Important Life Questions

I took the light rail home tonight. I wrote a long explanation of why, but it was really boring, and you don't care.

The guy across from me was wearing a bike helmet. Is it just me, or would you wait until you got to your stop to put on the helmet? Maybe the bike next to him wasn't his, and he was just wearing the helmet because he was worried about light rail safety.

In July, I was on the light rail and was seated behind a homeless man holding a jar on his lap. The jar was like the kind I imagine you could buy at CostCo if you wanted to buy 10 gallons of mayonnaise. He was just sitting there with this giant jar on his lap, and I could kind of see the contents. It looked like the jar contained severed fingers. I was concerned. Then the man opened the jar and pulled something out, and I was almost too scared to look. But he had just pulled a sandwich out of the jar. A normal sandwich, not one made of severed fingers, in case you were worried. I shared this story in the comments of Lawyerish's site a long time ago, and it freaked her out a little bit.*

I had totally forgotten about this story until today. Lawyerish sent me a normal e-mail that ended with, apropos of nothing, "Every once in a while I think of the guy with the sandwich in a jar and I shudder." And I knew what she was talking about, and I laughed. But then a partner walked past my office, so I put on my serious, contemplative face.

*Actually, I left a comment, but then it disappeared, but I see that it has now magically reappeared. Weird.

*****

Hollowsquirrel posted a survey the other day. Her theory was that the answers to two questions are a good predictor of whether she will like you in real life. Her two questions:

1. Elvis or the Beatles?
2. Charlie or Bailey?

If you do not know that Charlie and Bailey refer to members of the Salinger family on Party of Five, then why are you even reading this because you are dead to me? Just kidding. Sort of.

I checked out Hollowsquirrel's site again today, and she had graphed the results of the survey. I was the only one who picked Bailey!** I don't understand! Why does Bailey get no love? Why am I all alone?

So I am going to conduct my own survey. Yes, there are correct and incorrect answers. It doesn't matter whether you are male, female, gay, straight, young, or old. The correct answers are the same. So, here it is:

1. Kenny Rogers or Dolly Parton?
2. Noel or Ben?

If enough people answer, I shall tally the results for you.

** Hollowsquirrel has updated her chart to show that I do have one friend. Yay!

You Can Find Me In the Club, Bottle Full of Bub

Metalia recently wrote a post about her mad dancing skillz, or lack thereof. It reminded me that in college, I used to go out dancing on occasion. This was during my "Boys Will Only Like You If You Dress Kind of Slutty" phase. I like to think all females go through such a phase. Maybe some people are able to bypass this phase and go straight to normalcy, I am not sure. Luckily, my BWOLYIYDKoS phase was short-lived and was confined to when I was "going out."

Exhibit A is a picture of my friends and I sophomore year of college, getting ready to go out to a club. (I say "a club" as though there was more than one club in the city where I went to college. There was not.)

I am the one on the left. First, please note that I am about 6 inches shorter than all my friends. Why do I always have tall friends? Second, you will see that I am a fan of the v-neck; the bigger, the better. Third, what the heck did I do to my hair? It is so poofy! Fourth, I do believe you are seeing the entire skirt in this picture. It was pretty tiny. Fifth, dressing like this did not get me a single guy, so don't bother trying this at home.

Exhibit B demonstrates that I also enjoyed dressing as a young farm girl.

Here I am wearing overalls. This is the most flattering picture of me in overalls that I could find, but unfortunately, there are multiple pictures of me wearing these overalls. I have scanned this with a scrap of paper covering my face because my glasses were embarrassingly nerdy and I can't get the photo-editing thingamajig to work anymore. At least I was not wearing shortalls. Even I had to draw the line somewhere.

Exhibit C really is not related except that it was also taken sophomore year of college.

My roommate and I had huge crushes on this guy. He was a friend of a friend, so we went to all the same parties and hung out at his apartment and such. I do have some funny stories about him, but I feel like I am invading his privacy enough by posting this picture of him in which he looks totally stoned. But in all fairness, he probably was stoned. I was quite willing to overlook that fact though, as hotness basically radiated from his pores. I have no idea why there was a traffic cone in this apartment.

Can you tell I still have writer's block? Aargh.

Why Am I Admitting This?

