Feeling Fruity

So I've been trying to get my company to buy us a fruit bowl in order to encourage health in the workplace. I was just joking; we're tiny, we have the money, but it's not a priority. I also have been trying to get us the little exercise balls for our desks, but that really goes nowhere. Mainly because Pres. would think it is tacky-looking, and we aren't allowed to have anything tacky visible. But yes. So fruit bowl. Our VP came in yesterday and had brought us a kings cake, in honor of Mardi Gras. He was in New Orleans this weekend, so he picked one up. It quickly vanished. I got the baby, which means I should have good luck for the next year, appropriate since I'm the person in the office who needs the most luck. We were teasing VP about the cake, saying he was making us unhealthy. He laughed, but then today announced that he was buying us the fruit of the month club from Harry and Davids. Which is SO nice. I feel like he is partly just a good guy and partly trying to buy us off, but either way, I'm okay with it.

In other exciting, slightly food-related news, only a few more days until SB returns! I was talking to him last night and he was all like, "I miss you..." I, not being in a sappy mood and feeling a bit cranky after he made me call him back (a major effort requiring the dialing like 6 different numbers), was having none of it. "You don't miss me, you miss the food. In fact, I think you're just excited to get back and get Cracker Barrel," I replied. I do this a lot. Let's face it, I love sappiness, but not so much being sappy. This time, however, it backfired. "We don't have to go to Cracker Barrel," he said. "I didn't think we'd go immediately anyways..." Now, people. I have been looking forward to one of their amazing apple dumplings for WEEKS. I have eaten primarily my own food for over a month. And I have had no sweet tea. I want Cracker Barrel, he's flying into Dulles, which means we'll be close to Manassas. I have been planning on this since he first began his list of missed foods (ie week one when he left). I don't care if I have to basically kidnap him, I am getting my dumpling.

The "'Rents" Versus the Real World?

So I was watching The Today Show this morning and they had a report on the newly passed law in Texas requiring all girls of a certain age to get the HPV vaccine. There is a HUGE uproar about this. The two people brought on to be interviewed clearly did not like each other, or respect the other person's viewpoint. Poor Meredith completely lost control. Now the governor of Texas was a bit obnoxious about how he passed the bill, basically ignoring everyone else and just doing it. But I couldn't help but listen to the side against him and wonder what they are so afraid of? They are claiming that the science does not yet support mandatory vaccinations (like six medical groups disagree, including the AMA, the American Pediatric Society, and American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists), it infringes on parental rights, and it might encourage riskier sexual behavior.

First of all, I can see the parental rights argument, but I'm not sure I buy it at all. For one, in the Texas case, the parents can easily opt their kids out. But mainly, my problem stems from the thought that a parent wouldn't want to prevent their daughter from getting cancer. Why would you not want to protect your kid from everything possible? I can't help but wonder if this were a vaccine against leukemia or lung cancer if parents would be so upset. Obviously, there would still be some parents who wanted to opt out for religious reasons. I'm torn, though, about whether or not they should be allowed to. How much right do parents have to completely control their children, to the possible detriment of the children's health? I honestly don't know. Then again, do we really want the government to have all control? Because that seems a little screwy, too. I guess all we can do is strongly encourage people to get their kids vaccinated. Those who don't listen, well, those kids will be helped by the decrease in the number of infections anyways.

Now the whole "this will encourage risky behavior" makes me so mad I want to jump up and down, preferably on the people who are saying this. Are you THAT bad of a parent, is your influence over your child so small that you can't guide them towards safer behavior on your own? Why is this the constant back-up argument for the religious right on sex issues? Why is it so necessary to keep teens in the dark? Now, teens might be foolish, they might take unnecessary risks. But they are going to do that anyways. At least tell them how to protect themselves. Why are we as a society so afraid of the increase of teen-age sex? Studies don't back up this fear; the most recent reliable one showed that the age of loss of virginity and the number of pre-marital partners across society has stayed relatively stable. And say more teens do start having more sex. Will the world end? I doubt it. There might be a few more bitter people at younger ages, but no fire and brimstone. I'm not saying teens should be having sex. I don't think they should. I don't think it's wise and I don't think they are emotionally ready for it and I think it'd be great if everyone waited until they got married. But that's not reality.

