A Moral Dilemma

Once upon a time I did a stupid thing. 

I am hungry, you see, and lunch is still a ways off.  A good amount of milk will usually keep me full for another couple of hours so I hit up the vending machine at work.  The only milk in stock is "Cookies 'n Cream."  Sounds good, right?  Chocolate creamy milk?  I figured it couldn't be that bad so I forked over thirteen dimes only to discover that my pint of protein came with FIVE HUNDRED CALORIES!!!!!  Can you even believe that?  A five hundred calorie bottle of milk?!?!  That should be illegal.

So now I am faced with a real problem.

On one hand, I am too cheap to waste thirteen dimes and toss the pint of caloric tragedy. I mean, this is $1.30 we're talking about here!!  $1.30 can go a long way in my book.  And, as you may know, I am pretty cheap.

But also, I am too afraid (and disgusted) to ingest 500 calories of whole milk fat and sugar.  Like there must be some kind of terrible cosmic repercussions for such a careless act.

But it does have 14 grams of protein...  is there even possibly an upside to all this?

To drink the chocolate milk, or not to drink the chocolate milk.

This is a serious problem.

Charm

Yesterday I had the great fortune of taking in the old Honda to get fixed up.

(again)

As such, I found myself carless and alone at 8am in Orem, Utah.  So I started to walk.  3.5 hours and one Denny's Grand Slam with wheat pancakes later, I had shin splints and blistered feet.  But the car was fixed!  And I like to think I got a nice workout in the meantime.

Have you ever been to Orem?

Parts of Orem are kind of old.

And charming.

Here are some scenes from my morning walk.

Next time I decide to walk for several hours, I am going to wear socks.

(and the small o.j. at Denny's is a joke. who do they think they are feeding? a toddler?!)

A List

baby shoes I made for my GREAT nephew, Crew.  (yes, I am a 26 year old great aunt. remind me how strange this is)

After this post from yesterday, I've been doin' a lot of thinkin'.  And you know, there really are a lot of things I'd love to do at home when I have all day to be at home.  So because I love lists and because I've yet to upload our Valentine's Day pictures to blog about, I give you:

A List of Things I'm Going to Do Instead of Just Eating Eggs & Toast and Full-Time Baby Staring 
(You know, once the baby comes)
(Is it ever really going to come?)

1. Paint kitchen cabinets white
2. Make throw pillows
3. Sew fabulous baby clothes & more baby shoes!
4. Perfect the art of baking with yeast
5. Grow veggies in a garden
6. Refinish bedroom furniture
7. Frame pages from my vintage fashion magazines
8. Paint the corner shelf that was a pain in the ace to get home
9. Go on long walks
10. Repaint kitchen
11. Get reacquainted with the library
12. Re-string my guitar
13. Refinish kitchen table (sorry, Mom!)
14. Update bathrooms
15. Organize my spaces
16. Paint banisters/railings
17. Paint sewing room
18. Recover our wing-back chairs and loveseat
19. Refinish ceiling fans
20. Spend more time at my favorite thrift stores & lots and lots of yard sales

You better believe this is going to make for some better blogging.  Imagine: fewer posts about stupid bus rides into the city and more about me me me!! 

Okay just kidding. 

More about the projects that really get me going and less about people-stalking.  Maybe still some people-stalking... but with more projects and a heckuva lot of painting
(Because I'm a project-y girl and I love me some paint) 

Also, I promise to provide real pictures of stuff instead of just hacking Google images and whatever happens to be on my cell phone.

You guys, I cannot wait.

Can this baby come any sooner?!?

A Rant

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So Christina butchered a line in the National Anthem.  And maybe the Black Eyed Peas vocals were a little off (although I beg to differ).  But is anyone else tired of the incessant criticism that's taking place not 24 hours after the confetti settled in Dallas?  Even the commercials are being picked apart and analyzed to no end!  It seems to me that the Super Bowl hype has little to do with football anymore.