The other day, when I was driving to the bus stop, I was thinking about my friends. I was thinking about who I can really count on, and who I wouldn't trust with the really important things. (Not that I am the greatest friend ever. I have owed my friend something like $45 since July. I finally sent her the money last Monday. I do feel really bad about it, if that makes my forgetfulness and laziness any better, which it doesn't. And I did send her some extra money to make up for my freaking 6 months of laziness.) Anyway, I was thinking about my friends. And I thought, "If H died, who would I call and ask to come stay with me, and who would actually come and sleep on H's side of the bed and listen to me cry?" Obviously, I would call my family, but next I would call my two best friends, and I know that they would fly to Minnesota as soon as they could. And then I almost started weeping in my car because I was thinking about what would happen if H died. And I thought, "I cannot keep thinking about this because this is really weird and morbid. Also, I actually wore mascara today, and I do not want to be the scary person on the bus with raccoon eyes."

So I turned on NPR and listened to the news for a few minutes, and the weeping was avoided. As soon as I got to work, I called H to make sure he had gotten to work safely because I was a little freaked out that either (1) my thinking about his death had caused him to die or (2) the reason I was thinking about his death was that I sensed he had died. I am not normally superstitious, but I managed to freak myself out a little bit. And of course, H was not there when I called. I reminded myself that I was being stupid, and I talked to H later that morning, and he was fine.

I am not sure what the point of this story is except that it clearly shows that I can be a neurotic freak from time to time. And also that I love H despite the fact that he told me today I was dressed really sloppily, and when I said, "I know," he said, "I am so glad you didn't overreact to that like you normally do." I kind of love that he says these stupid things, and they make me laugh instead of annoying me.

Also, I love and trust my friends and am so lucky to have them in my life. Living so far from both of them is hard, and I have not made calling them and e-mailing them one of my top priorities. I need to change that and make sure that I do a better job keeping in touch with them, and not just when I need to vent. I think my (belated) resolution for this year is to be a better friend.

Sometimes I Don't Know What to Do With Him

I am going to be editing this site today and trying to fix the template, so if you have Bloglines or Google reader and see that I have a lot of new posts, don't get too excited.

In the meantime, let me give you another reason why H is so great. I was talking to H on the phone yesterday while we were both at work. I told him that I had taken a shower Friday morning but hadn't washed my hair. H acted disgusted and asked why. I told him I hadn't had enough time to dry and style it. H responded, "It's not like it takes that long to style a bowl cut."

At least it was better than the time he referred to an ex-girlfriend as "the one that got away." And then when I was pissed off, he said, "It's not like I can contact her. I don't even know her phone number anymore!" After about 30 minutes of scrambling, he was finally able to dig himself out of that hole. Oh, H.

I Want To Be All That I Can Be, But Without Any Sweating

As you may have noticed, I am suffering from writer's block this week. The suffering is so great that when I remembered I had to go to this fancy work reception today, I thought, "Maybe I'll do something awkward and then I can write about it!" That is just so wrong. But funny. Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for you, it was fine and I did not embarrass myself. I was forced to talk to my nemesis though. He is still my nemesis, but that is all I will say about that... for now.

Do you guys really not have nemeses? (I looked up the plural of "nemesis" in the dictionary, and it is "nemeses." Really. Although that could be wrong because my dictionary is not all that great. The University of Nebraska sent it to me when I was in high school in the hopes that a big red dictionary with a giant N on the front and my name engraved on it would make me want to go there. The school's plan did not work.) I think you guys should each get a nemesis. Please report back on your nemesis-finding progress. Thanks.

So, speaking of college recruitment (???) ... When I was in high school (ten years ago!), I got a call from a super-determined military recruiter. He went on and on about the benefits of joining the military. He said I could go to school for free. I responded by telling him that I already had a full college scholarship. He said I could learn great skills. I told him I could learn great skills at college (drinking and making out with lame boys). He said I could get "on-the-job" training. I said I could do internships. He said I could travel the world. I said I could study abroad. The recruiter talked to me for about 15 minutes, and I could not get rid of him.

Finally, I said to him, "Here's the thing. I don't like physical activity."

He said, "... Thanks for your time," and hung up.

My mom, who had been listening to my half of the conversation, laughed so hard that she cried. (But it is true! I don't like physical activity!)