Raising teenagers. Or hell. Or both.

Well today is the big day. My office is getting all new computers. Which is exciting in that we'll have newer, faster computers, and not so exciting in that having an outsider here is a little annoying. We knew our old IT guy. He was nice, a part of the extended family. But no... he had to leave to go 'pursue his dream.' Plus he was kind of cute and I could make SB jealous by telling him IT guy was coming. Though the new guy does seem nice. And hopefully he won't look through my internet records and see a. my crazy searches at work and b. how much time I'm doing weird stuff online. Nothing illegal or amoral. Or really weird, actually, since it primarily consists of reading blogs and articles on MSN. I just work better as a multitasker, and I frequently don't have much interesting to do at work. I still do the other stuff. It just bores me so I do other stuff, too.

SB will be back a week from tomorrow. I'm excited, though it'll be a little weird. It's just been me and Cassie for so long! Though she's been getting on my nerves like none other lately... I think she's going through the whole teen-age years for cats. Because she is testing boundaries and pushing her luck. She's going to get locked in the closet to calm down one of these days. She decided to run laps on me this morning at 5:30, then last night wouldn't stop scratching my clothes... see, she likes to knead certain clothes, but with her claws out. I am not such a fan of that. I moved the clothes, she moved. I threw socks at her, she ignored me. She's very good at ignoring me. Then she attacked my foot while I was doing yoga. Very exhausting. It's hard enough to stay balanced, and with little claws and teeth pricking your feet? Nearly impossible. And she keeps trying to climb in my lap while I'm eating so she can have my food. I just want to eat in peace!

Peas + Homelessness=Yummy Goodness

You should all be quite honored. I am... WRITING A BLOG FROM HOME. I know, I know. Control the gasps of surprise. I was even going to post a picture of Cone-y (ie Cassie when she was forced to wear her cone), but the software on my computer is being stupid and I'm too lazy to install my other. Yes, yes. I've had this computer for a year now and I still haven't put all my old software onto it. I also haven't really cleaned up my ipod or figured out all the songs on my mixed cd's. So really. This all should be no surprise.

Anyways, I've been meaning to write about peas for a while. Yes, I said peas. Some of you may be wondering, "Why on Earth would a woman write about peas?" Well, it's actually in honor of Jordan Baker, who recently mentioned the children's series The Borrowers. Now I adored these books. One of my first reading memories is of me curled up next to my mom on her bed, her reading those books to me. There also was some other book that had funny paper and was about some kind of fairy who lived in a flower or something. We started that one like 6 times, but never got through it. Anyways, I love those memories, and I loved those books.

Now the night Jordan Baker got me thinking about old books, I came home and was scrounging for some veggies in my freezer and I came across a bag of frozen peas. I then microwaved them and melted some butter and it was all good. BUT. The combo of the peas and the old books reminded me of yet another favorite childhood series... The Boxcar Children. Some of you may have read The Bobsey Twins or Nancy Drew. None of those for me. No, instead I read The Boxcar Children. These books were great. The story started with four children who were supposed to move in with their mean old grandfather. Rather than do so, they run off and find an old boxcar to live in. They support themselves, doing chores to earn money, stealing from gardens... Basically, every kid's dream. Eventually they are rescued, find out their "horrible grandfather" is actually amazingly kind and rich, and go on to solve many a mystery together. Now, back to peas. I have discussed this with other Boxcar readers and I am not alone in this. One of the BEST parts of the first book? Was the food. I don't know how the kids do it, but they seem to make the most appealing food consisting mainly of vegetables I, at my wise old age of 7 or 8, had ever heard of. It sounded amazing. Which, being older and wiser, I can see was probably a good thing, as it encouraged kids to eat veggies. The author of these books has since passed on, but I hope she knows that every single time I eat a pea, I think of her series.

Also, I just found out that there is a Boxcar museum in Connecticut. It might be totally lame, but I so want to go. Road trip!