Is it, perhaps, fair to say that we expect perfection from our entertainers?  Our models?  Our professional athletes?  I get that "we" pay them millions upon millions of dollars to perform to our heart's content, but seriously, they are only people.  We shouldn't expect them to be perfect and we probably shouldn't give them millions upon millions... but that's a rant for another day.

All this criticism makes me wonder if, in this generation of American Idols and X Factors, we've all turned into our own kind of Simon Cowell. As if we even have the right to judge.

But what then, of ourselves?  I mean, if Fergie can't get a "good job" from a Super Bowl performance, what chance do I have to succeed?  I can't help but feel that the constant comparisons and criticisms aren't reserved for the rich and famous.  I've seen it when I was in school and I see it now even among my friends, coworkers, family and myself.  It's just so easy to be negative.  (And I may be the guiltiest of all)

My point of all this is to say let's give these guys a break.  (Heck, let's give us all a break!)  If I were placed in front of millions of people to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, I would probably panic and screw up a line or two.  I don't think Christina's less-than-perfect rendition of the National Anthem means she is unpatriotic or an America-hater.  Dude, I am sure even Christina gets nervous, not to mention the Black Eyed Peas.

Why not focus on some positives instead of tearing apart professionals for doing a decent job?  And then let's apply that to our own lives. (Myself included)

An Ode

The first time I ever walked into an Anthropologie was sometime just before the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City (circa 2001-ish).  And I fell in love.  I am pleased to see that now the Anthropologie is super tres chic and you will likely find an ode to Anthropologie on just about any blog these days.  But the fame is not unwarranted.  It is a magical place that has always stayed true to its aesthetic. 

So when I found myself face to window with the enlightened goodness last night, I knew that to go inside was the right thing to do.  I have a testimony of the Anthropologie.

It smelled like a dreamland and instantly inspired my more creative senses.  I lusted over latte bowls and shower curtains and even made eyes at the darlingest set of dish towels ever known to man!  I felt compelled to travel Morocco and India!  I wanted to break out oil and canvas on the streets of Paris!  I wanted to move my bed to an empty warehouse and decorate it with colorful chachkies and chippy paint! 

I didn't dare venture too far into the clothing because, well, you know there's this thing about my awkwardly growing shape these days.  But more so, if I dare fall in love with something, I'm not sure I could handle the drama of a potential checkout: either destroy our carefully laid out budget for a small shopping bag of happiness, or cry myself to sleep over what might've been.

And it came to pass that someday in the distant future, I became a millionaire and bought frivolous cardigans to my heart's content.

Until that day, my creative soul admires from a distance the bird lamps, crewel work lampshades and pillows, and the painfully wonderful cardigans.  Oh the cardigans...

Be still my heart.

Scene From a Sick Day

I think that probably every time I get a sickness I blog about it.  But don't you like to hear about when I am ill?  The thing is I am home in the stupid winter and its stupidly cold outside and as much as all I want to do is stay in bed in a semi-horizontal position (lay flat and be sure, I'll never breathe again), I am terribly bored  and daytime television is just really not so much my cup of tea.

And so I blog.

The worst part about being home sick is that I'm surrounded by all the things I would like to/need to/should've done already and yet it hurts to move.  My sewing room is in terrible disarray (again), I have papers to file, things to mail, clothes to get rid of, dishes to put away, laundry to fold, blah blah blah.

But I think I'm going back to bed for awhile.

Sounds Like a Personal Problem

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Not that I'm some sports aficionado or anything, but I have watched more than my fair share of professional sports in my 16 months or so of marriage and I have some thoughts about some of these team names.  Namely those of the NBA and NFL.  First, here are some questions:

1. Why do some teams use the state in their name and some only use the city?  I get it when there are more than one team in a state, but at the same time, there are the LA Clippers and the LA Lakers and no one seems confused by this? For example:  Why not the Salt Lake City Jazz?  Or the Colorado Broncos?  Or the Georgia Hawks?  When I asked Kyle this, he just rolled his eyes and explained that those names just sounded lame. 