***

I asked H if he is ready to do his guest post yet. He said that I have not hyped it enough. I asked him how much was enough, and he said that I must create a frenzy of hype. Are you feeling the frenzy? Please say yes. I do think H's post will be awesome. He is an excellent writer and makes me laugh every single day. FRENZY!

Random Stuff Because I Have Nothing to Write About

MY BLOG IS TAKING OVER MY LIFE.

Today, on the way to and from work, I listened to a cd that Guinness Girl made and sent me. She decorated the cds all cutely and sent a super cute card with them. I heart GG. And on Thursday night, Stefanie and I are going to meet up for drinks. It should be fun.

Am I pathetic? It is ok to have blog friends, right? Right. Ok. Well, if you are reading this, then you are probably not an objective observer. And if you say that it is not ok, then why are you reading this?

I am still feeling a little nerdy about having a blog. And it is getting harder to hide my blog from some friends. I am not ready to break down and tell them about it yet. Although when I do, they will wonder why I didn't tell them about this FOR OVER A YEAR. Oh well.

***

UMMM... YEAH

I have nothing to write about right now. Unless you want to read about my trip to Jamba Juice today. One of the assistants at work gave me a coupon for a free "lite" drink at Jamba Juice, so I got one today. (A lesson for all of you: be nice to the assistants. Some of them have mean bosses, and then they will give you free coupons and stuff instead of giving them to their bosses because you are awesome. I have had so many free coffees - and now juice - this way! Or maybe I am just pathetic and the assistants feel bad for me. No, I prefer to go with my first theory.) The Jamba Juice was ok, but Intajuice is way better.

***

RANDOM NEWS FROM APPROXIMATELY 1992

My family was a Nielsen ratings family for a week in about 1991. We had to keep track of what we watched on tv and mark it down in these Nielsen-provided notebooks. It was not that exciting, and in fact, I think I lied about what I watched to make myself seem cooler. I was probably watching 5 hours of "Hey Dude" a week, but instead, I wrote that I was watching "Twin Peaks."

I Could Not Make This Up If I Tried

In law school, I lived on the top floor of a small apartment building. It was a great apartment, especially because most of my neighbors were quiet medical students.

At first, the person who lived right below me was a female med student. I never heard her except on Saturday afternoons. She would clean with the music cranked up, and she would sing along at the top of her lungs. She was not a great singer, but I liked her taste in music, and the singing didn't bother me.

Before my last year of law school, the loud singer moved out, and a male med student moved in. I occasionally saw him when we were both getting the mail at the same time, but that was the only way I even knew someone was living in the apartment. Then second semester, I got a new schedule and didn't have class until 10:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. One Tuesday morning, I woke at about 9 am to the sounds of really loud sex. There was moaning, there was yelling, there was headboard banging... for about 5 seconds. It was about time for me to get up anyway, so I got out of bed and started picking out what I was going to wear that day. And then I heard another sound coming from downstairs. The sound of banjo music.

Some people like to cuddle after sex. Some people like to take a shower. My neighbor liked to play the banjo.

(I do not think it was a recording because the banjo player kept messing up.)

I was not treated to the banjo sex every Tuesday, thank goodness, but it did occur a few more times. The girlfriend must have moved in with the med student because I saw her one time when I was getting the mail, and she also had a key to the mailbox. It was a girl with whom I had gone to high school. I pretended I had no idea who she was because all I could think was "banjo sex." I was very worried I would have one of those moments where you try so hard not to say something that you blurt it out. "Hey, Valerie. Good to see you again. So how's the banjo sex going? I mean... Gotta go!" followed by me sprinting up to my apartment.

Snow Day

It is snowing again today.





The snow makes me want to cuddle up with a few good books. (The picture below shows the results of Saturday's trip to the library. There is a reading club going on: for every book you read, you get entered into a prize drawing. Plus you get a little notebook, a thing of hot chocolate, a piece of Dove chocolate - not pictured as it was eaten immediately - and a bookmark. Dorky, but I love prizes.)

I am also frantically trying to finish this baby blanket for Schneids. I started it in September, but it is taking forever, despite the fact that it is not even complicated. It is green because the nursery has a jungle theme. Hopefully I can finish this in the next six weeks.