Catching Up

I'm very sad about the whole Barbaro thing, so I'm going to ignore it and write on happier topics.

I talked to Emily yesterday. It was funny. It was like the first time in over a year that we've talked, and I'd thought about calling her earlier, like last weekend. But there was the whole general malaise, and I was a bit worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Ha. Um. Our short little call turned into a nearly two hour call. Apparently, I am somewhat responsible for her friend's (Jana? Something like that) addiction to the DC blog scene. J, as I shall call you because I'm pretty sure at least that your name starts with that letter (You may pretend to be from Men In Black if you'd like), please don't judge all of DC by the blogging scene. It's a bit crazed. Which, actually, is like DC and probably an accurate representation of teh populace. But there are some non-crazed people here, such as myself. So don't write us all off. It was also nice to get blogging validation. I kind of waver on what my blog should be, and wind up writing whatever pleases me. I feel my blog may have a bit of an identity crisis at times. But to hear that someone likes it enough to be sucked into the blog scene... Now that just gives me warm fuzzies.

Emily is, of course, doing lovely. We did have a possible insight into the lack of guys who dare to ask girls like us out, and we decided a good portion of it could be our age. See, early to mid-twenties is a time full of self-discovery, and figuring out who you are. A good deal of this involves going through crap where you doubt lots of stuff about yourself. Now, Emily and I and a good portion of my good friends are the type of girls who are strong in and of themselves. We don't need a guy to protect us or tell us what to do or think. We need guys who are as strong as we are, so they can be our partners, and we really won't accept anything else. These types of guys at our age are still figuring out who they are. They can't be strong enough for us yet because they aren't sure how much strength they've got. Now obviously there are exceptions to everything, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I think the world of most of my friends and I know that eventually they will all meet people who make them utterly happy and who fit them to a tee. Now I probably won't say that these eventual guys will be worthy of them. But I know that they are out there, being put through the fire, so that they will at least come close.

Plus One

Our society has an issue. Well, several issues, but one that the Today Show and Real Simple yet again brought to my attention. Showing real plus-size women is just anathema in today's media. Which is just ridiculous, especially since Americans are getting bigger and bigger. See, the Today show had a segment on what jeans people should wear to flatter their body types. Real Simple provided the jeans and the models. Their plus-size model can't have been over a size 12. Probably closer to 10. That's not plus-sized. Same with most of the plus-size models out there. Yes, it's great that they have women modeling who are in the double digits of sizes. But if you're a ten, you are not representative of the women who actually are plus-sized. It's like the Lane Bryant models. They cannot be wearing the clothes Lane Bryant makes without those clothes being modified. So, really. What's the point? You have plus-sized store but then show all the women who shop there that they aren't really pretty enough or sexy enough to represent the store? And smaller sizes then become stigmatized as well. So now a size 10-12 is big? What then is normal? 4-6? 2-6? 0-6? That seems like a great trend. Rather than encourage people to be healthy, whatever their body type, let's encourage them to strive to be as tiny as possible. That won't make everyone miserable, I promise...

Sticks and Stones

Apparently, Tijuana police now have a new weapon against crime... slingshots. This article, for those of you interested, describes how the police in Tijuana, a place known for its crime problems, have had their guns taken away and replaced with slingshots. This seems an interesting tactic. Now I'm anti-violence and don't particularly like guns. But this still is a bit odd. Let's take people who are already in danger (13 policemen, 300 people total were killed last year in Tijuana) and give them stones to whirl at people.

Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.

Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.

It's like a car crash

I think blogger may be messing with my mind. I just went to a blog that I know I checked on Friday. Friday, there was no new post. Today, there is one dated last Wednesday. Sigh. I just don't know. Then there is the whole DC blog-war of which I only recently became aware and which I can't figure out, primarily (I think) because a lot of it went down at a blogger happy hour, and I can't find out who one of the main offenders is. Not that I really care that much (not actually knowing any of these people). But it's kind of like a soap opera. And a car crash. You know you shouldn't watch/slow down to look, but you can't seem to drag yourself away.

Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.

If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.

See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.

Repressed dreams

I really had the best intentions of updating yesterday. Sadly for the great numbers of you who read this (and by great, I mean like 5), blogger was being a complete and utter pain and I was unable to. That and I was too lazy and tired later on to get back online at home on my stolen internet.

I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.

Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.

So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.

Fashionistas

I think it's interesting that, for someone who so rarely looks polished and who so rarely looks fashionable, I have a highly developed sense of style. Now that might sound both strange and snotty. It's true, though. I know what I like, I know why I like it, and I can spot what's wrong with an outfit in under a minute. I blame/thank my mother, as a seamstress, and my college roommate for this ability. My college roommate used to challenge me. "What's wrong with that person's outfit?" she'd ask. "They're wearing two different types of plaid, one which is navy-based and the other which is black," I would quickly respond. (Not that anyone couldn't do this. I mean, really. Multiple plaids? How could you miss that?) My mom's teaching was more subtle and less purposeful. Mainly, if I wanted clothes that I liked, I had to learn what I liked and didn't like about how things fit. I blame my current lack of apparent fashion on this. Everything I try on, I think, "Wow. This would look great if the waist was half an inch higher." Or, "Man. This looks like crap. Look at how badly it fits me around the neck. If I'm paying x-amount of dollars for something, I want something that fits me correctly." So in despair, I wear whatever and aim for comfort rather than fashion. And I may or may not still be sabotaging myself. Whatever.

All this fashion-judgment came out with the Golden Globes. There were so few dresses that I didn't think, "Well, if this had been changed, it would be great." Jennifer Lopez's was one of those few. Man, she looked hot. But most... Well, they left something to be desired. And why is it that all strapless dresses look like they are about to fall off? If they were pulled up just one or two more inches, they'd look great. But NO. We have to show as much cleavage as possible, so we double-tape the dresses on and hope for the best. It's nearly as bad as the current "tuck your pants into your boots" craze, only beaten by the coulotte pants and knee-highs. I mean, really. What is the purpose? No one looks good in that combo. It makes you look like your legs are funny lengths. Give it up, people. Accept that the designers are crazy, stop buying so much into fads for the sake of fads, and buy clothes that actually look good on you. Now, if only I could find some that I can afford...

Apologies

Dear guy I may have glared at with hatred on the metro yesterday:

I'm sorry. I don't actually hate you. I know it was just extremely crowded and your hand accidentally got caught in the cord of my headphones. But I just felt someone pulling on my ipod and on my headphones and when the pressure released, although the music kept going, I wondered if maybe my ipod had been pulled out of my pocket and I was going to have to fight the masses in order to bend down and pick it up. Plus I was trying to get out of the way and there was just chaos. But I didn't really hate you, I was more annoyed with the whole situation. And the way you offered your hand to balance me was very sweet.

Sincerely,

Me

For all others, obviously my commute home was not great. I managed to cram onto the first train that pulled up, but then got pushed out at a subsequent stop, which is SO not kosher. Didn't really matter, though, since there was no way I could have made the bus I was trying to catch. Which then meant I would have a really hard time making choir, since I walked in the door at 7 and would have had to feed myself and get out the door by 7:30. Plus SB was going to try and call me and I knew he'd forget that I had choir and I didn't want to miss him. Though his phone didn't work and I wound up having to call him. So I stayed home and watched tv instead. And played with Cassie, which she enjoyed. I enjoy that, since my apartment is now colder, she has started sleeping with me more. She's very warm.

I'm a Big, Fat Liar

I said I was looking forward to him leaving, at least a little bit. I was such a liar. Well, that's not entirely true. I wasn't lying about getting to do all of that stuff. CW and I were commenting that having a significant other enables laziness. You don't really have to work to be around people because you're already around people. There is no need for effort-full socialization; just lie back and be lazy.

