.