Super Professional!

My nemesis is a guy I work with who I will call John. John is actually a pretty sucky nemesis because I don't know him very well. John is about my age, I think, and that's pretty much all I know. He started at my office about a year after I started, but we were never introduced. We are both in the same general group and have the same job title, but we have different bosses and are on different floors. So anyway, one day, not long after John first started, I saw him in the hallway and said hi. He totally ignored me. It was kind of weird, but not really a big deal.

A few weeks later, I went to lunch with a group of about 12 people. John was one of the 12. We were standing around, waiting for the last few stragglers, and I happened to be next to John. We were facing each other. I said, "Hi, John. I don't think we have ever officially been introduced. I'm -R-." John looked right at me, turned around, and started talking to the person behind him.

That was the last (and really only the second) straw. John became my nemesis. I have seen John many times since he became my nemesis, and he has never once acknowledged me. It is pretty hilarious.

My friend at work and I always report to each other each time we run into my nemesis. John actually talks to my friend, so my friend lords it over me, as though being acknowledged by John is some great accomplishment.

Today, John sent an e-mail to everyone in our group asking if anyone had this work-related book he needed. I had a book in my office on the same subject, though it wasn't the book for which John was searching. I wrote an e-mail to my friend that said, "I have a book on the same subject that my nemesis is researching. But I'm not going to tell him. Take that!"

And then I sent the e-mail to my boss instead of my friend. Then I crawled under my desk, curled up in a little ball, and died.



Actually, then I called my friend and told him what I had done, and we laughed for a really long time because apparently we both enjoy my total humiliation. My boss later replied to my e-mail with, "Did you mean to send this to me?" I wrote back, "What?" So I guess my strategy is to pretend I am hard-of-hearing via e-mail. I do not know how this strategy could fail.

Lazy Post

The skating rink we went to on Friday had the normal features of a skating rink: (1) a rink, (2) carpeted DJ booth, (3) crazy carpet decorated with what I like to call party sprinkles (pictured below), and (4) 40-year-old men in tank tops. But it also had

what appears at first glance to be a regular fish tank. "That's not very weird," you say. But look!

That fish freaks me the heck out. I can't believe I am even putting a picture of it on my own blog because it freaks me out so much.

What does not freak me out? A picture of H on skates.


And here is a picture of us doing our patented skating move.

Notice how we only try this when not moving.


But really, you want to know what my front steps look like after it snows, don't you? Ok, I will show you.


So we didn't leave the house on Monday, but not because of the snow. It was because of this.

The Wii! Some friends actually came over and tested out the Wii with us, but I don't have their permission to post their pictures, so here is another picture of H.



In other news, I have gotten hundreds of e-mails (where hundreds = zero) asking me what H is going to post about. I don't know! Will it be about H's boyfriends Eddie Vedder and Clive Owen? Will it be about why he is mean and wouldn't let me read jury questionnaires? Or will it be about him making fun of me because my arm hurts from playing with the Wii yesterday? It is yet to be determined! But hopefully it will be coming soon.

Weekend in Review

I really cannot describe the skating event better than Stefanie, so check out her review, complete with pictures here. We had a good time, and Stefanie's friends were very cool. And no one fell! It was quite the accomplishment. But I said I wasn't going to describe it, so what am I doing? I didn't take as many pictures as Stefanie did, but perhaps I will share a few tomorrow.

In completely random news, we are getting a Wii tomorrow. H has been wanting a Wii since they came out before Christmas, but he did not want to sleep outside a store all night to get one, nor did he want to pay too much on eBay for one. So he asked his mom and some friends to keep their eyes open for one, and H's mom found one at the ShopKo near his hometown. Score! H's mom is going to be in town for work tomorrow, so she is bringing the Wii with her. Thus, H will probably not be leaving the house tomorrow. But it snowed all day today anyway, so we probably weren't going to go out anyway, except to actually use the new snowblower for the first time.

What else is going on? We are going to have a Super Bowl party at our house. If you are reading this, you are probably invited. (Brianne and Stefanie, this means you.) Our friend was going to host a party but realized that his apartment could not hold the number of people he wanted to invite. Since we also know the people he was inviting, we offered to host the party. Plus, we have a grill. And a KitchenAid.