2.  Why do some mascots have nothing to do with the team name?  Example: the Utah Jazz.... Bear??  Bear? What does a bear have to do with jazz?  I mean, would not a dancing saxophone or musical note be more appropriate?  Albeit more lame-looking...  but still.  However, I do think the Jazz Bear is really cool.  Even if he isn't jazzy.

3.  Who gets to pick these team names anyway?  And didn't anyone ever say, "What the heck?!" When some of the names were announced?  Some I think are better than others.

TOP 5 COOLEST TEAM NAMES

1.  Phoenix Suns.  I get this.  Phoenix=hot=sun.  It works. 

2.  Dallas Cowboys. Again, it just make sense.

3.  Philadelphia Eagles.  Eagles are cool.

4.  Arizona Cardinals.  Cardinals are not as cool as eagles, and I don't think they fall under the category of "manly beast" or anything, but I like cardinals.  They are pretty.  And all that shade of red is really quite flattering.

5.  Minnesota Vikings.  Vikings are mean.  Vikings are manly.  Vikings killed people.  Good name for a football team.

TOP 5 "WHAT THE HECK" TEAM NAMES

1.  Indiana Pacers.  Excuse me, but what is a pacer?

2.  Washington Wizards.  I mean really, a wizard?  That's almost as bad as a lambkin (my high school mascot)

3.  Denver Nuggets.  Now, I am a lover of all things Colorado, but a nugget?  It doesn't sound at all menacing.  See also: lambkin.

4.  Cleveland Browns.  Browns?  Sounds like a personal problem...

5.  Green Bay Packers.  Its supposed to be a cheese packer?  Is that right?  I should google that.  I'm actually on the fence with this, because I think it has good reference to the area and I'm all for that.  But just the same... a packer? 

So there you go.  My opinion is neither here nor there, but sure enough, this is what I think about while ESPN is on.  Which is pretty much always.

As a side note, I really love the Stanford Tree.

Gesundheit

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I was just sitting here thinking to myself how annoying it is when people sneeze. Especially when they sneeze in many multiples and then spend five minutes blowing their noses.

I was thinking how startling it is when someone sneezes and you're not expecting it and how it sets my nerves on edge, like I'm in danger or something! 

I was thinking about how terribly gross it is to sneeze and how sometimes when people sneeze, you not only hear them sneeze, but you SEE the sneeze! That is the sickest of sneeziest sneezes.  Have you ever Googled for images of sneezes?  Probably you should not, because to see a sneeze suspended in time is a disturbing type of sneeze to be sure. 

I was thinking about how all the experts say your sneeze travels 15 feet (or more?!) and so when I am walking behind someone who has sneezed, I divert my path so as to not walk into their sneeziness. 

And then I thought about how you are supposed to sneeze into your sleeve so you don't spread your sneezies and how many people really do that, do you know?  I most certainly always sneeze into my sleeve because sneezes are sick. 

And then there is the potentially awkward post-sneeze scenario: do you respond to the sneezer with a "Bless you" or "Gesundheit" or what have you?  Or do you ignore them?  And then what of the multiple sneezer? Do you offer your choice blessing after each sneeze or just at the end of what you assume is the cluster of sneezes?  I hate to respond to a sneezer, but I feel like it is bad fortune not to say "Bless you."  And then when I sneeze and no one says anything, I wonder if they even know what just happened here?!? Do they not see me?!? Cannot hear my sneezes?!?  But sneezes are cause for quite a bit of thinking, you know.

And then after all this thinking, I sneezed.  Four times.

Do you believe in karma?

A Royal Debate

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I wouldn't call it an argument. It was really more of a debate. And I can't, for the life of me, figure out why it even mattered in the first place.

News about The Royal Engagement (that we all knew was coming) was on TV and Kyle snorted his snort of annoyance and proceeded to express his irritation about watching news of British royalty on American television.  Something about, "Who even cares?" and "What does the Queen do anyway?" and then this and that about royal blood lines and Obama and I think there was something about Anne Hathaway? It's all rather hazy at this point. 