Anyways, I do miss SB. He was pretty sweet this weekend, although CW said at least some of it was too sweet. He just got all puppy-eyed on me. See, he had taken FIVE hours to run errands. It's not even like he had a lot of errands. He had to get his hair cut, pay his credit card, and run by his house to pick up the stuff he needed to pack. So he dropped me off at 5. I start playing "The Sims: Open for Business" (which is SOOOOOO fun, btw. I've started an at-home business, which is doing fairly well, although my employees keeping getting mad and quitting). At 8:30, he calls and says he thinks he's about done, so if I want to go ahead and order a pizza, that would probably be a good idea. Knowing him, I wait a bit (until 9) and then order a pizza. I wait for the pizza. The pizza comes. I wash a plate so I'll have a plate to eat off of. I get ready to eat. Finally, about 10, he shows up. He says he was working hard that whole time, and I believe him. I also think I could have been done with the same errands and more in maybe two hours. So I'm a bit peeved, just because the whole fact that he seems to run in his own time zone can be a bit annoying and because I had pictured a rather cuter last night together involving cuddling and drinking wine and being all couple-y. He comes and sits down next to me and is all, "I missed you..." I, refusing to be sweet or sappy, said, "It'll be good practice for the next six weeks." He then, puppy-eyes at the ready, turned to me and said, "I have had entirely too much practice missing you." All together now, "Aww..."

But yes. So he's gone for the next four weeks, back for less than one, and then gone for yet another, and I'm not happy about it.

Somethign else I'm not happy about (in a COMPLETELY random change of topic) is a study that just came out showing that the health benefits of drinking tea are negated by adding milk. Yes, that's right. Drinking tea is good, drinking milk is good, but somehow, put the two together, and it ALL gets cancelled out. Bastards. I like milk in my tea. It's a lovely addition. Maybe I'll just add more wine to get more antioxidants.

A State of Unproductivity

I really have had a thoroughly unproductive day. I had plans to be productive, really, I did. But then I got in to work and half the office wasn't here and I had a bad commute and it's rainy and my brain just melted away. Plus I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I haven't slept well for the past three nights. I'm fairly tired, I must say. And then last night, I drug my sorry ass to the gym (which was WAY too difficult, btw, and involved another horrific commute) and then promptly developed a sickening headache after dinner. THEN I got home to no note from my apartment building, so I didn't know whether they were definitely cancelling the replacement of my windows (supposed to happen today) due to rain, so I still had to move all my furniture three feet away from said window. That might not seem like a huge deal to those of you in multi-room places, but I live in a studio. A studio, I might add, that is completely packed with furniture. Then the leg of my dresser broke, so SB and I had to take all the drawers out of it, even though several of the drawers seemed desperate to be stuck. Remember the throbbing headache, people.

It was at this point that I may or may not have yelled out, "I hate my life!" When SB asked why, I answered that "EVERYTHING IS ALL FUCKED UP." He then told me I should sit down and he could do it all for me. Which was sweet, but not feasible, as I had a plan in my mind for where the furniture would be most out of the way. I then started a mad rampage about hating 30 Rock. And I don't really hate it. I don't like it. It annoys me that everyone acts like it is such a great show, when the whole premise of it irritates me. But hate it? I mean, actively hate enough for a mad rampage? I don't think so.

Then, when I did attempt to sleep, eye pillow strapped around my head, I couldn't. Cassie kept jumping on and off the bed, I couldn't get comfortable, and my head still hurt. Cassie decided that running around madly at 4 am would be LOADS of fun, particularly the part where she jumps on paper bags to make lots of noise. I had to get up early to ensure that I was dressed by the time the hypothetical window people showed up to take down my blinds. Luckily they didn't, since the building claims that if they take down the blinds on a Friday, the blinds will not be put back up until the following Monday. And again, to those multi-roomed of you, this is a big deal when you have no other room to escape into. I would have to retreat into my bathroom for EVERYTHING, including putting on sweatpants and pj's. My apartment is high enough that random street people couldn't see me; there are, however, many balconies around me and at least one of them belongs to a family with a small child who is prone to wandering out (supervised) in order to enjoy being outside.