To come: pictures of rollerskating, pictures of the Wii, and hopefully a blog post by H. If you want H to post, please mention this in a comment because I think he needs some encouragement.

Who Ya Gonna Call?

I think my blog looks somewhat better. I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to blog design. I just delete code, see what the blog looks like, put the code back, see what it looks like, etc. As far as I can tell, it looks normal on Internet Explorer and still a little weird on Firefox. If you have another browser, good luck with that.

***

Tomorrow night, I am going roller skating with Stefanie (and H and some other people). Roller skating with your blog friend: does it get much nerdier than that? I hope not. On Friday nights, the rink is open only to 25-year-olds and up, so it should be a good time. Hopefully, there will be a few couple skates! I am going to request the song that goes, "Doctor, doctor, give me the news! I've got a [beat] bad case of loving you!" Not because of Stefanie, but just because I always used to skate to that song at elementary school birthday parties. That and "Ghostbusters."

Yesterday, I linked to Stefanie's post about a pre-wedding kickball game, but I think a pre-wedding roller skating party would be so much better! Partly because although I would probably fall while roller skating, there would be fewer shouts of "No bunting!" If any engaged people are reading this and want me to plan a pre-wedding roller event for them, let me know.

***

I just remembered that when I was in high school, I attended a skating party. We thought we were so cool for being intentionally dorky or something. And we all paired up with random people for couple skates and then couple-skated overdramatically (complete with sweeping arm gestures). It was so much fun. Is it good or bad that I am exactly the same as I was when I was 16? And why do I appear to be obsessed with couple-skating?

Freaking Geniuses

Stories I Already Told In the Comment Sections of Other People's Blogs Because I Cannot Make Myself Shut Up Sometimes:

1. I actually drew a cartoon to illustrate this story, but my scanner won't scan it. Aargh. This is a story from Stefanie's comment section.

When I was in the fifth grade, I decided to play kickball at recess one day. Why? I am not sure. I am horribly coordinated and slow (a very sporty combination).

It was my turn to kick and the pitcher rolled the ball to me. I kicked it as hard as I could. The ball flew through the air... for about two feet.

"No bunting!" yelled the first baseman.

"That's cheating!" yelled the pitcher.

"No bunting! No bunting!" chorused the other team.

The sad part is that I had kicked the ball as hard as I could. To save face, I said, "Sorry! I didn't know there was no bunting!" I had to kick again, and it didn't go any farther. The pitcher looked at me with such pity. And I have never played kickball since.



2. And now a story from Laurie's comment section.

H and I went to DSW or Famous Footwear or something along those lines to buy shoes. When we got to the cash register, the cashier asked us for our zip code.

I said my work zip code. "Wait, I don't think that's right," I said. "H, what's our zip code?"

H said a 5 digit sequence that was most definitely not our zip code.

"That's not right," I said. I suggested a different zip code.

"Oh my God," H said. "I can't believe you don't know our zip code!"

"You don't know our zip code either," I told him.

"Yes, I do! It's xxxxx!" H insisted.

"That is not our zip code!" I said.

The cashier, a high school girl, looked at us like we were the most annoying customers she had ever seen. Do people not normally get into fights about their zip codes at the shoe store?

After further argument, we just gave the cashier 5 random numbers, paid for our shoes, and finally left the store.

When we got to the car, H checked his driver's license, and we discovered that we were both wrong about our zip code. We are freaking geniuses.

Clothes and Stuff

I actually think I looked cute today. I wore the new brown shoes, which made me ridiculously happy.

I realize that I do not actually look happy in the above picture, but I felt like a dork smiling at myself in the picture. Plus, it took a lot of concentration to keep the camera steady.

Yesterday, I tried out the red shoes. They were fantastic. And I realized that I bought every single item worn in this picture on sale over the last year or two. I am such a bargain hunter!


Even these cute knee-highs were purchased on sale! (The fact that I wrote "knee-highs" makes me sound 80, doesn't it?)


So yeah, there's really a lot going on right now, as you can tell.

***

Some days the urge to write about forbidden topics is so strong that I can barely resist. But I must. I am a new, strong person who works out several times a week, watches what she eats, and limits her blog commenting to a reasonable amount. Let's see how long this lasts. Except the diet and exercise had better last for a little while because at this point I have exactly two pairs of pants that still fit me. And the problem with the rest of my pants is not that they are too baggy. Quite the opposite. Yikes.