But what I can tell you is I defended the Royal Family and I defended them good!  Even though I cannot imagine what, in fact, the Queen exactly does, nor can I properly put into words why The Royal Engagement is so very interesting... except maybe perhaps it is because the Prince is very dashing and the Kate is so very stylish and for Pete's sake, didn't everyone love The Princess Diaries?!? 

So I don't understand British politics (or even American politics, to be fair), but I do know that people like gossip and The Royals, as they may be, make for juicy gossip columns. They simply are mysterious socialites who live a life we can only imagine. 

I mean, did you see Kate's ring?!?

For me, its about celebrity gossip, couture fashion, big big diamonds, and really gorgeous brunette hair that I am, at this very moment, coveting. And you better believe I can't wait to see her wedding dress. Afterall, weddings are my secret crush.

Kyle is a man. He just can't possibly understand these things.

One Day You're In...

one of the few surviving pictures from college--thanks mel, i stole it from your facebook!

I have decided that watching Project Runway is good for my soul. 

I propose two reasons to support this theory:

1. Watching the models get all dressed up actually inspires me to put on makeup for work and other such drudgeries of life.  The use of Garnier's hair products reminds me of how good their hairspray smells and maybe I should try it out again?  I mean, if the "pros" are using it, it certainly must be good enough for my pathetic baby fine hair.  And then also maybe I will try blow drying my hair in the mornings.  You know, and not be so lazy.

2.  I feel inspired to sew.  Again.  My poor sewing machine is all too often neglected in my crazy life of this and that.  I sometimes forget that I actually went to school to SEW for 4 years.  And then I remember how when I started design school, I did not expect to be sewing and what an odd coincidence it was that I actually liked to sew anyway and so it was a nice surprise.  But I mean really, what was I thinking?  Design school without sewing?  Oh my gosh I was so dumb.  It's a wonder I ever graduated.  But I digress.  I do love to sew.  I do love to design.  And I do love Project Runway. 

And back to Project Runway, I'm watching the finale on DVR so don't tell me who wins, ok? I still need to catch up.  Oh, I mean I WAS watching the finale before Kyle reclaimed the TV to watch sports.  Figures.  Marriage is all about compromise, you know.

A rebellion of sorts and also an invitation

I feel as though I've been rebelliously neglecting this here blog lately.  I get the feeling I should write something brilliant and immediately think back to myself, "No!  No, I won't do it! I won't!"  But sometimes maybe I have some kind of an attitude problem?  I don't know.

It's maybe as if I have too much to say, actually, that I can't particularly decide what to say.  Liken this unto the times I exit my favorite stores empty handed only because I couldn't pick which thing to come home with me.  Oh the choices!  (But I do sometimes have a problem being indecisive).

Kyle doesn't mind one bit, because he would rather me not buy anything at all for the remainder of our marriage.  Unless that thing to buy happens to be some sort of football tickets or perhaps a DVD of some kind.  Because, you know, those are the things that make his heart go pitter patter.  (After me, of course).

When I married Kyle, I also married into some really fantastic family, including nephews who are nearly my own age.  It's kind of a strange thing to have nephews who are 8  and 11 and also nephews who are 20 something.  But one such 20 something nephew did a very good thing in life and married the very cute Ashley, who is my thrift-store-loving twin at heart.  (Good job, Devin).  And it came to pass that we went to several thrift stores over the weekend and we beheld that they were good.

In other news, we will soon be embarking on our very first trip to Texas and there we will visit my eldest sister and her teenagerly daughter and hopefully partake in some southern BBQ and also perhaps some fried foods.  Kyle doesn't know this yet, but I also have plans to scope out some local thrift stores.  I have always had this dream of finding the perfect vintage cowboy boots for my awkward size nines...  if only.

The best thing about thrift stores, is that each one is different and the merchandise changes daily.  Also, things are cheap.  These combined attributes cater to my short attention span, impatience, and shallow pockets.  But also I do love old things, did you know?

And therefore, in conclusion, I would like to offer you this one time chance to suggest things for us to do whilst in the Dallas area.  I shall preface the invitation by first stating that I have high intentions of attending both the Texas State Fair and Medieval Times.  Thoughts?