So, needless to say, I arrived to work today exhausted and with coffee in hand. The coffee, while enjoyable, only managed to keep me awake. Productivity had long since flown the coup... Oh well, though. I guess there is always Monday...

Pluses and Minuses

In the past 24 hours, I have eaten entirely too much. I have also, however, had enough water to drink for the first time in months. I am shamed by the food, redeemed by the water. I think I'll declare it a wash.

So the days until SB leaves are becomign fewer and fewer. Stupid boy. The sad thing is, a part of me is looking forward to it. Not really, but kind of. I'll miss him, yes, but I'll also have so much more time. I can read again. The idea! Reading!! I can go to bed at 10:30 if I'm tired, I can knit my lovely shawl. I mean, really. This shawl is going to be gorgeous. I can play the Sims 2 for hours (I think SB might be getting me "Open for Business" as well, as I've decided I must have it and would be willing to not eat a meal or two in order to afford it), and not feel guilty. I can watch hours of tv and not care about whether or not he likes the show. I can do yoga and try out the belly dancing video on OnDemand.

I'm not saying it won't be hard and I won't be sad. But I haven't had to be independent since I graduated from college. Which is a little strange, I know, but hey. Of course, I also won't really be able to eat, and that's no fun. But oh well. I'm sure I'll make it.

I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy....... [where?]

Well, after nearly two lovely weeks off, I have returned again to the belly of the beast. Okay, that may be a BIT extreme, but whatever. I thought on the way in this morning that I was actually kind of glad to be returning to my usual routine, but now not so much.

I was listening to my old Christian music cd's. And I know that everyone, my mother included, thinks that Christian music automatically equals sappy crap, but some of it is actually good music. And I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend my faith. Which I know is me, but it's also the radical right-wings with whom I don't want to be affiliated. So when I mention CSF, I'm always like, "It wasn't one of those kind of groups." But thinking about it, I don't even know what "those" kind of groups would be or how any Christian group I've been involved in wouldn't be one. Because really, every Christian group I tested out, even if I ultimately didn't go there, was pretty darn nice and welcoming. Why is there such a stigma? Even the groups where I disagreed with 90% of what they believed went out of their way to make me feel welcome. This isn't to say that these groups don't have the problems lots of groups have. CSF was notoriously clique-y. The houses got into HUGE spats. People were judgemental. But if you really needed help and let them know, they'd do a lot to be there for you. So yes. I'm going try and stop saying Christian groups are not "that type of group." And I'm going to stop feeling like I have to say, "Oh, I'm not THAT kind of Christian." People who know me should know that I'm not a crazy right-winger, and the ones who dismiss me that easily for my faith are probably not people I want to know anyways. And I've been realizing more and more how important that faith is to me, and I want to have joy (not necessarily happiness, but joy), and thinking that all this will work out for something good is all that is keeping me from going nuts at work, so...

CW just told me that Austin Grill is participating in Restaurant Week. What?! Who is going Austin Grill (or Hard Rock Cafe) for RW? Seriously, people. Spend your money better.

Back to DC.

Well, I'm back in DC. I didn't really want to go. I never do. My mom has declared that I need to come home for long enough to want to leave. I was glad to get back to Cassie and SB. SB was jealous because he stopped in to check on Cassie yesterday and she hissed at him and then didn't care that he was there. Then, when I got home, she ran over to me, and then got so excited, she ran around the apartment. It was pretty cute. She now is sleeping by my feet.