I was at a work event recently, and I realized that I was one of the chubbiest people in the room. And although I am chubby based on what I normally weigh (and what size I normally wear), I am not an especially chubby person. I think the law, and large or large-ish law firms, attract people who are intense about everything they do. They work for 12 or more hours, and then they go work out. They are perfectionists who have to do their best, look their best, be their best.

That's not to say all lawyers at large-ish law firms are perfectionists. But I think a good percentage of lawyers are. The law is a Type A profession. I am Type A compared to the average person, but compared to some lawyers, I am a lazy, lazy slacker. And I'm ok with that.

I am still trying to figure out if I fit in and if I want to fit in. It is frustrating some days, but overall I am doing ok. I don't want to speak for H, but I think he is kind of going through the same thing. Is this a pre-30s crisis? Or is it that we have finally been out of law school for a few years, and kind of know what we are doing, so now we have the breathing room to ask if this is what we actually want to be doing?

So yeah, that was really random. I will try to write more about Guitar Hero in the future.

***

I realize that I have screwed up the template of this blog somehow, but I will work on it tomorrow.

Yes, I am Nosey

What is the point of having a husband who gets to do cool things like select the members of a jury if he won't let you read the questionnaires potential jury members fill out?

Sure, it is nice to have a husband who is ethical and takes his job and the privacy of others seriously, blah, blah, blah... I want to read those questionnaires!

My Weekend Quest

So I tried to buy Purse #2 online. Notice the use of the word "tried." I received an e-mail the next day telling me that the purse I wanted was not in stock. On Saturday, I went to the Mall of America, and I saw the purse at Bloomingdale's! It was on the 40% Sale table, so H and I calculated and determined that it was being offered for the same price as online. Score! So I brought it to the saleswoman, who rang up my card, and then asked me to sign the little electronic box. Except it showed up as $400!

"Excuse me," I said to the saleswoman, "but this says $400."

"Yes," the saleswoman answered.

"The purse was on the sales table, and it was being offered on Furla's website for $185."

The saleswoman checked with someone else, and came back and told me that the purse was $400. So I told her that I didn't want it, she cancelled the transaction, and we left the store.

Aargh.

To console myself, I went to a shoe store. I have been looking for a cute pair of brown shoes I can wear to work that aren't too high. All the cute shoes I find have 3-inch heels, which = No. I found the perfect brown shoes on clearance. I tried them on. Perfect, perfect, perfect.



The saleswoman rung up the shoes, and I gave her my card. Declined.

Noooooooooooooooooooo.

The $400 charge at Bloomingdale's was showing up on my account, although there really was no charge, so I could not buy anything else on my personal account (H and I share a joint account and then each have small personal accounts) until the stupid purse non-charge disappeared. As H was paying for my shoes (how embarrassing), the bank called my cell phone. Good to know that if someone has stolen my credit card, the bank will notify me after the thief has spent all my money and my card is declined.*

So then I went to another shoe store and bought a pair of red shoes on clearance. I love the after-Christmas sales.


I saw so many good deals. A black Monsac purse at Nordstrom's was originally over $300, on sale for $150. I wanted it so badly (bad? badly?). The purse wasn't exactly what I wanted, but the savings! Oh, the savings! Luckily, my true stingy nature won out, and I reminded myself that it's not worth $150 if it's not exactly what I want.

I did in fact find another purse online that is PERFECT and in my price range, so maybe someday, when I can actually use my bank card, I will buy it, and maybe it will even be in stock. A girl can dream.



*I do appreciate the amazingly quick response.

Project 365 Update

How is Project 365 going, you ask? Well, let me show you.

January 4, 2007



January 5, 2007



January 6, 2007




I have been taking a lot more pictures this week than I normally take, which I have actually (and surprisingly) enjoyed.

I documented our trip to the Mall of America. (We live about 20 minutes away, so it's not like this was some big event.)


And here are images capturing our inaugural use of the KitchenAid mixer. (You wouldn't know from looking at these pictures, but H asked me to photograph him. He likes to pose as though I am forcing him to be in pictures.)