So I've watched a lot of TV lately...

Thanks to the return of the DVR, I have recently watched more than my share of America's Next Top Model and Project Runway.  How much fashion can one endure, I wonder?  Sadly, Kyle cannot endure much.  He laughs every time he hears Tim Gunn's voice and cringes when he sees the two-a-day scheduled recordings filling up his valuable reserved-for-football-only-DVR space. 

The other day, when I was home all day with a cold, I watched approximately 3.5 hours of America's Next Top Model.  It was very useful though, because it inspired me to get off the couch and shower and also to wear my hair in a bun.  I also learned that you only need five products to apply makeup every morning (concealer, mascara, blush, and I can't remember the other two) (maybe it was only three products and five minutes?)  (Oh bother) and that it is important to plow through the competition when you are in a race through WalMart.  Not to mention the fact that I have the theme song permanently stuck in my head.

Last season's Erin so kindly reminded us all that this is indeed a competition and she is not there to make friends.  I like Erin.  I like her strong-willed stubborness and go-get-'em attitude.  Perhaps it reminds me of myself.  Also, she had that cool alien look in one of the photoshoots and pulled off that super bleach blonde hair so nicely (if only in photographs).  But I digress.  Erin is right: it is a competition.  BUT, it can totally benefit you to befriend the other girls (even if artificially) because sometimes one of the others wins a challenge and they get to pick a friend to share the prize with.  Just like they say, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."  There really is so much you can learn from reality TV, but don't you think?

At any rate, if you are ever on ANTM, just remember to make friends with everyone and still manage to throw elbows in the races.

A final thought:  I predict Project Runway's top three will come down to April, Mondo, and Michael C.

But maybe that's wishful thinking.

Anyone else a fan of my favorite shows?

Is there any cure for sore butt bones?

For as much as I complain about cyclists on the road, I am embarrassed to admit that I have become one of "them."  Pretty much this summer-turned-fall weather is perfect for bike riding and I am loving it.  My butt, however, is not so much loving it.  Tell me, is there any cure for the sore butt bones that bike riding causes? 

This time I ventured farther down the nearby trail than I ever had before.  It was adventurous and lovely.  The late afternoon sun warmed the breeze along the river, my senses filled with the smells of animals past and present, my awareness heightened by the constant leaping of grasshoppers into my face (have I mentioned how much I hate them?)  (I only screamed once when one landed on my sunglasses, but no one was around to notice anyway)

I waved hello to the old gray mare in the sunflower field and offered evening salutations to the cow along the trail.  Bike riding is a good time for thinking and contemplating the more delicate things in life:

Could my butt bones ever possibly recover from all this bike riding? 

This time last year I was in the last few weeks of planning our wedding! 

Why did I ever think it was a good idea to date that loser guy?

And that other loser guy?

I'm so glad to be done with dating. 

Marriage is so great, especially when Boise State wins important games.

Is anyone going to buy all these leggings I just ordered?

I'm not even going to make dinner tonight.

I love the camera inside my phone.

I returned home after an hour of sensory exploration to find that flies had reproduced in my kitchen.  Is there anything more disgusting than a kitchen full of flies?  I think not.  Well, only maybe when fly guts are smeared across the kitchen window.

Breeziness, Swedishness, and Wonderfulness.

On several occasions today it was pointed out by friendly neighbors that we are always gone.  And it is true.  Between our two full-time jobs and the weekend trips to here or there, we really spend very little time in the house that the 30 year mortgage built.  But I do love this house.  I love it especially much on days when it's not so blistering hot and all the windows are open and breezing the breeziest of breezes through the every which part of our little home.  It makes me want to never leave this house.  And for the weekends to last forever.  And for every season to be so very much fall-like.  Oh but I'm so excited for fall!