The whole Christmas time was fun, but insanely busy. I did get to see a plethora of high school friends. It was so bizarre. We all went to eat after picking up my brother and sil and ran into my dad's old partner's daughter. I went to elementary school with her, and then didn't really see her again except at her dad's funeral (he died from complications with a bone marrow transplant) in high school. Then I ran into another girl I hadn't seen since elementary school at the movie theater. Then, of course, there were the people I made an effort to see. There are really only three of them, two who are sisters, which isn't a huge number of people. But then there is Haley, WHO GOT ENGAGED FOR CHRISTMAS!!! I am so incredibly happy for her. She had a little party that I tagged along to, where I met her fiance (so strange to say) and got to see Jules, whom I haven't seen since hte summer after I graduated from college, and Molly (same), and caught up on news of others I haven't seen in forever. Oh, and Haley's going to be supporting herself and totally rocks, so go buy her cd. It was a little strange being there at the party. These people all stayed close to home for college, so they stayed in touch. So they're all like, remember that time a week ago, and I'm all like, remember in seventh grade... And I forget that people who stay around my hometown tend to have a different worldview. I love them and they are some of the most genuinely nice people I have met. But it's so incredibly different than people around DC. One of my friends was talking about this girl's jerky boyfriend and how he's had sex with other girls. This part was whispered, like sex was a bad word or something. It was funny. And a little confusing. I was never sure if he was cheating on her because she wouldn't sleep with him, which would be horrible and ridiculous, or if he had just had sex before in her life.

A and D, the sisters, are funny and doing well, as always, though A doesn't like her job, so we commiserated together. Even though she makes like two-and-a-half times what I do... D has a child in her class who claims (and his mom agrees) that he's possessed by the devil. He, obviously, is a bit of a handful and making her second year of teaching not so great.

Sigh. I was just looking at Haley's myspace. I'm so happy for her. I can't wait for the wedding, which will be LOADS of fun. And her ring is HUGE. Her fiance freaking found the diamond for it on the sidewalk when he was six. How crazy is that? Where is my diamond on the street?!

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays!!!

Well, I realize I've been a bad blogger and not updated for nearly 10 days. It's hard running a blog, a social life, an office, and a grad school application process. And then getting sick. Twice. Luckily, I am now done with the grad school applications! (YAY!!!!) Except for mailing in one hard copy that is waiting on getting my last recommendation in the mail. And I'm basically well, though I felt AWFUL on Thursday. Luckily, I made it home and probably infected everyone on both my planes, but what else is Christmas about?

Last weekend was my sister-in-law's brother's wedding. He lives around DC and they are the nicest family ever, so SB and I were invited to everything. It was just lovely. The wedding was beautiful, even if the music was a little hokey. But the hokey music was done by long-time family friends of the bride, so it was all good. The reception was GORGEOUS. Thousands of twinkle lights everywhere, very classy centerpieces. The only bad part about the whole thing was the catering service was not good. At one point, the brother of the bride was going around to the tables and picking up dirty dishes... Not good. The other, me-related issue was all underwear related. I had on one of those bra/slip/stomach-suck-iny things and it either peeked through the neck of my dress, or slid down until stuff was poking out the top and I had those horrible strapless bra lines. The groom's aunt totally saw me trying to heave it up, but oh well. I think it entertained her.

And I got to hang out some with Erik, who is an English PhD student, so that was fun, and Jonathan, my brother's giant college roommate who is now dating a girl still in undergrad. The girlfriend was also nice, just very young... And, as promised, there was ethnic dancing. It was all just fun.

Now I am home. My brother and SIL are here, too, and my grandma gets here today and my grandparents here tomorrow. My mom is on complete overkill mode and we have to bake everything today. The only dark spots are that I miss my cat... and that I found out that SB is indeed going to have to go abroad for a month, leaving less than a week after we get back from the holidays. He tried to get out of it for a number of reasons, but it looks like they really want him to go. Poop. But we shall not think about that. Instead, we shall concentrate on Christmas and family and not having to be back at work for over a week!

Since I probably won't have time to write tomorrow, merry Christmas, everyone!!

Yes, Virginia...

So I've decided I'm going to believe in Santa again. I remember believing in Santa. I remember how magical everything was. I remember sitting up Christmas Eve, straining to hear hooves on the roof. I remember being SO excited I could hardly sleep. And I'm going back to that model.

Some of you may be asking yourselves, "How is she going to go back to a previous period in her life?" Well, I realize that I can't become a child again. I can act like a child, though. And I know that I can't unlearn knowledge. But I can forget about it if I want to. And I feel my life could use a little magic right now. (I got the maximum raise my boss's structure will allow!!! Which is miniscule and I got that raise because she pities my small salary and I still make a tiny amount and can't afford food or clothing and can't rent an apartment without my parents or put any money into savings for grad school...) So magic is good.