Bears on Leashes

I have not been responding to individual comments recently. Does that annoy you? Do you even go back to look at the comments on posts you've already commented on? I usually like bloggers to respond to my comments, but I suck at responding on my own blog. Sorry about that. And yet, I am not going to respond to the individual comments on my last post because there are too many. Yay!

My coworker's husband has to go on a business trip to the city where I went to college, so she asked if I had any recommendations for restaurants and such. Because I am a freak, I sent her a list of 4 restaurants with descriptions of each, and then I also listed 5 things he could go see/do if he has extra time and is bored. She forwarded the message on to her husband, as I expected, and it sounds like he is a little weirded out by my lists. Does he not want to have a Dr Pepper float at the Dr Pepper Museum? What is wrong with him?

My college had (and still has) bears who live on campus. Actual, real, live bears. They have a compound thing in the middle of campus where they live. But twice a week, each bear gets walked. A student puts a bear on a leash and takes them on a walk around campus. There are only a few students who are allowed to walk the bears, and they go through a lot of training. I think the professional bear trainer people sometimes walk the bears too. But anyway, STUDENTS PUT BEARS ON LEASHES and walk them around campus. I never saw a bear do anything but slowly meander around campus, but still, let me remind you, BEARS ON LEASHES. So occasionally, I would be walking across campus or sitting by the fountain, and then there would be a bear behind me. A 300+ pound bear. Behind me. I would act like, "Oh, yes, there's a bear behind me again. No big deal. Why, what a coincidence! Suddenly I have to take a sharp turn and go way over here, in the opposite direction of the bear. No big deal. Please don't hurt me!"

Help Wanted

Because you were so helpful when I needed DVD suggestions, I am coming to you with three more questions. The topics are quite varied this time.

QUESTION ONE: Where should I go in Florida? I believe some of you are pretty familiar with Florida. If I want to go to Florida in March or April, where should I go? I want to spend a few days (let's say at least four) sitting around at the beach and/or pool doing nothing. Then perhaps we will go to Orlando for a day or two so that H can do the amusement park thing. Suggestions? Let us assume that I do not want to be surrounded by Daytona 500 fans or mentally challenged Spring Breakers. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.



QUESTION TWO: Have you ever been given a wine of the month club deal as a present? Or have you ever bought such a deal for someone else? I want to buy this for someone's upcoming birthday, but I am scared of being scammed by people who arrange it so that their "business" appears first when someone Googles "wine of the month club." Again, any recommendations would be great.



QUESTION THREE: If you could buy just one of the purses below (in black), which one would you buy, assuming you could afford it?

This first one?

This second one?

Or neither because my taste in purses suck? If you hate both my options, please feel free to suggest you own choice!


In appreciation of any advice you may have for me, I shall show you the second image of my Project 365. I call this one "Count H-ula."

Have a Holly Jolly New Year

The holiday season is finally over for H and me. We had Christmas: Part Deux with my mom, her significant other, and my sister on Sunday. Now we can relax, watch a movie or two, and put away all the Christmas decorations that seem to somehow have multiplied. Yet we still have no stocking hangers, so our stockings spent Christmas 2006 lying on the floor kind of near the mantel. Anyway, now that the holidays are over, I will give a Christmas recap.

From Christmas: Part One. H and his nephew take on Guitar Hero.


Also, some evidence that I really did teach my niece to knit.


The first part of Christmas: Part Deux is the traditional Attendance of the College Basketball Game at which You Sneak into the Student Section Because Your Actual Seats Suck.


H and I decided this holiday season was the time to perfect taking sucky pictures of ourselves.
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Finally, I will share with you some pictures of the Christmas Loot.

gift card for Caribou Coffee from my sister


my new awesome slippers

And now, a total surprise that is so wonderful it may blind you if you look at it directly...



a Kitchen Aid mixer!*

No close up of the present from H, but I thought the earrings and the mixer might be too much gloriousness for one post.

I was going to write a disclaimer about how I really didn't expect this much for Christmas and it is really too much, but I have decided instead to say that if you think I am annoying or bratty for being happy that I got earrings, slippers, a coffee gift card, and a mixer, then I say to you, "Meh." Happy new year!

*This second picture is Picture #1 for Project 365.