We had a date to the IKEA just this last Friday night and let me tell you something, you know you are married when your idea of a date involves returning curtains and wandering through aisles of Swedish dinnerware on a particularly stormy Friday night.  Do I even remember what the single me did on Friday nights anymore?  I don't think that I can remember a whole year ago to the non-married weekend nights of dates of bowling and long drives and silly phone call conversations.  But the married me was with married Kyle on Friday so we found ourselves a new Swedish duvet cover and some Swedish curtain rods and set for home to watch a movie in our breezy home that I love so much.

And Kyle did that thing where he spends no less than twenty minutes picking out the perfect movie only to select a manly action movie.  But then, you see, his conscience caught up to him and told him to watch a chick flick with his wife.  And so he did.  And all were merry and bright.

Other bits of weekend wonderfulness include:

1. sleeping in my own bed

2. "Mr. Zesty"

3. a real real double date night with the abby and jason

4. the most lovely and non-grasshopper-infested yellow dahlia blossom

5. a photo shoot with my sister

6. a mini bedroom makeover

7. 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets (but really, I still can't get over it)

8. mint chocolate cookie ice cream

9. catching up with the kevin and suzi and snuggling their babies

I could go on but Kyle just informed me that he has a one hour break before his next fantasy football draft and so I must go to take advantage of this rare opportunity to actually talk to my husband today.

I love him.  But I do not understand him.

Bonne Tempête

photo by me

Today was one of those days that began with the wonderfulness of a good thunderstorm.

How I do love my thunderstorms!

And in the very early morning?

Even better.

So I didn't get my own two seats to myself on the bus. 

But at least I had my thunderstorm.

And yesterday I got to snuggle a new baby.

And at this very moment, another friend is having her baby!

Thunderstorms and babies.  Could life be any better?

Also, Dr. Pepper for breakfast.

And so what if I spilled it on my sweater?

I got to lick it off myself.

Things are looking good, you see.  It's all in the weather.  These are the kind of omens you look for when something wonderful is about to happen.  And I do know something good is on the horizon.  I just know it!

I know this is true because Kyle found my watch!  My long-lost-for-a-whole-four-days watch that he had given me for Christmas last year and that I cried about losing.  He found it.  In my makeup bag.  I guess that sort of tells you how much use my makeup bag has been getting these days but then again isn't that the beauty of summer?  Less makeup, you know.  Also, less blow-drying. (It's just really too hot for that kind of thing anyway)

But I tell you what, I was feeling so good after this morning's thunderstorm that I even blow-dryed my hair and pulled the mascara out of my makeup bag.

Red Rum. Except Not Really. Just Red.

Kyle prides himself on being able to pick out "my music" in TV shows, movies, commercials, department stores...  you name it.  And, I have to say, he pretty much has my number. 

Upon further reflection, I have decided that if you are a red-headed female singer/songwriter then I love you.  And your music, too.  Enter some redheaded favorites:

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Hayley Williams of Paramore

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Allison Sudol of A Fine Frenzy

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Ingrid Michaelson

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Emily Jaye of Frentik

It's almost enough to make me want to dye my hair red.  Again.

Now if only I could sing...

Of Freckles and Frozen Yogurt

photo by me

I think I might be part sun-worshipper.

Do you suppose that could be considered a race?

I didn't see it on the census.

At any rate, I do love the sun.  I'm sad to say that I had forgotten how much I loved the sun until my afternoon walk in the park today.  It was here that I enjoyed my deliciously nonfat frozen yogurt and watched sweaty joggers and chubby babies and was startled by a curiously adorable three legged dog. 

It is here that I must mention that a good frozen yogurt and some time in the sun can cure just about any kind of mediocre Wednesday.  Especially when the yogurt is nonfat, the sun is not too hot and the breeze is not too breezy.  Today was one of those kinds of days. 

Furthermore, the sun brings me freckles and how I do love my freckles!

I probably should not love them, but I do.

I love my freckles because they only come around this time of year.

I love them because their presence means I've been spending time in the sun.

I love them because they are the closest I ever get to being tan.

My reacquainting with the sun reminded me that it is summer for Pete's sake and I have not yet done any of the following:

Basked in the sun poolside

Received any amount of sunburn

Ran through sprinklers

 Made good use of Hawaiian Tropic

Shaved above my knees

These things must be remedied post haste.