What else is good? The hot cider at Gadsby's Tavern is AMAZING. I liked it with rum. The carolers there during the holidays, also very nice. Walking down King Street when the lights are up and there is a nice crisp feel to the air? Very holiday-y. Finding the PERFECT present for my mom was great. Being knocked on my ass for the past five days and sleeping basically the whole day before doing any of those things was not so great. In fact, I can say that being sick at the holidays definitely sucks. Luckily, after missing two days of work and sleeping INSANE numbers of hours, I am getting well.

Also, Cassie is no longer Coney (she doesn't have to wear her cone anymore. SB called her Coney while she did), and she seems very glad of that fact. Now I just have to figure out what to do with her over the holidays...

Prudes beware

I do not feel well at all. CW has already left. She heard someone else on our floor throwing up in the bathroow. I think there may be something going around. And the worst part is that today is horribly cold. Well, not horribly, but when you've had no period of acclimation and have had the ambient temperature drop 40 degrees in one week, it seems freezing. Plus the wind whips over the water near my office and makes it feel much worse than it is. When you add to all that illness... AND SB, whom I'm mad at anyways, can't even pick me up from the metro, meaning I get to add a climb up a steep hill to all my time in the outdoors. And my rib hurts. Just the one on my right, but it's an occasional throbbing and I don't enjoy it. I will, however, survive.

Luckily, I can space for the few remaining minutes of the day and sign our Holiday cards. Because New Guy, who we don't like much, decided we should personally sign all the cards we send out. Nevermind that last year we didn't even send any out. And since he picked out dark cards, we had to buy silver pens to use. He made me call the paper store near him and ask if they had them. What decent paper store doesn't have silver pens? I mean, come on... The people at the paper store laughed at me for even calling and asking.

Plus on [redacted] (the new Daily Dump blog), there is a guest poster who complained because one of his exes wanted him to go down on her so much. I realize this is a sensitive topic for some. But the whole thing frustrates me, mainly because I'm SURE this guy and several other blog-guys I know would throw a hissyfit if their girlfriend/random girl they picked up at a bar/on a corner wouldn't go down on them. I mean, really. If you listen to these guys, they talk about how giving head is "cleaner," somehow "more sanitary." Um... why? If you think about it, the same kinds of issues are going on in each region. We all pee down there, people! (Pee, by the way, is an antiseptic.) I think the real reason is that guys are selfish and squeamish. Well, I say no more of it! Tit for tat, everyone!! I'm calling on all girls who are involved in such activities to demand equality in such arenas. Stop being prudish! And men, suck it up. Both literally and figuratively.

Cone Kitty

My roses are opening very nicely. I'm going to take them home tomorrow so I can enjoy them over the weekend.

I made the mistake of looking to see whether or not I can safely take Cassie's cone off early. I can't let her run around freely because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere with it (she's already nearly gotten stuck under the bed and actually got stuck on the window ledge). So she's crazy every night and morning when I free her from the closet. Plus she can't groom properly (she tries, but just winds up grooming the cone as if it were her) and I can only do so much. I'd really like to take it off her, at least for a bit. BUT I googled to try and find out if cats actually will try to tear out their stitches, especially this far in the healing process, and I came across the most horrible story that makes me want to run home and make sure she's okay and cuddle her. This family adopted a cat and had her spayed. She tore out her stitches (this seems to be the only real example I've found of a cat tearing them out), so they put her in a cone. I don't really think the cone has anything to do with the rest of it, but the writer mentioned it as if it had something to do with it. One night, their beloved kitty starts crying and meowing like mad. Later the kitten's intestines explode out somehow and the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I know this has to be extremely rare and I know that Cassie's fine, but still. And EWWW...

Beyond the massive wildness and the dealing with the cone, Cassie seems to have adjusted quite well to her changed state. She's actually even friendlier than she was before. We did have another incident with her bed. I made the mistake of giving it back to her and she then had an accident on the floor. So I threw it out. No bed for you!