A Quarter-life Crisis of Sorts

vintage me, center front

Hello world, I am twenty-five and three-quarters years old and I remember when stamps were twenty-five cents.  Leo was a dream boat.  The Internet was a new thing.  Walkmans were super cool.  Cordless phones were a luxury.  And candy from the vending machine definitely did not cost a whole freakin' dollar.

In fact, I remember a month ago when candy from the vending machine was a mere ninety cents.  What is with the new price hike?  Does this have something to do with the oil spill?  Because if it does, maybe I should rethink eating candy from the vending machine altogether...

Because seriously people, we're talking about peanut M&M's here!  The cure to all my bad moods.  The Rhoda to my Mary.  The (relatively) caffeine-free mid-afternoon pick-me-up that I save my nickels for weeks to enjoy!  And now it's a whole dollar!  For some reason it is much more difficult for me to justify splurging empty calories at the cost of a whole dollar.  Ninety cents? No problem.  But I draw the line at a dollar.  I mean really, a girl has got to have some standards. 

And if you're wondering whether or not your seventy-five cents is well spent on a package of mini fudge stripe cookies I will tell you right now that it is not.  I'm sorry my friends, but nothing can replace the crunchy, not-too-sweet goodness of peanut M&M's.  Especially when they've been slightly chilling behind the plexi-glass window.  (Or is it perhaps real glass?) (How is one to know for sure?)

But is anything better than cold chocolate?  I submit that there is not.

End transmission.

"Hot Like Mexico"

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It is June Eleven and I'm taking a sick day.  You know, just your typical we-can't-do-anything-for-you virus.  Stupid virus.  But have you ever Googled images of viruses?  They are fearsome science-fiction-like creatures to be sure.  But don't you think?

 Houses are so much different when you are inside them all the day long when you usually just come home after five.  For instance, who is it that is constructing the very loud clatter outside?  And why must it rattle my tables?  And does the train really go by five times between nine and eleven in the morning every day?  Really?

And furthermore, why did no one warn us that the wind here is so very much ferocious??  Yes, ferocious.  As in, it blows like unto a hurricane on a near daily basis. 

Ferocious as in I discovered our garbage can lying all over my dahlia sprouts.  This was very puzzling unto me because the garbage can lives about fifty feet away, around two corners from where my dahlia sprouts happen to be.  I mean really, do you see what had to have happened here?  I'm telling you, this wind is serious stuff in these parts.

And while we're asking questions here, why is it that Cream of Wheat is not more filling?  I love the Cream of Wheat but one serving is like unto a snack for my great and spacious appetite.  I'm pretty sure it only makes me hungrier.  (Unfortunately this is not the appetite suppressing type of virus that I have) (Stupid virus).

Lastly, has anyone watched the Alejandro video from Lady Gaga?  I suggest you do not.  It is eight minutes and forty-three seconds of weirdness.  She is weird.  I will admit, I do like some of her music and it's so very catchy and a good beat to run to (you know, if I ever wanted to run or something) but I do think her videos are all sorts of bizarre and disturbing.  I have to give her a virtual high-five though for doing a video with no mascara.  I do think a girl like her should probably always wear mascara.  And does anyone even high-five anymore?  But maybe that is so 1995 or something.

A Lesson in Zoology

So we recently discovered this really fantastic walking trail near our house.  And guess what?  We found more cows!! 
I love cows! 

(Or perhaps the proper term would be cattle?)
(But I do think "cows" sounds so much more friendly)

photo by cell phone, mine

I love how they just stare at you and chew their cud and waddle around the fields.  Not that I want a cow of my own... but I look forward to visiting the cows along the trail.  Especially because our neighbor cows are rarely close enough to oogle at. 

It was here along this trail that I discovered not all horned cows are boys.  And tell me, where in my sixteen years of formal education did I come to believe that only boy cows have horns?  I clearly did not grow up on a farm. 

Please everyone, take note for future reference.